On rounding the eastern exit of New Harbour, the shipping and harbour of Singapore at once burst on the view, with the white walls of the houses, and the dark verdure of the shrubbery of the town nearly hidden by the network of spars and rigging that intervenes. The splendid boats of the French Messageries, and our own Peninsular and Oriental lines, the opium steamers of the great firm of Messrs. Jardine, of China, and Messrs. Cama, of Bombay; and the beautifully-modelled American or English clippers, which have taken the place of the box-shaped, heavy-rigged East Indiamen of days of yore, with men-of-war of all nations, help to make a noble sight. This is only part of the scene, for interspersed are huge Chinese junks of all sizes, ranging up to 600 or 700 tons measurement. The sampans, or two-oared Chinese boats, used to convey passengers ashore, are identical in shape. All have alike the square bow and the broad flat stern, and from the largest to the smallest, on what in a British vessel would be called her “head-boards,” all have two eyes embossed and painted, glaring out over the water. John Chinaman’s explanation of this custom is, that if “no got eyes, no can see.” During the south-west monsoon they are in Singapore by scores, and of all colours, red, green, black, or yellow; these are said to be the badge of the particular province to which they belong. Ornamental painting and carving is confined principally to the high stern, which generally bears some fantastic figuring, conspicuous in which can invariably be traced the outlines of a spread eagle, not unlike that on an American dollar. Did “spread-eagleism” as well as population first reach America from China? “It is difficult,” says Mr. Cameron, “while looking at these junks, to imagine how they can manage in a seaway; and yet at times they must encounter the heaviest weather along the Chinese coast in the northern latitudes. It is true that when they encounter a gale they generally run before it; but yet in a typhoon this would be of little avail to ease a ship. There is no doubt they must possess some good qualities, and, probably, speed, with a fair wind in a smooth sea, is one of them. Not many years ago a boat-builder in Singapore bought one of the common sampans used by the coolie boatmen, which are exactly the same shape as the junks, and rigged her like an English cutter, giving her a false keel, and shifting weather-board, and, strange to say, won with her every race that he tried.” Passing the junks at night, a strange spectacle may be observed. Amid the beating of gongs, jangling of bells, and discordant shouts, the nightly religious ceremonies of the sailors are performed. Lanterns are swinging, torches flaring, and gilt paper burning, while quantities of food are scattered in the sea as an offering of their worship. Many of those junks, could they but speak, might reveal a story, gentle reader— “A tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul.”