His fellow was somewhat better, for he was of the thin kind of that type,
and though possessing the effeminate, weak characteristics of his friend,
one could at least see that he was built on a skeleton, like the
generality of people! But the features of these eunuchs were as nothing
to their voices. The latter were squeaky like those of girls of five; and
more especially when the fat man spoke, it almost seemed as if the thread
of a voice came from underground, so imperceptible was the sound that he
could produce after he had spoken a few minutes. Having profited by the
notions of my Corean philosopher of a little while ago, I simply went
into screams of merriment at the misfortune of these poor devils, but
really it was difficult to help it.

Preceded by these eunuchs, let us now go over the tumble-down ruins of
the palace. On the top of the small hill stands the main building of red
painted wood and turned up roof _à la Chinoise_, and inside this, in the
audience hall, can yet be seen the remains of the wooden throne raised up
in the centre, with screens on the sides. There is nothing artistic about
it, no richness, and nothing beautiful, and with the exception of the
ceiling, that must have been pretty at one time with native patterns and
yellow, red and green ornaments, there is absolutely nothing else worth
noticing. Outside, the three parallel flights of steps leading up to the
audience hall have a curious feature. It is forbidden to any one but the
King to go up on the middle steps, and he of course is invariably
carried; for which reason, in the middle part of the centre staircase a
carved stone table is laid over the steps in such a way that no one can
tread on them except quite at the sides where the men who carry the King
have to walk.

The houses where the King and royal family used to live with their