Our homeward course lay across fertile uplands, and well-cultivated meadows and fields. Many of the hills are cemeteries, and are thickly scattered over with graves, marked by little heaps of earth, and tombstones about two feet high. Some of these stones were nearly covered with inscriptions. Here and there were family tombs, consisting of large graves surrounded by walls in the form of a horse-shoe. The Chinese do not inter all their dead. They have another very peculiar mode of burial, which consists in depositing the corpse in tombs of masonry. These tombs have two walls and a roof, the unwalled sides being left open. They contain two or three, and sometimes as many as four coffins, which rest on wooden benches. The coffins are made of trunks of trees hollowed out.

The little villages or hamlets through which we passed were marked by poverty and dirtiness. In all of them I observed vast numbers of poultry and pigs; but in the course of the whole excursion I saw only two horses and a buffalo. These animals were of a very small species.

way, when the

First came the

When near our journey's end, we met a funeral. Its approach was announced by strains of dismal music; and we had scarcely time to look about us and to get out of the procession advanced almost at a running pace. musicians, followed by a few Chinese (probably relatives of the deceased); next were two empty palanquins, followed by the coffin, formed of the hollowed stem of a tree. It was slung on a pole, and carried by bearers. The procession was closed by a few priests and a long train of people, who followed from mere idle curiosity.

The high priest wore a white head-dress, with a triple point, looking not unlike three fool's caps fastened together. The.

mourners (who are all men) wore a piece of white cloth, either tied round the arm or wound round the head. White is the colour worn by the Chinese for mourning. They are particularly sensitive respecting death, and direct allusion to it in conversation is considered highly indecorous. When they speak of a funeral, they call it a "white affair."

THE

Lost in London.

HE following are extracts from the manuscript of a German gentleman of education, who fled from hopeless poverty, occasioned by political persecution at home, to endure poverty, with hope of better days, in London. He landed at Blackwall on a cold morning, in December, 1846, with a small spare body, a nearly empty purse, and a carpet bag. His hope was that he might earn bread by translating German works, and he had a fancy that he would begin with Hegel; he was prepared also to labor in original composition as an English writer. That he can write English well, our extracts from his autobiographical sketch testify.

In the waiting-room at the Custom House he was abashed by a party of neat gentlemen and ladies. Their clothes were clean, he says, and mine had not felt a brush since I got into the railway train at Cologne. Their hair was very short, wiry, and prim, while mine was long and dishevelled. Their cravats were as stiff as they were high, and I had the assurance to wear my shirt-collar turned down. There was something exceedingly painful to me in the sneering curiosity with which I was surveyed. I left the room.

I had scarcely gone out on the quay, when a dirty man, with large whiskers, came shuffling up, and addressed me in German. He asked me whether I had come with the boat from Rotterdam? and on my saying, "No," he wished to be informed what hotel I had fixed upon. I knew of the touters for the low inns, who lie

in ambush about the London wharfs to entice strangers, and particularly foreigners, into their lairs. But what had I to fear? I was no prey for thieves. My falling in with a touter was somewhat fortunate. A home was at once recommeded to me, of which my whiskered countryman, with the dirty face, informed me he was the proprietor. He called it “fatherland in the midst of London."

After a short palaver, we agreed to his proposal, that I should pay him for my board and lodging at the rate of half-a-crown per diem. This, he said, was the usual sum; but I found afterwards that I paid a shilling more than he was in the habit of receiving. I was, however, well pleased with my bargain. As for him, he seemed in such conceit with his new customer, that he would not leave me for a single moment alone, for fear I should make my escape or lose my way.

I was very cold and felt feverishly impatient to change my dress, wash my face, and brush my hair. I looked, consequently, with great eagerness towards the "fatherland in the heart of London." Besides I had not yet breakfasted; and when Mr. Wernstuk (such was the whiskered man's name) proposed to go to a public-house on the wharf, I readily accompanied him, and was forthwith led into a large room, where an enormous fire was drying the smock-frocks of above a hundred coalheavers, draymen, and porters, who sat on black benches, drinking ale, and eating cheese. They all smoked clay pipes, and seemed greatly to enjoy their bad tobacco. My landlord dragged me to a table at the further end of the room, where he told me to sit down by the side of a pale woman, whose dress and long braids, escaping from under a skullcap embroidered with beads, plainly bespoke her as one of my fair countrywomen. While the landlord, who appeared

an habitué of the place, bustled off to get some refreshment at the bar, I entered into a conversation with the poor woman, who seemed quite bewildered by the surrounding uproar. She said she and her husband had but that morning arrived from Rotterdam, and that they had been at once secured and carried off by Mr. Wernstuk. The last-named person returning with a dish of cold beef, and sundry pots and glasses, put the beef before me, and bade me take especial care of the blunt knife and iron fork which he placed into my hands—for he had become bail for them at the bar. While I was engaged in conquering the toughness of the meat, I understood that knives and forks being continually stolen by the hunters of this place, every guest was bound to go to the bar and return those articles when done with.

The noise and the smell of the room were too powerful; and declaring my intention to se out by myself on a voyage of discovery for Mr. Wernstuk's hotel, I returned the knife and fork to that gentleman, who loudly predicted I was sure of falling into the jaws of other sharks, and who seemed half-agonised at the idea of a certain rival house in Leman Street, which he told me was worse than a murderer's den. But neither his curses nor his prayers could prevail with me. I merely stayed to inquire for the situation and number of his house in Wellclose Square, took my carpet-bag, and a few moments afterwards I alighted at the Fenchurch Street Station of the Blackwall Railway.

The men whom I saw in Rosemary Lane, as I passed through it on my way to Wellclose Square, seemed to be almost all Jews, anxious to sell me coats, or buy my carpet-bag; and the women, many of whom peered out from little windows that were almost on a level with the pavement, were gross in their language, and licentious in their manners. Some of them were assembled in