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Louy did not leave the matter to chance, however, but procured a copy of the peerage, in secret, when she got home, and verified the information she had obtained during her drive.

THE CHINESE SEMPSTRESS.

Ever since Thomas Hood wrote "The Song of The Shirt," none who speak the English language, have been able to look upon Sempstresses, without a certain amount of commiseration. That terribly sad appeal,

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rings in all our ears to this day, and makes us feel sorry for the misery of a large class of our countrywomen, who, willing to work, and working with all their might, cannot earn fare as good as that with which we feed felons. How strong would an appeal have to be which should make us do something more than feel sorry!

The Chinese Sempstress is a highly respectable old woman. Offer her two-pence halfpenny to make you a shirt, and she will walk calmly away, before you have time to say "you must find your own cotton." She has two sons, the elder sends her a dollar and the younger half a dollar every month. She has a share in a house too, and lets one of the rooms for a dollar and a half a month. With her coarse iron needle, she can earn from three to six dollars a month, and as she can live very well on two dollars and a half, or three dollars a month, she has, you will see, quite a large income.

She can afford to indulge her little vanities. She wears a false chignon, and I fancy that, if you penetrated that warm scull cap over the front of her head, you would reach a neatly made wig, before you came to the two or three thin white locks, which are all that remain of her once luxurious jet black hair. She has bound up her feet, and walks upon her instep, so that people may think that she has small feet, which they never do, but that does not matter. She likes to be comfortable, when at work, and usually carries a small campstool, on which she sits, and, if she can find anything against which to lean her back, she will shew that she knows how to use it.

Under a tree, or in the shadow of a wall, she sits and mends her countrymen's clothes, taking care to have previously made a bargain for a fair remuneration. Precisely at noon she takes her dinner, and does not re-commence work until one o'clock. When she has finished her labors, she loiters home, in the cool of the evening, to a quiet resting place, and a good meal-luxuries denied to the sempstresses in civilised lands, who work and starve from morn till night, making garments for their countrymen, who 'feel sorry' for them, but whose sympathy gives them no hope, and, perhaps, no consolation.

A MORNING WALK IN COCHIN CHINA.

Cholon, the native portion of the town of Saigon, in Cochin China, is separated from Saigon Proper, or that part occupied by the Europeans, by a distance of three miles. During the cool months, it is the habit of the health seeking residents to take a morning walk along the Cholon road. Let us suppose that we are residents and that we start with the few early risers of Saigon, say from the "Grand Canal," a place anything but what its name would indicate, for its banks are overgrown with rank weeds, its water at high tide is muddy, and at low tide mud, when the odour is far from pleasing and one feels glad to seek the pure air of the country. The place has only one good feature, and that is a well of pure water, from which the coolies are already drawing the morning supplies for the town. At the back of this well, is a long row of China shops, some of which are open, and the inmates are making their toilet at the doorways.

A pack of the pariah dogs that infest Saigon have rushed howling across the road, and, through the cloud of suffocating dust they have raised, there is just visible the outline of a Cambodian cart, drawn by a pair of bullocks, and laden with produce from the interior. There are more coming, there, is a complete train of them. The bullocks, except the first pair, are attached to the carts in front by a rope passed through the nostrils. The entire train is being conducted by a little boy. The owners are still asleep in their carts, beneath a long basket work covering, and above Hides, Horns, Elephants' Tusks, Gum-damar, and Gamboge, and still these fellows sleep, though their carts are springless, Horns are sharp and Hides are hard, and the noise of the wheels creaking hideously around their dry wooden axle would make the fortune of a speculator by simply driving such a vehicle up and down some quiet

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London neighbourhood.

We have now entered the main Cholon road, that is the Gendarmerie on the left. Like its Gendarmes it looks huge and imposing. In the distance are two mounted Gendarmes, with drawn swords, conducting prisoners, no!one prisoner and that a small specimen of the pigmi Cochin China race. Poor creature, he has no look of one who would attempt to escape from two such splendid myrmidons of French law.

