The “yard” of this balance is of ivory, and is longer and more slender than the chopsticks which have already been described. In my specimen it is eleven inches in length, and the sixth of an inch in diameter in the thickest part. Three distinct sets of marks are made upon it, and there are three separate fulcra, so that when the weight exceeds the amount which can be measured with one fulcrum, the second or third fulcrum can be used with its own set of marks.
The arrangement of these marks is a fertile source of dispute among the Chinese. There is no standard by which all the balances can be regulated, but each dealer has his own balance, and his own arrangement of the gradations upon it. The natural consequence is, that quarrels take place with every purchase. A vast amount of time is wasted upon disputes which might easily be avoided, were the government to establish a standard balance, by which all others might be graduated. Time, however, is not of the least importance to a Chinese, and as a prolonged bargain has a positive fascination for him, it is probable that such a regulation would not be popular, and would indeed be evaded in every mode which Chinese ingenuity could invent. The larger steelyards have a hook whereon to hang the article to be weighed, but those which are intended for weighing small and valuable objects are furnished with a shallow brass pan, attached to the end of the balance by four silken threads.
The extraordinary economy which distinguishes the Chinese is characteristically shown in the population which crowds the rivers near the principal towns. A vivid picture of Chinese boat-life is given by Mr. Tiffany, in his “American’s Sojourn in the Celestial Empire.” After describing the various kinds of boats that he has seen, he proceeds as follows:—
“We have passed through several miles of boats, and have not seen the quarter of them. It is, indeed, impossible to give an idea of their number. Some say that there are as many as seventy thousand of them at the city of Canton alone. But let us be content with forty thousand. Then fancy forty thousand wild swans, closely packed together, floating on some wide pond, and mostly restless, and you would say that they would cover many acres of their element. Now, by the enchantment of imagination, convert the pond into the roaring Pekiang River, the swans into boats of every shape and size, the notes of the birds into the yells, the shrieks, the piercing voices of the river people, and you may have the actual scene before you.
“And all these boats, miles upon miles, from border to border, are densely packed with human beings in every stage of life, in almost every occupation that exists upon the shore that they seldom trespass upon; and there they are born and earn their scanty bread, and there they die. The boats are moored side by side, in long-reaching thousands, so that the canal which they form stretches to a point in the distance. In the Shaneem quarter, above the foreign factories, they form large squares and avenues. Forty thousand floating tenements would, under any circumstances, be considered a singular sight, but here the swarming occupants give them the appearance of a mighty metropolis.”
It seems strange that so vast a population should live on the river, within pistol shot of the land, and yet that the greater number of them, from their birth to their death, have never known what it is to put a foot on the shore. When one of the older boatmen does so for the first time, he can hardly walk, the firm land being as difficult for him to tread as the deck of a tossing vessel is to a landsman.
Though the smallest of all the vessels that traverse a Chinese river, the sampans are perhaps the most conspicuous. They are rather small boats, drawing but little water, and for the most part propelled by two women, one sitting in the bow with her oar, and the other stationed in the stern, working the huge implement, half oar, half rudder, by which the boat is at once propelled and guided. Many of the boat-steerers are quite young girls, but they manage their craft with wonderful skill and power, hardly ever touching another boat, no matter how many may be darting about the river, and, with one mighty sweep of the huge scull, sending the boat clear of the obstacle from which escape seemed impossible but a second before. To the eye of a foreigner, the boatwomen are more pleasing in appearance than their sisters of the land, inasmuch as their feet are allowed to assume their proper shape, and exposure to the air and exercise take away the sickly, pasty complexion which often distinguishes the better-class women on shore, and is heightened by the white powder with which they persist in disfiguring themselves.
Some of the mandarin boats present the greatest possible contrast to the little sampans. They are, in fact, floating palaces, decorated in the most picturesque and sumptuous manner, and furnished with every luxury that a wealthy Chinaman can command. They often have thirty or forty oars of a side, are gaily bedecked with flags and brilliant lanterns, and mostly carry several cannon, together with abundance of fire-arms, in order to deter the pirates, who would be likely to swoop down upon an unarmed vessel, kill the passengers, and seize the boat for their own purposes.
In connection with the river life of the Chinese may be mentioned the various modes of fishing. The most celebrated method is that in which the fish are caught by cormorants. The fisherman has several of these birds, which are trained to the sport, and indeed are bred from the egg for the purpose, and sold at high prices when fully trained. The man goes out in a boat or on a raft, accompanied by his birds, and when he comes to a favorable spot, sends them into the water. They immediately dive, and dart upon the fish, which they are taught to bring to the boat.
Should the fish be too large, the man generally takes both fish and bird into his boat by means of a net at the end of a handle; and often when a bird has captured a very large fish, and is likely to lose it, one or two of its companions will come to its assistance, and by their united efforts hold the fish until their master can come up. A ring is put loosely round the throats of the birds, so that they cannot swallow the fish even if they desire to do so; but a well-trained cormorant will no more eat a fish than a well-trained pointer will eat a partridge. Each time that the cormorant brings a fish to the boat, it is rewarded with a mouthful of food, generally a mouthful of eel, its master raising the ring to allow it to swallow.