shown how useful a deterrent this is to any but the most abandoned
devils; they will at once pass on to a shop unprotected by a guardian
light.

We had been on the outskirts of the city that day, and I was much
struck with an example of Chinese ingenuity. The suburban inhabitants
all seem to keep poultry, and all these fowls were of the same
breed--small white bantams. So, to identify his own property, Ching
Wan dyed all his chickens' tails orange, whilst Hung To's fowls
scratched about with mauve tails, and Kyang Foo's hens gave themselves
great airs on the strength of their crimson tail feathers.

It is curious that, in spite of its wealth and huge population, Canton
should contain no fine temples. The much-talked-of Five-Storied Pagoda
is really hardly worth visiting, except for the splendid panorama over
the city obtained from its top floor. Canton here appears like one
endless sea of brown roofs extending almost to the horizon. The brown
sea of roof appears to be quite unbroken, for, from that height, the
narrow alleys of street disappear entirely. We were taken to a large
temple on the outskirts of the city. It was certainly very big, also
very dirty and ill-kept. Compared with the splendid temples of Nikko
in Japan, glowing with scarlet and black lacquer, and gleaming with
gold, temples on which cunning craftsmanship of wood-carving, enamels
and bronze-work has been lavished in almost superfluous profusion, or
even with the severer but dignified temples of unpainted cryptomeria
wood at Kyoto, this Chinese pagoda was scarcely worth looking at. It
had the usual three courts, an outer, middle, and inner one, and in
the middle court a number of students were seated on benches. I am
afraid that I rather puzzled our fat Chinese interpreter by inquiring
of him whether these were the local Benchers of the Middle Temple.