infantry, in blue uniforms, headed the order of the advance from the Palace, their modern dress and smart accoutrements forming the one link between the middle ages and the twentieth century, to which the function could lay claim. After them, running, stumbling, and chattering noisily, passed a mob of Palace attendants in fantastic hats and costumes of various degrees of brilliancy, long silken robes of blue, green, yellow, red and orange, carrying staves bound with embroidered streamers of coloured ribbons. A line of bannermen followed, bearing red silken flags with blue characters, also hurrying and stumbling forward; then passed a file of pipes and drums, the men in yellow robes with the shimmer of gold about them, streamers fluttering from the pipes, ribbons decking the drums. Men bearing arrows in leather frames and flags of green, red and yellow, were next. Soldiers in ancient costume, wonderful to behold, men with bells and jingling cymbals, pipes and fans, Palace eunuchs in Court dress, detachments of dismounted cavalry, their horses not appearing, but their riders garbed in voluminous shirts, their hats covered with feathers and wearing high boots, swept along, amiable and foolish of aspect.
The procession, which preceded the passing of the Emperor, seemed almost unending. At every moment the sea of colour broke into waves of every imaginable hue, as one motley crowd of retainers, servants, musicians and officials gave place to another. Important and imposing officials in high-crowned hats, adorned with crimson tassels festooned with bunches of feathers and fastened by a string of amber beads round the throat, were pushed along, silent and helpless. Their dresses were glaring combinations of red and blue and orange; they were supported by men
