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articles of Susy's own "providing." These were a tea-tray, gorgeous with a bunch of red and white roses in the centre, and two small trays to match; a tea-service of coarse but showy china, which was brought out from a corner aumrie" for my mother's inspection; but, above all, a neat small chest of drawers of mahogany-second-hand, it is true, but in excellent preservation. A clean white napkin was spread on its top, and on it stood a jug filled with sprigs of dark green holly with their scarlet berries, a tree of which grew in a corner of the kailyard, but by whom planted no one could tell. Above the chest of drawers, and suspended by a nail to the now whitewashed walls, was a small square mirror in a mahogany frame, with several peacocks' feathers stuck above it for ornament. While Tam was thus occupied Susy stood quietly looking on with eyes that noted everything, and plainly expressed pleasure at my mother's inspection.

"It's all paid for, mem, with her stocking-money," said Tam, exultingly; "she's kent to be so grand a worker of stockings that she'll often get an order for a dozen pairs at once from a shop in the town. It's the same shop where her mother got the shawls and gown, and they made them cheaper on account of the stockings. And they pay Susy for her work fairlyvery fairly. You have seen her in the gown and shawl at the kirk, mem, so we needna show you them."

My mother had seen them at church, and thought them most suitable and of good material.

Susy had also been dealing with the packman, for on the walls were various cheap Scripture prints of that period, in flaming reds and yellows, with here and there a dash of green and blue to heighten the effect; and I observed that the most conspicuous one, both in colouring and in the place allotted to it, was a duplicate of Joseph's marriage to Asenath. Absurd though these prints were in design and colour, they brightened the cottage walls, and were evidently considered extraordinary works of art by their

owners.

"Doesna she keep a clean house, mem?" said Tam, clapping his wife approvingly on the shoulder; "she kens the way to do't, though I didna; and it's just as clean in the darkest corner as in the lightest. She'll no allow peats to be under the bedsteads on account of the dirt they make; so I have had to contrive a kind of shed for them with some old wood that the maister let me take from the farmyard, and I have theekit it with heather to keep out the wet. And there's no gathering of sticks and other things under the bed now! I think," added Tam, laughing, "that my poor old mother would say I was ower well off, if she could see how comfortable Susy makes me. The patchwork covers on the beds, mem-arena they very bonnie?-were made by Susy when she was just a lassie. Mem! she's that active. She brought a brush and whitening with her from her mother's; and the very morning after we were married didna she make me help her to lift all the heavy things out to the front of the house; and when I came home at night there were the walls and the roof cleaned in every corner, and her waiting for me to help her to carry the things back again. There's nothing like a wife for comfort. You were very right, mem, in counselling me to get married; and dinna you think I have just fallen on my feet for a wife?"

"I think you have, Tam," responded my mother,

as she heartily shook hands with the pair, and smiled kindly to Susy.

About a year after this period-of course we had seen Tam often on the hillside, and also in his cottage, during the interval-we heard that an infant daughter was born to him.

"And they say that Lang Tam's just extraordinarily proud o' the bairn," said Jess Gillespie, who was our informant, and who could never see anything in Tam but his simplicity.

Another congratulatory visit, of course, had to be paid by my mother to Tam's cottage. She delayed it, however, till she heard that Susy's mother, who had nursed her daughter during her confinement, had returned to her own home.

We found the pair seated exactly as on our first visit to them-Tam in the arm-chair, and Susy on her stool with the never-failing knitting in her hands —but between them now was an infant's cradle, the low old-fashioned cradle which was rocked by the foot, and in which Susy herself had lain when a baby. Tam was a very proud father, as Jess Gillespie had said. It was most amusing to see him stoop over the cradle, and lift out the child in his great brown hands to exhibit it. It protested most vigorously at having its sleep broken for our gratification.

"Hear to it, mem-just hear to it!" cried Tam, looking down admiringly on the baby, which my mother had relinquished to Susy after "feeling its weight" according to custom; "she's no dummy, at any rate; and she's no deaf, for when I was so stupid one day as to knock down a heavy dish from the table that made an awful rattle on the hearthstane, she gave such a start. It was while the grannie was with us, and a good scolding she gave me for so frightening the wean."

66 But, Tam,' ," said my mother, with a smile, "what about the peace and quietness here that you compared to heaven? I am afraid that must be gone now."

Tam scratched his head and laughed. "Hoots, mem!" said he, "I wasna married then. And who could say that the bit greet o' a bairn was a disturbance! Since ever the grannie tell't me that greeting was strengthening to its lungs, poor wee wifie, I think it's just like music. And when I said that to you, mem, I had clean forgot that there must be thousands and thousands of such wee bairns in heaven, although they mayna greet there."

