A huge, white pagoda, belonging to the temple of Linqua Su, in the centre of this district, with its temples of Buddha and houses of its priests surrounding it, is perched on the top of a hill at the base of Mount Bruce, and for miles around is the most picturesque feature of the landscape. In the highest point of this pagoda is hung a wonderful bell, the only motive-power of which is the wind, and which was placed there by the Chinese to frighten the evil spirits of the air. When the breeze is strong, which is often the case, the bell seems to thresh itself into a veritable fury, and again at midday, when the breeze is light, one can just distinguish the faintest tinkle. [Illustration: WHITE PAGODA IN THE TEMPLE OF LINGUA SU ] High up in these hills, and built on the sides of Mount Bruce, stand these temples with their subordinate and associated buildings, each making up a separate community. Ours is somewhat above the temple of Linqua Su, with its white pagoda, and is built on a most wonderful natural shelf of the mountain-side. A terrace, edged by a low, ivy-covered parapet, runs the length of our temple home, from which we look right out on the world beneath us, down the valley towards Peking; or, if we look above us, it is to see Mount Bruce rise perpendicularly against the sky. Ancient and big are the stones that pave the outer and inner courts of this temple, and as picturesque as they are difficult to use are the stone steps, formed of heavy and irregular slabs, which lead down to the valley or ascend up unto the mountain, from which steps finally emerge innumerable tracks, leading in their turn to shrines, homes of hermits, and temples built on this continuous ridge. Nor is this barbaric and ancient setting for a modern life made less extraordinary by the fact that one is served by quiet, intelligent, besatined servants, who glide about and look as if they had stepped into life straight from the half-fabulous days of Kubla Khan; and you feel they have always been thus, and always will be, and you wonder how it is that although the spirit of the twentieth century is certainly felt in China, it is little seen. _May 27._ To-day we started off on a long tramp, making first the ascent of Mount Bruce, which was so difficult at times that we could scarcely accomplish it, and had we not had the help of a young house-servant, known to us as “Number Three Boy,” I doubt if we could have reached the summit. The wind whistled round the high peaks of Mount Bruce to such an extent that Mrs. Squiers and I had to hold on to each other to keep from being blown off our feet.