a
Chinese merchant.

[Illustration: FISHING-JUNKS IN MACAO HARBOUR AT CHINESE NEW YEAR.
_To face page 189._]

The entire boating population cease work at New Year, and tying up
their craft in convenient places give themselves up to such few
pleasures as their primitive mode of life allows.

At Macao, hundreds of fishing-boats, which supply the market both
there and at Hongkong, assemble and anchor close together in orderly
rows, both in the inner harbour as well as in the bay facing the Praia
Grande, under strict supervision of the Portuguese authorities. Mat
awnings are erected over the decks, thus forming commodious rooms,
which are decorated with scrolls and lanterns, and in which feastings
and family gatherings take place for several days, after which the
whole fleet, gaily decked with flags, puts again to sea.

Fish of any kind is a favourite article of food, and the methods of
catching them are extremely numerous. Otters, cormorants, nets,
baskets and hooks without bait, all meet with due measure of success,
but by far the most remarkable manner of fishing was that which I saw
from the bows of a steamer made fast to the hulk at Hankow.

It was mid-winter and bitterly cold, the ground being covered with
almost a foot of snow. I had been to tiffin with the captain and was
just coming away when, pointing to some natives in a sampan close
alongside, he said, "Have you ever seen those men dive for fish?"

I never had, and being glad of the opportunity, stopped to watch.
There were three men in the boat, of whom one worked the paddles,
while the other two, stark naked, crouched on the forepart, sheltering
themselves from the biting wind with an old straw mat. Having come to
a suitable spot, where the depth may have been from ten to fifteen
feet, the boat was stopped, and the two divers instantly plunged into
the turbid water, to reappear some seconds later with a live fish in
each hand, while one of them had also a third fish in his mouth. The
diving was repeated several times with varying results before I took
my leave, and the captain assured me that this was a common sight on
the Yangtse in winter, when the fish were probably lying in the mud
torpid from the cold.

When returning to Kiukiang from a fortnight's shooting trip in the
neighbourhood of Ngankin, my boat was much delayed by light and
contrary winds, which frequently obliged us to anchor in order to
avoid being swept back by the strong current