hings to be encountered in a
walk or ride through a city like Shanghai, it is one of the most
interesting places imaginable in which to spend an hour or two on a
summer morning.

In the heat of the day, at mid-summer, it is dangerous in China, and
especially to a new comer, to be exposed even to the reflected rays of
the sun, and many a poor fellow has lost his life by neglect or contempt
of the cautions of his more experienced friends not to be in the
sunshine between the hours of 10 A. M. and 4 P. M. More than ordinary
precaution is necessary in times of cholera, owing to the peculiar
electrical condition of the atmosphere, in which any exertion or
exposure is often fatal to one recently arrived on the coast. All
excursions to the city are therefore, of necessity, made in the morning
or late in the afternoon. The gates are opened at daybreak, and the
early visitor is almost certain to be unpleasantly reminded of the
prevalence of cholera by the number of dead bodies lying in the streets.
They are those of coolies, or poor persons, who have died during the
night, and having no friends, the public authorities must take them
wherever they chance to die, and provide for their burial. In August,
1863, at a time when the cholera was not particularly virulent, the
deaths were supposed to be five hundred a day, principally among the
poor, who, from insufficient food, miserable lodging in the streets and
porticoes of temples, and constant exposure in the day to the direct
rays of the sun, to say nothing of the filth and foul air of the city,
were peculiarly exposed to the ravages of disease. Another sign of the
presence of cholera, and an odd one, was the number of persons passing
with necks disfigured by perpendicular parallel bars, as if branded by
hot irons. This curious remedy is applied for any pain in the stomach,
however slight, even for sea sickness, and the marks are made with
strong pincers. By the Chinese it is thought very efficacious, although
on what theory it is difficult to understand.

Entering the city from the north gate, after crossing the ditch that
separates the walls from, the French Concession, we find ourselves in
close and extremely narrow streets, with shops opening upon them,
neither glass nor any partition separating them from passers by. The
same arrangement is quite common in our own streets for fruit-sellers'
shops, toy stores, and newspaper and periodical stands. But instead of
one or two att