ts with a characteristic Chinese chuckle of
amusement; the thought of a Fankwae squirming and sizzling in the oil-fed
flames touches the chord of his risibilities, and makes him giggle
merrily. The Che-hsein himself occasionally goes out and harangues the
excited mob, the authoritative tones of his voice being plainly heard
above the squabbling and yelling.

It must be near about midnight when the excitement has finally subsided,
and the mob disperse to their homes. Six yameni-runners then file into
the room, paper umbrellas slung at their backs in green cloth cases, and
stout bamboo quarter-staves in hand. The Che-hsein gives them their
orders and delivers a letter into the hands of the officer in charge; he
then bids me prepare to depart, bidding me farewell with much polite
bowing and scraping, and sundry memorable "chin-chins."

A closely covered palanquin is waiting outside the door; into this I am
conducted and the blinds carefully drawn. A squad of men with flaming
torches, the Che-hsein, and several officials lead the way, maintaining
great secrecy and quiet; stout carriers hoist the palanquin to their
shoulders and follow on behind; others bring up the rear carrying the
bicycle.

Back through the Manchu quarter and out of the gate again our little
cavalcade wends its way, the officials immediately about the palanquin
addressing one another in undertones; back, part way along the same
street which but a few short hours ago resounded with the hoots and yells
of the mischievous mob, down a long flight of steps, and the palanquin is
resting at the end of a gang-plank leading aboard a little
passenger-sampan. The worthy Che-hsein bows and scrapes and chin-chins me
along this gang-plank, the bicycle is brought aboard, the six
yameni-runners follow suit, and the boat is poled out into the river. The
squad of torch-bearers are seen watching our progress until we are well
out into the middle of the stream, and the officer in charge of my little
guard stands out and signals them with his lantern, notifying them, I
suppose, that all is well. One would imagine, from their actions, that
they were apprehensive of our sampan being pursued or ambushed by some
determined party. And yet the scene, as we drift noiselessly along with
the current, looks lovely and peaceful as the realms of the blest; the
crescent moon, the shimmering water--and the slowly receding lights of the
city; what danger can there possibly be in so quiet