he should feel too warm. That building on
the walls is the temple of Spring, to which
ladies repair to dress their hair with flowers
when the first buds open. This handsome
structure is the temple of Confucius. Yonder
is the hall of United Benevolence, which supports
a free hospital, a foundling hospital, and
makes other provision for the poor. The
Chinese charities are supported generously;
the Chinese are a liberal and kindly race.
Here is a shoemaker's shop, with a huge boot
hung over the door, and an inscription which
might not suit lovers of a good fit, "All here
are measured by one rule." "When favoured
by merchants who bestow their regards on
us, please to notice our sign of the Double
Phoenix on a board as a mark; then it will be
all right." These signs are in common use on
shops in China, as they were formerly in
England. In this shop there is a wild fellow,
who is beating a gong fearfully, and who has
rubbed himself with stinking filth, that he
may be the greater nuisance. This is his way
of extorting charity. That shopkeeper, not
having compounded with the king of the
beggars for immunity from customers of this
kind, seldom lives a day without being
compelled to pay as he is now paying for a little
peace. The beggar takes his nuisance then
into another shop. This is a vast improvement
upon our street fiddle and organ practice.
There is a pawnbroker's three-per-cent. per
month shop. Here is a tea-house, surrounded
with huge vases for rain-water which is kept
to acquire virtue by age—of course imaginary
virtue—for the making of celestial tea. In
that house there is the oven for hatching
eggs. Gateways are fitted at the end of the
wide streets, locked at night to restrain
thieves; and in the first house through the
gateway here a girl is screaming dreadfully.
Very likely it is a case of sore feet. The
small feet of the Chinese women—about three
inches long—are essential, for without them
a girl cannot get a husband; as a wife, she is
her husband's obedient, humble servant, but
as a spinster she is her parents' plague. The
operation on the feet takes place when the
girl is seven or eight years old. A young
naval surgeon, in his walks, heard screams
(like those) proceeding from a cottage, and
went in; he found a little girl in bed, with her
feet bandaged; he removed the bandage,
found the feet of course bent, and ulcerated.
He dressed the wounds, and warned the
mother. Passing, another day, he found the
child still suffering torment, and in a hectic
fever. He again removed the bandages, and
warned the mother that her child's life would
be sacrificed if she continued with the process.
The next time he went by he saw a little
coffin at the door.

The tea-gardens are in the centre of the
town; we will go thither and rest. We might
have dined with a hospitable townsman, where
we could have been present at a theatrical
entertainment, in which the Chinese delight
like children. But a dinner in this country
is a work of many hours; the list is very long
of things that we should have to touch or
eat. Chinese eat almost anything ; their carte
includes birds' nests, delicate meal-fed puppies,
sea-slugs, sharks' fins and tails, frogs, snails,
worms, lizards, tortoises, and water-snakes,
with many things that we should better
understand, and a great many disguised
vegetables. A Chinese dinner is so tediously long
that we escape it altogether. Milk is not
used ; it is thought improper to take it from
the calves; and meat plays no very large
part in the Chinese diet. During our late
war it was seriously stated, by several advisers
of the Emperor, that to forbid the English
tea and rhubarb would go a great way to
destroy the nation; "for it is well known
that the barbarians feed grossly on the flesh
of animals, by which their bodies are so bound
and obstructed," that rhubarb and warm tea
were necessary to be taken, daily, as
correctives. Now we are in the tea-gardens, and
have passed through a happy crowd, sipping
tea, smoking, eating melon pips, walking or
looking at the jugglers. Into a fairy-like
house of bamboo, perched over water, we
ascend. Here is an elegant apartment, which
we claim as private. We recline, and take
our cups of tea; the cups that have been used
are wiped, not washed; for washing, say the
people here, would spoil their capacity for
preserving the pure flavour of this delicate
young Hyson; upon a spoonful of which,
placed in the cup, hot water is now poured.
Opium pipes, bring us! Ha! a hollow cane,
closed at one end, with a mouthpiece at the
other; near the centre is the bowl, of ample
size, but with an outward opening no bigger
than a pin's head. We recline luxuriously
—looking down on the gay colours of the
Chinese crowd, we take our long stilettos, prick
off a little pill of opium from its ivory reservoir,
and burn it, dexterously, in the spirit
lamp; then twist it, judiciously, about the
pin's head orifice. Three whiffs and it is out,
and we are more than half deprived of active
consciousness. Let us repeat the operation.
Practised smokers will go on for hours; a few
whiffs are enough for us. Another languid
gaze at the pagodas, and the flowers, and the
water, and the Chinamen; now some more
opium to smoke !

The Phantom finding us intoxicated, like a
good servant may have brought us home;
for, certainly, we are at home again.

THE WARNINGS OF THE PAST.

FAINT dream-like voices of the spectral Past
Whisper the lessons of departed ages;
Each gathering treasured wisdom from the last,
A long succession of experienced sages.

They steal upon the statesman as he sleeps,
And chant in Fancy's ear their warning numbers ,
When restless Thought unceasing vigil keeps,
Trimming her taper while the body slumbers.