The dragon,--that never-failing insignia of rank and grandeur in China,--together with the royal color, yellow, were conspicuous in all the embellishments of the establishment. This is the only building in Canton that is roofed with yellow tile. Here a large tablet is erected to the Emperor, upon which the expression,--“The Emperor of ten thousand years; ten thousand times ten thousand years,” are traced in Chinese characters. The characters for “ten thousand years” also appear upon some of the pillars sustaining the presence-chamber, and upon every panel of the low stone fence enclosing the temple. These expressions are doubtless designed to teach the people that their Emperor is an infinite superior,--a sort of deity, and an object worthy of adoration. Guarding the people’s entrance to this temple were two rampant lions--frightful burlesques--sculptured in stone. Our bearers threaded the narrow and crowded streets with perfect ease. The confused bustle, however, together with the noise of our own chair-Coolies, calling out “_Lai! Lai!_” or, clear the way, combined with that of the hundreds of other Chinamen, who in one unbroken stream were passing and repassing us, was in some degree fearful, and well-nigh deafening. As we passed on in the midst of these surroundings, we finally entered one of the gates of the Old City, and threading a long street occupied by stone-cutters, reached a Confucian temple, sacred to the Goddess of Literature. The idols of this temple consist of simple tablets dedicated to Confucius, and other sages. Highly ornamented ones, also, of very large size, and brilliantly painted,--having been presented to the temple by different emperors,--were suspended above those of the sages. No tablets of the latter,--not even that of Confucius,--can receive equal honor and adoration with that of the Emperor. At each side of these, on tables or small altars, were arranged smaller tablets of the disciples of Confucius. The handsome roof of this temple--which had the appearance of being groined--was painted in a dark rich brown and deep red, reminding us of the fretted Gothic style. The entrance to the Temple of Mars--which we next visited--was guarded by fierce-looking lions; and being in mourning for the Emperor, Heen Fung, then recently deceased, was draped with white. The floor was also covered with white calico. Here, when the Emperor dies, the high officials and military men repair; and for three days--bowing and prostrating themselves before an empty throne--mourn and bewail the dead. An appointed _groaner_ leads in these wails and prostrations; and when the mourners have assumed the attitude of humble grief, a signal is given, and the yellow silk curtains in front of the throne being drawn around them, they are left to their sorrow.