The next morning I landed with my friend, and obtaining horses the Sz-wang had promised the previous evening to have ready, we started for the city, the nearest point of which was about two miles distant. Our way ran through a long and populous suburb, in which a very large provision trade was being carried on, and great numbers of shaven-headed Imperialists were to be seen about, all apparently busily engaged disposing of their merchandise. The walls of Nankin cover an immense area, being at the least eighteen or nineteen miles in circumference; but for many years the greater part of the enclosed space has been destitute of houses, and only used for gardens, or to cultivate corn and other cereal produce. The Chinese have an old saying "that if two men on horseback were to start in the morning and ride in opposite directions, round the walls, it would be evening before they met." This is hardly an exaggeration, on account of the angles and irregular turning of the ramparts.
When we arrived before the N.E. gate, much delay took place previous to our being admitted. The escort kindly furnished by the Sz-wang carried passes for us, and besides this I showed the gate-keepers my commission. None but _bonâ fide_ Ti-pings were allowed to pass in or out, and then, only after a minute search; and I noticed that all who entered or came forth carried a little wooden ticket at the waist, which had to be exhibited to the guard. The walls, although of immense thickness, and at the lowest part upwards of fifty feet high, were very poorly furnished with artillery, merely two or three light pieces being mounted upon each bastion, generally some 150 yards apart.
At last the warder-in-chief of that particular gate of Tien-kin (the Holy City), came to us, and after a severe questioning we received permission to enter. Passing through three high gates, under a tunnel at least 100 feet long, we stood within the capital of the Ti-ping. A sharp ride of more than half an hour brought us to the inhabited part of the city, in its southern quarter. Our way passed through fields of grain, interspersed with gardens, small villages, and detached houses. We passed many soldiers, each of whom halted to salute us as "Wa-choong-te" (foreign brethren). The southern part of Nankin was thickly inhabited, and seemed altogether of a better and more handsome style than any Chinese city I had previously seen. Many large palaces and official buildings occupied prominent positions; the streets were very wide and particularly clean, a rare thing in China; and the numerous people had all a free and happy bearing, totally the reverse of the cringing and humbled appearance of the Manchoo-governed Chinese. Upon reaching the Chung-wang's palace, I had no occasion to announce myself, for almost the first person I saw was my old acquaintance Le-wang, the Commander-in-Chief's adjutant-general. I introduced my friend to him, who, welcoming us warmly, carried us off, taking each by a hand with his usual frank and friendly manner, and so leading us into the palace. The Chung-wang, it appeared, was engaged planning important movements with several of the generals and chiefs. The southern half of the province of Ngan-whui, at this time (early spring of 1861) entirely under the control of the Ti-pings, was threatened by a large Imperialist army marching upon its western borders; and the Chung-wang was about to take the field against them himself.