We now visited the Flowery Forest Monastery or Temple of the Five Hundred Genii, which is said to have been founded in A.D. 500, and which was rebuilt some forty years ago. It stands outside the western wall of the city. It comprises many buildings and courts; but the most interesting portion is the hall, which contains the images of the five hundred disciples of Buddha. The statues are life‐size. Their countenances are supposed to represent the supreme content of Nirvana; but their weird and grotesque expressions and the air of jollity and devil‐may‐careness on some of them is unintentionally ludicrous. Among the images is one said to represent Marco Polo, one of the earliest pioneers of discovery in the East. No one knows why the celebrated Italian traveller is included among the immortals.

A more interesting sight was the prison in the old city. On a stone outside the open gate sat a criminal weighted down with the cangue, a heavy board fastened round the neck. It prevents the luckless wearer from using his hands to feed himself or brush away the tormenting swarms of flies which settle on his face. He cannot reach his mouth, and must starve unless a relative or some charitable person can be found to give him food. As the cangue is never removed night or day he cannot lie down, but is forced to sit on the ground and prop himself against a wall and snatch what sleep he can in that uncomfortable and constrained position. I must say that this particular gentleman seemed very indifferent to his wooden collar. He was chatting pleasantly with some passers‐by in the street and turned his head to survey us with mild curiosity. The cangue, by the way, is only a minor penalty used for thieves, petty larcenists, and such small fry. For the punishment of graver crimes much more elaborate tortures have been reserved. As we passed into the prison we saw a few offenders chained to iron bars in the outer court. A Chinese warder unlocked a gate leading into a small yard crowded with prisoners, who rushed towards us and insolently demanded alms; for the Government waste no money in feeding their criminals who are obliged to rely on the kindness of the charitable. One particularly cheeky youth—a pickpocket, I was told—coolly demanded the cigar I was smoking. When I gave it to him he put it in his mouth and strutted up and down the yard to the amusement of his companions in misfortune. His gratitude was not overpowering, for he uttered some remarks, which my Cantonese‐speaking friend told me were particularly insulting. As the prisoners became very troublesome in their noisy demands, the warder pushed them back into the yard and shut the gate, having to rap some of them over the knuckles with his keys before he could do so. There were no especial horrors to be seen. The prisoners seemed cheerful enough; and none of the awful misery I had always associated with Chinese jails was apparent.

But when the Celestial authorities wish to punish an offender severely they have a varied and ingenious collection of tortures on hand. The ling‐chi, or death of a thousand cuts, is hardly to be surpassed for fiendish cruelty. The unfortunate criminal is turned over to the executioner, who stabs him everywhere with a sharp sword, carefully avoiding a vital spot. Then he cuts off fingers, toes, hands, feet, arms, and legs in succession, and finally severs the head, if the unhappy wretch has not already expired. If the doomed man is possessed of money he can bribe the executioner to kill him at the first blow; and the subsequent mutilations are performed only on a lifeless corpse. Another ingenious device is to place the criminal naked in a net and trice it up tightly around him, until his flesh bulges out through the meshes. Then, wherever it protrudes the executioner slices it off with a sharp knife. The unhappy wretch is taken back to prison, released from the net and thrown into a cell. No attempt is made to staunch the blood or salve the wounds unless death is feared. This must be averted; for a week or so later he has to be brought out again and the process repeated. Along the river bank near Canton criminals were exposed in cages, through the top of which their heads protruded in such a fashion that the weight of the body was supported only by the chin and neck. The feet did not touch the bottom of the cage, but a sharp spike was placed to rest them on when the strain on the neck became unendurable. Here the poor wretches were left to expire of exhaustion or die of starvation. After such tortures beheading seems a merciful punishment.

When I considered the Chinaman’s innate love of cruelty, I could understand why the next spot we visited was a very popular place of worship and a favourite resort for all the loafers of the city. It was the Temple of Horrors. Along each side of the principal court ran sheds, divided by partitions. In them behind wooden palings was a weird collection of groups of figures modelled to represent the various punishments of the Buddhist hell. The sheds were dark and it was difficult to see the interiors plainly. But quite enough was visible. In one compartment a couple of horrible devils were sawing a condemned wretch in two. In another, demons were thrusting a man into a huge boiler. Judging from the agonised expression on his face, the water must have been uncomfortably warm. In a third, the condemned soul or body was being ground in a press. Others were being roasted before huge fires, stuck all over with knives, having their eyes gouged out, being torn limb from limb. I fancy that the artist who designed these groups could have commanded a large salary as Inventor of Tortures from the Chinese authorities of his day.

Another place of interest is the Examination Hall, where every three years candidates from all parts of China assemble to compete for Government appointments. Young men and old, boys of eighteen and dotards of eighty, attend, eager to grasp the lowest rung of the official ladder which may lead them, though with soiled hands, to rank and wealth. The coveted buttons which mark the various grades of mandarin are here dangled before their eyes.

