“The dessert, I suppose.”

“Eight kinds of soup, never either one more or one less.  If the number were deficient, the guests would consider themselves grossly insulted, the number of dishes denoting the degree of respect entertained by the host for his guests.”

“I beg, Mrs. Wolston,” said Mrs. Becker laughing, “that you will not estimate our esteem for you by the dinner we offer you.”

“Well,” replied Mrs. Wolston in the same tone, “let me see; to be treated as we ought to be, there are fifty-seven dishes wanting, therefore we must go and dine at home.  John, call my carriage.”

At this sally they all laughed heartily, and even Willis chimed in with the general hilarity.

“Then, after the soups,” continued Ernest, “comes the tea, and with that the dessert, as also sixty square pieces of silver paper to wipe the mouth.  It is then that the host vanishes, to reappear in a brilliant robe of gold brocade and a vest of satin.”

“These people ought all to perish of indigestion.”

“No; they are moderate eaters, their dishes consist of small saucers, each containing only a few mouthfuls of meat, and, as for Europeans, the want of forks and spoons—­”

“What! have they no forks?”

“Not at table—­nor knives either; but, on the other hand, they are exceedingly expert in the use of two slender sticks of ivory, which they hold in the first three fingers of the right hand, and with which they manage to convey solids, and even liquids, to their mouths.”

“Ah!  I see,” said Jack; “the Europeans would be obliged, like Mrs. Wolston, to call their carriage, in spite of the fifty-two saucers of meat:  it puts me in mind of the stork inviting the fox to dine with her out of a long-necked jar.”

“We are apt to judge the Chinese by the pictures seen of them on their own porcelain, and copied upon our pottery,” said Becker; “but this conveys only a ludicrous idea of them.  They are the most industrious, but at the same time the vainest, most stupid, and most credulous people in the world; they worship the moon, fire, fortune, and a thousand other things; people go about amongst them selling wind, which they dispose of in vials of various sizes.”

“That is a trade that will not require an extraordinary amount of capital.”

“True; and besides, as they carry on their trade in the open air, they have no rent to pay.”

“Their bonzes or priests,” continued Becker, “to excite charity, perambulate the streets in chains, sometimes with some inflammable matter burning on their heads, whilst, instead of attempting to purify the souls of dying sinners, they put rice and gold in their mouths when the vital spark has fled.  They have a very cruel mode of punishing renegade Lamas:  these are pierced through the neck with a red-hot iron.”

“What is a Lama, father?”

“It is a designation of the Tartar priests.”