ower-girl.

In the cabins of these craft it is the fashionable thing amongst
well-to-do Chinamen to hold their jamborees. They hire a particular
junk for a certain date, and at the appointed hour the party assembles
there, being received by two or three unprepossessing servants.
Dinner, or whatever form the entertainment may take, is commenced, and
as general mirth rises with the good cheer, guests write on a slate
provided for the purpose the names of such flower-girls as they may
fancy. This slate is quickly carried to where the girls live, hard by,
and shortly they will appear, staying for a time to dance, sing and
dally with their admirers, after which they will pass on to other
boats to fulfil further engagements.

The singing is execrable, being a high, nasal falsetto, and the
dancing, or rather swaying on their tiny feet while waving overhead a
dirty cloth in their beautifully-shaped hands, is feeble in the
extreme. A band of musicians is usually engaged, after protracted
haggling, to enliven the proceedings. Two or three native fiddles of
most primitive make wail incessantly, cymbals clash recklessly, a kind
of flute resembling bagpipes in sound squirls, while a wooden drum
adds to the deafening din. The girls squeak and posture, the place
reeks with pungent tobacco smoke and the smell of garlic, the guests
munch dried melon seeds, spitting the husks on to the floor, and shout
to make each other hear above the general uproar.

To escape from this inferno was the chief pleasure of the evening, and
any romantic ideas I may have had with respect to "flower-boats" will
remain shattered for ever.

Macao has been a Portuguese colony for upwards of three centuries, it
having been ceded to its original settlers by the viceroy of Canton in
recognition of services rendered by those intrepid buccaneers in
freeing neighbouring waters from pirates and robbers. It is a most
quaint and interesting little place, wearing a look of mediaeval
times, and still possessing many traces of former prosperity, though
now chiefly remarkable for its legalised gambling facilities, for
which reason it is frequently called the Monte Carlo of the Far East,
there being also a certain natural resemblance.

At Hongkong gambling is strictly prohibited amongst the Chinese, while
at Canton gaming-houses are heavily taxed, so that natives come in
great numbers from both places to Macao in order to play _fantan_
without constant dread of police