daylight we found ourselves amongst an archipelago of
picturesque and richly cultivated islands, one mass of greenery from
base to summit. The effect produced by the different tints of the
foliage was very fine indeed. Beyond a doubt the Chinese exhibit great
skill and economy in the gardener's art.

This was the approach to Chusan, the largest island of the group, at
which we anchored at noon. The place fell under a British attack in
1841, remaining in our possession until the more convenient and more
valuable island of Hong Kong was ceded to us in exchange. Before us lies
a considerable town called Tinghae, where are buried many of our poor
fellow countrymen and their families who fell victims to fever and the
attacks of a cruel enemy during the occupation. We found their graves in
a very neglected condition, many of the tombstones having been
appropriated by the inhabitants to prop up those architectural
abominations which it would be a libel to term houses. Admiral Coote
subsequently sent the "Modeste" down with orders to repair the burial
ground; the misappropriated stones were speedily restored to their
places by the blue-jackets, who dealt with the natives in a very summary
manner by wrecking their houses about their ears.

It was not long before a sleek old Chinaman, rejoicing in the imposing
Chin-English name of "_Chin-Chang-Jim-Crow_," came on board and
introduced himself as "me de bumboat"; he further explained that it was
so long since a man-of-war had been in that neighbourhood, that probably
he would experience some difficulty in procuring "_Chow_."

In the course of a day or so the admiral arrived from Ningpo, which was
the signal for our at once heaving up anchor and continuing our voyage.

We are now in the estuary of one of the noblest rivers of the world,
and the largest in China. It is estimated that this river, the
Yang-tsze-Kiang, "Son of the Ocean," brings seaward, annually, as much
solid matter as would make an island as large as Ireland! The
navigation of its mouth is extremely dangerous, on account of the
constantly-shifting sandbanks and consequent alteration of the channel.
Fortunately, the European pilots are very skilful in detecting these
changes. It is usual for large ships to drop anchor on this mud,
locally termed the "flats," until boarded by a pilot, who takes you
either to Wosung or Shanghai, according to your draught of water.

Wosung scarcely merits the name of town; perhaps w