In the hope that their children may achieve that success which will ensure their support in their old age, parents, when stricken with poverty, dedicate their daughters to the career of a _gisaing_, much as they apprentice their sons to that of a eunuch. The girls are chosen for the perfect regularity of their features. Their freedom from blemish, when first selected, is essential. They are usually pretty, elegant, and dainty. It is almost certain that they are the prettiest women in Korea, and, although the order is extensive and the class is gathered from all over the kingdom, the most beautiful and accomplished _gisaing_ come from Pyöng-an. The arts and graces in which they are so carefully educated, procure their elevation to positions in the households of their protectors, superior to that which is held by the legal wife. As a consequence, Korean folk-lore abounds with stories of the strife and wifely lamentation arising from the ardent and prolonged devotion of husbands to girls, whom fate prevents their taking to a closer union. The women are slight of stature, with diminutive, pretty feet, and graceful, shapely hands. They are quiet and unassuming in their manner. Their smile is bright; their deportment modest, their appearance winsome. They wear upon state occasions voluminous, silk-gauze skirts of variegated hues; a diaphanous silken jacket, with long loose sleeves, extending beyond the hands, protects the shoulders; jewelled girdles, pressing their naked breasts, sustain their draperies. An elaborate, heavy and artificial head-dress of black hair, twisted in plaits and decorated with many silver ornaments, is worn. The music of the dance is plaintive and the song of the dancer somewhat melancholy. Many movements are executed in stockinged feet; the dances are quite free from indelicacy and suggestiveness. Indeed, several are curiously pleasing. [Illustration: DANCING WOMEN OF THE COURT] Upon one occasion, Yi-cha-sun, the brother of the Emperor, invited me to watch the dress rehearsal of an approaching Palace festival. Although this exceptional consideration was shown me unsolicited, I found it quite impossible to secure permission to photograph the gliding, graceful figures of the dancers. When my chair deposited me at the _yamen_ the dance was already in progress. The chairs of the officials and chattering groups of the servants of the dancers filled the compound; soldiers of the Imperial Guard kept watch before the gates. The air was filled with the tremulous notes of the pipes and viols, whose plaintive screaming was punctuated with the booming of drums. Within a building, the walls of which were open to the air, the rows of dancers were visible as they swayed slowly and almost imperceptibly with the music.