“One day, chancing to be at a neighbouring town, I was struck with the appearance of a shop recently established.  It had an immense bow-window, and every part of it, to which a brush could be applied, was painted in a gaudy flaming style.  Large bowls of green and black tea were placed upon certain chests, which stood at the window.  I stopped to look at them, such a display, whatever it may be at the present time, being, at the period of which I am speaking, quite uncommon in a country town.  The tea, whether black or green, was very shining and inviting, and the bowls, of which there were three, standing on as many chests, were very grand and foreign looking.  Two of these were white, with figures and trees painted upon them in blue; the other, which was the middlemost, had neither trees nor figures upon it, but, as I looked through the window, appeared to have on its sides the very same kind of marks which I had observed on the teapot at home; there were also marks on the tea-chests, somewhat similar, but much larger, and, apparently, not executed with so much care.  ’Best teas direct from China,’ said a voice close to my side; and looking round I saw a youngish man, with a frizzled head, flat face, and an immensely wide mouth, standing in his shirt-sleeves by the door.  ’Direct from China,’ said he; ’perhaps you will do me the favour to walk in and scent them?’ ‘I do not want any tea,’ said I; ’I was only standing at the window examining those marks on the bowl and the chests.  I have observed similar ones on a teapot at home.’  ’Pray walk in, sir,’ said the young fellow, extending his mouth till it reached nearly from ear to ear; ’pray walk in, and I shall be happy to give you any information respecting the manners and customs of the Chinese in my power.’  Thereupon I followed him into his shop, where he began to harangue on the manners, customs, and peculiarities of the Chinese, especially their manner of preparing tea, not forgetting to tell me that the only genuine Chinese tea ever imported into England was to be found in his shop.  ’With respect to those marks,’ said he, ’on the bowl and chests, they are nothing more nor less than Chinese writing expressing something, though what I can’t exactly tell you.  Allow me to sell you this pound of tea,’ he added, showing me a paper parcel.  ’On the envelope there is a printed account of the Chinese system of writing, extracted from authors of the most established reputation.  These things I print, principally with the hope of, in some degree, removing the worse than Gothic ignorance prevalent amongst natives of these parts.  I am from London myself.  With respect to all that relates to the Chinese real imperial tea, I assure you sir, that—­’ Well, to make short of what you doubtless consider a very tiresome story, I purchased the tea and carried it home.  The tea proved imperially bad, but the paper envelope really contained some information on the Chinese language and writing, amounting to about