1821.] Original 
house (board) of merchants. They are 
appointed by the emperor, and selected 
from among persons the best acquainted 
with commercial affairs. The head of 
the present Hong is called How-Qua. 
That he is expert in his business is 
clearly proved from his immense riches, 
valued at from eight to ten millions of 
dollars. As soon as a ship arrives at 
Canton, one of these personages offers 
his services as protectory and this se¬ 
cures to the protector the privilege of 
vending the greatest part of the cargo, 
at his pleasure; and as the members of 
this board disperse their protection in 
turns, they engros&4mmense advantages 
over all other traders. The port does, 
usually amounting from 400 to 700 dol¬ 
lars, are paid to these merchant protec¬ 
tors. I am within the limits of the 
strictest truth, when I add that the 
officers of justice superabound. I do 
not think there is a country in the world 
where exactions and acts of injustice 
are reduced more regularly into a sys¬ 
tem. Not an individual employed in 
public business but is culpable, more or 
less, and from the first officer of state 
to the lowest clerk in the custom-house, 
all deem it a sovereign duty to dupe 
and teaze foreigners. 
Poetry . 133 
The city of Canton is situated to the 
north of Bocca Tigris, in a low and 
marshy district; the streets are so nar¬ 
row, for the most part, that two persons 
can with difficulty walk a-breast. The 
houses have but little elevation, and 
stand very near together, and as the 
buildings to the streets consist of shops 
and warehouses, it is not easy for a 
stranger to form any just notion of the 
domestic arrangements in a Chiuese fa¬ 
mily. The foreign companies, in gene¬ 
ral, have very splendid mansions, with 
every convenience for the use of their 
agents. They are divided into sections 
or separate factories, one of which is 
commonly occupied by the captain or 
supercargo of their vessels. 
The calculations relative to the po¬ 
pulation of Canton are, in my opinion, 
very inaccurate. The part of the city 
included within the walls, is not above 
one-third of the suburbs, and altogether 
does not occupy an extent larger than 
Philadelphia. From all the information 
i have been able to obtain, I do not be¬ 
lieve the number of inhabitants, 
including those who live on board 
barks and vessels, to rise to above 
200,000. 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
LINES 
WRITTEN BY 
LORD BYRON, 
On the Death of his Dog , at Newstead 
Abbey. 
Near this spot 
are deposited the Remains of one, 
who possessed Beauty without Vanity, 
Strength without Insolence, 
Courage without Ferocity, 
and all the Virtues of Man without his 
Vices. 
This praise, which would be unmeaning 
flattery if inscribed over human ashes, 
is but a just tribute to the memory of 
BOATSWAIN, a DOG, 
who was born in Newfoundland, May, 1803, 
and died at Newstead, Nov. 18th, 1808. 
When some proud son of man returns to 
earth, 
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, 
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of 
woe, 
And storied urns record who rests below : 
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen 
Not what he was, but what he should have 
been. 
But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend, 
The first to welcome, foremost to defend; 
Whose honest heart is still his master’s owni, 
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him 
alone, 
Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth, 
Deny’d in Heaven the soul he held on earth. 
While Man, vain insect! hopes to be for¬ 
given ; 
And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven. 
Oh Man ! thou feeble tenant of an hour. 
Debas’d by slavery, or corrupt by power, 
Who know s thee well, must quit thee with 
disgust, 
Degraded mass of animated dust! 
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, 
Thy tongue hypocrisy, thy heart deceit, 
By nature vile, ennobled but by name. 
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush 
for shame. 
Ye who behold perchance this simple urn. 
Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn. 
To mark a friend’s remains these stones 
arise, 
I never knew but one—and here he lies. 
LINES 
Engraved on the Skull of an Ancestor. 
BY LORD BYRON. 
Start not! nor deem my spirit fled, 
In me be hold the only skull, 
From 
