The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. You understand me, Charcoal. ***** In the daytime the streets of the ancient city of Canton are yet filled with the original confusion—human beings in quest of food.
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