The next important business was to procure a good "boy" and a strong ricksha coolie. The latter I soon found in the person of my frisky acquaintance of the previous night, who seemed highly elated at the prospect of this unexpected rise in life. Indeed he cut some very queer capers when admiring the new white-braided clothes I had made for him, as it is customary and very necessary-if only for the sake of cleanliness, and to distinguish him from the rest of his unwashed kind-to have a uniform for your private ricksha or chair coolies.

Many boys, of all sorts and conditions, presented themselves before me, each with his carefully preserved "number one testimonials, all of which appeared in the latest stages of decomposition, and were very much soiled with the wear and tear of age, having no doubt seen good service and again been borrowed for the occasion at a small cost.

Among the applicants, one wily-looking, old-fashioned "boy" said he was the most trustworthy servant to be found on that side of the globe. In proof of this assertion, he proudly handed me a most ancient and dilapidated English document, from a perusal of which I learnt that a certain Mr. Smith had sold one How Shin an elderly donkey for the sum of eight dollars.

He seemed very surprised when I informed him of this transaction, and agreed with me that it was "no good pidgin.” Then he went out to look for the man who had wronged him so.

After much careful deliberation and enquiry, I selected a young Cantonese boy named Ah Way, who was in my service during the whole of my thirteen months' sojourn in Shanghai, and was a fairly honest and intelligent lad.

I should not, however, consider this work complete if I omitted to give the reader some idea characteristic of these native servants, who play so prominent a part in the domestic life of all European residents in the Far East.

The Chinese "boy," I must tell you, is an individual different in many rspects to most mortals. There hardly exists a foreigner out there who has not now, or has not had at some former time, one whom he thinks, or thought, was a paragon of honesty and

obedience. Yet, when you come to think of it, what a perfect fraud the boy is!

To begin with, he is your factotum, servant, butler, interpreter, and also your treasurer for small amounts, such as paying the chair coolies their hire, and any other incidental expenses he cheerfully meets for you. Never is he out of funds, rather than be so he will draw on next month's wages, and, with a deprecating smile, childlike and bland, respectfully request an order on the compradore.

At the month's end a long account is presented to you, generally written by the office boy, purporting to be an accurate statement of your expenditure, which at first sight, and judging by its total, you rightly consider monstrous. Then you turn round upon him, prepared to fire into him a heavy charge of pent-up indignation, and he mildly enquires, in an unperturbed voice, which item you find fault with. You become painfully aware that you have not "a leg to stand upon." Minute items, one after the other, are there in tedious length, each too small to admit of much retrenchment. For how can a sweeping reduction be made of such charges as "dog-chow, 50 cents; old coat makee new, 40 cents;" &c., &c.? Even when you do think you have found a "something" which really is extortionate, the wretch-ever irrepressible, and resigned, proceeds to placidly explain the why and wherefore with his usual smile of mild expostulation, and be it said pitying indignation.

It is vain to be indignant. Struggle against these accounts as you will, they "tot up serenely" semper idem. And on this point it is a well-known fact that you do not fall in your boy's estimation one little bit by these monthly ebullitions; he knows full well you can "stand it," for on entering your service he took immediate steps to ascertain your income, so that he could base his charges accordingly.

The boy is not ambitious. So long as he has little to do and plenty to get, and is refreshed by not less than four sleeps between meals and bedtime, and solaced with the occasional visits of a few select friends to a quiet rubber of his native whist, and the unlimited use of your choicest cigars and sweetest sherry, he is happy.

A few things, however, he does stipulate for-reasonable treatment, no kicks or cuffs, and above all, a quiet life, free from nagging. These conditions, with his pay and the prospect of unjust emoluments, he considers with a judicial mind. He weighs the pros. and cons., and, if the balance is in his favour, with you he stays and works on.

III. KO-AI AND THE BELL.

UCH as I dislike, the bigoted anti-foreign Manchoo-Tartar rulers of China, I have always liked and respected the polite and peace-loving hereditary Chinese, and especially admired their ladies- little imagining, however, in my wildest dreams, that one of them would eventually be the means of heroically saving my life, and would become my faithful wife.

Whenever I hear the solemn-sounding bell of the rustic church near my home, "mournfully dealing its dole" in the morning and evening, it reminds me of far-away China and of my dear old friend Chu Lee. A rare good fellow was Chu Lee, but, although a fairly sincere Christian, he could never forsake the inherent superstition of his race; and the most outrageously improbable stories he would tell with almost childish credulity.

We were walking together one evening in Shanghai, near the ancient walls of the Chinese city, and the bell of some convent had begun to ring, when he suddenly grasped me by the arm and, bringing me to a standstill, exclaimed "Listen! listen!-That sounds like poor Ko-ai's voice, calling for her shoe, poor girl!" I looked about to try and discover the whereabouts of this damsel but since I could neither hear nor see her, and as my friend's gaze seemed fixed on space, I concluded that he was labouring under some delusion or was temporarily bereft of reason. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Who is this Ko-ai, this Celestial Cinderella of yours?"

:

He did not answer my question at once, but remained in an attitude of contemplative attention, repeating, the word hsieh (shoe)

at each stroke of the bell. When the tolling ceased, we moved on, and he suddenly awoke from this seeming trance.

"I suppose you have never heard, then, of poor Ko-ai, nor of the wonderful tragedy connected with the bell in the old Bell Tower at Pekin. I will tell you about it-it is a sad story-and the sounds we heard to-night reminded me of it-they were so similar to poor Ko-ai's voice, that I almost imagined it was her, and that I was back in Pekin again," he said, as we strolled on through the city, and he related the following legend:

Many hundreds of years ago, in the Ming dynasty, the Emperor Tung-lo, being desirous of leaving to posterity a substantial memento of his reign, built the famous Pekin Bell-Tower that yet stands intact-a mournful monument of tyranny.

Numerous high officials were entrusted with the work of building the tower and, when it was complete, he summoned his courtiers and expressed his satisfaction. The important work was now to make a bell, and for this purpose he called one of his most skilled metallists and entrusted the casting to him. The name of this favoured person was Kuan-Yu, a mandarin of some distinction in the capital, and one well liked by all who knew him. On receiving the order from the Emperor, he hastened home to impart the news to his beloved daughter Ko-ai, who was a beautiful girl of sixteen. It was a proud day for the good old man, and he invited his many friends to celebrate the occasion of his trust, and all heartily wished him success.

Next day he commenced operations with a will; and the scene of his labours was visited by crowds of folk, each one having his say and giving an opinion, and all evincing much interest in the making of the bell.

At last, after two months had passed happily and busily away, a proclamation was posted up.about the city, notifying the public that, on the morrow, the casting of the great bell would take place in presence of the Emperor. Kuan-yu was happy in the sanguine belief of success, and in the contemplation of well-earned renown; and Ko-ai ardently shared in his hopefulness. Early in the day people began to gather near the new tower, and at the appointed time the gay-apparelled heralds announced through their