That year my father died. We had to leave our pleasant manse and kindly people, most of whom my mother parted with never to meet them again on earth. But amongst the many who regretted our departure, there was no one who grieved more deeply, or whom we more sorrowed to part from, than Lang Tam Tamson.

"Oh, it is all in print," he said; "at least, a good part of it." Then he arose and handed me an old topographical book, where I found some mention made of the incidents I am about to relate, but my friend gave them with a fulness of detail unknown to the worthy chronicler of the archæology and history of a certain Hundred in the county of Berkshire.* As far as I can recollect I will give the story in his own words. They give some notable traits in the character of the old king, and a pleasant picture of the yeomanry of his day.

It happened when I was only a child (said my aged friend), but I heard the story told again and again, until I knew it all by heart. My grandfather had a great big farmhouse on the side of the downs. The farmhouses were somewhat thinly scattered about the country-side, as the farms ran very large. None was prettier than my grandfather's house, with the tall elms, the huge ponds, the great hall opening on the drawing-room, with its wide bow windows that opened upon the lawn.

One day, after dinner, which we used to take in the great hall, my grandmother, who was not very strong, had gone to lie down, when my aunt-pretty Aunt Mary-thought she would go into the drawingroom and get a book. The drawing-room was rather a state-room, and, according to the fashion of those days, was very little used, except on great occasions. The master was away with the men, my grandmother was lying down, and Aunt Mary would take a book or her work and sit in the capacious arm-chair in the dining-room. Aunt Mary slipped into the drawingroom to get her book, but on opening the door a singular spectacle was presented to her gaze. A beautiful stag was standing in the room, admiring himself in the tall mirror. It was a hunted stag that had sought refuge through the open window. He seemed in a thankful mood at having got into a quiet spot for a breathing space. Not a single article in the drawing-room was disturbed, the stag being either struck with amazement, or taking unwonted pleasure in the picture in the mirror.

news.

Mary softly closed the door. She ran into the garden to find a servant to go and tell her father the Then she peeped into the bedroom to see if her mother were asleep or awake, and finding that the former was the case she hesitated about disturbing her. Then she moved about the hall very restlessly, listening for any sounds. She was afraid of entering the room where the stag was, and sadly afraid, too, lest the stag should smash any of the resplendent furniture of the drawing-room. The stag, however, was still apparently wrapt up in the contemplation of its own form.

Suddenly there was a noise and hubbub, a baying of dogs and a tramp of horses. From the hall window Aunt Mary saw the lawn covered with dogs, and several horsemen were riding on the turf. Others were coming up the road, and in the rear there was a vast hubbub, for the whole village was turned out into the street. As if by magic, all the quietude of the afternoon was changed into noise and confusion. Farmer Pottinger had been rather out of the way, and was now coming up the street himself. "They be the king's deerhounds, master," said one of the labourers, "and the stag has gone up your way. Some do say that the king himself be there, but it is only hearsay." All that Farmer Pottinger distinctly

Hewett's "History of the Hundred of Compton."

understood when he came upon the scene was that the sudden quiet of his dogs was rudely interrupted, that his house and premises could hardly be called his own, for they seemed to be in possession of a regular mob, among whom the brilliant scarlet uniforms predominated.

In the meanwhile the unresisting stag was quietly secured. The dogs were kept off. The crowd stopped outside the drawing-room window, with the exception of two or three who had entered the room, leaving their horses outside with the attendants. My grandfather had now thoroughly entered into the spirit of the thing. The bright-eyed creature was secured, and now the only question was whether the hunt should be resumed, or whether the deer should be carted back and kept to a future day. Lots of rustics were about the window while this talk was going on. The labourer Giles, peering in, exclaimed, "I heerd say that the king was here, but there's nobody here who's got a crown on his head." Forthwith a swift whisper ran up and down the crowd, "The king! the king!"

Then one of the gentlemen turned round hastily and said, "I'm your king, my good people; I'm the king." And several times he repeated, "I am your king!" to the joy and bewilderment of us all.

Grandfather Pottinger was as much astonished as any of them. He was now able to recognise the bluff, kind, honest face of George III. He had seen him several times before, but certainly had never expected to see him in his own drawing-room. He led off three hearty cheers for the king, which the company gave with hearty goodwill, and the place rang again.

"We will finish the hunt another day," said the king, after he had bowed to the people, asked who owned the house, and exchanged kind words with my grandfather. "We had better cart it back to Windsor, and another day we will hunt it from. Bayley Wood."

