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 smiles and blandness, rubbing his hands together as he makes a shrewd guess of what he is likely to take out of you, and receiving you obsequiously or with rudeness accordingly. Quite the reverse. Your presence is apparently unnoticed, unless you happen to lift anything; then you hear that the fan has been arrested, and feel that a keen eye is bent on your movements all the while. But it is not till you enquire for some article that the gentleman, now certain that you mean to trade, will rise without bustle from his seat, show you his goods, or state the price he means to sell at — with a polite yet careless air, which plainly says, "If it suits you, we make an exchange." After all, by adhering to this independent style I believe they sell more, and make better profits, than if they were perpetually soliciting patronage by word and gesture. On our way home- wards we pass through Physic Street, or Tsiang-Lan-Kiai. Here nearly all the shops are uniform in size, a brick party-wall dividing each building from its neighbour. All have one front apartment open to the street, with a granite or brick counter for the display of their wares. A granite base also supports the tall upright signboard, the indispensable characteristic of every shop in China. Opposite the signboard stands a small altar or shrine, dedicated to the god who presides over the tradesman and his craft. This deity is honoured regularly when the shop is opened, and a small incense-stick is lighted, and kept burning in a bronze cup of ashes placed in front of the shrine.

The shops within are frequently fitted with a counter of polished wood and carved shelves, while at the back is an accountant's room, screened off with an open-work wooden partition, so carved as to resemble a climbing plant. In some conspicuous place stand the brazen scales and weights, ever polished and