Upon the summit of a lofty hill on Dane’s Island, amid a fine growth of evergreens, is located the cemetery for the Parsee traders living at Canton. There are many charming landscapes to be seen from this eminence; and the country, with its well cultivated valleys, and populous villages, impresses one favorably as being a remarkably fertile region, and the inhabitants an industrious race of people. It not being deemed quite safe, we never ventured far from the river without having some one of our boat-people, in whom we had confidence, with us, as a sort of rear-guard. The aspect of nature in China is not cheerful; nor does wandering amid its scenes always produce buoyancy of spirits, as it is wont to do in other lands. On the contrary, it is like wandering through a graveyard, for the country is one vast burial-ground, and the little tumuli, which one is constantly meeting at every step of out-door life, are but so many _memento mori_ that lead one to the tenderly solemn thoughts with which one’s own home-places of interment are invested. The place of burial for the foreigners of Canton is upon a pleasant hill-side on French Island. Our first Minister to China--the Hon. Alexander Everett--lies interred there. A granite obelisk marks the spot. At the base of the same hill, where it forms a steep river bank, are the graves of a number of foreign sailors, who were interred there in the early days of the East India Company, when the dislike and opposition of the Chinese to “outside barbarians” was such that they would not allow them to be buried anywhere else. These graves are so near the water, that, at the flow of the tide, many of them are partially submerged. The Bethel “chop,” which was occupied by the family of the chaplain, was provided with a large apartment built and fitted up expressly for a chapel, where services were held every Sunday. Where, however, as is the case in China, the boat-people, artisans, tradespeople, and pleasure-seekers are as intent in the pursuit of their several callings and amusements on Sunday, as on any other day, the soothing and grateful influences of a quiet Christian Sabbath cannot be enjoyed. The Bethel clergyman had also a place in Bambootown, where, during the week, he performed missionary work among the natives. No people can exceed the Chinese in their love of noise; hence, fire-crackers, gongs, tom-toms, and other musical instruments of harsh and strangely discordant notes are in request, not only at marriages, and other festivals, but also at funerals. Scarcely a day passed at Whampoa, without some one of these occasions producing a most heathenish racket. If asked what the uproar was about, the answer would sometimes be, “One piece man hab makee die,” or, “One piece man hab makee marry;” or perhaps it was the festival of some heathen god, and then the reply would be,--“Some chin-chin joss,” or, “Some joss pigeon.”[20]