_June 8th._--This morning I visited, in my walk, some of the horrid opium-shops, which we are supposed to do so much to encourage. They are wretched dark places, with little lamps, in which the smokers light their pipes, glimmering on the shelves made of boards, on which they recline and puff until they fall asleep. The opium looks like treacle, and the smokers are haggard and stupefied, except at the moment of inhaling, when an unnatural brightness sparkles from their eyes. After escaping from these horrid dens, I went to visit a Chinese merchant who lives in a very good house, and is a man of considerable wealth. He speaks English, and never was in China, having been born in Malacca. I had tea, and was introduced to his mother, wife, and two boys and two girls. He intends to send one of his sons to England for education. He denounces opium and the other vices of his countrymen, and their secret societies. All the well-to-do Chinese agree in this, but they have not moral courage to come out against them. Indeed, I suppose they could hardly do so without great risk.... Alas! still no sign of the 'Shannon.' [Sidenote: Captain Peel.] [Sidenote: Ignorance of the Chinese language.] _June 11th._--At half-past four this morning the 'Shannon' arrived. Captain Peel came up to breakfast. He has made a quick passage, as he came almost all the way under canvas: such were his orders from the Admiralty. He says that his ship is the fastest sailer he has ever been on board of; that he has the best set of officers; in short, all is very cheery with him. I told him I should not start till after the arrival of the steamer from England, and he requires that time to get ready, as it appears that he had only twelve hours' notice that he was to take me when he left England. On Tuesday, at noon, the Chinese arrived with an address to me. I had a reply prepared, which was translated into Malay, and read by a native. It is a most extraordinary circumstance that, in this place, where there are some 60,000 or 70,000 Chinese, and where the Europeans are always imagining that they are plotting, &c., there is not a single European who can speak their language. No doubt this is a great source of misunderstanding. The last row, which did _not_ end in a massacre, but which might have done so, originated in the receipt of certain police regulations from Calcutta. These regulations were ill translated, and published after Christmas Day. The Chinese, believing that they authorised the police to enter their houses at all periods, to interfere with their amusements at the New Year, &c., shut up their shops, which is their constitutional mode of expressing dissatisfaction. It was immediately inferred in certain quarters that the Chinese intended, out of sympathy with the Cantonese, to murder all the Europeans.