The Chinese, however poor, like several courses
to their meals, which are served in little bowls on a small table to
each person, and eaten with chop-sticks, as in Japan. It is to gratify
this taste that what we should think a very minute fish, or a tiny
chicken, is cut up into half-a-dozen pieces and sold to several
purchasers.
The Chinese are very fond of fish, and are most ingenious in
propagating, rearing, and keeping them. The dried-fish and seaweed
shops are not at all picturesque or sweet-smelling, especially as all
the refuse is thrown into the streets in front. Men go about the
streets carrying pails of manure, suspended on bamboo poles across
their shoulders, and clear away the rubbish as they go. I was very
glad when we got through all this to the better part of the town, and
found ourselves in a large shop, where it was cool, and dark, and
quiet.
The streets of the city are so narrow, that two chairs can scarcely
pass one another, except at certain points. The roofs of the houses
nearly meet across the roadway, and, in addition, the inhabitants
frequently spread mats overhead, rendering the light below dim and
mysterious. Every shop has a large vermilion-coloured board, with the
name of its occupant written in Chinese characters, together with a
list of the articles which he sells, hung out in front of it, so that
the view down the narrow streets is very bright and peculiar.
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