The South Sea Palaces
U ST outside the walls of the Forbidden City on the west are to be N R K found a group of beautiful gardens and palaces. These less formal halls and dwelling pavilions, nestled in among the trees that border the shores of the Nan Hai, were erected by the old emperors as a winter resort-a conveniently close yet quiet retreat from the strict formalities of the Court and the more or less strenuous routine always adhered to within the walls of the "Purple City." The usual approach to these delightful Winter Palaces is by the Hsin Hua Men on the south, an Imperial gateway, two stories high, which more nearly reserables a palace than a gateway. It was built, we are told, by Ch'ien Lung, who prepared it for his favorite Mohammedan concubine, so that she might gaze across the street at the mosque that had been erected especially for her, but which custom prevented her from entering. "As soon as we pass through the gateway, a radiant vista stretches before us. At our feet lies the Nan Hai, or 'Southern Sea,' with the fairy island of the Ying T'ai [Ocean Terrace) floating on it, and beyond, the stately succession of Winter Palace roofs shining in the sunlight." Near by is the Imperial boathouse where are kept the ponderous barges, which to this day "are pressed into service to convey guests across the lake when the President gives a garden party." Having been invited by His Excellency Li Yuan-hung to attend one of these Presi dential parties, we find the stately boats all in readiness, and are soon gliding smoothly over the rippling waters of the lake toward beautiful "Ocean Terrace," a corner of which is shown in the opposite plate. Here in this little fairyland, under the green canopy of trees, with charming pavilions and fascinating rockeries on every hand, we pause for a few moments to listen to the quiet lapping of tiny waves-waves, which with every ripple seen to whisper some telltale story of Peking's Tomantic past--days of barbaric splendor, and nights of lordly revelry, when great warriors like the splendid Khan feasted with a thousand of his lords; or of later days and nights when the Nan Hai gardens were filled with light, music, and laughter as the Empress Tzū Hsi carried on her splendid revelries. In the midst of all this concentrated beauty, a pathetic touch is added by the memory of the unfortunate Emperor Kuang Hsü, who for years was kept a prisoner here, and who died an exile in his palace shortly after the Court returned to Peking in 1902. The room is shown us where he died--a small alcove chamber very much like the usual Chinese sleeping apartment, but richly furnished, and with the unusual addition of a large plate glass window. Here the frail, melancholy prisoner might look out on "his little world of beauty," and mourn over his lonely, forlom condition- an emperor, born to rule, but all his life ruled over, until death released him from his mental and physical sufferings
