I started from Tientsin for Peking, distant seventy-two English, miles, on the morning of March 2nd, 1863, with feelings of deep interest and curiosity. My mode of conveyance was a cart drawn by two mules, one in front of the other. The front mule was attached to the cart by two long ropes connecting his collar with the heavy off-shaft of the vehicle. He had neither halter, bridle, nor rein, being managed entirely by the whip and the voice of the driver. This personage ran along by the hinder mule on the near side, or rode in front of the covered portion of the cart, sitting on the left-hand shaft, his feet dangling down on the near side. He would spring up on his seat while the cart was in motion, or he would occasionally leap down and run along by the side of the animals, talking to them much as though they understood him. Whenever we met a cart we always turned out to the left instead of the right hand. I noticed also that whenever he met a teamster whom he knew, he would generally alight, and walk or run along for a few rods while passing him, instead of simply speaking with him while retaining his seat on the cart: this he did as an act of politeness.