One morning I was aroused by the droning of pipes, the clashing of cymbals, and the beating of a drum. Looking out of my tent I saw three men in the outer court whose poor dress and unwashed faces led me to believe that they were itinerent musicians, of whom it was desirable to be rid by the present of a few cash. They were, however, the temple minstrels, and this was a feast day, for trooping through the gates came crowds of citizens of Antung, all clean and well dressed for the occasion. Some of them bore gifts of money: others of kind, such as pigs and wheat: but the majority were content with joss sticks. Entering the temple in small parties they spread carpets before the images and performed the rites of genuflection and raising of hands, precisely like the action of the Roman Catholic priest at the altar. Lighting their joss sticks they placed them in a box before the shrine and left them to pour incense of smoke, while some minor priest beat the tom-tom and clashed the cymbals to call the attention of the god to this act of worship. In the little courtyard before the shrine stood a stone lamp--a pillar of stone with a cavity on the top. To this lamp were attached long strings of crackers that produced much smoke and noise to the satisfaction of the multitude. The scene and the ceremony were familiar rather than strange, and carried my mind to the house on the hill where the Danish Lutheran missionary--the Rev. J. Vyff--preaches against an idolatry in which he recognises many points of close resemblance with the religions of the West. Chapter XVI THE MARCH INTO MANCHURIA. FENG-HOANG-CHENG.