He is a tall, handsome fellow, fifty years of age, a native of Hunan, the most warlike and anti-foreign province in China.

He was especially glad to see a foreign doctor.

The gallant Colonel confided to me a wish that had long been uppermost in his heart.

From some member, unknown, of the British Commission he had learnt of the marvellous rejuvenating power of a barbarian medicine--could I get him some?
_Could I get him a bottle of hair-dye ?_ Unlike his compatriots, who regard the external features of longevity as the most coveted attribute of life, this gentleman, in whose brain the light of civilisation was dawning, wished to frustrate the doings of age.

Could I get him a bottle of hair-dye?
He was in charge of the fort at Ganai, two days out on the way to Bhamo, and would write to the officer in charge during his absence directing him to provide me with an escort worthy of my benefaction.
One celebrity, who lives in the neighbourhood of Tengyueh, did not favour me with a visit.