after the beginning of the interview, an unwary foreigner, as indeed has often been the case, perhaps because he is thirsty, or because he may think it polite to take a sip of the fragrant drink which has been so kindly provided for him, will raise the cup to his lips.  Almost instantaneously he will hear a loud shout outside, and become aware that the scene is changing rapidly for no very evident reason—­only too evident, however, to the surrounding Chinese servants, who know it to be their own custom that so soon as a visitor tastes his “guest-tea,” it is a signal that he wishes to leave, and that the interview is at an end.  The noise is simply a bawling summons to get ready his sedan-chair, and the scurrying of his coolies to be in their places when wanted.  There is another side to this quaint custom, which is often of inestimable advantage to a busy man.  A host, who feels that everything necessary has been said, and wishes to free himself from further attendance, may grasp his own cup and invite his guest to drink.  The same results follow, and the guest has no alternative but to rise and take his leave.  In ancient days visitors left their shoes outside the front door, a custom which is still practised by the Japanese, the whole of whose civilization—­this cannot be too strongly emphasized—­was borrowed originally from China.

It is considered polite to remove spectacles during an interview, or even when meeting in the street; though as this rather unreasonable rule has been steadily ignored by foreigners, chiefly, no doubt, from unacquaintance with it, the Chinese themselves make no attempt to observe it so far as foreigners are concerned.  In like manner, it is most unbecoming for any “read-book man,” no matter how miserably poor he is, to receive a stranger, or be seen himself abroad, in short clothes; but this rule, too, is often relaxed in the presence of foreigners, who wear short clothes themselves.  Honest poverty is no crime in China, nor is it in any way regarded as cause for shame; it is even more amply redeemed by scholarship than is the case in Western countries.  A man who has gained a degree moves on a different level from the crowd around him, so profound is the respect shown to learning.  If a foreigner can speak Chinese intelligibly, his character as a barbarian begins to be perceptibly modified; and if to the knack of speech he adds a tolerable acquaintance with the sacred characters which form the written language, he becomes transfigured, as one in whom the influence of the holy men of old is beginning to prevail over savagery and ignorance.