It is eight o'clock in the evening. I have just returned from Pei-tang; it takes nearly an hour to come from there. And what a road! Imagine a brilliant stereoscope with living figures rushing forward upon you as you gaze--a gigantic kaleidoscope in which, among multitudinous and dazzling fragments a heap of ants are busy. And if we look at these through a magnifying glass, the effect will be somewhat similar to one's first impression of Pekin. Bedlam, uproar, chaos; and all this half concealed by a veil of whirling dust. It would be difficult to recount what I have seen, and even more difficult to explain what my sensations were. I was amazed by the brilliant spectacle. It is early in the morning when I set out on my exploring expedition. From the street in which the legation stands we suddenly turn into the grand Imperial Square. The yellow-roofed palace in front of us may be called the focus of Pekin, nay, the centre of the whole Yellow Empire, for every road leads thither. The principal street is broad, crossing the wall of the Tartar city. A few miles farther to the south it strikes the Chinese town, and through gates like triumphal arches, and over bridges, across moats, and skirting bastions, reaches the open. This is the perspective before me: my eyes penetrate in a straight line, almost any distance, to the sea at the farthermost point of the realm, but the crowd is so dense and the traffic so thick, and there are such clouds of dust, that we can hardly see what is going on within a yard of us. Caravans of camels, people on horseback, carriages, and carts follow each other incessantly. Every moment we narrowly escape a collision. It is a wonder that numbers of the shaky little vehicles do not get smashed, for there is a continuous stream of fresh phantom-like objects. The palace is surrounded by a high wall painted red, and roofed with yellow tiles. Red likewise is the large gate studded with yellow nails. In fact, there are three gates side by side--in China everything is threefold--but they are all closed. In front of them are sentries, for the palace is sacred, and entrance into it means decapitation. On the other side are small shops and stores, in the windows of which are exhibited motley wares, while the facades are carved with a hundred and one very quaint pictures. What they represent I am at a loss to know. We escape into one of the many side streets. It is narrow, dark, and seems to be endless, running along between the houses like a river, to right and left.