Japanese boatmen. He wondered why they seemed so familiar, until
it suddenly dawned on him that their queer rice-straw coats made
them look like a swarm of Robinson Crusoes who had just been
rescued from their islands.

When he landed he found things still funnier. The streets were
noisier than the harbor. Through them rolled large heavy wooden
carts, pulled and pushed by men, with much grunting and groaning.
Past him whirled what looked like overgrown baby carriages, also
pulled by men, and each containing a big grown-up human baby. It
was all so pretty too, and so enchanting that the young
missionary would fain have remained there. But China was still
farther on, so when the America again set sail, he was on board.

Away they sailed farther and farther east, or was it west? He
often asked himself that question in some amusement as they
approached the coast of China. They entered a long winding
channel and steamed this way and that until one day they sailed
into a fine broad harbor with a magnificent city rising far up
the steep sides of a hill. It was an Oriental city, and therefore
strange to the young traveller. But for all that there seemed
something familiar in the fine European buildings that lined the
streets, and something still more homelike in that which floated
high above them--something that brought a thrill to the heart of
the young Canadian--the red-crossed banner of Britain!

It was Hongkong, the great British port of the East, and here he
decided to land. No sooner had the travelers touched the dock,
than they were surrounded by a yelling, jostling crowd of Chinese
coolies, all shouting in an outlandish gibberish for the