On the fifth day the Malays said they must kill and eat the English captain; but the poor Chinese woman (to the credit of her sex) vehemently opposed them, and succeeded in saving him for that day. On the sixth day the Malays said they _must_ eat her; but the captain in turn saved _her_ for that day. It is difficult to imagine a more horrible situation than that of this poor Englishman surrounded by eight starving men determined to eat him, which they certainly would have done had not an English vessel rescued them on the seventh day. It happened thus: the captain of that vessel sighted a large box tossing on the waters, and at first never thought of minding it, only supposing it part of some wreck, as the weather was so bad; but as he looked, to his utter surprise a head popped up through the hole in the centre, and then vanished, to be followed by another figure, making frantic gesticulations. With much difficulty this strange box was got alongside, hauled up, and its poor inmates dragged out to light barely alive, and emaciated fearfully, finding the man-hole easier to pass out of than to get into; which was reversing the fable of the weasel who got into the barn. The captain of the rescuing vessel was a kind Englishman, and did all in his power to restore his guests. They were still in the Gulf of Pe-che-le; and did not reach the port of Swatow sooner than six days, where a doctor was called in to visit these liberated 'Jacks-in-a-box.' He said they were a singular proof of how much human beings can endure. All lived, and recovered perfectly. Certainly they were all _young_ people. The Malays went home. The English captain went to Singapore, and shewed himself really grateful to the poor Chinese woman who had saved him from the jaws of the Malays. UNSUSPECTED WAYS OF EARNING A LIVELIHOOD. 'Why, sir, we never should wake of our own accord, specially these dark mornings, if we hadn't somebody to knock us up.' The speaker was a worthy artisan whom I often used to meet at a certain steam-boat pier on the Thames; his after-breakfast labours appearing to begin about the time I usually was in waiting for the boat. 'You see, sir,' he continued in answer to a question I had put to him--'you see, sir, there's about sixty of us hereabouts down by the water-side; and there's so much that depends upon the tide, that we have to be called at all hours--sometimes two o'clock in the morning, or three or four, just as the case may be.' 'But who is it calls you?' I asked. 'A policeman, I suppose?' 'No; not a policeman,' my companion answered; 'it would take up a deal too much of his time; besides, fresh policemen are always coming on to the beat, and we could not be bothered with constantly having to shew and tell a new man the way.' 'Well, it must be rather an awkward matter,' I observed. 'No; it isn't. We each pay fourpence a week to Phil Larkins; and he wakes us as regular as clockwork.'