The minutes dragged on like so many hours; the night seemed endless. Finally, to pass the time, I began to draw with some coloured chalks. Would that interest them? I wondered. I could not be sure at first, but the ruffians slowly gathered round me and I never had more complacent spectators. Those men who, a few minutes ago, would have taken my life, or at least my purse, suddenly became quite friendly. Like the lyre of Orpheus, my pictures did wonders, soothing the savage instincts and softening the passions of these brigands. It was the greatest triumph my modest crayons ever won for me. At last there was a general stir. Li-Hu prepared his cart, and we started once more. It was still dark, but the rain had ceased and the cold rays of the moon from time to time broke through the parting clouds. By means of these occasional flashes of light I discerned in the distance, silhouetted against the horizon, the dark outlines of a pagoda. Surely that was the point we were making for. We had long since left the so-called main road, and were jolting and jerking along by fields of turnips and Indian corn. The shocks were perhaps not quite so rough as before, on the half-paved highroad, but their violence was yet amazing. It was daybreak when we arrived before the principal gate of Mukden, and after the night of darkness and peril the glories of the city seemed enhanced. The sky was cloudless and intensely blue, as if enamelled in cobalt on a golden ground. The richly sculptured fronts of the houses shone with truly Oriental splendour. It was the early hour of the morn. People poured out of the city gates to start their daily tasks in the fields and farms. Every one wore bright-coloured garments, and looked happy and cheerful. Everything breathed contentment: the effect was charming. It was the victory of light over darkness. The sun, like a great magician, had waved his wand, touched and dispersed clouds and gloom, and thrown, so it would seem, a veil of oblivion over the sadness and misery of the past night, to give courage and hope to begin another day. IV THE CAPITAL OF MANCHURIA My surprise on first beholding the famous city of Mukden was as complete as it was agreeable. The scene before me was simply delightful. At first I could not distinguish anything clearly, neither lines nor forms. I was dazzled by the intensity of colour and light. The facade of every house was ornamented with strange carvings and mouldings; never before had I seen such fantastic prodigality of human imagination. All the lines curve upward, and every house resembles a pagoda on a small scale. So many motives, so many different colours; red, yellow, green, blue, in endless profusion, the effect being increased by rich gilding.