There were larger shops in better locations in the city, and here we found the grass linen embroidered articles and the crape for which Canton is famous.
The following morning, we departed on a more serious sight-seeing expedition, to include all manner of typical Cantonese places, but before I had been out an hour I decided that the description of one temple only would not adequately convey a true impression, for everywhere we went things seemed unreal and grotesque, but interesting. First, we entered what our guide termed the Medicine Temple, not so very large, where on the opposite side of the room huge idols were placed before all manner of receptacles for holding medicine; next a Buddhist Temple, very inferior to any we had seen; then a Confucian temple, plain like the majority of them; while a Shinto temple had the characteristic torii before it. This latter I will describe when Japan, the land of the torii, is the topic.
The Five-story Pagoda is quite imposing, as it is placed on the city wall and commands a wide view. It is the custom for parties to go there and take their picnic luncheon, and our guide had planned for us to do this, but unfortunately the pagoda was being repaired and visitors were not permitted. So we proceeded to a large building on an eminence, which was furnished like a club house and was evidently for public use. There was a conventional garden in front, affording a very extended view.
A visit to the so-called "Home of the Dead" followed; this was unlike anything ever experienced before. We entered an enclosure, laid out partly as a garden; there were walks leading around, and some of them had low rooms at the sides, with open fronts, while on a plinth rested coffins of different styles; the bodies within were awaiting burial. Flowers were scattered here and there, and I believe fruit, food, and offerings of various kinds also.
We next visited the place of execution, which was ghastly with its associations, and the executioner swung the large instrument around, as the guide explained the process of decapitating heads. But fortunately for our nerves the place then contained only long rows of jars from a pottery near by.
The Nambo Prison proved to be a wooden affair, gates and all, but the poor unkept, unwashed victims who glared at us through the bars looked too sickly and emaciated to offer any resistance, even had they a mind to escape.
