the cormorants, dive into
the water and emerge with fish--sometimes with one in either hand.
These fishermen when in the water always have their feet on the
ground and grope along the shore. The first time I saw this method
in practice I ran to the brink of the river to save, as I thought,
the life of a poor man. He no sooner raised his head out of the
water, however, than down it went again; and I was laughed at for
my want of discernment by a crowd of people who shouted _Ko-ng,
Ko-ng_, "he's catching fish."

[Page 20]
The natives have a peculiar mode of propelling a boat. Sitting
in the stern the boatman holds the helm with one hand, while with
the other he grasps a long pipe which he smokes at leisure. Without
mast or sail, he makes speed against wind or current by making
use of his feet to drive the oar. He thus gains the advantage of
weight and of his strong sartorial muscles. These little craft
are the swiftest boats on the river.

At the forks of the river, in a broad plain dotted with villages,
rise the stone walls of Ningpo, six miles in circuit, enclosing
a network of streets better built than those of the majority of
Chinese cities. The foreign settlement is on the north bank of
the main stream; but a few missionaries live within the walls, and
there I passed the first years of my life in China.

Above the walls, conspicuous at a distance, appears the pinnacle
of a lofty pagoda, a structure like most of those bearing the name,
with eight corners and nine stories. Originally designed for the
mere purposes of look-outs, these airy edifices have degenerated
into appliances of superstition to attract good influences and
to ward off evil.

Not only has this section of the province a dialect of its own,
of the mandarin type, but its people possess a finer physique than
those of the south. Taller, with eyes less angular and faces of
faultless symmetry, they are a handsome people, famed alike for
literary talent and for commercial enterprise. During my residence
there the whole city was once thrown into excitement by the news
that one of her sons had won the first prize in prose and verse
in competition, before the emperor, with the assembled scholars
of the empire--an
[Page 21]
an honour comparable to that of poet laureate or of a victor in
the Olympic games. When that distinction falls to a city, it is
believed that, in order to equalise matters, the event is sure
to be followed by three years of dearth. I