And these are not mere travellers’ tales.
At midnight, a cat’s eye is at its fullest stage of dilatation, gradually contracting till midday, when it represents no more than a longitudinal slit.
By patient observation—and who can beat the Chinese for patience?—the stage of dilatation or contraction constitutes a very fair index; not perhaps for those who are dependent on trains, but for all daily purposes in less sophisticated lands than our own.
It was also demonstrated to M. Huc’s entire satisfaction, that in order to bray, a donkey must have his head, ears and tail erect, so that if the last named be kept down by a heavy weight, he has not a bray in his composition.
During one of my evening walks, I met a Chinese funeral procession; the coffin, as customary, was large and ponderous, and the unfortunate bearers seemed to stagger under the load. All the followers were busy throwing pieces of tissue paper into the air, which were carried here and there by the wind. Greatly perplexed as to the meaning of this strange proceeding, I made inquiries, and found that their object was to cheat the devil, the papers being imaginary bank notes, for which his satanic majesty had, they believed, a great weakness; while he was engaged in collecting them, the body could be buried in safety, and, once in the earth, he had no power over it.
They passed me on their way back, rejoicing exceedingly at the success of their stratagem, laughing and joking, as if they had been assisting at a wedding rather than an interment.
Besides being good carpenters, they were facile princeps as leather-workers; and once a Chinaman has encased your feet, you will be reluctant to employ any other nationality, be it even a Frenchman, though he comes second best.
Having said this, I have said all the good for John Chinaman that I can—the rest is simply nowhere!
He is steeped in independence, being very unpunctual, and exceedingly brusque into the bargain. Keeping you waiting until it suits him to bestir himself, he will come forward with, “What you want?” “Boots mended,” is the rejoinder. “Very good; I mend.” “When ready?” you ask—remember, he can only understand his own kind of English. “You come next week,” is his ultimatum. You go next week, and the boots have not been touched. “How is this?”—“Oh! I too busy; you come another time.” “But when, you old thief?”—“Next week I make ready,” and he vanishes into the back premises. For artistic and systematic thieving, too, he has gained a world-wide renown; while as for his other virtues—well, “all men are liars,” and Chinamen form no exception to the general rule.
And now I must give some little account of the wonderful vegetation, which eminently characterizes this part of our possessions.