This is what happened recently in Pakhoi, in the province of Kuangtung:—­

“Without the consent of the dealers, a new local tax was imposed on the raw opium in preparation for use in the opium shops.  The imposition of this tax brought to light the fact, hitherto kept secret, that of the opium consumed in Pakhoi and its district, only sixty-two per cent was imported drug, the remaining third being native opium, which was smuggled into Pakhoi, and avoided all taxation.  The new tax brought this smuggled opium under contribution, and this was more than the local opium interest would stand.  The opium dealers adopted the usual tactics of shutting their shops, thus transferring the onus of opposition to their customers.  These last paid a threatening visit to the chief authority of Pakhoi, and then wrecked the newly established tax-office.  This indication of popular feeling was enough for the local authorities at Lien-chou, the district city, and the tax was changed so as to fall on the foreign opium, the illicit native supply being discreetly ignored, and all rioters forgiven.”

So much for taxation.  Let us take an instance of interference with prescriptive rights, in connection with the great incorruptible viceroy, Chang Chih-tung, to whom we are all so much indebted for his attitude during the Siege of the Legations in 1900.

Ten years ago, when starting his iron-works at Wuchang, in the province of Hupeh, he ordered the substitution of a drawbridge over a creek for the old bridge which had stood there from time immemorial, the object being to let steamers pass freely up and down.  Unfortunately, the old bridge was destroyed before the new one was ready.  What was the result?

“The people rushed to the Yamen, and insisted by deputation and mass-brawling on the restoration of the bridge.

“Finally, the viceroy thought it worth his while to issue a rhyming proclamation, assuring the people that what he was doing was for their good, and justifying his several schemes.”

Yet Chang Chih-tung always has been, and is still, one of the strongest officials who ever sat upon a viceroy’s throne.

In November, 1882, there was a very serious military riot in Hankow, on the opposite side of the Yang-tsze to Wuchang.  It arose out of a report that four soldiers had been arrested and were to be secretly beheaded the same night.  This rising might have assumed very serious dimensions, but for the prompt submission of the viceroy to the soldiers’ demands.  As it was, the whole city was thrown into a state of the utmost alarm.  Few of the inhabitants slept through the night.  The streets were filled with a terror-stricken population, expecting at any moment to hear that the prison doors had been forced, and the criminals let loose to join the soldiers in their determination to kill the officials, plunder the treasury, and sack the city.  Many citizens are said to have fled from the place; and the sudden rush upon the cash shops, to convert paper notes into silver, brought some of them to the verge of bankruptcy.