and face to face with the sturdy nymph, who,
with a "stamp and go," is rowing him along,
while at the stern, behind his back, another
lusty Naiad steers him on his way.

The river divides the great city into two parts;
that on the left bank, which is by far the larger,
being Canton, and the opposite smaller town
"Honan." On the Honan side, a few European
gentlemen still live and carry on business, as
tranches of several firms in Hong-Kong; but
the principal European quarter is a fine level
plain on the Canton side, presenting to the
river a revetted wall. A pretty church and
some handsome houses, including the British
Consulate, have been already completed within
the land, which is called the "Shámeen." It
adjoins the portion formerly allotted for the
Hongs, or warehouses and offices of foreign
(European) merchants, which were burnt down
by the Chinese mob before the last war.

At ten in the morning, one day in the month
of February, I started from the Honan side,
under the guidance of a Chinese cicerone, who
spoke a language somewhat better than the
gibberish known by the name of "pigeon"
(business) English, to explore the city of
Canton. We crossed the river in a tanka-boat,
and after threading, jostling, and pushing our
way through swarms of small craft in every
variety, landed at the custom-house stairs, close
to a small office in which presides an English
functionary, in the pay of the Chinese government.
The strand is crowded with mean dirty
hovels, in which, and about the muddy road,
and on board innumerable boats, packed closely
along the bank, men, women, and children,
filthy and ragged, were crowding in swarms.
We passed a short way up the strand, by some
large shops, crammed with clothing and ship
chandlery, and striking inland, traversed an
open space, scattered with the relics of the
European Hongs burnt before the last war: (a
space, by-the-by, which Europeans have
altogether deserted, preferring the "Shámeen"
land, and which the Chinese government appear
unwilling to resume, so that it remains altogether
untenanted). We then entered the bazaar,
or strictly commercial portions of the town.

The day was unusually sultry for the time of
year; the streets (so to call passages of six or
seven feet width), entirely paved with
flag-stones, were muddy and greasy from rain that
had fallen the day before. The air was stagnant
from the confinement of closely-packed
and overhanging houses, and heated by swarms
of people hurrying to and fro, while an
insupportable stench from sewers, neglected drains,
and putrid fish and flesh, with a horrible odour
of stale cabbage water, pervaded the suffocating
atmosphere. I became faint at times, fatigued
and heated beyond endurance, so that my estimate
of the extent of this enormous labyrinth,
through which I plodded for four hours before
I could get a sedan-chair, is one rather of the
feelings than of the judgment. I walked—
stepping now and then into shops, to examine
them more closely— and rode in a sedan-chair
up one street and down another, from about
half-past ten in the morning until four in the
afternoon, and had to leave unvisited about half
the bazaar, to get a hasty glimpse of a few
temples, gardens, and mandarin-houses, before
dusk.

The streets are flagged, and about six or
seven feet broad. They appear to be
innumerable, crossing each other at right angles at
every two or three hundred yards. The houses
on each side are narrow-fronted, but extending
considerably to the rear. There are no windows,
for the centre of each front is open, merely
consisting of carved and painted frame-work,
like the proscenium of a theatre, and displaying
the contents of the shop on each hand, like
side-scenes. The back is closed by a large
panelling, in which figures of gods, men,
animals, and flowers, are painted, with a vast deal
of gilding and finery. In short, each shop looks
like a little theatre. A few houses have upper
stories, reached by pretty carved and
balustraded stairs. And as every article for which
space can be found, is hung up for display, both
inside the shop and around its front, the
spectator, as he enters the bazaar, feels as if he
were diving into an ocean of cloths, silks, flags,
and flutters.

My guide was a sharp fellow, who thoroughly
knew all the sights of Canton. As he had been
often employed as cicerone by the ship captains,
he immediately put me down as one of that jolly
fraternity, frequent intercourse with whom had
given a slightly nautical twang to his discourse.
We had not gone far before he addressed me,
"I say, cappen: you come along o' me and
see jewellers' shops. Here's first-rate shop—
number one jeweller this chap— cappen want to
buy anything? Heave along!" The jewellers'
shops were numerous, and I saw many
very beautiful specimens of carving and
filigree-work. Some of the shops sold articles of
European design, others ministered only to the
native beauty and fashion of Canton. These
contained many articles of considerable beauty
and real taste. The most notable were the
"bird's feather ornaments," which consist of
gold or gilt head combs, brooches, earrings, and
the like, on which are firmly fixed, with glue,
strips of the bright blue feathers of the kingfisher
(Halcyon Smyrnensis), cut into small patterns,
through which the gold ground appears: the
whole effect being exactly like that of enamel-work.
The kingfisher is not, I think, found in
China, but is imported in great numbers from
Burmah and India. I asked the price of one
skin lying on the counter, and was told half
a dollar (two shillings and threepence). The
bird was probably procured in India for
three-halfpence. Ivory shops are in great number,
but the Chinese ivory yields, in my opinion, to
that of the Japanese. I went into several
porcelain shops, and saw in each ten or a
dozen languid-looking youths painting away,
slowly and laboriously, at leaves, flowers, insects,
and so forth, on plates. Each lad had a small bowl
of one colour, and when he had painted in all