ds to a third court,
surrounding the principal sanctuary, which measures one hundred feet in
length, and is of equal breadth. On rows of wooden pillars rests a flat
roof, from which hang glass lamps, lustres, artificial flowers, and
brightly-coloured ribbons. All about the area are scattered altars,
statues, vases of flowers, censers, and candelabra.

But the eye is chiefly attracted by the three shrines in the foreground,
with the three coloured statues behind them, of Buddha, seated as
symbolical of Past, Present, and Future. On the occasion of Madame Ida
Pfeiffer's visit, a funeral ceremony was being performed in honour of a
mandarin's deceased wife. Before the right and left altars stood several
priests, in garments curiously resembling, as did the rites also
resemble, those of the Roman Church. The mandarin himself, attended by a
couple of fan-bearers, prayed before the middle altar. He kissed the
ground repeatedly, and each time he did so, thin, fragrant wax tapers
were put into his hands. These, after raising in the air, he handed to
the priests, who then stationed them, unlighted, before the Buddha
images. Meantime, the temple resounded with the mingling strains of
three musicians, one of whom struck a metal ball, while another scraped
a stringed instrument, and a third educed shrill notes from a kind of
flute.

This principal temple is surrounded by numerous smaller sanctuaries,
each decorated with images of deities, rudely wrought, but a-glow with
gold and vivid colours. Special reverence seems to be accorded to
Kwanfootse, a demi-god of war, and to the four-and-twenty gods of mercy.
These latter have four, six, and even eight arms. In the Temple of
Mercy, Madame Pfeiffer met with an unpleasant adventure. A Bonze had
offered her and her companions a couple of wax tapers to light in honour
of the god. They were on the point of compliance, as a mere act of
civility, when an American missionary, who was one of the visitors,
roughly snatched them from their hands, and gave them back to the
priests, protesting that such compliance was idolatrous. It was not
without difficulty they forced their way through the crowd, and escaped
from the temple.

The curiosity hunters were next led to the so-called House of the Sacred
Swine. These porcine treasures are as tenderly cared for as was Hamlet's
mother by Hamlet's father. They reside in a spacious hall of stone, but
the atmosphere, it must be owned, teems with odours t