Their expressions mean as little as their ceremonies.  If a Chinese is asked how he finds himself in health, he answers, Very well; thanks to your abundant felicity.  If they would tell a man that he looks well, they say, Prosperity is painted on your face:  or, Your air announces your happiness.

If you render them any service, they say, My thanks shall be immortal.  If you praise them, they answer, How shall I dare to persuade myself of what you say of me?  If you dine with them, they tell you at parting, We have not treated you with sufficient distinction.  The various titles they invent for each other it would be impossible to translate.

It is to be observed that all these answers are prescribed by the Chinese ritual, or Academy of Compliments.  There, are determined the number of bows:  the expressions to be employed; the genuflexions, and the inclinations which are to be made to the right or left hand; the salutations of the master before the chair where the stranger is to be seated, for he salutes it most profoundly, and wipes the dust away with the skirts of his robe; all these and other things are noticed, even to the silent gestures by which you are entreated to enter the house.  The lower class of people are equally nice in these punctilios; and ambassadors pass forty days in practising them before they are enabled to appear at court.  A tribunal of ceremonies has been erected; and every day very odd decrees are issued, to which the Chinese most religiously submit.

The marks of honour are frequently arbitrary; to be seated with us is a mark of repose and familiarity; to stand up, that of respect.  There are countries, however, in which princes will only be addressed by persons who are seated, and it is considered as a favour to be permitted to stand in their presence.  This custom prevails in despotic countries; a despot cannot suffer without disgust the elevated figure of his subjects; he is pleased to bend their bodies with their genius; his presence must lay those who behold him prostrate on the earth; he desires no eagerness, no attention; he would only inspire terror.

FIRE, AND THE ORIGIN OF FIREWORKS.

In the Memoirs of the French Academy, a little essay on this subject is sufficiently curious; the following contains the facts:—­

FIREWORKS were not known to antiquity.—­It is certainly a modern invention.  If ever the ancients employed fires at their festivals, it was only for religious purposes.

Fire, in primaeval ages, was a symbol of respect, or an instrument of terror.  In both these ways God manifested himself to man.  In the holy writings he compares himself sometimes to an ardent fire, to display his holiness and his purity; sometimes he renders himself visible under the form of a burning bush, to express himself to be as formidable as a devouring fire:  again, he rains sulphur; and often, before he speaks, he attracts the attention of the multitude by flashes of lightning.