These two streets, which have been often compared to our passages, are long alleys paved with slabs of granite, and covered over with mats, which preserve the pedestrian from the rain and the sun. At intervals there are certain aërial edifices of bamboo—kinds of bridges, on which the night-watchmen stand; and on each side of the street are shops with large windows and blinds. The houses of Old and New China Street consist of only one storey, the greater part of which is occupied by the stores. To form some idea of these two streets of European China, it is sufficient to imagine the gallery of the old Bains Chinois[1] turned into an entrepôt for all those lacquered and enamelled playthings, and all that common porcelain, which for some years past have blocked up the Palais Royal and several of our passages.
I never saw anything in China so stupidly dull as these two insipid passages and their trade. During three parts of the day there is not a soul to be seen; but as soon as a European heel resounds on the granite, every door exhibits a Chinaman with a naked head and a flat face, lighted up with an assumed smile, which is intended to tempt a customer to his shop. The most remarkable thing in T'sing-youen and Toung-wan is the perfect similarity of the
- ↑ On the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris.