66

May it please your majesty," said my grandfather, since it was taken so remarkably in my big room, I wonder if I might be permitted to take charge of it until such time as your majesty may again be pleased to hunt. Bayley Wood will be nearer here than from the Windsor kennels."

So his majesty was greatly pleased with the idea, and he appointed a day in the next month, when he would come and hunt the stag afresh. My grandfather told the gentlemen of the hunt that there would be lunch for them on the third Tuesday of the next month. And presently the king and his great company passed away, leaving the quiet household as unsettled and excited as ever farmer's household had been.

I assure you, my friend, that the excitement never abated altogether so long as we were looking forward to that forthcoming Tuesday. It was an anxious time. Would the day really be a good hunting day, or would it be postponed-hopelessly postponed, perchance? And would the king really come himself, or only one of the princes or some of the court? The stag was kept and tended with the greatest care. We were not allowed to make a pet of the stag, but somehow many in the household, and Aunt Mary most of all, grew so fond of it that she grew quite sad when she thought that it had to be hunted by the houndsmen and the dogs. But the thought of the high luncheon on the day drawing near drew aside her thoughts to hospitable cares.

The king himself came, however, and did my grandfather the honour of a long talk with him. He asked my grandfather about his farm and prices, and his family, and his stock on the land, and what the people thought of the war. And as they were about to part, his majesty said, "Mr. Pottinger, I am sure we are all very much obliged to you for taking care of the stag and for your excellent entertainment. I shall be very happy to knight so loyal a gentleman, unless it should be an inconvenient honour; " and here the family legend is that the king got hold of a sword, or something that was to do for a sword; but another account, and a more likely one, is that his entertainer was to attend at Windsor on a certain day.

However, the proffered honour would have been an inconvenient one for my grandfather. He was one of those large tenant-farmers who were making fortunes in those prosperous days, and, indeed, made almost the backbone of the country during those days of the French war. No such careers, no such fortunes, are possible for our farmers now. But he thought that he would be none the better in driving a bargain or attending a farmers' ordinary because he had the "Sir" dangling as a frontispiece to his name. So the offer was gratefully declined, and my grandfather never went to Windsor to be knighted. But he was one who to the last day of his life paid king's taxes without grudging, even when the income-tax stood at ten per cent.

I think that what pleased my Aunt Mary most of all was what happened to the noble stag that she had first seen in our drawing-room. There was a splendid run that pleased the king greatly, and never could George III have been in a better humour than on that day. When at the close the stag was brought to bay, the king said that it had done so nobly, and he was so pleased with all that happened, that he should give orders for the creature to be turned out for the remainder of its days into pleasant fields with green coverts. There the stag long survived, greatly to Aunt Mary's satisfaction-and as a lad I have had the pleasure of seeing it.

We have many anecdotes in Berkshire about George III; he was quite a farmer among farmers, a country gentleman among country gentlemen; but I think this little incident of the stag, and his taking lunch from us, and his caring for the stag, as good as any story told.

THE MANDARIN'S DAUGHTER.

CHAPTER VIII.-A BUDDHIST NUNNERY.

F. A.

AS S soon as my duties would permit I endeavoured to find the Buddhist nunnery, but I was fairly bewildered at the change in the once beautiful edifices of Yuen-ming-yuen, which formerly stood as prominent landmarks to guide to the locality. At length I discovered a group of devotees performing the Ko-tow (that is to say, literally knocking their heads against the stones in the road) before a public altár by the wayside. All save one ran away, but this one, a woman, and apparently a nun, I captured, and questioned as to the object of my search. To my great astonishment she fell at my feet, saying, "Noble barbarian, it is you that I have been in

search of day after day, at the request of the fair Loo A-Lee, who longs to thank her deliverer, and to know when she can return to her father in the city." I rejoiced at this accidental success, and proceeded cheerfully on the way with my nun companion, who proved to be a most intelligent woman, and had evidently belonged to the better class of Chinese.

When we reached the entrance to the convent, we were freely admitted, and I was kindly welcomed by the head priestess. She led me into the apartment where my prize from Yuen-ming-yuen was seated on a bamboo couch, surrounded by a number of novices, or juvenile nuns. She rose at my entrance, while the young girls made their exit, leaving the abbess behind, and during the conversation that followed I had a good opportunity of observing the face and figure of Loo A-Lee. In the north of China, where the winter is rigorous, both males and females have a much fairer complexion than those in the south, and many women and children have naturally rosy cheeks. In these respects she had a complexion as fair as the ordinary run of her sisters in England. Neither were her eyes so acute in the angle of the eyelids as we see Chinese eyes generally represented

which is, however, considered a mark of beauty in China. She had exquisitely arched eyebrows, and her hair was softer and not so jet black as usual. Her hands were delicately small, and her feet were of the natural size, not having been bandaged into a stump. She was tall, and graceful in her movements, and would have appeared the belle of an English drawing-room.