The gentleman who just has passed going townwards, informs us that there an execution is to take place this morning, and that it is sure to go off well, for it is the kind of thing the French always do well. That long line of bare-footed women that have chosen the best part of the road to walk upon, are the wives of native gardeners. They have their baskets full of fresh vegetables and provisions, which they are taking to the Bazaar; this they do twice a day, first at daylight, and then at three in the afternoon. Their dress is similar to that of the Chinese peasant, with the exception of the hat, a huge contrivance about twenty inches in diameter, and six inches deep, which, to a stranger, looks like an extra basket adroitly poised on the head. In size, this hat of dry leaves is exceeded by one worn by the men of a better class, which has a conical shape, and is large enough to come over the shoulders. At a distance, it is difficult to make out what it is, until signs of animation are observed, and one becomes aware that the mysterious cone is propelled by a biped. Such hats exemplify the native character, for they afford shelter from rain, and, to the Annamite, this is everything, as he looks upon pure water as his greatest enemy, and, those who can afford the luxury, invest in one of these hat umbrellas, and thereby secure themselves against the risk of a natural shower bath. During a residence of three months in Cochin China, I do not remember ever having seen an ordinary native wash himself, unless when requested to do so, that a fair photographic representation might be obtained of the face; and then the operation had to be carefully watched, for the washing was managed in such a way that it left a rim round the face, like an earthwork, thrown up to protect the features from further violence.

There has been no rain for months. The hedges and shrubs are bronzed with the dust, but they are beautified by the varied colours of the convolvulous, that open their eyes for about two hours in the morning to see the sun rise and go to sleep again. There is nothing of particular interest to be seen on the road at this early hour until we enter Cholon, about a mile from which, we come upon the "Plaine des Tombeaux." This is a burial ground that covers an area of about twenty miles. We will ascend this tomb, which is the highest near the roadside, from whence you see the entire plain covered with tombs, away to the very horizon. This place was chosen by the Cochin Chinese, hundreds of years ago, for a place of burial, in obedience to advice vouchsafed by the royal magicians. Skirting this field of the dead the telegraph tells of new life, and a new era in the history of the country.

Cholon is before us. Its principal inhabitants are Chinese and Chinese characteristics are seen everywhere, in its temples, its houses, and its activity. The town was astir long ago, and the clang of the hammer and chizel is heard in every street, and in all the faces which we see so full of business, we can recognize those only of Chinamen.

To see something of the Anamese, we must go to the river side, where there are hundreds of boats grouped together, forming a native floating village. Many of the Chinese merchants have already gone down to the boats, and are treating for the rice, which they contain, while others have concluded their bargain, and are paying the natives in basket loads of cash, heavy enough to ballast the boat. A few steps beyond, and we come upon the subject of the photograph, the Anamese river huts. Can any style of life have been more primitive! The obscure caves, where our Scotch forefathers sucked the bones of animals, were castles compared to this, and the ancient Lake Dwellings of Switzerland, palaces. Here a family of seven is domiciled in a hut, measuring about seven feet by five feet.

The sanitary arrangements are simple and effective. The hut is raised on a platform, a few feet above the river, into which all refuse and garbage is allowed to fall. The capitalist who constructs these huts has to expend about two dollars and-a-half for the building of each, he then lets them out to his poorer friends. The food of this class consists entirely of rice and fish, and when providence is extremely kind, a little pork fat, as a luxury. The fish is obtained by dropping a line over the front verandah, on which the pot stands ready to receive the prize, as it is taken from the river. Clothing is one of the most expensive items in the maintenance of such a family. To-day they are in full dress to have their portraits taken. The father, who is rather imperfectly dressed, has taken shelter behind two children. He claims the distinction of parent by wearing a conical hat made of leaves and worth about one third of a cent. On ordinary occasions the children are allowed to run about "au naturel," until they reach the age of six or seven years. In front of the huts there is the family canoe used for fashionable calls, fishing, &c. Some indication of how the Anamese spend their leisure, may be gathered from the attitude of the man on the right, leaning over his boat, smoking a cigarette of native manufacture, a bundle of which may be had for a few cash. The Anamese who can afford it, chew the nut of the Areca palm, but their great object in life appears to be to go through as much smoking as funds will admit of, and, to attain this, they practise the strictest economy with the weed, when interrupted, the fragment, however small, is removed from the mouth and deposited behind the ear. In the case of a quarrel, they sit down and carry on a war of words, which, for copiousness and invective, would put Billingsgate to the blush.

J. T.

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