roughest surf to the vessels, carrying messages to
and from the land. The rower propels his boat with a rather long
paddle. Sometimes he is washed off his catamaran into the sea; but
being an expert swimmer, he usually recovers his seat without much
trouble, and it rarely happens that any of these men are drowned.

We spoke a little space back of the national characteristics of a people
being traceable in its marine architecture as well as in other things,
and surely this statement finds abundant illustration in the craft of
the Chinese. In China we find an intensely conservative people, and
their national bent is undoubtedly indicated in their ships, which in
all probability have not altered in any material regard for centuries.
A Chinaman would be as slow to change the shape of his junk as his
shoes, or the length of his pigtail. And a strange, old-world,
semi-barbarous look a Chinese junk has.

Chinese junks vary greatly in size, but all present the same type of
architecture. The sails in every case are of brownish-yellow matting,
swung across the mast like a main-sail, and having pieces of bamboo
placed cross-wise and parallel to each other, making them look somewhat
like venetian blinds. These wooden strips both strengthen the sail and
facilitate its reefing when lowered.

A large Chinese junk rises high out of the water; there are two or more
decks aft above the main-deck, painted and carved with various devices;
and the cabins are often luxuriously furnished according to Celestial
tastes. If you look at any representation of a junk, you will notice
that the rudder is very broad, resembling somewhat the rudder of a canal
barge. In spite of its primitive look, it has, after all, something
picturesque about it; but we fancy that we would rather contemplate it
in a picture than sail in one across the Atlantic.

On the deck of a junk is always to be found a josshouse or temple, in
front of which the crew keep incense, sticks, and perfumed paper
continually burning. When a calm overtakes an English vessel, the
sailors and passengers are always supposed to try what "whistling for a
wind" will effect. In lieu of this method of "raising the wind," a
Chinese sailor shapes little junks out of paper, and sets them afloat on
the water as a propitiatory service to the divinity who has the welfare
of seamen under his especial care.

The river-life of China is very curious. Quite a large proportion of
the people