quarter where the Bartletts resided. The walk was one not easily to be forgotten; for the dead Chinese still lay everywhere, the corpses being continually turned over by the savage "chow" dogs, who would growl fiercely at the approach of man. There was small use in trying to kill these dogs, for they numbered into the thousands.
Arriving in the neighborhood for which he had been bound, the first thing that caught Gilbert's eye was the ruins of the great warehouse which had before been damaged by fire. It was now burnt to the ground, and the broken tea-boxes lay in all directions with the tea stamped in the mud of the roadway.
The tea-merchant's residence had also suffered some; but, luckily, at the time of the conflagration the wind was in the opposite direction, and only a piazza was burnt off and the side of the building badly scorched.
"That fire must have been an awful shock to Mr. Bartlett," thought Gilbert, and quickened his steps to the side entrance opposite to where the fire had occurred.
As he stood ready to knock on the door, the sound
