These sampans are freely used to convey passengers to and from ships or across the harbour. Formerly cases of robbery and murder were frequent on board them; and even now drunken sailors occasionally disappear in mysterious fashion. The hood over the passengers’ seats could be suddenly lowered on the occupants of the well; a few blows of a hatchet sufficed to end their efforts to free themselves; the bodies were then robbed and flung overboard, and their fate remained a secret to all but the murderers. But stringent police regulations now render these crimes almost impossible. At night all sampans must anchor at least thirty yards from the shore. If hailed by intending passengers they are allowed to come only to certain piers where European or Indian police officers take their numbers as well as the names and destinations of those about to embark on them. So that the Hong Kong sampan is now nearly as safe a conveyance as the London hansom. Communication between Victoria and Kowloon is maintained by a line of large, two‐decked, double‐ended steam ferries, that cross the mile of water between them in ten minutes. The suburb on the mainland is of very recent growth. Ten years ago the Observatory, a signal station, and a few villas were almost the only buildings; and the pinewoods ran uninterruptedly down to the sea. Now Kowloon possesses large warehouses, two hotels, two fine barracks, long streets lined with shops chiefly for Chinese customers, and terraces of houses occupied by Europeans. These are generally employees in the dockyards or clerks, or the families of engineers and mates of the small steamers that have their headquarters in Hong Kong. New streets are continually springing up, connecting it with Yaumati, a large Chinese suburb, or spreading down towards Old Kowloon City, three miles off. Near the ferry pier long wharves run out into the harbour, alongside which the largest vessels of the P. and O. or Norddeutscher‐Lloyd can berth and discharge their cargo. Close by is a naval yard, with a small space of water enclosed by stone piers for torpedo craft. Beside it are huge stacks of coal for our warships. Just above rise the grass‐covered ramparts of a fort. Near this are the fine stone and brick barracks built for the Hong Kong Regiment—a corps raised and recruited in Northern India about ten years ago for permanent service in this Colony. It was recently disbanded when Hong Kong was added to the list of places over‐seas to be garrisoned by the Indian army. Its material was excellent; for the high rate of pay—eighteen rupees a month with free rations as compared with the nine rupees and no rations offered to the sepoy in India—gave its recruiting officers the pick of Mussulman Punjaub, for it was a completely Mohammedan regiment. But it suffered from the disadvantage of being permanently stationed in one cramped‐up garrison with much guard duty, and of being officered by men coming at