the city
of Victoria, as it is really named, though it is generally called
Hongkong. The channel is long, and in some places so narrow that it is
like going through a mountain pass, with barren hills and rocks on
either hand; but the combined effect of the blue waters, and red,
brown, and yellow hills, is very fine.

Off the town of Victoria the crowd of shipping is immense, and it
became a difficult task to thread our way between the fleets of
sampans and junks. The latter are the most extraordinary-looking craft
I ever saw, with high, overhanging sterns and roll, or rather draw, up
sails, sometimes actually made of silk, and puffed like a lady's net
ball-dress. Then their decks are so crowded with lumber, live and
dead, that you wonder how the boats can be navigated at all. But still
they are much more picturesque than the Japanese junks, and better sea
boats. The sampans are long boats, pointed at both ends, and provided
with a small awning. They have deep keels; and underneath the floor
there is one place for a cooking fire, another for an altar, and a
third where the children are stowed to be out of the way. In these
sampans whole families, sometimes five generations, live and move and
have their being. I never shall forget my astonishment when, going
ashore very early one morning in one of these strange craft, the
proprietor lifted up what I had thought was the bottom of the boat,
and disclosed three or four children, packed away as tight as
herrings, while under the seats were half-a-dozen people of larger
growth. The young mother of the small family generally rows with the
smallest baby strapped on to her back, and the next-sized one in her
arms, whom she is also teaching to row. The children begin to row by
themselves when they are about two years old. The boys have a gourd,
intended for a life-preserver, tied round their necks as soon as they
are born. The girls are left to their fate, a Chinaman thinking it
rather an advantage to lose a daughter or two occasionally.

Many of these sampan people have never set foot on shore in their
lives, and this water-life of China is one of the most extraordinary
features of the country. It is what strikes all travellers, and so has
tempted me to a digression.

A lieutenant from the flag-ship came on board and piloted us into a
snug berth, among the men-of-war, and close to the shore, where we
were immediately surrounded by sampans, and pestered by pertinacious
Chinese