The eye of the visitor, on entering this hall, is first greeted by two gigantic gilded wooden images elevated on high pedestals, and placed one on each side of the door. They are fat and jolly in appearance, and, sitting in a half reclining posture, are playing with little children. The merrily genial and gay physiognomy of one of them reminded us of Hackett’s Falstaff, and his laughing face was quite as irresistible. Merry little children, in all kinds of baby attitudes, were sitting upon his knees, and also standing upon his feet and arms, or climbing upon his shoulders. Some of them were pointing, or pulling at his hair, eyes, and mouth; seemingly intent, in every conceivable manner, upon getting all the fun they could out of the old fellow, who appeared to be the happiest,--not of gods,--but mortals. To be childless is regarded by the Chinese as the greatest of all misfortunes; and these gods were doubtless intended to set forth the happiness of a parent. This large apartment was nearly filled with images, all of which were not only well kept, but as brilliant as gilt, paint, and bronze could make them. They were placed on shelves eight or ten feet in height, and arranged in a sitting posture, facing each other, with long passages between. They were represented in a variety of attitudes,--often with uplifted arms,--while some had six or eight arms, and one we observed with five eyes. Beyond these rows of idols, seated under a rich canopy, were large images of the Past, Present, and Future Buddha; and a little in front, in a sitting posture, there was a statue of Kien-lung, the Emperor, whom Lord Amherst saw at Peking. He was here represented gorgeous in gilt and paint, and arrayed in his royal robes. This temple contains representations of nearly, if not all, the heathen deities of the East, and painfully impresses one with a sense of the moral darkness and gross superstition of the people. It deserves to be called the Pantheon of Canton. The abbots of the Buddhist monasteries are not often seen, and rarely honor visitors with any particular civility. At the Temple of Longevity, however, the names of the gentlemen of our party being sent in, the abbot made his appearance in the reception-room, and treated us with distinguished attention. This room was furnished with chairs and sundry little tables, and opened upon a lovely garden, well supplied with trees, shrubs, and plants, and otherwise beautified with little artificial ponds, zigzag bridges, cascades, grottoes, and other rock-work. The space occupied by it was small; but we were assured that it was the handsomest garden in the city. A cup of tea of exquisite flavor, together with some delicious dried and confectioned fruits were served; while the abbot--who was a man of gentle address and quiet manners--condescended to join us in our repast, while, at the same time, he held some conversation with Mr. G----.