At the same time a Chinaman may stop his cart or barrow, or dump down his load, just where-ever he pleases, and other persons have to make the best of what is left of the road.  I have even seen a theatrical stage built right across a street, completely blocking it, so that all traffic had to be diverted from its regular course.  There are no municipal regulations and no police in China, so that the people have to arrange things among themselves; and, considering the difficulties inherent in such an absence of government, it may fairly be said that they succeed remarkably well.

When two friends meet in the street, either may put up his fan and screen his face; whereupon the other will pass by without a sign of recognition.  The meaning is simply, “Too busy to stop for a chat,” and the custom, open and above-board as it is, compares favourably perhaps with the “Not at home” of Western civilisation.

I do not know of any Chinese humorist who ever, as in the old story, shouted out to a visitor, “I am not at home.”  Confucius himself certainly came very near to doing so.  It is on record that when an unwelcome visitor came to call, the sage sent out to say that he was too ill to receive guests, at the same time seizing his harpsichord and singing to it from an open window, in order to expose the hollowness of his own plea.

Any one on horseback, or riding in a sedan-chair, who happens to meet a friend walking, must dismount before venturing to salute him.  However to obviate the constant inconvenience of so doing, the foot-passenger is in duty bound to screen his face as above; and thus, by a fiction which deceives nobody, much unnecessary trouble is saved.

When two mandarins of equal rank find themselves face to face in their sedan-chairs, those attendants among their retinues who carry the enormous wooden fans rush forward and insert these between the passing chairs, so that their masters may be presumed not to see each other and consequently not be obliged to get out.

No subordinate can ever meet a higher mandarin in this way; the former must turn down some by-street immediately on hearing the approaching gong of his superior officer.  A mandarin’s rank can be told by the number of consecutive strokes on the gong, ranging from thirteen for a viceroy to seven for a magistrate.

Take the case of a Chinese visitor.  He should be received at the front door, and be conducted by the host to a reception-room, the host being careful to see that the visitor is always slightly in advance.  The act of sitting down should be simultaneous, so that neither party is standing while the other is seated.  If the host wishes to be very attentive, he may take a cup of tea from his servant’s hands and himself arrange it for his guest.

Here comes another most important and universal rule:  in handing anything to, or receiving anything from, an equal both hands must be used.  A servant should hand a cup of tea with both hands, except when serving his master and a guest.  Then he takes one cup in each hand, and hands them with the arms crossed.  I was told that the crossing was in order to exhibit to each the “heart,” i.e. the palm, of the hand, in token of loyalty.