trouble in Pekin going on, it was not an abode of roses. When the Chaplain and I proposed going, the naval people made many objections. It was not safe, they said; we would probably (especially His Reverence) be stoned and have mud thrown at us, if nothing worse, and that would mean trouble; and the worst was that our Government (so like it!) would permit no retaliation for insults or attacks. Some naval men had been attacked, but had just to put up with it, and no strangers had gone up for some time.
Scottish and Irish blood is not damped by tales of that sort, so we left at 5.30 one afternoon for Canton, but such a thick fog came on that we were anchored all night in the river, and only reached our destination at eleven the next morning, seeing very little on the way owing to the fog. We went to the hotel on Shameen, and at once engaged Ah Cum John, the third son of Ah Cum, the famous guide, that family having the privilege of acting as guides to strangers. Ah Cum John was very intelligent and amusing, and looked after us very well. Hearing that lunch had to be provided from the hotel, I ordered two pint bottles of champagne to be taken with it.
Shameen, the foreign settlement, is an island in the river, formed out of a mud-flat, and is laid out with handsome houses, trees, and promenades—the consulates and the hotel being there. The bridges joining it to the city of Canton have gates, and are guarded by Chinese soldiers. No Chinaman, save the servants of the foreigners, is ever allowed on the island. The gunboats of the different Powers lie in the river on the other side, with their guns trained across Shameen, on the city of Canton, ready to fire if necessary.
But an enormous floating population lives entirely on the river; it is one mass of junks, sampans,