I told her that the Anting gate was in possession of the Allies, but no person was allowed to go in or out, until the ambassadors had negotiated terms of peace with the government. This would probably happen in a few days, when I would visit the convent again and escort her into the city, obtaining a pass for her safe conduct through the camp. She thanked me for this offer, and said she would be ready at any time to leave.

As so good an opportunity might not have occurred again of seeing the interior of a Chinese nunnery, I asked the abbess to show me through it, and to explain the regulations of the order. She assented, and frankly told me all about the institution and its government, which is by no means so strict as those of Romish convents. The candidates are not admitted into full orders until they attain the age of sixteen. Prior to this, and from the commencement of their ascetic life, they assume the garb peculiar to the sisterhood. The chief apparent distinction between the novices and those in full orders, is that the heads of the latter are wholly shaven, while the former have only the front part of the crown shaven. The younger nuns have plaited queues flowing down behind. The nuns mostly had large feet, clumsy shoes, long stockings and garters, full trousers, short jackets, and wide sleeves; with bald pates and skull-caps, precisely as the priests have. But the priestesses had smoother countenances, softer looks, sweeter voices, and were more tidy.

When the young woman has bared, or shaved her head-a sign of making religious vows very different from that of "taking the veil" adopted in the nunneries of Europe-she is required to live a life of devotion and mortification. She must eat and drink sparingly, and her diet must consist of vegetables only. Strong meats and drinks are to be avoided as poison. The business and cares of this world are not

to engross her attention. She has retired from it, and must be fitting herself for eternal canonisation. Nothing should occupy her thoughts or engage her affections but the service of the temple in the precincts of which she lives. Daily exercises are to be conducted by her, the furniture of the small sanctuary that forms a part of the convent must be looked after and kept clean and orderly; those women or men who come to worship at the altars, and seek guidance or comfort, must be cared for and assisted. When there is leisure the sick and the poor are to be visited, and all who have placed themselves under her special direction and spiritual instruction have a large claim upon her regard. That she may live the life of seclusion and self-denial she must vow perpetual maidenhood; the thought of marriage should never enter her head, and the society of men must be shunned.

As far as I could see these rigid rules were not seriously complied with, and there appeared no great amount of devotion at their religious exercises, especially among the novices. Their sacred books consisted of many volumes, printed in large text on fine paper. For these they had a profound respect. The rapidity with which the pages and sections of the books were hurried off at their religious exercises was amazing. Both the young and the old nuns seemed equally expert at their recitations, but there was nothing of a devotional spirit about them; their demeanour was anything but devout. I was shocked to see the levity of the juvenile nuns in paying religious homage to the goddess Kwan-yin; they were as merry and tricky, as flirting and frolicsome, as any party of girls met to keep the birthday of one of their schoolmates.

CHAPTER IX.-TRIUMPHAL ENTRY OF THE ALLIED FORCES
INTO PEKING.

WINTER was fast drawing on; each morning was ushered in by a hard frost, with its coverlet of snow daintily spread on the tops of the semicircular range of hills; and though the sun continued to rise and pursue his course each day through a clear unsullied sky, yet the chilling air began to affect the health of the Indian troopers and their Arab horses. It was, therefore, with no small delight that the allied army hailed the prospect of peace, and a speedy termination to the privations of camp life.

Although the sacking and burning of the imperial palaces at Yuen-ming-yuen was considered as the act of an avenging Nemesis, for the foul deeds the Emperor and his cruel satraps had committed, yet it was resolved that a money compensation of a hundred thousand pounds should be demanded from the Chinese on behalf of the surviving sufferers and the relatives of the murdered victims. Lord Elgin therefore gave Prince Kung to understand that unless the money was forthcoming on a certain day, and peace at once concluded by a convention and ratification of the treaty of Tien-tsin, the army would attack the imperial palace inside Peking, and compel the Chinese government to come to terms. Up to the morning of the day named no reply was given. The troops were already detailed for the attack, and the guns placed in position to open fire on the city, when a countermanding order was issued. Lord - Elgin's threat had wrung the necessary reply at the eleventh hour, and everything was ceded which his ultimatum demanded. The Prince was true to his word, and the indemnity was paid on the appointed

day. The ratification of the British treaty and signature of the convention was appointed for the day following. The hall selected for this important ceremony was that pertaining to the Imperial Board of Ceremonies. The two principal interpreters were entrusted with the arrangement of the hall and with the settlement of points of etiquette. It was arranged that the British commissioner should be the first to enter the city with his retinue, and the French plenipotentiary, Baron Gros, the day afterwards. Accordingly on the afternoon of the appointed day, the procession attending Lord Elgin entered the capital of China through the Anting gate.

