January 22nd.--The Chinese new-year's day.--I should consider even such a poor account of the Chinese as this professes to be very incomplete, did it not contain something as to the manner the people observe the festival of the new year. And just a word before I start. It must not be supposed that I gained the information, if it be worthy to be classed as such, on a first visit to Hong Kong. This part of my "journal," including the previous chapter, has received the corrections and additions of nearly four years' experience. The Chinese new year--a movable feast--depending, like all their chronological measurements, on the motions of the moon, may occur as early as it does this year, or it may fall as late as the middle of February. It is to the celestials what Christmas day is to us, and is observed by every true Chinaman most religiously: not, be it understood, religiously in our and the common acceptation of the term--for China has no religion--it possesses a gigantic superstition; but between a superstition and a religion, I need scarcely add, a vast difference exists. To the practical mind of John Chinaman, religious observances are made to subordinate themselves to worldly interests. During the time we have been on the station the Shanghai district was once suffering from extreme drought. The rain-god was appealed to--still no rain came. Well, what was to be done? This. The god was admonished, that if rain came not within a certain period something terrible would happen to him. Still no rain. The exasperated priests and people then took measures to execute their threat. Putting a rope around the idol, the people, with their united efforts, pulled him to the ground to suffer further outrages at the hands of an ungrateful mob. Thus much for their _religion_. But to continue. The last month in the old year is spent in elaborate preparation for the coming one. All arrears of business are made up, all accounts closed and punctually discharged, whilst everyone works his hardest to increase his stock of money. At midnight on the last of the old year a bell is heard to toll, at which signal everybody rushes into the streets, armed with squibs, crackers, Catherine wheels, and other blatant pyrotechnical compositions; and as each tries to outdo his neighbour in the din he creates, the noise accompanying their discharge is the most satisfactory possible. The temples and pagodas are brilliantly lighted with colored lamps and colored candles, whilst similar candles and "joss-sticks," and gold and silver paper, illumine the interiors of their, at other times, grimy and dingy abodes. When morning arrives, the streets present a curious spectacle--everybody seems to be shaking hands with _himself_. A Chinaman, on meeting and saluting a friend, instead of seizing his hand, as we should, clasps his own hands together, the right hand grasping the left, which he sways up and down in front of his body.