Such were our rambles through the vastness of that wonderful city so long a mystery to the outside world. Even in these days of universal knowledge its inmost recesses were a secret till fire and sword burst all barriers and the victorious foreigner ranged where he listed. The gates of palace and temple flew open to the touch of his rifle‐butt. The abodes of monarch, prince, and priest sheltered the soldiers of the conquerors, and the proudest mandarin drew humbly aside to let the meanest camp‐follower pass. To me the most fascinating spectacle in Pekin was the ever‐changing life of the streets. The endless procession of strange vehicles, from the ricksha to the curious wheelbarrow that is a universal form of conveyance for passengers or goods on the narrow roads of North China. The motley crowds—Manchu, Tartar, white man, black, and yellow, dainty, painted lady of high rank and humble coolie woman, shaven‐crowned monk and long‐queued layman, all formed a moving picture unequalled in any city in the world. And above their heads floated the flags of the conquering nations that had banded together from the ends of the earth to humble the pride of China. [Footnote 5: They had only forty rifles all told.] CHAPTER VI THE SUMMER PALACE Eight or ten miles from Pekin lies the loveliest spot in all North China, the Summer Palace, the property of the Empress‐Dowager. When burning heat and scorching winds render life in the capital unbearable, when dust‐storms sweep through the unpaved streets and a pitiless sun blazes on the crowded city, the virtual ruler of China betakes her to her summer residence among the hills, and there weaves the web of plots that convulse the world. When the feeble monarch of that vast Empire ventured to dream of reforms that would eventually bring his realm into line with modern civilisation, the imperious old lady seized her nominal sovereign and imprisoned him there in the heart of her rambling country abode. Twice, now, in its history has the Summer Palace fallen into the hands of European armies. English and French have lorded it in the paved courts before ever its painted pavilions had seen the white blouses of Cossacks or the fluttering plumes of the Bersagliere; when Japan was but a name, and none dreamt that the little islands of the Far East would one day send their gallant soldiers to stand shoulder to shoulder with the veterans of Europe in a common cause.