Empress was dead. But it was the wrong Empress,—the Dowager or Eastern Empress, who was believed to be in perfect health! The event caused a profound sensation in the capital, and numberless were the rumours that passed from mouth to mouth. It was, however, shrouded in mystery, and we shall probably never know the truth about it. Suffice it to say that Tz'ŭ An unexpectedly died, and Tz'ŭ Hsi unexpectedly recovered; and she has continued in excellent health ever since. It is she who now holds the reins of power, and is the undisputed mistress of China. When the present writer saw her a few years ago, she was about three and forty years of age. Her hair was dressed "butterfly-fashion"—that is, twisted in thick coils along a sort of bar stretching across the top of the head, and protruding on either side—and fastened with gold hair-pins; her straight, well-formed features had an austere look, as she gazed stolidly straight in front of her; and she wore a plain robe of lavender or light-mauve silk, as half-mourning for her son, the late Emperor T'ung Chih. That was before the death of her sister-Empress. Since then her personal influence has very materially increased, and she has dared on several occasions, to set all precedent and etiquette aside whenever such restrictions interfered with her own caprices. Tired of her long confinement to the Winter Palace, and in defiance of popular opinion, Her Majesty now goes constantly to the beautiful gardens known as the Nan and Chung Hai, and there gives audiences and holds her court. So thoroughly is she said to throw off the restraints of royalty as to practise archery, and is even reported to have taken lessons in boxing, attired in a sort of Bloomer costume, from an old eunuch. The sight must
