“But the hands that were played
    By that heathen Chinee,
  And the points that he made. 
    Were quite frightful to see—­
  Till at last he put down the right bower,
  Which the same Nye had dealt unto me.

  “Then I looked up at Nye,
    And he gazed upon me: 
  And he rose with a sigh,
    And said, ’Can this be? 
  We are ruined by Chinee cheap labour’—­
  And he went for that heathen Chinee.”

There are all kinds of jugglers in Chinatown and among them are numerous fortune-tellers.  This kind of pastime is as old as the human race, and you find the man who undertakes to reveal to you the secrets of the future among all peoples.  The Orientals are always ready to listen to the “neby” or the necromancer or the fakir or the wandering minstrel, who improvises for you and sings for you the good things which are in store for you.  We see this tendency among our own people who would have their destiny pointed out by means of a pack of cards, by the reading of the palm of the hand, in the grounds in the tea-cup, and by other signs.  It was with some interest then that we glanced at the mystic words and signs which adorned the entrance to Sam Wong Yung’s fortune-teller’s place.

Passing on, we next visited a hardware shop, where you could purchase various kinds of Chinese cutlery.  Among other things that attracted my attention was a simple-looking Chinese fan, apparently folded up.  On examining it I found that inside of the fan-case was a sharp knife or blade like a wide dagger.  This could be carried in an unsuspecting manner into the midst of a company of men, and in a moment, if you had in your breast the wicked spirit of revenge, your enemy could be weltering in his life blood at your feet.  It suggested all kinds of tragedies, and no doubt its invention had behind it some treacherous impulse.  The writer ventured to purchase it, but he hastens to announce to his friends that his purposes are good and innocent.  Though in the same category as the sword or dagger hidden in a walking-stick or a concealed weapon, this bloodthirsty knife will repose harmlessly in its fan-case like a sleeping babe in his cradle.

A Chinese boarding house next claimed our inspection.  It was rather a forbidding place, but no doubt the Chinaman was well content with its accommodations.  It was a long, rambling structure, and it seemed to me as if I were going through an underground passage in walking from room to room.  The various halls were narrow, indeed so narrow that two persons meeting in them could not without difficulty pass each other.  The beds, which brought a dollar a month, were one above another in tiers or recesses in the walls.  Generally a curtain of a reddish hue depended in front of them.  They reminded one of the berths in a ship or of the repositories of the dead in the Roman Catacombs.  Two hundred and twenty-five persons were lodged in this dark, mysterious labyrinth.