Of course our traveller was attracted by the diminutiveness of the feet of the Chinese women, and she had an opportunity of examining one of these tiny monstrosities in natura.  Four of the toes were bent under the sole of the foot, to which they were firmly pressed, and simultaneously with which they appeared to have grown, if growth it can be called; the great toe alone remained in its natural state.  The fore part of the foot had been so swathed and compressed by tight bandages, that, instead of expanding in length and breadth, it had shot upwards, so as to form a large lump at the instep, where it became, so to speak, a portion of the leg; the lower part of the foot was scarcely five inches long, and an inch and a half broad.  The feet are always encased in white linen or silk, with silk bandages over all, and are then stuffed into pretty little shoes with very high heels.  “To my astonishment,” says Madame Pfeiffer, “these deformed beings tripped about, as if in defiance of us broad-footed creatures, with tolerable ease, the only difference in their gait being that they waddled like geese; they even ran up and down stairs without a stick.”  She adds, that the value of a bride is reckoned by the smallness of her feet.

It was characteristic of Madame Pfeiffer that she found means to see much which no European woman had ever seen before.  She obtained access even to a Buddhist temple,—­that of Houan, reputed to be one of the finest in China.  The sacred enclosure is surrounded by a high wall.  The visitor enters first a large outer court, at the extremity of which a huge gateway opens upon an inner court.  Beneath the arch stand two statues of war-gods, each eighteen feet high, with terribly distorted faces and the most menacing attitudes; these are supposed to prevent the approach of evil genii.  A second portal, of similar construction, under which are placed the “four heavenly kings,” leads to a third court, surrounding the principal temple, a structure one hundred feet in length, and of equal breadth.  On rows of wooden pillars is supported a flat roof, from which glass lamps, lustres, artificial flowers, and brightly-coloured ribbons hang suspended.  All about the area are scattered statues, altars, vases of flowers, censers, candelabra, and other accessories.

But the eye is chiefly attracted by the three altars in the foreground, with the three coloured statues behind them, of Buddha, seated, as emblematic of Past, Present, and Future.  On the occasion of Madame Pfeiffer’s visit a service was being performed,—­a funeral ceremony in honour of a mandarin’s deceased wife, and at his expense.  Before the altars on the right and left stood several priests, in garments strangely resembling, as did the ceremonial observances, those of the Roman Church.  The mandarin himself, attended by two servants armed with large fans, prayed before the central altar.  He kissed the ground repeatedly, and each time he did so three sweet-scented wax-tapers were put into his hand.  After raising them in the air, he handed them to the priests, who then stationed them, unlighted, before the Buddha images.  Meantime, the temple resounded with the blended strains of three musicians, one of whom struck a metal ball, the other scraped a stringed instrument, and the third educed shrill notes from a kind of flute.