temples; which stalls were, in fact, the altars
of the gods.

I did not hear or see the beginning or end
of the play. The middle, I must own, puzzled
me exceedingly. The affair was complicated.
There were some spectators who had paid for a
few special privileges, one of which was a
right, if they could secure it, to establish a seat
on the stage; but the stage was very small and
the number of actors was very great, and the
spectators on the stage had a good deal of
by-play with each other, so that it was really
hard to tell what belonged to the piece, and
what did not. Then, though the story required
us to suppose many changes of place,
the scene, whether it represented palace,
forest, camp, or dungeon, was always one and
the same saloon, with a door at each side and a
throne in the middle, flanked by musical instruments.
The play was, nevertheless, gorgeously
got up, according to Chinese fashion; that is to
say, no expense had been spared in the dressnig
of the actors. Chinese managers pay lavishly
when they desire to set up a piece so as to
produce a great sensation; they pay their
money, however, not to the scene-painters,
but to the tailors. The story of the play about
which I am speaking seemed to concern a
Chinese boy, magnificently costumed as a
princess; boys, as formerly in Europe, representing
always female characters. This
princess pined in prison, but was about to be
delivered by a knight who sang a song,
—heart-rending, I dare say, ear-rending I
know—and was on the point of success when
the vigilant keeper of the tower moved the
princess down into a dungeon, deeper and
darker than ever, with two side doors and a
throne in the middle, upon which throne tea-cups
were placed; and the princess, the jailor,
the knight, a brave army of twelve, and
eighteen people who were sitting on the
stage, drank tea together in a most confusing
manner. The great body of spectators looked
at the whole performance very reverently.
The Chinese respect the dignity of the stage
much more than that of the altar, I should
think; there were no loud plaudits or hand
clappings—only subdued moans and sighs
expressed the admiration and the interest of
the whole animated multitude.

The Chinese drama is sustained by actors
who are very perfect masters of pantomime,
and by pieces written with considerable
care. The comedies differ from the
tragedies chiefly in being more interspersed
with music, and in treating of everyday life;
the tragedies treat commonly of events that
took place under the dynasties before the
Tartars.

There is another kind of play delightful to
the Chinaman; he greatly enjoys games of
chance. The Chinese ragamuflin to whom a
pice is thrown, runs off to hazard it at double
or quits with a playfellow; nobles and
princes stake estates and lands; and the
people often justify their passion by describing
the gratification of it as a religious duty.
The British Government, in eighteen hundred
and ten, closed all the public gambling houses
in George Town, and enacted penalties
against the gamblers. In the first eight
years after the enactment came into force
as many as one thousand four hundred
Chinese were indicted for gambling, some of
whom were convicted even for the ninth
time. In the main, however, Chinese cunning
has been more than a match for the police,
the cunning being aided by all the machinery
that can be brought into its service by the
secret associations called the Congis. The
Congis embody a class of Chinamen whose
character is so bad that their interests run
altogether counter to good government. They
are at the bottom of a great deal of dishonesty,
and excite also many a disturbance, especially
on the occasion of the Loya festival—a period
of Saturnalia during which the Loyas, at all
other seasons contemned outcasts, are feasted
and venerated as though they were prophets;
It happens, therefore, through the aid of
these secret associations, that very few gamblers
are convicted in Penang, though George
Town is full of "hells," and so is Singapore.

I went to one of them. Was led out of the
street into a long dark passage, and then
suddenly pushed through a door into a large
dirty room well lighted with lanterns. It had
no windows, and no other outlet except by a
flight of stairs that led up to I know not
what. A great number of Chinese were at
play round a roulette table. I was told that
in their game cheating was impossible, and
therefore wondered very much that almost
everybody lost except the banker. I followed
out of the room a Chinese hand-labourer,
who had lost all but a small fragment of his
week's wages. He went to the opium
inn.

There, behind mosquito-curtains, a few
Chinamen lay stretched upon a hard couch,
with their heads resting on pillows made of
plaited cane. A lamp burned on a table
near them, and there lay near it a few paper
kindlers, a small jar of opium (in the shape
of a juice thicker than molasses), and an
opium pipe. Every now and then one of the
dozers raised himself on one arm drowsily,
smeared a little juice over the hollow of his
pipe, set light to it, and inhaled a mouthful
or two of smoke, then handed the pipe to
his neighbour as he sank back into blissful
stupefaction. The dull eyes of these men
stared, empty of thought, from pale and sunken
faces. One of them was poring over a blank
sheet of paper, as though he were reading
from it interesting matter. A dirty Malay
girl sat between two others, smoking a cigar,
and occasionally putting aside the tobacco
for a whiff of opium when one of her fishy-eyed
admirers offered her the pipe. A handsome
fresh-coloured young fellow in the
corner sat in a state of amazed intoxication