Of the familiar class of fans having large compositions of figures of which the heads are of applied ivory, painted, the costumes of silk appliqué, the sticks of ivory elaborately carved, the example illustrated from the collection of Mr. Burdett-Coutts belonged to a mandarin of the first rank. A beautiful example was formerly in the possession of [Illustration: Chinese Fan with ivory miniatures Mr W. Burdett-Coutts. M.P.] H.I.M. the Empress Eugénie,[43] the stick of sandalwood. The brins of these fans, twelve in number, are occasionally varied, as follows:—Two of white ivory, pierced and carved; two of silver filigree and enamel; two of ivory, pierced and carved, coloured scarlet; two of tortoise-shell, carved and pierced; two of engraved white pearl; and two of gilt filigree enamel. The panaches of gilt filigree, with silver dragons in relief. An example occurs in the collection of Mr. Messel, another was in the possession of the late Mr. R. W. Edis. Almost every important city or district in China has its characteristic fan—something distinctive in the make, colour, or ornamentation of the folding-fan, which is the fan _par excellence_ in the Chinese mind. The convenience of this fan will at once be apparent—it occupies but little space, it may, when not in use, be stuck in the high boot of the full-dressed Chinaman, or in the ample folds of his dress. These fans are made to suit every class of society from mandarin to peasant—to suit the changing seasons, in different sizes in proportion to the quantity of breeze required. The Son of Heaven, during the sultry summer months, employs fans of feathers, and during winter of silk. Fashion, however, lays down inexorable laws as to the time and period of their use, and to be seen with a fan too early or too late in the year is considered as _mauvais ton_. A poem by Ow-Yang Hisu informs us that ‘In the tenth moon the people of the capital turn to their warm fans.’ During the warm weather the fan forms part of the ceremony of tea-drinking; the host takes his fan as soon as tea is drunk, and, bowing to the company, says, ‘Thsing-chen’ (I invite you to fan yourselves); each guest immediately using his fan with great gravity and modesty. It is considered a breach of etiquette to be without a fan on such an occasion, or to refrain from its use.[44] The Chinese have exhausted every species of ingenuity in the construction of fans of an _outré_ character. The ‘broken fan,’ a curious trick, is to all intents and purposes a simple folding-fan, and opened from left to right presents no feature uncommon. On being opened to the _reverse_, the whole fan appears to fall to pieces, each bone, with the part attached, being separated from the other as though the connecting strings were broken: the principle is extremely simple, but the effect is surprising.