In the Temple of Mercy we met with an adventure which was nearly attended with unpleasant consequences.  A priest, or bonze, handed us some little tapers for us to light and offer to his divinity.  Herr von Carlowitz and myself had already got the tapers in our hands, and were quite willing to afford him this gratification, when an American missionary, who was with us, tore the tapers from our grasp, and indignantly returned them to the priest, saying, that what we were about to do was an act of idolatry.  The priest took the matter very seriously, and, instantly closing the doors, called his companions, who hurried in from all sides, and abused us in the most violent and vociferous fashion, pressing closer every instant.  It was with the greatest difficulty that we succeeded in fighting our way to the door, and thus making our escape.

After this little fray, our guide conducted us to the dwelling of the Holy—­Pigs! {105} A beautiful stone hall is set apart for their use, which hall these remarkable divinities fill, in spite of all the care bestowed on them, with so horrible a stench, that it is impossible to approach them without holding one’s nose.  They are taken care of and fed until death summons them away.  When we visited the place there were only a pair of these fortunate beings, and their number rarely exceeds three couples.

I was better pleased with the residence of a bonze, which adjoined this holy spot.  It consisted of a sitting-room and bed-room merely, but was very comfortably and elegantly fitted up.  The walls of the sitting-room were ornamented with carved wood-work, and the furniture was old-fashioned and pleasing:  at the back of the apartment, which was flagged, stood a small altar.

We here saw an opium-eater, lying stretched out upon a mat on the floor.  At his side was a cup of tea, with some fruit and a little lamp, besides several pipes, with bowls that were smaller than a thimble.  On our entrance, he was just inhaling the intoxicating smoke from one of them.  It is said that some of the Chinese opium smokers consume from twenty to thirty grains a-day.  As he was not altogether unconscious of our presence, he managed to raise himself, laid by his pipe, and dragged himself to a chair.  His eyes were fixed and staring, and his face deadly pale, presenting altogether a most pitiable and wretched spectacle.

Last of all, we were conducted to the garden, where the bonzes, at their death, are burnt—­a particular mark of distinction, as all other people are interred.  A simple mausoleum, about thirty feet square, and a few small private monuments, were all that was to be seen.  None of them had any pretensions to elegance, being built of the simplest masonry.  In the former of these edifices are preserved the bones of the persons who have been burnt, and among them are also buried the rich Chinese, whose heirs pay pretty handsomely to obtain such an honour for them.  At a little distance stands a small