here to
live is a punishment. It is not until sunset that we see anything of
the French population,--then, indeed, the cafes and restaurants are in
full swing, and gay with music and laughter. These places of refreshment
are generally _al fresco_; and as each tiny pure white marble table is
presided over by pretty wholesome-looking French girls and matrons, we
must have less impressionable hearts than sailors are known to possess
if we can pass so much mischief by unnoticed, so courteous as these
demoiselles are too.

The native population is Anamese, a race something like the Chinese in
feature, but differing from them slightly in dress. They do not shave
the head, but gather all their hair into a knot at the top, which--in
the case of the females--they decorate with rolls of brilliantly colored
silks, generally scarlet or emerald green. The dress of the ladies is
far more graceful than that of their "celestial" sisters, for though
they wear the indispensable trousers, yet that masculine garment is hid
by a long sack-like robe, something after the style of a priest's toga,
of--in nearly every case--emerald-green silk, a color which seems to
harmonise well with their complexion. The men wear a similar garment of
black silk.

Their walk is peculiar. They go barefoot, and strut, rather than walk,
without bending the knee, with chest and stomach pompously projected.
From this gait results a certain balancing of the body and a movement to
the hips, which gives to the women a bold, and to the men a pretentious
air. Most of the women hide their faces when a stranger heaves in sight;
but it must not be supposed from this that they are either modest or
retiring, on the contrary, for young girls and women yield their
persons indiscriminately to men until they are married: before that
they are at liberty to do as they please, and do not, in consequence,
lose the respect of their fellows. In fact, I am given to understand,
most strangers find the advances of the fair sex rather embarrassing.

At the landing place, and thronging the fine bronze statute of Admiral
Genouilly, the hero of Saigon, an immense crowd had gathered to witness
the embarkation of the governor, on a visit to our admiral. His barge is
a splendidly got up affair. A large boat of native build, painted and
gilded till one could scarcely look on it, and rowed by fourteen French
seamen standing, clothed in spotless white, with broad crimson sashes
around their wa