A detachment of cavalry led the way, followed by detachments of the various infantry regiments, with two regimental bands which continued playing alternately the whole distance. Then came sundry officers on foot, followed by others on horseback. The general and his staff came next, immediately preceding Lord Elgin, who was seated in a green sedan-chair, carried by sixteen chair-bearers. His staff rode on either side, and the rear was brought up by more detachments of infantry and cavalry. As the procession entered the gate, the French guard on the left side turned out and saluted their brethren in arms, the band striking up "God save the Queen." When the procession was within the walls, the troops marched through the main street between a double line of infantry amounting to two thousand men, who fell in at the rear, forming altogether an imposing force of eight thousand men and officers. At the entrance of the Hall of Ceremonies there was a spacious courtyard, where the Chinese stood on the left side and the British to the right. Prince Kung and numerous mandarins were already waiting in the open hall which stood at the other end of the courtyard. As his lordship advanced up the avenue, the troops presented arms and the band saluted him with the national anthem. The Earl then walked to the farther end of the hall, and took the seat of honour prepared for him, at the same time motioning the Prince to take the lower seat on his right, about fifteen feet off. A table covered with red cloth stood before each. Sir Hope Grant sat on Lord Elgin's left, and, ranged behind a row of tables down the hall on the left, sat and stood the other officers that were present at the ceremony. Behind similar tables on the right were ranged native princes and mandarins of every class of nobility.

Prince Kung-a cadaverous-looking young man of twenty-three, with a long, pale, smooth-shaven face--bore a timid, sulky demeanour throughout the ceremony, and answered snappishly to the questions put by the interpreters. He was dressed in a long purple damasked silk robe, with a round dragon flowered piece of embroidery on each shoulder, breast, and back, and on his head he wore the winter official cap, but with a button of twisted red silk instead of the various mineral buttons that decorate mandarins. A necklace of carved beads hung round his neck. His nether garments were of the imperial yellow colour, and his boots of embroidered satin.

After the signature of the convention followed the exchange of the ratifications of the treaty of Tien-tsin, entered into two years before. These documents bound the Chinese to open several new ports to British commerce, and to pay an indemnity equivalent to two millions sterling for the expenses of the war. Terms of the same character were concluded

with the French afterwards. A minute recording the exchange of ratifications was then drawn up in duplicate, and being signed and sealed by the plenipotentiaries, one copy was given to Lord Elgin and the other to Prince Kung. So soon as the business was concluded Lord Elgin took his leave, accompanied by the procession as before, and the guns on the Anting gate announced to the world that peace had been concluded between Great Britain and China. After the ceremony the Prince of Kung proposed

of natives and foreigners. Great was the throng at all the entrances on the opening day. The Chinese who had deserted their houses in the suburbs to take refuge within the walls of the city at the commencement of hostilities, were now flocking out to visit their homes, and see if the "barbarians" had plundered them. As it was necessary for any one wishing to visit the city to have a pass, there were not many belonging to the army who obtained admittance the first day. I was among the few who applied and secured the necessary order,

to give a banquet to Lord Elgin and the principal officers; but this was declined, as it was still feared that the treachery of the Chinese might find vent in poisoning the food. The French, however, accepted a banquet after the ceremony on the following day, when it was said that the Prince was in better spirits. That same day Lord Elgin took up his quarters inside the Tartar town, in the palace of the haughty Prince of E. The royal regiment accompanied him as body-guard.

CHAPTER X.-LOO A-LEE RETURNS TO HER FATHER.

PEACE being now restored, the gates of Peking were thrown open to the free ingress and egress

and went in search of my fair prize at the nunnery, to escort her into the city. This time there was no difficulty in finding the place, and I was heartily welcomed by the abbess and Loo A-Lee. I assured the latter that she could rely upon my protection, and learnt for the first time that her father was a mandarin of the fifth grade, who was attached to the Board of Rites and Ceremonies, and lived in the Tartar portion of the city, not far from the great hall connected with the Board. The chair and the two bearers, who had brought my prize from the palace of Yuen-ming-yuen were still at the nunnery, and we set out together, as before, without loss of time.

From the gates of Peking we passed along a wide