When one reflects that success in these competitions will lead to posts, not only as magistrates, but also as officers in the army, as officials of modern‐equipped arsenals, of departments of customs and telegraphs, or to positions which will bring them into contact with foreigners, one naturally thinks that the previous course of studies of the candidates will have fitted them for such appointments. Far from it. At the examinations a single text from Confucius or some other ancient author is set as a subject for a lengthy essay. For twenty‐four hours or longer the candidates are shut up in their cells to expand upon it. The examiners then read the result of their labours and recommend them on their proficiency in composition and acquaintance with the ancient classics of China. Even an English university curriculum is better fitted to equip a student for success in the world.

The Examination Hall consists of rows of closely‐packed lanes of small brick cells (about 12,000 in number) running at right angles off a long paved causeway, which is approached through an archway called the Dragon Gate. At the far end of this causeway are apartments for the examiners—twelve in number, two chiefs and ten juniors—who have been sent from Pekin. Quarters are also provided for the Viceroy and the Governor of the province, who are both obliged to be present during the examinations. The cells in which the candidates are immured are 6 feet high, 5½ feet long, and less than 4 feet broad, and open only on to the narrow lanes between the rows of sheds. From a high tower strict watch is kept to prevent any collusion between the competitors.

Tired of sight‐seeing, our party now returned to the river and crossed into Shameen by the small English Bridge spanning the canal between island and shore. A good lunch at the pretty little hotel prepared us for a stroll around the foreign settlement.

Shameen is now a pretty island with fine avenues of banyan trees, charming gardens, a row of excellent tennis‐courts, and handsome, well‐built houses, the residences of the foreign consuls and merchants. A tree‐shaded promenade lined the southern bank along the river. Moored to the shore were several English, American, French, and German gunboats. Their flags and the European‐looking houses made us almost forget that we were still within a stone’s‐throw of a large Chinese city. But the swarms of sampans, the curious country‐boats moved by stern‐wheels worked by men on a treadmill‐like contrivance, the banging of crackers and booming of gongs in a temple behind the island recalled us to the remembrance. We walked along by the river bank, crossed the canal by the French Bridge, and returned on board our steamer.

Canton, with its acres of crowded houses, its old walls, and ancient shrines, is a curious contrast to modern, up‐to‐date Hong Kong. Yet each in its way is equally alive and humming with busy trade, for the Chinese city exports and imports largely. It is the channel through which the commerce of Europe flows in and the products of China find their way out to the foreign markets. It manufactures largely glassware, pottery, metal work, paper, blackwood furniture, preserved ginger, medicine, etc. It is the granary and supply depôt of Hong Kong. The Cantonese merchants are keen business men and cater largely for the European customer. Nearly all the native silver work, embroidery, silks, and curios in the large shops of our colony come from Canton.

The focus of trade with Southern China, the proposed terminus of the railway to Kowloon, the food‐supplier of Hong Kong, its development and retention in Chinese hands is of vast importance to English commerce. The French are freely credited with designs upon it. Their determined efforts to firmly establish their own influence there and displace the British favour the suspicion. In their Concession on Shameen they have established, without the consent of China, their own post office, where they use their colonial stamps surcharged “Canton.” Their gunboats anchor where they like in the river, the commanders calmly ignoring the efforts of the Chinese officials to restrict them to the part allotted to foreign warships. On the occurrence of any outrages on their subjects or the converts of their missionaries, the French consuls act with energy and determination. When any such happen in the vicinity of Canton or up the West River, not content with complaints or remonstrances to the Chinese authorities, which usually have little effect, they insist on immediate redress. They generally accompany in person the official deputed to proceed to the scene of the outrage and investigate the affair. This energetic conduct is in marked contrast to the supineness of some of our consuls. A late British representative aroused much disgust among naval and military officers and our merchants by his want of resolution and his tender regard for Chinese susceptibilities. When one of our gunboats was fired on up the river, its commander immediately reported the matter to him. Our official feebly remonstrated with the authorities, and instructed the commander to return with his ship to the village near the scene of the outrage and fire off a Maxim into the river‐bank! This was to show the misguided peasantry of what the gunboat was capable, if action were necessary. As the Orientals respect only those who can use as well as show their power, the Chinese are not much impressed with us. The contrast between our forbearance and the determined conduct of the French is too marked. Their gunboats patrol the rivers and show the flag of their country everywhere. Their efforts seem directed towards spreading the region of their influence inland from the south to meet the Russian sphere in the north. This is to cut us off from our possessions in Burma and prevent any British railway being constructed from that country to the eastern coast of China, thus tapping the hitherto undeveloped resources of the interior.

An attack on Canton from the sea would be a far more difficult task now than formerly. The Bogue forts on the Pearl River, up which an invading flotilla must force its way, have been modernised and re‐armed with powerful guns. Hills are found within easy range of the river, from which the gunboats and shallow‐draught vessels, which alone could attempt the passage, could be shelled at a range precluding any response from their feebler weapons. And the Chinese gunners are not all to be despised, as Admiral Seymour’s column and the gallant defenders of Tientsin found to their cost.

The land approach would not be much easier. The country near the mouth of the river is intersected by creeks and canals. Even farther up, no roads are available for wheeled transport. An advance from the British territory of the Kowloon Hinterland would probably be preferable to a landing on the coast, though the route is longer. The hills beyond Samchun might prove a formidable barrier; but those once passed the difficulties would not be insuperable. The inhabitants of the southern provinces are not warlike; and the troops there have not been reorganised and disciplined like some in the north.