This furniture, strange to me, is a great care, as I do not understand
its usages, and it seems most stiff and formal. I hope some day to
know a foreign woman on terms of friendship, and I will ask her to
touch the room with her hands of knowledge, and bring each piece
into more friendly companionship with its neighbour. Now chairs look
coldly at tables, as if to say, "You are an intruder!" And it chills me.

This house is much more simple than our homes, because of the
many modern instruments that make the work less heavy and allow it
to be done by few instead of many, as is our way. It is not necessary
to have a man attend solely to the lighting of the lamps. Upon the wall
is placed a magic button which, touched even by the hand of
ignorance, floods the room with the light of many suns. We see no
more the water-carrier with his two great wooden buckets swinging
from the bamboo as he comes from river or canal to pour the water
into the great kangs standing by the kitchen door. Nor do we need to
put the powder in it to make it clear and wholesome. That is all done
by men we do not see, and they call it "sanitation." The cook needs
only to turn a small brass handle, and the water comes forth as from
a distant spring. It reminds me of the man who came to my father,
when he was governor of Wuseh, and wished to install a most
unheard-of machine to bring water to the city from the lake upon the
hillside. My father listened most respectfully to the long and stupid
explanation, and looked at the clear water which the foreign man
produced to show what could be done, then, shaking his head, said,
"Perhaps that water is more healthful, as you say, but it is to me too
clear and white. It has no body, and I fear has not the strength of the
water from our canals."

Another thing we do not hear is the rattle of the watchman as he
makes his rounds at night, and I miss it. In far Sezchuan, on many
nights when sleep was distant, I would lie and listen as he struck
upon his piece of hollow bamboo telling me that all was well within our
compound. Now the city has police that stand outside the gateway.
Many are men from India-- big black men, with fierce black beards
and burning eyes. Our people hate them, and they have good cause.
They are most cruel, and ill-treat all who come within their power. But
we must tread with cat-like steps, as they are employed by the
English, who protect them at all times. They are the private army of
tha