th their smart new outfits,
beautiful as only Americans can be beautiful. But never mind: we
reflected that the President would never know the difference; he would
consider us all alike and all outlandish. There were others in the party
who had lived so long in Peking that they were reduced to Gillard's
best,--Gillard's, the one "department store" of the city, about on a
plane with the general store of a country village or a frontier town,
only worse. Sooner or later every one in Peking is reduced to Gillard's
Emporium, where the stocks are old-fashioned and musty, and the thing
you want has just been sold out. And if you can't get it at Gillard's,
there is nowhere else to go. Up-stairs Mrs. Gillard makes Paris gowns
on the latest models, which look all right, too, till tourist season
comes round and you see the difference. Well, finally we were all ready,
and assembled at the front door of the hotel,--the smart and beautiful
Americans; those clad in Gillard's best, and ourselves, something
intermediate. The men were upset, too: several of them had been obliged
to borrow top hats. And at the last moment a rumor spread that
ceremonial bows were required. That created such consternation that
several of us considered backing out.

We were all to meet at the Pei Hei Gate at two o'clock, so we started
early, for we had a long distance to travel. The smart Americans went in
motors, as was fitting, but the rest of us made a long procession of
rickshaws, and jogged happily along the dusty streets, out through the
gates of the legation quarter, past the North Glacis, through the gates
of the Imperial City, and finally, after half an hour's run, reached the
Pei Hei Gate, leading into the old and abandoned Winter Palace. It then
transpired that a visit to this old palace was part of the program, and
we were to wander for two hours through its beautiful and extensive
grounds, until four o'clock, when the President would receive us. Now
March is March the world over, but March in Peking is excessive. No one
who has not passed a spring in North China can know the meaning of dust.
On this clear, bright March afternoon a classic dust-storm was in
progress and in this, dressed in our best clothes, we were to wander for
two hours through the closed grounds of the Winter Palace, which had
been thrown open to us by special courtesy of the President!

They say one never realizes the meaning of the word decay until one has
seen Peking. And