The barge that bore Tuen to Peking proceeded slowly on its way, for why should one economize time or labor in a country where there are more hands than work for them to do? The novelty of the trip kept her well amused, and she cared not how long they drifted idly on, for the present was very satisfactory to her. After they had passed through the beautiful Lake Poyana, sleeping like an inland sea cradled by the encircling mountains, they entered the vast Yang-tse-kiang, that ever ebbed and flowed in calm strength, as it swept on to where it was lost in the vaster waters of the ocean. No wonder Tuen was enchanted with the sights that greeted her. Around her was ever the same endless throng, in its struggle for existence, and if she tired of this epitome of human life, she had but to raise her eyes to the hills beyond, dotted with the innumerable graves of the dead, to see the end of it all, though, as she was not a philosopher, she doubtless did not think about it in this way. Graceful pagodas, with bells and glittering ornaments swinging from the corners of the curving, many-storied roofs, stood out here and there like solitary beacons, although they lit no way. Along the river banks were fertile plains, converted into regularly laid out fields and gardens, that for thousands of years had yielded a full harvest from their inexhaustible richness, and numerous cottages, some with tiled roofs shining in the sunlight, others with only a covering of straw, diversified the landscape. Sometimes they threaded their way among barren islands that rose like mammoths of the deep, and again passed walled cities where the river lapped hungrily against its boundaries, or they loitered beside little white towns embowered in green. Oft-times Szu whiled away the hours by telling her the glorious history of this, her native land, for he loved to dilate on the importance of the Flowery Kingdom. In fact he believed it to be the garden spot of the world, and as he had never been anywhere else, we must pardon his vanity. "We are the greatest and wisest nation in the world," he would tell Tuen pompously. "We are the most learned and prosperous of all people, and we have the oldest and the highest civilization. We have borrowed no foreign inventions or arts, we have not asked them to frame the laws to govern us nor to solve our difficulties. All we have ever asked of any of them is—let us alone. We are not like the barbarians—always quarrelling and fighting, and running about the earth. History tells that we have always been a civilized, peaceful race. Our language is our own, our literature has not sought for themes or inspiration in other climes, our institutions are the outcome of our own wisdom, and our land provides everything that is necessary for her children. We are the one independent nation. Confucius, the wisest of all men, left us our code of morals, and the Son of Heaven rules over us. Our kingdom contains one third of the population of the whole earth, and nearly every one of the inventions that these barbarians think they discovered they find have been in use by us long before they were a nation. Who was it that discovered the compass? We did. Who first made porcelain? We did. Who made paper first? We did. These barbarians who sail up to our ports, with great guns on their vessels, would never have had any gun-powder for their guns if it had not been for us. Of course since you have been learning to read you have found out that we it was who invented printing, and made it possible for every one to have books. Nowhere can be found so many and such great cities as we have, and not only the land but the waters are covered with our towns. I wish we could shut ourselves off, as once we were, and never see another barbarian. But alas, we cannot, for they cannot get along without us."

Thus Szu, puffed up with pride, instructed Tuen in the facts of Chinese history, and she drank in every word he said eagerly. Truly it was wonderful! And as he perceived her intense interest, Szu talked more and more of these things, though he omitted to tell her that his nation was the most egotistical one in all the world, but perhaps he did not know this. Again he would tell of the ancient kings, and of the great Kublai Khan, who reigned in the Golden Age of China.

"Those were happy times," he would say with a sigh. "We will never see the like again. When the New Year came then all his subjects gave him rich presents, not only of gold and silver and precious stones and fine cloths, but also five thousand camels, one hundred thousand white horses, and five thousand elephants, covered with cloths of silk and gold, and each beast had on its back a box filled with vessels of gold and silver. When they passed before the most holy Emperor, they formed the most brilliant spectacle ever seen by the eyes of man."

Tuen gasped as she tried to picture in her imagination this most gorgeous sight, and looking at Szu with eyes filled with amazement, she asked, timidly:

"Is that all indeed the very truth?"

"The truth?" he cried, indignantly. "Do you dare to question the accounts of our great historians—you, a foolish girl? It has all come down to us just as I have related it to you, and no one, not even the barbarians, have doubted it. If you think Szu but a romancer, he will remain silent."

"Oh, no, no," she entreated, "indeed I did not mean that! It was so marvellous that I would like to hear more about this same great one."

Somewhat pacified, and anxious to talk on such an interesting subject, Szu said:

"Perhaps you would not believe it, either, were I to recount how, then, no one in all the land was hungry, and yet it is a fact, for the Kublai Khan gave of his great wealth to his people. Whenever the crops were injured, he demanded no taxes, and when rice was scarce, he sold it for one fourth the regular price out of his own storehouse. And if any families had no food to eat, he caused provision to be given them, and rice was not refused at court throughout the whole year to any that came to beg for it. Think of no one ever starving to death then! It was the strangest thing that ever men heard of. Not only did the Kublai Khan feed his subjects, but he had countless public looms that were running all the time, where garments were woven and given to the poor, so that none could say that they were hungry or cold."

"I would have liked to be alive then," Tuen said, wistfully, and in this they all agreed with her.

"There has never been such another ruler in any land," Szu told her. "The whole world has heard of him, and marvelled at his greatness and his goodness."

At this, Tuen sighed, for she had just been wishing that the august one to whom she went had been rich and kind like the Khan. But she did not think much about him, for no one could tell her anything, and so she could only wait.