aboard, made instantly for the junk, and boarded
her, cutlass in hand. They were astonished to
find themselves confronted by half a dozen sturdy
marines, whom they quickly put into their boat
and proceeded in chase of the offenders. The
astonishment of shipmates was great, when the
"sea soldiers" marched up over the gangway
next day and fell in on the quarter deck, after
having been given up for lost.

All this, besides the terrible amount of
bloodshed which has since taken place, was
caused by the Chinese authorities hauling down
the English ensign (which, by the way, had no
business to be, hoisted) on board a lorcha which
had been recognised by some merchants as
one which had robbed a vessel of theirs out
at sea, a short time before. The persons on
board were identified individually as being
concerned in the aforesaid robbery, and there is
little doubt that the lorcha was as great a pirate
as any other vessel of that class. The class
bears a very questionable name, and, in the
opinion of some, does not number an honest
trader in its lists. A lorcha will take in a cargo
at Hong-Kong, and leave that place with old mat
sails and painted black; when fairly at sea she
will be painted yellow or blue (not uncommon
colours), bend new canvas sails, and look out
for a rich prize—perhaps a Fuchow junk laden
with hams, bacon, and rice—and after
committing many depredations, will repaint black,
rebend the old sails, and go into the harbour to
which she was bound with her original cargo.;
There, she will report that she has been
attacked by, but has beaten off, a yellow lorcha
with new sails, and if there be an English man-
of-war at hand, such man-of-war will probably
go out in search of such lorcha. These lorchas,
the majority of which are Portuguese, are peculiar
craft; they have a half European hull, with
a touch of Chinese: the bows low, and the
stern rounded high up, in thorough opposition
to our principles of ship-building. They have
also Chinese masts and sails, though the latter
are often made of canvas, the better to be
managed by the Chinese seamen.

It was always thought, however, that the
affair of the lorcha Arrow, which occasioned the
present war, was merely the pretence for laying
the foundation of one: the Chinese having long
been extremely insolent in all their proceedings:
moreover, the term of the treaty had run out,
and a new and more advantageous one was
required.

But to return to Canton. On the night
before mentioned, one of the ships, lying off the
Shamun Ports (which had been disarmed), found
the shot coming in, not only from ahead, but
also from abeam, which naturally made those
on board conclude that they were being fired
into by the forts, and next day a large working
party were sent ashore, to do what they could
towards knocking the forts down. It was
thought unlikely that the Chinese would allow
their forts (which were of European construction)
to be demolished, without making an
attempt to save them; and so it proved, for
as the men were resuming their work after
dinner, they heard a loud beating of gongs, and
looking over the inner parapet, saw a large
number of "Braves," who had been despatched
to shoot them all, but who, on hearing them
laughing and talking at their work, had required
to have their courage plucked up by sound of
gong. Our men soon dispersed their opponents,
who took to the houses, and began firing out of
the windows; so the order of the day was altered,
and a mine made, which soon brought the old
fort rattling about their ears.

The ship's getting the shot into her broadside
when all the firing was ahead, was soon
explained. The Chinese do not understand how
to cast shot; the consequence is, that they are
not perfectly spherical, and, when they strike
the water, will ricochet at an angle to the direction
in which they are fired—often a right angle.
They are not very particular in their gunnery:
not objecting to fire a gun with a shot that is
too large, jammed in the muzzle: which in most
cases bursts the gun and kills half a dozen of
them; or they will put in a shot so small, that,
on looking up the gun, you might see the charge
of powder behind it.

ALL IN THE DOWNS.

DOWNSHIRE, in the map of England, stands in
a quiet neighbourly unobtrusive way, next to
Rainshire, with Hillshire and Hogshire north and
south of it.

Like Ramshire, it is a great sheep-breeding
county; its annual sheep fair is the largest held in
Great Britain. I love every inch of Downshire:
its dun-coloured and emerald downs, its lanes
walled with honeysuckles in summer, and starred
with primroses in spring. I like the way the
white roads climb, with straightforward boldness,
up the steep shoulders of the sloping prairie country.
I like the floating blue of the distance, I
like its lines of soldiery firs, I like its very weeds,
even its molehills, the warts and wens, as it
were, on its broad, honest, sunny face.

I write from Downshire now, for I am chasing
Health, at a hand gallop, all over the tawny
downs where the grizzled scorched grass is
but a mere dry hide over the winter-chilled
earth. The saddle is not cold yet upon which I
have been scouring all this end of Downshire,
from Crockerton Furze to Stanton Corner.
Jingling over the little grey bridge opposite my
country inn, jolts one of those country tilt-
carts, with strained white awnings over them,
which look like eggs, in the centre of which,
having first scooped out the yolk and the white,
sit the crimsoned-faced drivers, whistling a country
tune, almost as pleasant as that of the blackbird's
that sits on the apricot-tree at my window.
That is the carrier (I know him well), for he
passes here every morning at ten, and is on his
way from Spireton to Deverton St. Mary's.

Oh, that cart and its singing blithe driver have
had a pleasant trip of it since sunrise, passing