There is one thing which impresses itself indelibly on the mind, and is called to remembrance with the first mention of Peking. It is the dirt! the dirt! the dirt!
It is impossible to conceive of such awful filth, and, unless you have seen it, I defy anyone to have the faintest idea of the sights and smells of this city of the Flowery Land. The condition of the streets is the same as it was B.C. If they were described faithfully and in detail, common decencies would be violated, even as they are but too openly. Let it suffice to say that they reek with refuse, garbage, and decaying matter of every description; that the houses throw out into dry pits, dug anywhere in the road, their pig's wash and offal, and that the putrefaction and decay fills the air with noisome smells that overpower you at every turn. Filth and refuse you soon grow hardened to in Peking, but occasionally some particularly nauseous sight, such as a dead dog in a far advanced stage of decomposition, or a cat with the entrails protruding, unnerves you again.
Wherever there is water you may be sure that it is a stagnant pool of liquid filth, covered with green slime, and containing untold horrors if stirred up. Also, if you pass down even the comparatively clean Legation Street, in the wake of the watering-cart, the stench from the stirred-up dust is unbearable. Men are seen going along with baskets on their backs, carefully collecting with a bamboo pronged fork every morsel of manure, for this is the only kind that the Chinese use, chemical fertilizers being unknown. Fortunately, too, there are hundreds of pariah dogs, many evil-looking beasts, who, with their sharp noses, are busy turning over the most unsavoury heaps, or lie asleep gorged in the middle of the narrow roads. Also the pigs, great coarse-haired masses of fat (the Chinese pig is a peculiarly revolting species) wallowing in the foul slush. Enough! In every place and corner are revolting sights, unfit for a civilized community.
Then there is the dust. It adds to the unpleasantness of going about. Such dust as it is, all-pervading, all-penetrating, leaving a pungent smell in your clothes, so that I soon found out that it is necessary to keep a special costume to face it. Once outside the Compound, you find yourself in the jostle and crowd, the shouts and disorder of the streets, and as a cart or horseman passes, a cloud is raised that obscures everything for the moment; and so it is that, for half the time you are out you see nothing for the dust, and for the other half only through a dim veil of the same. At sundown the state of affairs is made worse by the succession of mules, purposely loosened to roll over and over.