and desolation throughout the empire. The Tartar chieftain at last captured the emperor, and obliged him to be his servant at table, finally putting him to a most cruel death. His son was also captured, and after performing for a while the menial office of carrying his conqueror's parasol, was at last beheaded. Another of the family, however, was proclaimed, and the Tartars were driven out. This dynasty was continued until A. D. 420, when a revolted general seized the imperial power and began the dynasty of Song, the eighth in order.

Of the next six dynasties we cannot speak in this article. They succeeded each other in vigor and promise, but gradually declined and passed away, most of them in violence, leaving little worthy of record. Let us but say that Tait-song, of the thirteenth, was one of the most renowned of the Chinese emperors. He was a father to his people, the friend of the poorer classes, the promoter of the arts and sciences. During his reign it is said that eight thousand students were annually in attendance at the imperial institute, and some Christian missionaries were admitted to China, and permitted to build a chapel and preach the gospel. As a relic of this period, the Jesuits have claimed that, on their admission to the empire ten centuries afterward, they found a stone monument on which was chiseled, in Syriac characters, an abstract of the Law of Moses and the names of seventy-two preachers. The mode of making the fine porcelain called chinaware was discovered during this reign; and the celebrated Han-lin College was established, consisting of forty members, from which the Ministry of State are chosen, by an examination into their capabilities. At this time also was introduced the custom of binding the feet of female children, to prevent their growth.

empire now declined more and more-the encroachments of the Tartars continually increased. By treaty and by conquest they soon became possessors of large territories even within the Great Wall. In 1234 the Mongols, or Western Tartars, on the one side, and the Chinese on the other, attacked the Kin, or Eastern Tartars. After terrific bloodshed, the power of the Kin passed mostly into the hands of the Mongols; but the remnant of this people became the Mantchu Tartars, who, four centuries afterward, conquered all China. Genghis Khan, the Mongol chief, by whom these wars were conducted, left his son Kublai in possession of most of the Northern provinces. He was a man of great energy and talents-a warrior and a statesman; and, coveting the scepter of all China, with a large army he began his progress to the imperial city. At his approach, the court fled in the utmost consternation to some vessels lying in the river; and being pursued, one of the nobles seized the infant emperor, and jumped with him into the sea, followed by the empress and all the chief ministers. Thus the Tartar sovereign was left in undisputed possession of the throne.

The new emperor fixed his seat of government at Pekin, where he built a palace of unrivaled magnificence, which has been glowingly described by Marco Paulo. He adopted the laws, customs, dress, &c., of the Chinese, and governed with great wisdom and moderation. Such was his success as a ruler, that the people not only became reconciled to the Tartar sway, but actually loved and gloried in Kublai Khan. During his reign, the public works of China were greatly improved, and with a more liberal policy, Matteo and Nicolo Polo, the famous European travelers, were admitted to China. The last of this Tartar race was Shunti, a miserably effeminate and voluptuous prince, who ascended the throne in 1331, and reigned thirty-five years. The vices of this monarch served but to awaken in the Chinese all their prejudices against the Tartars, and an in

brated General Choo, who entered Pekin in triumph, and was proclaimed emperor under the title of Tait-soo, and became the first of the Ming dynasty, establishing his court at Nankin, as more favorably situated to keep off the Tartars. Shunti and his ministers fled into Tartary. While

the Ming dynasty was in power, Tamerlane, a Tartar chief, as remarkable for prowess as Genghis Khan, set out to attack the empire; but dying on his way, the Chinese luckily escaped. At this time a new impulse having been given to navigation by the discovery of America, European ships first visited China. The Portuguese and Dutch were the most enterprising of these adventurers, and the former actually established themselves on the borders of China, at Macao; and, through them, the Jesuits made their entrance into the empire. During the reign of Wanlie, the thirteenth of this dynasty, the Mantchus made frequent irruptions upon the empire, and just at the time of his death war had been formally declared. In a few months the Tartar chief also died, leaving as his successor Tien Song, who continued the war against the new Chinese sovereign, Whey-tsong. The whole nation was now in a state of anarchy and confusion. Rebellion sprang up in every province. The boldest of the insurgent leaders, Li Kong, aspired to the imperial dignity. He began his march toward Pekin, which city he took by stratagem-the emperor, stabbing first his daughter and then himself, left Li Kong in possession of the imperial power, and most of the nation submitted to his sway.

A Chinese general, by the name of Woonsankwei, having a considerable army under his command, still held out with determined bravery, and fortified himself in a city on the confines of Tartary. This was soon besieged by the usurper, who had, since his accession, been guilty of the most revolting cruelties. Enraged at the obstinacy of Woonsankwei, the tyrant caused the aged father of that general to be brought loaded with chains to the walls of the city, and notified the son that, if he did not at once surrender, the old man would be instantly put to death. The son appeared upon the wall, and upon his knees, while tears streamed down his cheeks, he heard the commands of his parent never to acknowledge the usurper as his sovereign; and the words were scarcely uttered, before his head was severed from his body. This horrid sight inspired Woonsankwei with a new thirst for vengeance. He made peace with the Mantchu Tartars, and with their aid soon drove Li Kong from the capital. The Tartar chief resolved to retain the government for

himself, and thus began, A. D. 1644, the twenty-second dynasty, which is still on the throne.

