The grandiloquently named Hall of Ten Thousand Ages was a rectangular, solidly constructed building with thick walls. But inside a sad scene of ruin met our eyes. Enormous fragments of shattered colossal statues choked the interior, so that one could not pass from door to door. Huge heads, trunks, and limbs lay piled in fantastic confusion. The temple had contained a number of giant images of Buddha. Some troops, on occupying the palace, had been informed that these were hollow and filled with treasures of inestimable value. The tale seemed likely; so dynamite was invoked to force them to reveal their hidden secrets. The colossal gods were hurled from their pedestals by its powerful agency; and their ruins were eagerly searched by the vandals. But it was found that the interiors of the statues, though indeed hollow, were simply modelled to correspond with the internal anatomy of a human being, all the organs being reproduced in silver or zinc. And the gods were sacrificed in vain to the greed of the spoilers. The Empress‐Dowager’s temple had escaped such rough treatment, as it held nothing that tempted the conquerors. Under its huge shadow lay a lovely little structure, the Bronze Pagoda. On a white marble plinth and surrounded by a carved balustrade of the same stone, stood a delicately modelled, tiny temple about twenty or thirty feet high. Roof, pillars, walls—all were of the same valuable material. From the corners of the spreading, upturned eaves hung bells. The whole structure was a perfect work of art; and one sighed for a miniature replica of the graceful little building. But while we wandered among these quaint temples we had failed to notice dark masses of clouds that had gradually climbed up from the horizon and overcast the whole sky. One of the heavy storms of a North China summer was evidently in store for us. So, anxious to regain the capital before it could break, we returned to the palace, bade a hurried farewell to our kind hosts, and mounted our ponies. Back through the fields and on to the paved highway we rode at a steady pace, our ponies, refreshed by the long halt and eager to reach their stables, trotting out willingly. The storm held off, and as we came in view of the gate of Pekin, we congratulated ourselves on our good fortune. But suddenly, without a moment’s warning, sheets of water fell from the dark sky. In went our spurs, and we raced madly for the shelter of the gateway. But long before we reached it we were soaked through and through. Our boots were filled with water, the broad brims of our pith hats hung limply over our eyes, and we were as thoroughly wet as though we had swum the Peiho.