men tumbling about the streets, or lying
senseless by the roadside, are not to be seen in China. "It is not
wine," says the proverb, "which makes a man drunk; it is the man
himself."

Even at banquets, which are often very rich and costly, unnecessary
expense is by no means encouraged. Dishes of fruit, of a kind which no
one would wish to eat, and which are placed on the table for show or
ornament, are simply clever imitations in painted wood, and pass from
banquet to banquet as part of the ordinary paraphernalia of a feast; no
one is deceived. The same form of open and above-board deception appears
in many other ways. There are societies organized for visiting in
a comfortable style of pilgrimage some famous mountain of historic
interest. Names are put down, and money is collected; and then the party
starts off by boat or in sedan-chairs, as the case may be. On arriving
at the mountain, there is a grand feast, and after the picnic, for such
it is, every one goes home again. That is the real thing; now for the
imitation. Names are put down, and money is collected, as before; but
the funds are spent over a feast at home, alongside of a paper mountain.

Another of these deceptions, which deceive nobody, is one which might be
usefully adapted to life in other countries. A Chinaman meeting in the
street a friend, and having no leisure to stop and talk, or perhaps
meeting some one with whom he may be unwilling to talk, will promptly
put up his open fan to screen his face, and pass on. The suggestion
is that, wishing to pass without notice, he fails to see the person in
question, and it would be a serious breach of decorum on the part of the
latter to ignore the hint thus conveyed.

Japan, who may be said to have borrowed the civilization of China,
lock, stock and barrel--her literature, her moral code, her arts, her
sciences, her manners and customs, her ceremonial, and even her
national dress--invented the folding fan, which in the early part of the
fifteenth century formed part of the tribute sent from Korea to Peking,
and even later was looked upon by the Chinese as quite a curiosity. In
the early ages, fans were made of feathers, as still at the present day;
but the more modern fan of native origin is a light frame of bamboo,
wood or ivory, round or otherwise, over which silk is stretched,
offering a convenient medium for the inscription of poems, or for
paintings, as exchanged between friend and friend.

The same in