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 attracted to an ominous-looking tomb by hearing some one moan there. It was growing dark and I may have, perhaps, felt a little superstitious as I peeped in and beheld what seemed to be an old man clad in rags too scant to cover his frame. He was fanning a fire made up of withered branches, but he was not the only tenant; there was a coffin too, looming out from the darkness within, and I almost fancied he was the ghost of its owner. But no ! there was no mistaking the moan of suf- fering humanity. The cold wind was chilling his thin blood and racking his joints with pain. Administering some temporary relief and passing on to a tomb where I could hear sounds of mirth, I found four inmates inside, the members of a firm of beggars. I visited them again next morning and came upon the group at breakfast. The head-man — a lusty, half-naked lout — was standing in front of the entrance, enjoying a post-prandial pipe, and he offered me a smoke with the air of a Chinese gentleman. After this he invited me in to inspect the interior, where his partners were busily engrossed with chopsticks and bowls of reeking scraps collected on the previous day. They were chatting noisily, too, forgetful of their cares and of the coffins that surrounded them. One, the jester of the party, was seated astride a coffin, cracking his jokes over the skull of its occupant.

While at Foochow, after visiting the beggars, I thought I might as well see what the detectives are like. These men are commonly known as the "Ma-qui" or "Swift as horses," and are attached to the yamens of the local authorities, receiving a small stipend out of the Government supplies, but obtaining the bulk of their earnings from persons who seek to recover stolen goods, or even from the thieves themselves.

The Ma-qui is supposed to know personally all the professional