manner and startled me by saying, "I am very sorry that I have some very bad news to tell you—Queen Victoria is dead!"
So it was I heard of the passing of the great Queen.
The news spread like wildfire through Hong-Kong; excited groups were everywhere discussing it, and the Chinese were rushing about excitedly, telling each other "Queenie Wicketoria is dead!"
That day no official notice was taken of the event, though flags were all at half-mast, but quite suddenly a wonderful hush fell upon that busy town, and its noisy teeming streets were deserted and empty. The Chinese of their own accord had closed every shop, and by nighttime were draping them in crape. It was quite curious to see the empty, quiet streets—as I said, a sudden hush fell on that town, and, indeed, on the whole East.
Out in the East and through many far-away lands and seas Queen Victoria was regarded as almost a divine being she was the Queen of all the white people, not merely of the British; and will rank through all ages in Oriental legends and tales as a sort of half-mythical being, not as mere woman and ruler.
There was another great name that loomed over the whole East in a curious way. It was a name spoken with respect and bated breath by every one, and one felt instinctively that here must be real greatness, or how would one man's name and personality so tower above all others? I was unable to reach Pekin, and so had no chance of meeting the great Sir Robert Hart—a disappointment, as I had known his family for years. But the way he was always spoken of, and the universal agreement as to his strong personality
