PEKIN THE FOUL.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 11560, 29 June 1899, Page 1

PEKIN THE FOUL.

THE MOST IMPRESSIVE SIGHT IN THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. From the "Western Hills, a distance of thirteen miles, Pekin appears a mathematical square, of which the dark grey lines can be dimly traced among tbo green and gold of a riehly^cultivated plain stretching away to the sea. The sun is flashed back from the gilded turrets and yellow tiles of the Imperial palace in its centre. It is only when right under them that one obtains a a first complete view of their stupendous line, the most impressive sight in China. Grey and grim they stand, these monuments of the conquering Manclm, bastion after bastion stretching away into the distance, from whfch the towers, marking tlie uiiio great gates in the thirteen-mile square, • stand out like giant sentine's. The wall themselves, which rise out of sand dnst drifted from the steppes, are built of earth, faced with brick. To the interetices cling many a busb, and even tree. From the gate towers frown tier upon tier of painted' cannon. Inside tbe gates, one finds oneself in a Tartar camp ; a wilderness of flit, grey brick, one-storied bouses, divided into squares by earthern tracks some sixty yards broad, which run from north to south, from east to west, from gate to gate. In the centre of the square is a small, wooded hill at the rear of the palacp, and doftcd with gilded summer houses. Up to its foot, from the great gate in the centre of the south wall, lie 3 the "Forbidden City " enclosed in walls m vermilion ; a succession of yellow tilcft pavilions, glittering in the sun. Against the blue sky quiver thp steady wings of dozens of large brown hawks — the city scavengers — and through the clear dry air thrills a continual sweet sad strain from the small Aeolian harpß, or more properl/, organs with pipes fixed — for protection against the hawks — in the tails of the wheeling flocks of pigeons, one in each flock, selected no doubt, for strength and steadiness, bearing the screaming whistle. The streets themselves are filthy ; a heavy canopy of dust hangs over them on stifling summer evenings, to be turned to liquid mud, knee-deep, when the threatening clouds have broken at last. — Daily Mail. *