The “Highbinders” are bound together by solemn obligations, and are the instruments used by other Chinamen to avenge their real or fancied wrongs.  The Highbinders are organized into lodges or tongs, which are engaged in constant feuds with each other.  They wage open warfare, and so deadly is their mutual hatred, that the war ceases only when the last individual who has come under the ban of a rival tong has been sacrificed.  These feuds resemble the vendettas in some of the Southern States of Europe, and they defy all efforts of the police to suppress them.  Murders are, consequently, frequent, but it is next to impossible to identify the murderers, and if a Chinaman is arrested on suspicion, or even almost positive evidence of guilt, the trial uniformly ends in a failure to convict.

The theatres are, to the visitor, probably the most interesting feature of the Chinese quarters.  A few years ago there were several of these playhouses, but the number is now reduced to two.  The charge of admission is 25 cents or 50 cents.

The white people who, out of curiosity, attend a performance, generally pay more, and are given more comfortable seats upon the stage.  The stage is a primitive affair.  It boasts of no curtain, footlights or scenery of any kind.

When, during the progress of a play, a man is killed, he lies upon the stage until the scene is ended, and then gets up and walks off.  Sometimes an attendant will bring in and place under his head a small wooden pillow, so that the dead man may rest more comfortably.  After an actor has been beheaded, he has been known to pickup the false head and apostrophize it while making his exit from the stage.  The orchestra is at the back of the stage.  It usually consists of one or two ear-splitting flageolets and a system of gongs and tom-toms, which keep up an infernal din during the entire performance.

Chinese plays are usually historical, and vary in length from a few hours to several months.  The costumes are gorgeous after the Chinese ideas of splendor.  No females are allowed on the stage at all, young men with falsetto voices invariably impersonating the women.

The restaurants of Chinatown are a very unsatisfactory feature of the unsavory quarter.  Many of the laborers board at them, and the smaller ones are nothing in the world but miserable little chop-houses, badly ventilated and exceedingly objectionable, and, indeed, injurious to health and good morals.  There are larger restaurants, which are more expensively equipped.  Shakespeare’s advice as to neatness without gaudiness is not followed.  There is always a profusion of color in decoration, but there is never anything like symmetry or beauty.