the adjacent hills, all contributed to give life and charm to
the landscape. The sky was clear and serene. Already the sun, having
risen a little above the horizon, promised us a fine day, and a mild
temperature.

We returned to our lodgings, walking slowly. The caravan was ready, and
on the point of departure; the beasts were laden with their burdens; the
horsemen, their robes tucked up, and whip in hand, were ready to mount.
"We are behind hand," said we, "let us make haste," and at a run we were
in our places. "Why are you in such a hurry?" said a Chinese soldier,
"Ly-Kouo-Ngan is not ready; he has not yet opened the door of his room."
"To-day," answered we, "there is no great mountain a-head; the weather is
fine: there is no objection to our starting a little later; go, however,
and tell the Mandarin that the caravan is ready." The soldier pushed
open the door, and entered the chamber of Ly-Kouo-Ngan; he rushed out
again pale and with haggard eyes. "Ly-Kouo-Ngan is dead!" said he to us,
in a low tone. We rushed into the room, and saw the unfortunate
Mandarin, stretched on his bed, his mouth open, his teeth clenched, and
his eyes shrunk up by death. We placed our hands on his heart, which
gently moved. He had yet a spark of life in him, but hope was vain; the
dying man had altogether lost the use of senses; there was another rattle
or two in his throat, and he expired. The humours with which his legs
were swollen, had gone up to his chest, and suffocated him.

The death of our guide had not been unexpected; there was nothing in it
to surprise us, but it occurred in such a sudden, melancholy manner, that
every one of us was greatly agitated. As for ourselves, in particular,
we were afflicted at it beyond all expression. We bitterly regretted
that it had not been our good fortune to assist at the last moments of
this unfortunate man, whom we had so desired to bring from the darkness
of paganism into the light of the faith. Oh, how impenetrable are the
decrees of God! Some hope, however, mingled with our but too just
grounds for fear. As this poor soul had been sufficiently enlightened as
to the truths of religion, it is permissible to suppose that God, of his
infinite mercy, perhaps accorded to him, in his last moments, the grace
of the baptism of volition.

That day the caravan did not proceed on its march, the animals were
unsaddled and sent out to pasture; and then the soldiers of the escort
made al