ge on the hillside, and nearer is
the town, with its pretty thatched houses and palatial mansions and
avenues of greenery. It is all slightly different from the countries we
have seen already, and yet it is difficult to say quite where the
difference lies. Here is our old friend the rickshaw man, only he is a
Chinaman, of course, and some of these rickshaws are two-seated, so we
can both get into one; the man who pulls starts off gently as if it were
no trouble. He wears nothing above the waist, and we can see the
well-developed muscles moving under his sun-browned skin. On the road we
meet many Chinese women dressed in trousers; you must have seen some in
Hyde Park, I think, for people often bring them over to England as
nurses for their children, they are so clean and reliable. They all wear
trousers like that, just plain, straight down, shapeless trousers, with
a tunic falling over them; it is a neat and effective dress.

[Illustration: CHINESE LADY IN TROUSERS.]

Whew! It's hot! I don't feel inclined to move a limb; this steamy heat
is so much more trying than the heat we had in the dry zone of Burma,
where you and Joyce got lost; there the nights were always cool, almost
sharp sometimes. That building you are pointing at, with the dragons
over the doorway, is a Chinese temple, and I don't suppose they would
mind our going in at all. It looks nice and cool, anyway. We stop the
rickshaw man and pass through several courtyards enclosed by high walls.
In one is an open upper storey like a first-floor room with a wall
knocked out; this is a stage. You may well ask how anyone in the
courtyard can see the play--they can't! Only the favoured few who sit in
the galleries get a good view!

In all the courts a few Chinamen lounge about on the steps; they are
probably half-stupid with opium, for they are not naturally lazy.
Passing on to the inner shrine we see a much-decorated screen, behind
which an image is hidden, but we are not allowed to pull it aside. The
room in which it stands is crowded with hideous figures, squat devils,
grinning dragons, and other disagreeable forms. Before them are empty
tin biscuit-boxes full of sand, in which are stuck messy little tapers.
There is a funny smell of incense mixed with tallow in the air. It is a
creepy, uncomfortable place, and the Chinese religion is not one that
would attract a stranger; I expect you would have to be brought up in it
to understand it!

Unfortunately next day