peculiar cries as in Europe; but in addition to this each trade has its own announcement in the shape of some instrument—one trade carries a thing like a huge Jew’s harp, another has a tiny gong, a third a drum, a fourth beats two pieces of bamboo together, and so forth. All these make a terrible clatter, and the noise is increased by the beggars, who take up a position opposite some shop—a cook-house for choice—and there make themselves odious to eyes, ears, and nostrils until its owner can stand it no longer and buys them off with a copper cash or piece of refuse food. Among Chinese street characters the _improvisatore_ is one of the foremost. He is as loud and fluent as his Italian compeer, and infinitely more energetic. He generally accompanies himself on the bones, but often has a little boy to beat a drum for him. He works himself into a regular frenzy, and jumps about like one possessed of a devil; he dances and gesticulates and raves until the sweat runs down his face; but nothing tires him, and he never halts nor pauses in his chant. These men are too nimble of speech and too slang for most foreigners to catch a word; but I suppose they are generally witty and entertaining, for they command immense audiences of gaping Chinamen, and their sallies are received with great delight. Like the Italians, when they have worked up their audience to a proper pitch of interest they stop, and refuse to go on with the story without more coppers. At the approach of the foreign barbarian some little witticism is launched _à notre adresse_. You may judge whether it is very complimentary; however, as “it amuses them and don’t hurt us,” that don’t much signify. Perhaps the hawkers whose wares are the most curious to Europeans are the men who carry about live crickets and cicadas for sale, either in tiny wooden cages or tied to bamboo rods. The Chinese buy them to any amount as pets, and some make the crickets fight like quails and game-cocks. We are very often accosted by the more respectable class. The first salutation is always, “Have you had your dinner, sir?” which is the Chinese, “How d’ye do?” and then the conversation runs as follows:— “Your honourable name?” “My name is Mi. What is your honourable name?” “My shabby name is Hwang. What are the years of your age?” “I am twenty-eight” (great astonishment, for I pass usually for forty-five). “How long have you been inside the walls?” (at Peking). “About four months.” “Do you belong to the great Ying, or the great Fa?” (English or French).