"Would you not like to come and visit our girls' high school?" I asked.

"I should be delighted," she replied.

This she did, and before leaving the capital she sent for a Japanese
lady teacher whom she took with her to her Mongolian home, where she
established a school for Mongolian girls.

In this school she had a regular system of rules, which did not tally
with the undisciplined methods of the Mongolians, and it was amusing to
hear her tell how it was often necessary for the Prince to go about in
the morning and wake up the girls in order to get them into school at
nine o'clock.

The next time she came to Peking she brought with her seventeen of her
brightest girls to see the sights of the city and visit some of the
girls' schools, both Christian and non-Christian. Everything was new to
them and it was interesting to hear their remarks as I showed them
through our home and our high school. When the Princess returned to
Mongolia she took with her a cultured young Chinese lady of unusual
literary attainments to teach the Chinese classics in the school. This
is the only school I have known that was established by a Manchu
princess, for Mongolian girls, and taught by Chinese and Japanese
teachers. This young lady was the daughter of the president of the
Board of Rites, head examiner for literary degrees for all China, and
was himself a chuang yuan, or graduate of the highest standing. Before
going, this Chinese teacher had small bound feet, but she had not been
long on the plains before she unbound her feet, dressed herself in
suitable clothing, and went with the Princess and the Japanese teacher
for a horseback ride across the plains in the early morning, a thing
which a Chinese lady, under ordinary circumstances, is never known to
do. The school is still growing in size and usefulness.

Prince Su's third sister is married to a commoner, but as is usual with
these ladies who marry beneath their own rank, she retains her maiden
title of Third Princess, by which she is always addressed.

"How did you obtain your education?" I once asked her.

"During my childhood," she answered, "my mother was opposed to having
her daughters learn to read, but like most wealthy families, she had
old men come into the palace to read stories or recite poetry for our
entertainment. I not infrequently followed the old men out, bought the
books from which they read, and then bribed some of the eunuchs to
teach me to read them. In t