Invited to a Chinese hunting and hawking party, the “meet” to take place at a distance of a few miles from the city, we proceeded to the appointed rendezvous under guidance of men sent for the purpose by our hosts. In early morning of a bitterly cold day in January we started, our steeds, shaggy, unkempt-looking Tartar ponies. Arrived at the appointed ground, several falconers, all on foot, each bearing on his wrist a peregrine, hooded, awaited us; the hounds of the kind known in India as the rampore, all under charge of a mounted whipper-in. All around us a dead flat plain extended, to all appearance interminably, all crops removed, the surface frozen hard, but without snow. Soon the pack was scouring the plain in full chase of an unfortunate hare, the hounds being slipped as the quarry started; the falcons, unhooded, take wing. Away went our ponies at full speed, their pace a run, not a gallop. First one falcon and then another swooped down upon and rolled over the hunted animal; the dogs fast gain upon her; she disappears, for in this forestless region holes in the earth and burrows are so taken advantage of by ground game. A huntsman bares his arm; he reaches into one such opening; the hare is drawn out, crying in its terror like a child; it is dispatched by a blow on the nape. This we are told is “sport.” To some of us it would be more appropriately called barbarous and unmanly cruelty. Further details of what proved to be “a successful day” need not be related.

New Year’s Eve,[232] according to the Chinese Calendar, was celebrated by the discharge of thousands of crackers and other fireworks, that being their manner of announcing to the world that the ceremony of propitiating their household gods had begun; the object in view, absolution for equivocal acts committed during the past twelve months. For several previous days the city was en fête; establishments closed; caricatures distributed as so many valentines; visits of friendship and of ceremony exchanged; family and other misunderstandings arranged; much feasting and carousing indulged in; houses swept and garnished in token that all things unpleasant, whether physical or ethical, had been cast out. The fronts of houses were decorated with strips of vermilion-coloured paper containing expressions of good-will and congratulation; ornamental lanterns were everywhere on sale, for purposes of illuminations, their shapes various and often grotesque, as fishes, frogs, dragons, and monsters of various forms. Buddhist temples had on their altars a series of gigantic candles, all “dyed red,” bearing designs of dragons and other mythical creatures, before which people knelt with every appearance of devotion.

It became a source of interest to a few of us to visit places and institutions of purely Chinese origin or character. Of such places, a public bathing establishment was one, the interior well lighted, spacious, pervaded by steam from water heated by a furnace, the fuel of which consisted of reeds and straw. A series of troughs, and at one end a plunge bath, were being used by considerable numbers of men at a time, the charge for each being about a farthing. Here then were public baths existing as a Chinese institution, though even yet their introduction generally into England remains rather in the initiative than accomplished stage.

Very different in kind was an ice pit, otherwise a large underground room, one part of which was devoted to the preservation of that substance, another having a series of shelves crowded with vegetables and fruit of different kinds. As we descend into that pit, the sensation we experienced was that of comparative warmth, so bitterly cold had the wind outside become.

The Chinese Foundling Hospital, situated in the suburbs of the city, was a large and substantial building; its chief ornament a tablet, the characters on which intimated that the door over which it was placed was the entrance to “The Hall for Cherishing Children.” At the time of our visit the institution contained eighty foundlings; to each of those still in infancy was assigned a wet nurse. One portion of the establishment was occupied by children, and some grown-up persons affected with various infirmities, as the blind, the deaf, and the idiotic, together with their respective attendants. Being invited by the superintendent to visit his own quarters, a tablet over the entrance door thereto displayed the characters, “We beseech thee to rescue the naked”; on the walls of the reception hall a series of tablets with names of patrons and donors of considerable sums; others with items of regulations relating to the administration of the institution. The children, if in good health, are disposed of at fourteen years of age—​some adopted, some become servants, others apprenticed to trades. To the girls who marry, a dowry of the equivalent value of £5 is given.

At the end of March a visit by the Roman Catholic bishop of Pekin gave us the opportunity of hearing from himself his strange story. In 1834 the cathedral erected in Pekin by the Jesuits in the seventeenth century was closed during an outbreak of the populace against that mission, several of its members put to death, others “disappearing,” to be no more heard of. Among the latter was for many years the bishop. Taken from the power of the rioters by some of the Catholic converts, he was concealed by them in the capital, and protected for the long period of twenty-seven years, he meanwhile carrying on his special work among them. The arrival at Pekin of the allied army was quickly followed by the re-opening of the cathedral and celebration of Grand Mass therein. On that occasion, as the procession of priests attached to the forces, and their acolytes, advanced toward the altar, the bishop, wearing ordinary Chinese costume, emerged from the throng, and took his place at its head. The Emperor of the French being made acquainted with the story, desired to see the bishop at the Tuileries to hear it from himself. While on his way through Tientsin the bishop remained with us several days. To inquiries on the subject, he remarked that his first endeavour with the Chinese was to teach them the practical results of Christianity, rather than inculcate doctrines, the significance of which were beyond their train of thought.

As early as practicable, measures were taken to establish a charitable hospital for the sick poor of Tientsin. For that purpose £100 was given by Admiral Sir James Hope, and subscriptions established among the officers of the force; applications to the rich natives being unproductive. At last, a building capable of accommodating twenty patients was engaged and fitted up for its purpose; professional work being undertaken by Dr. Lamprey, 67th Regiment. Under him its reputation rapidly spread, so much so that applications for admission exceeded our means of reception. In those days the use of chloroform was still in its infancy; very wonderful in the idea of the patients did its effect appear, exceeding, as they expressed themselves, “the power of the Dragon.” The majority, however, looked upon the drug with suspicion, preferring to undergo operations—​even of great severity—​without it or any other anæsthetic. Their apparent indifference to pain under such circumstance was to us subject of amazement.

Duties connected with this hospital gave me an opportunity of seeing the contracted foot, otherwise “golden lily,” of a Chinese woman. The foot had been deformed by the method of cramping usually followed for that purpose; the four smaller toes pressed under the sole, the natural arch raised to an altogether abnormal degree, the points of support limited to the heel and tip of the great-toe. The process of contraction takes place in early youth; it is conducted by means of bandages “artistically” applied, and is said to be painless. The aspect of the foot is thus made hideous, while the natural contour of the calf being destroyed, the appearance of the limb below the knee is—​to Western eyes—​ungraceful.

Neither by word or manner was the slightest gratitude expressed for benefits thus conferred upon them. But in one respect their demeanour drew from us a measure of appreciation; namely, in the care and assistance shown to each other by male patients. Contrasted therewith, however, their want of thoughtful care for sick women was no less remarkable; the more suitable of the two wards having been given up to the latter, the arrangement was protested against in no “gallant” terms by the men.

For a short time an idea seemed to prevail that an object with which the hospital was set on foot was, that in it attempts would be made upon sick inmates to press upon them what they called “the Western philosophy.” Their minds were set at rest on this point; but among the patients there was a Christian convert, around whom other inmates in increasing numbers came to listen, while he read and expounded from a Chinese version of the Scriptures of which he was the possessor.