have spoken, and which terminates in a tuft of carded cotton, extremely fine, they sweep, so to say, the eyeball—that is to say, they pass this light feather-broom under the eyelids, all round the eye, and inside the ear.
Such is the care bestowed by the Chinese barbers on the heads of their customers, taken in their entirety; but their solicitude does not stop here. They examine the feet, to see whether the nails are properly cut, and that none of those horrible indurations, corns, invade them; after this examination is over, they shampoo the person shaved. The mode of shampooing in the Celestial Empire differs essentially from that practised in Arabian baths. The individual operated on is seated on a chair with a back. He is naked to the hips, and his body is leaning forward. The barber begins by drumming with the flat of his hand from the lower part of the loins up as far as the shoulders; he then kneads the same parts, and once more begins drumming. When this is done, the customer squares himself conveniently on his seat, with his own back resting firmly against that of the chair, and the operator repeats the same manœuvres on the parts near the sternum. During this last phase of the operation, the Chinaman closes his eyes, while his whole physiognomy expresses a sentiment of comfort and satisfaction which it is impossible to contemplate without being seized with a fit of hilarity.
