in our country, porcelain.” — ”Well,” says I, “such a thing may be; how big is it? Can we carry it in a box upon a camel? If we can we will buy it.” — ”Upon a camel!” says the old pilot, holding up both his hands; “why, there is a family of thirty people lives in it.”

I was then curious, indeed, to see it; and when I came to it, it was nothing but this: it was a timber house, or a house built, as we call it in England, with lath and plaster, but all this plastering was really China ware — that is to say, it was plastered with the earth that makes China ware.

The outside, which the sun shone hot upon, was glazed, and looked very well, perfectly white, and painted with blue figures, as the large China ware in England