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orange trees not more than two feet high, but covered with full-sized fruit, and we reached the inner sanctum.
Here our host showed us his most valuable “curios,” rare gems and precious stones, a picture on silk which once belonged to the Emperor of China, and was five hundred years old. He took much pride in his elegant house, which we told him was “number one,” to a Chinaman the highest praise you can express.
Inviting us to be seated he regaled us with tea served in the thinnest of porcelain cups—and such tea! I never was especially fond of the “cup that cheers but not inebriates,” but this was delicious. A few dry leaves were put in, the hot water poured on them, and the cup covered to retain the aroma. Then partially removing the cover we sipped a beverage as much superior to ordinary tea as the delicate Chablis of the Rhine diff rs from last year’s cider.
We were shown into the room especially fitted up for opium smoking, and invited to take a pipe, which we declined. Our hosts’ wife is said to be very handsome, and we wanted to have a glimpse of her, but we were not gratified, and it is not etiquette to enquire after the wife and family. The higher class of Chinese never allow their wives or daughters to be seen by foreigners.
Wealth, luxury and good taste were everywhere to be seen about the mansion, and the owner in courtesy of manner is a polished gentleman. If he showed a pardonable vanity and pride in exhibiting his place to us, I think we have all seen the same feeling in showing one’s beautiful house to visitors among western barbarians. After spending an hour very agreeably we took our leave, our polite host accompanying us to the outer gate, and urging us to come again. Outside the gate the squalor and the filth of the street seemed more disgusting than ever by contrast with the luxury we had just left, and we hastened away feeling that it is but a thin wall that divides great wealth and extreme penury here in China as well as in London, Paris and New York.
