ty." His high-bred features were those of a maker
of history, of a man who has faced the ruin of his own ambitions;
who has seen his emperor deposed and his dynasty shattered; but who
has lost not one whit of his poise or self-esteem. He carried
himself with a quiet dignity, and there was a royal courtesy in his
greeting which inspired profound respect. Had he been marked for
death in the revolution I am sure that he would have received his
executioners in the same calm way that he met us in the reception
hall. He listened with a courteous interest while we explained the
object of our visit. We had come, we told him, to ask permission to
collect natural history specimens in the great hunting park at the
_Tung Ling_, Eastern Tombs. Here, and at the _Hsi Ling_, or Western
Tombs, the Manchu emperors and their royal consorts sleep in
splendid mausoleums among the fragrant pines.

The emperors are buried at the lower end of a vast, walled park,
more than one hundred miles in length. True to their reverence for
the dead, the Chinese conquerors have never touched these sacred
spots, and doubtless will never do so. They belong unquestionably to
the Manchus, even if their dynasty has been overthrown by force of
arms. According to custom, some member of the royal court is always
in residence at the Eastern Tombs. This fact Tsai Tse gravely
explained, and said that he would commend us in a letter to Duke
Chou, who would be glad to grant us the privileges we asked. Then,
by touching his teacup to his lips, he indicated that our interview
was ended. With the same courtesy he would have shown to a visiting
diplomat he ushered us through the courtyards, while at each doorway
we begged him to return. Such is the custom in China. That same
afternoon a messenger from the duke arrived at my house in Wu Liang
Tajen Hutung bearing a letter beautifully written in Chinese
characters.

Everett Smith and I left next morning for the Eastern Tombs. We went
by brain to Tung-cho, twelve miles away, where a _mafu_ was waiting
with our ponies and a cart for baggage. The way to the _Tung Ling_
is a delight, for along it north China country life passes before
one in panoramic completeness. For centuries this road has been an
imperial highway. I could imagine the gorgeous processions that had
passed over it and the pomp and ceremony of the visits of the living
emperors to the resting places of the dead.

Most vivid of all was the picture in my mind