Most of the villages on the gulf coast are inhabited by Chinese fishermen. Those living near the mouth of the Menam Chowphya bring the products of the sea to the Bangkok market at all seasons of the year, whilst those on the opposite side must consult the winds and tides. Everything, from a sea-slug to a porpoise, is caught and sold in the market. As their fish-boats have to travel at least thirty miles, it is necessary to make an early start, and in order to arrive here for the morning market they most probably toil all night. [Illustration: CHINESE CEMETERY.] Most of the Chinese who die here are buried, but some are cremated. The disposition of the body rests altogether with the wife and children of the deceased. Very many, however, return to their native land, after amassing a good pile of Mexican dollars, to lay their bones in the ancestral burying-ground, where their spirits may be worshiped in turn by their descendants. Although the different provinces in China have their own peculiar superstitions and customs, yet when they come here they assimilate to a certain degree. Every three or four years some person turns up who claims that the spirit of their god has entered into him, and he is put through the crucial test of sitting on iron spikes and sharp swords, having needles thrust into his cheeks and his tongue cut. That one who can obtain an inscription written with the blood from the tongue is considered highly favored. If he can endure all this torture unflinchingly, his claim is considered genuine. They then prepare for a grand procession by land or water. If on the river, the god is seated on a throne in a gayly-decorated boat, accompanied by a long line of boats with flags, banners and streamers flying and gongs beating. The Chinese love dearly to “strike the loud cymbal.” These occasions are to Young China what the Fourth of July is to Young America, a time of fire-crackers and deafening noises. The more grotesquely the occupants of the boats are dressed the more imposing the ceremony. The wealthy classes build very pleasant, comfortable brick houses. The walls of the verandas are decorated with flowering plants and shrubbery placed in fancy Chinese flower-pots. The indispensable Chinese lantern is suspended from the roof of the veranda. In the interior of the house you will find the shrine of the household god, and over it is placed a number of fancy-colored and gilt papers containing inscriptions, perhaps the daily petitions or prayers of the household. The Chinese are a religious people, every house having its altar. But “their rock is not as our Rock, themselves being judges.” At sundown they will burn gilt paper and incense-sticks to Joss, and turn in the midst of their devotions and curse a European, calling him a “white devil.” We have been accustomed from childhood to think of the “father of lies” as a very black spirit, and it seems very strange to us to have these dusky faces call him _white_.