As before, the people generally submitted with cheerfulness to the rule of the Tartars, who, indeed, doffed their own customs, becoming, in the main, Chinese in their manners, and habits, and modes of dress; the Chinese, of course, retaining their own peculiarities. One exception, however, was made most humiliating to the natives. They were compelled to divest themselves of their thick raven hair, and adopt the Tartar fashion of a long-plaited tail hanging from the crown of a shaven head. These tails, so dreadful to the Chinese at first, have since become greatly esteemed. The reign of Shun-che, the first emperor, was wise and politic; that of Kang-hy, the second, was of great chivalry and popularity. During his reign, the English obtained a permanent footing in China.

They were at first received cautiously, the Mantchus fearing they might unite with the Chinese to dethrone them; but their trade steadily advanced, until, in 1699, the East India Company were allowed to establish a factory at Canton. Under several emperors of this dynasty China still advanced, until it reached something like the glory it had under Kublai Khan, and intercourse was first had between the courts of China and Great Britain. It is true, wars now and then broke out; one with the Burmese, another with the Maou-tse, a wild, uncivilized people dwelling in the mountains, who not only refused to acknowledge the Tartar rule, but were constantly making predatory incursions upon the lower countries. But in all the emperor was successful. The empire, at last, began to decline under the rule of Kia King, who ascended the throne in 1795. He was loose and intemperate in his life, superstitious and idolatrous in the extreme, and the country became the ready prey of robbers and revolutionists. In 1820, hurried to his grave by his excesses, if not by assassination, he died, and his second son, Taou-Kwang, the late emperor, took the scepter.

This monarch had neither the talents of his grandfather, nor the vices of his father. He sought to restore peace and prosperity to the empire. Formidable rebellions were quelled, both among the distant Tartar tribes that had been annexed to the empire, and among the still unsub

dued mountaineers, and a formidable one which arose in the Island of Formosa, in 1832. But his reign is chiefly memorable for the quarrel with the English. We cannot now trace the origin of this opium war. Its history is so recent, that it must be somewhat familiar to our readers. Suffice it to say, the English entered into the heart of the country, demolishing fortresses, capturing cities, and actually appeared before Nankin itself, previous to signing the treaty which terminated hostilities. The pride of the Chinese was humbled by British cannon, and a feeling of great dissatisfaction arose throughout the empire that Taou-Kwang should have permitted “barbarians”—a little nation that they had been accustomed to think of as being under infinite obligations for the privileges of trading with them-thus to intrude, unbidden, upon "celestial" ground.

The opening of five ports to the British, and the cession of Hong Kong to them forever, increased the clamor against the emperor. This feeling of discontent was further fomented by the subsequent conduct of Ki-in, the minister who had negotiated the treaty with the British. His disposition to be on friendly terms with foreigners awakened a suspicion of his patriotism. The most absurd calumnies were circulated, and numerous placards served to excite the populace against him. From one of these we extract the following:

"Our carnivorous mandarins have hitherto

connived at all that those English bandits have done against order and justice, and five hundred years hence our nation will still deplore its humiliation. In the fifth moon of this year, more than twenty Chinese were killed by the strangers: their bodies were thrown into the river, and buried in the belly of the fishes; but our high authorities have treated these affairs as if they had not heard speak of them. They have considered the foreign devils as if they were gods, have taken no more account of Chinese than if they were dogs' meat, and have despised men's lives like the hairs that are shaved off the head. Thousands of persons have lamented and been indignant; grief has penetrated the marrow of their bones," &c., &c.

In the mean time the emperor was growing old. His government had lost its pristine vigor, and was most objectionable with the people. A rebellious feeling was on the increase in the distant mountain districts, and everywhere, indeed, the old prejudice against the Tartars began to revive. Such was the state

of things when, on the 26th of February, 1850, due proclamation was made with all the usual ceremonies that Taou-Kwang had breathed his last. The present emperor quietly took possession of the empty throne, assuming the title of Hien-foung, which signifies complete abundance. Great expectations were excited in all parties by his accession.

For a season all parties were disappointed by the entire inactivity of the emperor; but in a few months, as if arousing from stupor, he at once dismissed the old and tried ministers of Taou-Kwang, and selected his advisers from their most violent opposers, and the bitterest enemies of the Europeans. Scarcely had this act been done before the first news came of a revolt in the distant province of Kouang-Si.

