mortal "Chinese Gordon," the only
foreigner, it is said, who has ever won a spark of admiration from the
Chinese people.

While we were waiting for the viceroy, his second son, the pupil of Mr.
Tenney, came in and was introduced in the foreign fashion. His English was
fluent and correct. He was a bright, intelligent lad of nineteen years,
then about to take his first trial examinations for the Chinese degree of
scholarship, which, if attained, would make him eligible for official
position. Although a son of the viceroy he will have to rise by his own
merit.

Our conversation with the viceroy's son extended over ten or fifteen
minutes. He asked many questions about the details of our journey. "How,"
said he, "could you get along without interpreter, guide, or servant, when
every foreigner who goes even from here to Peking has to have them?" He
questioned us as to whether or not the Chinese had ever called us names.
We replied that we usually traveled in China under the _nom de Chinois_,
_yang queedza_ (the foreign devils), alias _yeh renn_ (the wild men). A
blush overspread his cheeks as he said: "I must apologize for my
countrymen; I hope you will excuse them, for they know no better." The
young man expressed deep interest in America and American institutions,
and said if he could obtain his father's consent he would certainly make a
visit to our country. This was the only son then at home with the viceroy,
his eldest son being minister to Japan. The youngest, the viceroy's
favorite, was, it was said, the brightest and most promising. His death
occurred only a few months before our arrival in Tientsin.

We were holding an animated conversation when the viceroy himself was
announced. We all stood to show our respect for the prime minister whom
General Grant included among the three greatest statesmen of his day. The
viceroy was preceded by two body-servants. We stood before a man who
appeared to be over six feet in height, although his head and shoulders
were considerably bent with age. His flowing dress was made of rich
colored silk, but very plain indeed. Any ornamentation would have been a
profanation of the natural dignity and stateliness of Li-Hung-Chang. With
slow pace he walked into the room, stopped a moment to look at us, then
advanced with outstretched hand, while a faint smile played about his
features and softened the piercing glance of his eyes. He shook our hands
heartily in the foreign fashion, and witho