Wednesday, April 11th.—Started early to return to town, and turned aside to visit an extensive garden, occupying a narrow glen overlooking the Siao Ho, in which are the courtyards, temples, reception-rooms, fish-ponds, winding stone paths, rockwork etc., of the “Ning Chiang Hui Kwan,” (lit., Assembly-hall of the tranquil stream) or Kiangsi Guildhall. The merchants and traders from the distant provinces, assembled in the larger commercial cities all over the empire, have each a guild-house of their own in each city. The glen above is filled with groves of magnificent bamboos, and the whole place is redolent of vegetation, and notwithstanding the sunshine, the air was close and damp like that of a hothouse. In picturesque spots scattered about the gardens are handsome pavilions, where parties come to “drink wine” i.e. to dine and to “shwa” i.e. flâner. The usual oranges, camellias and azaleas filled every vacant niche, besides numberless flowers, the names of which are unknown to me.

Notwithstanding the hospitality of the Tung family, I was glad to leave Mien-hoa pu (the village where they resided) as life in a Chinese country house (and indeed in a town house also) is insufferably dull. When the scrolls on the wall are exhausted, the enclosed courtyard becomes monotonous, and to enjoy the view one has to go outside into the street, and when I get up to go out I am accompanied by such a retinue—my own two servants as well as those of my hosts, and the members of the family (male only, bien entendu) that I could well sympathize with the boredom of royalty.