carried through the city, as it would be derogatory to the dignity of
a European to be seen walking on foot in a Chinese town. Our business
with the Consul-General finished, we started on our tour of
inspection, the party consisting of the Flag-Captain, the
Flag-Lieutenant, the interpreter and myself, together with a small
midshipman, who, being anxious to see Canton, had somehow managed to
get three days' leave and to smuggle himself on board the destroyer.
The Consul-General warned us that the smells in the native city would
be unspeakably appalling, and advised us to smoke continuously, very
kindly presenting each of us with a handful of mild Borneo cheroots.

The canal separating Sha-mien from the city is 100 feet broad, but I
doubt if anywhere else in the world 100 feet separates the centuries
as that canal does. On the one side, green lawns, gardens, trees, and
a very fair imitation of Europe. A few steps over a fortified bridge,
guarded by Indian soldiers and Indian policemen, and you are in the
China of a thousand years ago, absolutely unchanged, except for the
introduction of electric light and telephones. The English manager of
the Canton Electric Co. told me that the natives were wonderfully
adroit at stealing current. One would not imagine John Chinaman an
expert electrician, yet these people managed somehow to tap the
electric mains, and the manager estimated the weekly loss on stolen
power as about 500 pounds.

No street in Canton is wider than eight feet, and many of them are
only five feet broad. They are densely packed with yellow humanity,
though there is no wheeled traffic whatever. There are countless miles
of these narrow, stifling alleys, paved with rough granite slabs,
under which festers the sewage of centuries. The smells are
unbelievably hideous. Except for an occasional canal, a reeking open