I showed him my photographs, and he graciously invited me to give him some.

I nodded cheerfully to him in assent, rolled them all up again, and put them back in my box.

He knew that I did not understand.
We had tea together, and then he took his leave, "Warry _Ching, ching_!" being his parting words.
As soon as he had gone the deep drum--a hollow instrument of wood shaped like a fish--was beaten, and the priests gathered to vespers, dressed in many-coloured garments of silk; and, as evening fell, they intoned a sweet and mournful chant.
The service over, all but the choristers entered the room off the gallery in which I was lying, where, looking in, I saw them throw off their gowns and coil themselves on the sleeping benches.

Opium-lamps were already lit, and all were soon inhaling opium; all but one who had rheumatism, and who, lying down, stretched himself at full length, while a brother priest punched him all over in that primitive method of massage employed by every native race the wide world over.
In the City Temple some festival was being celebrated, and night was turbulent with the beating of gongs and drums and the bursting of crackers.

Long processions of priests in their yellow robes were passing the temple in the bright moonlight.