confess, however, that the impression it left on my mind was far from agreeable; indeed, a new comer could hardly be pleased with a city in which cess-pools and crowds of naked beggars[1] are the adjuncts of even the best streets. If we add to this the insolent effrontery of the Chinese themselves and the nickname of Kwei-tsz, i.e. 'foreign devils,' with other opprobrious epithets, which they bestowed upon us, it may readily be imagined that Peking is not the pleasantest place in the world for a stroll. To complete the picture, collectors of manure are continually moving about plying their trade with baskets on their arms; the smells are beyond description, and the water used for laying the dust is taken from the sewers.
The principal streets are wide and straight, bordered with rows of shops decorated in every conceivable style, and with mud walls which conceal from view the dwellings of the inhabitants. The town is lighted with paper lanterns stuck on wooden tripods several hundred yards apart, in which are usually placed lighted tallow candles. There is no particular need, however, of nocturnal illumination, because the Chinese generally conclude their out-door business by sunset, so that with the approach of twilight hardly anyone is to be seen abroad even in the most populous quarters of the town.
Peking is divided into two parts, an inner town (Nei-cheng) in which the palace of the Emperor
- ↑ The beggars in Peking are said to number 40,000; they have a king or chief of their own, who exacts a certain tribute from all the shops in the town.
