AMONG LONDON’S ALIENS.
JOHN CHINAMAN IN THE MYSTERIOUS EAST. SOME NEW AND AMAZING REVELATIONS OF FOREIGN LONDON. Bj Mr. P. Doubleyou. Asia in London is |a land of dreams—a strip of earth near the docks where one meets men of mystery with brown and copper-colour-ed skins and haunting eyes. It is a region of strange charms, amulets inshrining verses of the Koran, pigtails, bland faces, opium-smokers, blood-red turbans and countenances as fantastic as those one sees on the Oriental tea chests that are landed close by. The only English features of the district are its names —Limehouse and West India Dock Road—and the policemen. The rest is East, the wonderful East of hoary age and history. Lounging at the street corners are Lascars, their crimson head covering showing up gaudily against their dark clothes. Strolling along is a party of Malays, their lips wet and reddened with the juice of the betel they are chewing. A few Arabs are here, handy-look-ing men, who contrast strangely with those sleepy-eyed Cingalese, who, in long, light overcoats are shivering although the day is warm and the sun’s rays strong.
CHO FUNG AT WORK. The causeway is like a street in Canton. It is a slice of real China. Over the shops are names like “Shing," “Chang,” “Wong,” and “ Cho Fung.” Inside are mottoes pinned to the wall, which read “ Prosperity by Honesty,” and “ Righteous Prosperity.” John Chinaman deals in rare delicacies of the Orient, drugs, pills for counteracting the effects of overindulgence in opium, and oil made of beans for the sacred lamp which the C hiinaman swears is an emblem of his life when taking an oath. If you make a purchase, and John happens to be a business-like man he enters it in his ledger. He makes just one character for the name of the purchaser, price, date, article and everything. It is not likely, however that he will trouble ; his thoughts turn more to gambling than to book-keeping, and down Limehouse way it is not uncommon for a Ch ir.se dealer to gamble away his stock, furniture, and wardrobe in a single evening. Gambling is the Chinaman’s pet vice ; the next is opium smoking ; the next is whisky-drinking. INSIDE AN OPIUM DEN. A young Eastern acquaintance of mine conducted me to an opium den in order to prove that the lurid ac , counts of these places are untrue. | The house we entered had shutters [to the windows with three holes 1 through which faint pinheads of ; light appeared, and an old man | from Pekiu opened the door and sil - , ently invited us down the passage. The door leading to the “ den ” was I hung with curtains of yellow, and a ! faint, seductive odour filled the room.
| In the dim light of a lamp that , was henging from the low ceiling I ! discerned here and there, the figures [of men asleep. All was silent as the I grave—just a strangely enticing per- | fume, an occasional movement of a | sleeper ar.d the Chinaman gliding snakewise across the floor. The men lay on mattresses, and their j heads fitted in sockets cut in wooden pillows. John flitted about like a shadow. Now he was leaning, with a hideous grin, over a smoker’s form. “ Gone,” he muttered. “ Sleep !” The pipe fell from the smo’ fcr’s Ups. Then the den-keeper covered the man over, face as well, with a sheet, and he lay there quiet, motionless, dream ing. I shuddered. 1 had caught a glimpse of his glassy eye, his wide open mouth, and his deathly pallor. Then John prepared a pipe for me also. From a little cupboard he produced a lamp, a tin canister, and a pipe, consisting of a tiny bowl and a long stem. Having lit the lamp he placed the end of a piece of wire into the flame for a few moments. Then he dug the wire into the canister, which contained a preparation almost black and of the consistency of liquid glue. John turned the wire round and round, and when he withdrew it some of the stuff about the size of a bean adhered to the end. He held this in the lamp, and in a moment or two the opium, for such it was, began to burn with a faint blue flame. He jammed this into the bowl of the metal pipe and promptly handed it to me. And I smoked. The first sensation was a choking one. Then I became a little dizzy, like a boy over his first pipe. The Chinaman advised me not to puff hard, but to let the opium burn and inhale the vapour that passed down the tube. I followed his instructions and strange things happened. The took life and began to whirl. What would have. occurred had I continued, I cannot say, but I stopped, and although the Chinaman as
sured me that the wonderful dreamland to which the choking sensation led was worth the discomfort I quickly gave up the pipe, and my friend and I hade the keeper of the den good-night. THE DRINK-MADDENED ARAB. As we gained the open an Arab, who had driven himself temporarily mad with drink following an opium deiauch, burst upon a party of Buddhist sailors with a knife. There was a struggle, and he was easily overpowered, but I shall never forget hearing the followers of Conturta* : wishing the drunkard the worst fate
1 that they believe could befall him--that of i ecoming a Christian. As they hissed out the curse the sound of an English church hell ro < to us gently on the night air, and two Btreetß awai a land of Salvationists were inviting foreigners to forsake heathenism. Yes, a curious contract, but not more curious than the annual pilgrimage which the Chinese colony makes to the graves of their country men who have died in London. They set out for the burial ground in the East London cemetery laden with Eastern cakes, and whisky and liqueurs ; and dance and sing and make merry over the dead. A few yards a way, where a London er and a Christian is being buried, there are prayers and tears aud agitated faces, taking a last look at the loved one’s coffin ; but here the whis ky flows—is sprinkled on the graves e%en—end the laughter goes as freely as at a wedding. Cockneys stand around in wideeyed wonder while the Chinese ececute weird movements, madden themselves with whislfy and invoke the gods to spare the departed the most awful penalty which the spirit world can imj ose—that of transforming a ra le newcomer into a woman. The or. y lasts, as a rule, for an hour, and the men from far Cathay leave the graves liquor-sca’ced and littered with t roken cakes and sweetmeats. WHEN LIMEHOUBK ENJOYS ITSELF. But the most gorgeous sight of alt London’s Asia is thit to be seen on tie Eastern New Yehr’s Eve—this year it took place recently. Limeho' so becomes a land of carnival, with yellow .streamers hanging across the roadway, and Chinese lanterns in hundreds, adding the real Oriental touch to the gay scene. The colony engages the largest room in the d strict, and spends days in makr ing it look as un-English as possible. The walls are draped with yellow on which is the flying dragon, dear to the hearts of the “ childlike and bland,” and when the hour for the least arrived the scene reeks with strange perfumes.
To the privileged visitor everything is free ; to suggest payment is to invite expulsion, and to refuse the overpowering hospitality is the biggest insult to China that could be offered.
Later on, when the shadows lengthen, and the fun grows furious, and the English factory girls present are beginning to tell themselves that the yellow men are not so black as they are painted, the c - ony crowds into the streets for the pyrotechnic display. From every window baskets of fireworks are slung across little pullei s, and at a signal given in tbs Chinese language lights are applied and there is a crackjing pandemonium.
The festivities are kept up during the greater part of ’he night. They cost a small fortune j.nd provide o at of the strangest sights in all London—hundreds of yeJow, grinning faces darting in and cutler tfc-3 spurting lights, scoi'-s of Englishmen and Englishwomen ’ooking o.i amazed at the foreig iers’ riches ic the meanest quarter of Loudon. And the English faces say : “ How do they manage it ; how do they manage it ?” But the Chinese take no uotice.
How to become rich in London is the aliens’ grand secret. And he knows well how to lieep it f —“ Pear sen’s Weekly.”
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Northland Age, Volume VIII, Issue 26, 16 February 1912, Page 7
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1,453AMONG LONDON’S ALIENS. Northland Age, Volume VIII, Issue 26, 16 February 1912, Page 7
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