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Updated: May 20, 2025
On Sunday, Major Studer, United States Consul, and his accomplished daughter, drove us to the house and gardens of the leading Chinese merchant of this region, Mr. Wampoo, who received and entertained us with great cordiality. His residence is extensive and filled in every part with curios; but his gardens are most celebrated, and far surpass anything of the kind we have yet seen.
"They are all wrong, are not they, Nancy?" says Bobby, in a lowered voice, to me, on whose left hand he has placed himself; "he is sitting in his veranda, is not he? in a palm hat and nankeen breeches, with his arm around the old Wampoo." "I dare say," reply I, laughing. "I hope so," for, indeed, I am growing quite fond of my dusky rival.
When I saw his venerable coat-tails flying, a feather would have knocked me down! "Hang the old Wampoo!" cry I, with inelegant force, laughing. The duty part of the evening is over now. We have all signalized ourselves by feats of valor.
Their hair was of a finer texture than that of the males. Among these naked villagers there might have been ten or twelve who were clothed, like the party of Too-wit, in dresses of black skin, and armed with lances and heavy clubs. These appeared to have great influence among the rest, and were always addressed by the title Wampoo. These, too, were the tenants of the black skin palaces.
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