Whenever the Chinese sell ground for building purposes they always stipulate for the removal of the bones of their ancestors for many generations.  The bones are carefully dug up and put in earthen jars, when they are sealed up, labeled, and put away in a comfortable room, as if they were so many pots of pickles and fruits.  Every respectable family in China has a liberal supply of potted ancestors on hand, but would not part with them at any price.

Nothing can surpass the calm resignation with which the Chinese part with life.  They die without groans, and have no mental terror at the approach of death.  Abbe Hue says that when they came for him to administer the last sacraments to a dying convert, their formula of saying that the danger was imminent, was in the words, “The sick man does not smoke his pipe.”

When a Chinese wishes to revenge himself upon another he furtively places a corpse upon the property of his enemy.  This subjects the man on whose premises the body is found to many vexatious visits from the officials, and also to claims on the part of the relations of the dead man.  The height of a joke of this kind is to commit suicide on another man’s property in such a way as to appear to have been murdered there.  This will subject the unfortunate object of revenge to all sorts of legal vexations, and not unfrequently to execution.  Suicide for revenge would be absurd in America, but is far from unknown at the antipodes.

[Illustration:  TAIL PIECE—­OPIUM PIPE]

CHAPTER XXXI.

It was my original intention to make a journey from Kiachta to Pekin and back again, but the lateness of the season prevented me.  I did not wish to be caught in the desert of Gobi in winter.  I talked with several persons who had traversed Mongolia, and among them a gentleman who had just arrived from the Chinese capital.  I made many notes from his recital which I found exceedingly interesting.

For a time the Chinese refused passports to foreigners wishing to cross Mongolia; but on finding their action was likely to cause trouble, they gave the desired permission, though accompanying it with an intimation that the privilege might be suspended at any time.  The bonds that unite Mongolia to the great empire are not very strong, the natives being somewhat indifferent to their rulers and ready at any decent provocation to throw off their yoke.  Though engaged in the peaceful pursuits of sheep-tending, and transporting freight between Russia and China, they possess a warlike spirit and are capable of being roused into violent action.  They are proud of tracing their ancestry to the soldiers that marched with Genghis Khan, and carried his victorious banners into Central Europe; around their fires at night no stories are more eagerly heard than those of war, and he who can relate the most wonderful traditions of daring deeds may be certain of admiration and applause.