drew up full into the face of the man whose bitter hatred had caused the death of many of my own people. He was not a pleasant face, but yet I could not but feel sorry for the old man who would to die in his beloved home only to be sent back again to exile in the sand swept wastes of Turkestan. His face was as expressionless when I brushed his coat but I would have given much to know what that last look on his mind! Did he put a curse on me and all the other "foreign devils" who had brought him from his place of power in the Imperial Court to this last journey with his slowly army looking family of wives and concubines? A few soldiers escorted him to the hotel where he was met by a guard of some sort - an honour guard I did not suppose the Chinese called it - but certainly there was more "guard" than "honor" about it for he was a "registered parcel" for which the Legations would require a receipt of safe delivery. Probably we will meet him again for he will follow the same road to Sian for which we are travelling. The station at Ching-chow was far