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 was the loss of a handkerchief or two. A Chinese thief picked my pocket one day, so dexterously, that I did not perceive the loss: but my companion, the same gentleman who had silenced the significant salutation of the Chinese boatmen, and who was better acquainted with the people, detected the rogue, and caught him by the end of his long tail, as it was whisking round the corner of the street. He began instantly to belabour the thief with his cane, and what seemed odd enough, to the entire satisfaction of the multitude, who, so far from attempting a rescue, encouraged the due infliction of this discipline. After a certain number of blows had been given, however, there was a cry of ‘enough,’ and I was informed that if the punishment had not been discontinued at once, the extra allowance bestowed on the culprit, would have been paid back to the donor with a certain per-centage of interest. It seems every conceivable offence in China has its numerical value expressed in terms of the bamboo, by which alone it can be expiated; and as this scale is well known to every man in the streets, a stranger is safe in administering the law himself, since he may be quite sure of having a limit set to his proceedings when, according to the refined calculus alluded to, justice has been satisfied. I was never very desirous of putting this to the test of actual experiment, but some days afterwards when the same fellow again picked my pocket, I seized him by the collar and was carrying him to the Police Office close at hand, when he fell on his knees and supplicated me to beat him, knowing perhaps that the sitting Mandarin would not let him off so cheaply as I should. The oddity of the request disarmed me entirely, and I gave him a small copper coin, bidding him not rob me any more – and he adhered faithfully to his promise, although I passed him frequently every day. This man was as well known to the police, as our professional rogues in London are said to be to the officers of Bow-Street, and as far as I could learn, made his bread by the same laudable calling. The convention between him and me did not extend to my countrymen, however, and in the course often days, one of the midshipmen of my ship, a careless, gaping mortal, whose insatiable curiosity led him to wander in a sort of ecstacy through the streets, lost no less than twelve pocket-handkerchiefs; so that he became a sort of little fortune to my friend the pickpocket, who looked very ill pleased one day when I passed in company with the youngster, and by keeping between them convoyed him in safety for once. This persevering rogue never shifted his station, but sat curled up like a spider in his hole, at the end of one of the numerous little bridges which cross the streets of Canton. It may not be uninteresting to Italian travellers to mention that about two years afterwards, when in Venice, I was struck with the exact resemblance between one of the canal bridges of that city, and the post of this Chinese thief.

“On the first of January 1817, a grand procession of the boats of the men-of-war, and of all the Indiamen, left Canton, where they had been assembled in readiness for two days, and rowed about a league and a half up the river to meet the Ambassador. The Chinese authorities were sorely