sible for him to see his son except in private and in an informal manner. Were he to attend Court in public he would either have to k'o-t'ou to his own child—which is a sufficiently horrifying idea to a Chinese—or the Emperor would have to k'o-t'ou to one of his own subjects—which would be an equal outrage on propriety. He, therefore, only sees his son unofficially, and devotes himself to supervising the lad's education in the privacy of the inner apartments. But there is yet another member of the Imperial fraternity, the eldest of the three, who is known as the Fifth Prince. This gentleman lives in a rather tumble-down-looking palace with green tiles just inside the Ch'i-hua Men, and is said to be a very original character. He holds the sinecure post of President of the Tsung Jên Fu, or Court of the Imperial Clan—a department which regulates all affairs relating to the Emperor's kindred, and preserves the Yü Tieh or Genealogical Record. In this capacity he has the title of Tsung Ch'ing, or Prince-regulator of the Affairs of the Imperial Clan. The Prince is both popular and poor. Many are the stories told at the capital about the escapades of the Prince of Tun. On one occasion he went to the palace in a very seedy sedan-chair. After he had been there some time the Prince of Kung arrived, and also went in for audience. While the latter was engaged inside, the Prince of Tun came out again, and espied the handsome palanquin of his younger brother. "Whose is this chair?" he asked the attendants. "It belongs to the Sixth Prince," was the reply. "Just the one I wanted," rejoined His Imperial Highness, and before the servants of Prince Kung could recover from their surprise the Fifth Prince stepped nimbly into his