The most diligent preparations seem to have been made for this revolt. The "Triad," a secret society spread over all China, had existed for years, having for its chief object, it is believed, the destruction of the Tartar dynasty. Means were therefore accessible to give currency to the most extraordinary rumors. It was said, for instance, that an ancient prophecy had fixed the year 1851 for the reestablishment of the Ming dynasty. It was also said that a sage who lived under the last emperor of that race had preserved his standard, and it was generally believed that whoever unfurled this standard in the midst of the army would remount the throne; and now it was said that these insurgents at Kouang-Si marched under this miraculous banner. Kouang-Si was well chosen for the beginning of this insurrection. It was a distant district in the south-western portion of the empire, mountainous in the extreme, singularly picturesque, and utterly inaccessible. The inhabitants, bold and independent, had never tamely submitted to the Tartar yoke, and their heads had never been shaven. They were a fearless, hardy, vigorous race, well calculated to bear the fatigues of war. Here the revolutionists had wisely determined to begin their work. They resolved, in the first place, to mark the date of their enterprise by the erection of a religious monument. Laborers began to dig for its foundation in decomposed rock, which yielded readily to the pickax. When but a few feet below the surface they came to hard and heavy lumps, which on investigation proved to be silver ore.

This providential bank supplied the army with means for beginning operations, and gave to them, of course, a fresh impulse. The Chinese papers now began for the first time to speak of the insurgents, but only as robbers, that the Chinese tigers would soon destroy. They, in the mean time, began their march in triumph, towns and cities yielding cheerfully before them.

Tien-te, the pretender, who had been shrewdly kept in the background, began now to be more freely spoken of by his adherents; and he is described as being twenty-three years of age, grave and melancholy, and very reserved, communicating with those around him only to give them orders. His complexion is that of the southern Chinese-a saffron tint. His impassible gaze seems to probe the depths of the human soul. He commands rather by suggestion than by direct dictation. In a word, he has the silent reserve of a man who has reflected a great deal before communicating his projects to any one.

The persons who surround Tien-te have cut off their tails, and let the whole of their hair grow, which is an act of treason in China; and, instead of the chang buttoned at the side, they wear tunics open in front. None of the officers wear

upon their right thumb the pan-tche, that archer's ring which the mandarins so ostentatiously display. The emperor rides in a magnificent palanquin, with yellow satin curtains, carried by sixteen officers. After Tien-te's palanquin comes that of his preceptor, borne upon the shoulders of eight coolies; then his thirty wives, in gilt and painted chairs, and a multitude of servants and soldiers follow in fine order.

The army of the rebels seems to be kept in excellent discipline, while that of the emperor is in great confusion. The pretender exercises a liberal and protective policy wherever his army goes; while Hien-foung, limited in his exchequer, levies everywhere the most oppressive tribute, and enforces its collection by barbarous cruelties. All this tends to alienate the people from the emperor, and to fan the flames of rebellion.

But it is not our purpose to trace the progress of this rebellion, neither to discuss its probable effect upon China, the world, or the cause of Christ. We hope and pray that the gates, so long barred against the gospel, may be thrown wide open, and that this mighty empire will soon be numbered among "the kingdoms of our Lord and his Christ."

TH

HIS beautiful article is manufactured in various places throughout Germany, most largely amid the very mountainous districts of Bohemia; some of the best, however, is made in Bavaria and sent to Bohemia, and thence exported. The materials from which the glass is formed consist chiefly of the same as those used in England; the manufacturers themselves seem to believe that there is no difference except in the proportions of the materials, and in the fuel, which is exclusively wood, and produces, by a little attention, a more constant and intense heat than can be produced by any coal; the feeding of the furnace with the latter material, they say, always creates a change in the temperature detrimental to the fluid above, and never sufficiently intense. The wooded mountains of Bohemia are entirely inhabited by a population whose industry, morals, hospitality, and kindliness of manners do honor, not only to this rich and beautiful kingdom, but to the whole human race. They are pure Germans, not of Sclavish origin, and the German dialect alone is

spoken. Unlike every other manufacturing district I have ever visited, they retain unimpaired all their rural and primitive virtues. Clean to a proverb in their houses and persons, hospitable and amiable in their manners, simple in their habits, cheerful and devoted in their religion, they form, perhaps, the happiest community in the world. In passing through the country, a stranger would never find out that he was in a manufacturing district, but might fancy himself in the green valleys of a partly pastoral, partly agricultural people. Thickly inhabited, the beautiful little cottages, clustered into villages, or scattered along the glens, or sides of the hills, are embowered with fruit-trees, and encircled with shrubs and flowers, which each cottager cultivates with a zeal peculiar to his race. On every side rich fields of grain or pasture stretch out like a vast enameled carpet between the hills, which are clothed in dense forests of spruce, fir, pine, and beach, filled with deer, roe, and capercalzie; they extend in every direction, far beyond the reach of the eye, one