After two nights I quitted the house of the merchant to make my abode in a temple on the outskirts of the town. The temple stands near the foot of a green hill, and is one of the richest in the Empire. Before its walls stretches a broad open space, in the centre of which is a stone building--an open-air theatre, with a beautiful roof decorated with dragons and bells that breathe sweet melodies to the gentle breeze. The theatre used for religious celebrations was closed. The outer wall of the temple is of stone, with a broad band of pink wash along the middle, and you reach the outer court through a circular gate. Flights of stone steps lead to a stone balcony, from which gates give access to smaller courtyards, on each side of which are spacious rooms that appear to have no sacerdotal use, and are probably the apartments of the priests. The temple proper forms the outer wall of the square, and is separated into several shrines, each of which has its particular deity and images. The interiors of these shrines resemble Roman Catholic chapels in their elaborate decoration, their lamps and candles and their graven images. This temple, I was told, is dedicated to Taoism, which was imported from India long before the Christian era, and numbers its votaries by millions. It is named the Temple of the River God, though all the gods and goddesses of Olmpus appear to be gathered under its roof. Here, in a shrine which the aged priest showed to me with conscious pride--an ornate and beautiful shrine--sits the god of war gorgeously apparelled, a pompous rather than terrifying figure, with full red cheeks, a straggling black beard and dark oblique eyes. In a neighbouring shrine images of goddesses, some of them carrying infants that might have been modelled from Italian masters. The priest exhibited these treasures with the languid air of one who took pity on the ignorant Western devil who had invaded these sacred precincts. He was a courteous old gentleman, wrapped up in that impenetrable conceit which protects China against the influence of the West. I pitched my tent in the outer court, and woke every morning to a new admiration of the beauty and simplicity of the roof of the temple. It was a source of unending delight to the eye. The form, I am sure, is taken from the tent--that square tent of the nomad--for it falls in simple and graceful lines from the ridge pole, and is picked up at the corners as a dainty maid holds her skirts. Tiny dragons and devils sit upon the ribs and grin down from the eaves: they look as if they had just alighted and were about to take flight again. And the colour is splendid, with rich greys and deep browns above a border of crimson and gold.