Notwithstanding the fact that numerous naval vessels belonging to the United States, England, and France are nearly all the time on this station, yet the coast and Canton River swarm with Chinese pirates. The government of China, also, has an armed junk, mounting twelve guns, stationed on the coast, for the ostensible purpose of protecting commerce; but it is pretty strongly believed that this Chinese man-of-war not only winks at the piracies committed, but is not backward about running up the black flag herself on certain occasions. About the time we arrived at Hong Kong, a brig bound to some part of the East Indies was overhauled, before she was clear of the bay, by a number of fishing-junks, as they professed to call themselves, and, after massacring nearly all the crew, and wounding the remainder—leaving them dead, as they supposed—they rifled the brig, taking away every thing they found of any value. The next morning she was found in this disabled condition by the Chinese man-of-war, who took her in tow, and brought her into port. One of the English men-of-war immediately got under weigh, and, after cruising among the various islands a few days, overhauled some of the junks and brought them in. The prisoners were immediately taken ashore and tried; several were hung, and the remainder imprisoned at hard labor for the remainder of their lives. We had heard much of the Chinese theatre, or Sing Song, as they term it, and concluded we would pay it a visit. The building, which is a temporary erection, is very large, built of bamboo, and capable of containing four or five thousand persons. The gallery is large and commodious, it being built for the accommodation of the “fan-qui-loo” (foreign devils). The Celestials occupy the pit, and, there being no seats, they are compelled to stand. To see such a mass of heads, “all shaven and shorn,” in one compact space, swaying to and fro, and hear the continual buzz of their voices, is really amusing. And then to watch them as a policeman goes through the crowd, semi-occasionally bringing his short club down upon the bare heads of the Chinese, just heavy enough to make them sing out “Hi-yar-r-h! how can do? no proper.” Still, they make room for him, not caring to receive a second whack. After looking at the crowd below us, and wondering where they all came from, until we became somewhat restless, we were fairly startled by a most frightful, horrible din. Gongs, bells, and sundry other equally harmonious instruments were made visible, and the “orchestra” were beating and playing them as if each were paid according to the amount of noise he made, and was determined to win. This horrible _music_, as they termed it, appeared to increase, until we were obliged to stop our ears with our fingers, to prevent being entirely deafened. However, it ceased as suddenly as it commenced, and the performers made their appearance, dressed in the richest Chinese style. Alter going through a sort of pantomime,