e shore of Honam, the suburb
opposite Canton, is another tangle of sampans, with thousands of active
river folk, all shouting and screaming. These yellow thousands toiling
from break of day to late at night do not seem human; yet each boat has
its family life. The younger children are tied so that they cannot fall
overboard, and the older ones wear ingenious floats which will buoy
them up should they tumble into the water. Boys and girls four or five
years old assist in the working of the boat, while girls of twelve or
fourteen are experts in handling the oar and in using the long bamboo
boat hook that serves to carry the small craft out of the tangle of
river activity.

[Illustration:

The City of Boats at
Canton. This Floating
City in the Pearl
River Opposite Canton
Contains 250,000
People, Many of Whom
Never Venture
On Land]

A type of river steamer which will amaze the American is an old
stern-wheeler run by man power. It is provided with a treadmill just
forward of the big stern wheel. Two or three tiers of naked, perspiring
coolies are working this treadmill, all moving with the accuracy and
precision of machinery. The irreverent foreigner calls these the
"hotfoot" boats, and in the land where a coolie may be hired all day for
forty cents Mexican or twenty cents in our coin this human power is far
cheaper than soft coal at five dollars a ton. These boats carry freight
and passengers and they move along at a lively pace.

After an hour spent in study of this strange river life I was fortunate
enough to go ashore with an American missionary whose husband was
connected with a large college across the river from Canton. She came
aboard in a sampan to take ashore two ladies from Los Angeles. She
invited me to accompany the party, and as she spoke Chinese fluently I
was glad to accept her offer. We went ashore in a sampan and at once
proceeded to visit the western suburb. This part of Canton has been
built in recent years and is somewhat cleaner than the old town. It is
separated from the Shameen by bridges which may be drawn up like an
ancient portcullis. Here we at once plunged into the thick of native
life. The streets, not over ten feet wide, were crowded with people.

We passed through streets devoted wholly to markets and restaurants, and
the spectacle was enough to keep one from ever indulging hereafter in
chop-suey. Here were tables spread with the intestines of various
a