SAN FRANCISCO.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2270, 26 June 1880, Page 2

SAN FRANCISCO.

Eight in the heart of San Francisco is a miniature China. About 30,000 Celestials live together in this section of (he city, and have it to themselves. Chinamen crowd the streets. The signboards on the shops are all such names as Chang Bing, Ban Wah, Fung Lung, Ac. They retain their neat Chinese dress, consisting of loose blue jacket, with white shirt underneath,and blue pantaloons. They wear pigtails, and follow their accustomed trades, working as shoemakers, tailors, jewellers, Ac., generally in shops open to the street, and they have their own theatre joss-house, restaurants, opium shops, and other institutions, as at home. A Californian has only to cross a street and pass through one or two blocks,and ho can imagine himself in the heart of a Chinese city. Accompanied by an old New Zealand friend, now resident in in Frisco, and bv a detective, I visited “ Chinatown” by night. The latter precaution was very necessary, not only to ensure personal

safety, but also as a passport to their principal points of interest. Policemen are popular with the Chinese. The city hoodlums never miss an opportunity of insulting a Celestial, and. would sweep them all into the sea if they could. The police are their best friends and protectors, and evidently have their confidence.

Our first visit was to the Chinese theatre. It was densley crowded, and appeared to be one level mass of round sallow, shaven faces. The atmosphere was thick with the mingled smoko of opium and tobacco, and terribly charged with carbonic acid. Chinese plays are peculiar—a single play lasting sometimes for months. Instead of . repeating the same play night after night as we do, they go through with a life, from the cradle to the hitter end. One play would make a threevolume novel ; and I fancy that the actors make a good deal of it up as they proceed. The particular scene on this night was a quarrel between a busband and bis father-in-law, in which a small fragment of- Celestial humanity was in imminent peril of being broken in fragments. The two men, by the aid of paint, grimaces, and yells, looked like two of the ugliest and fiercest residents of Pandemonium out on leave, keeping up one continual yell of ya, yaha, yahalia ! as loud as they could scream, accompanied by a gong, a triangle, and a drum. The audience evidently regarded the performance as a most serious business. The 1500 Celestial countenances were as unmoved as so many Swedish turnips would ho—all were eyes and ears, but hardly a muscle quivered. Half an hour of that atmosphere left us just strength enough to elbow our way out, gasping for oxygen. It is not general!}' known that this is a luxury that Chinamen have learned to dispense with. I thought this as I came out of tiie theatre; I was sure of it when I had visited two or three opium-dens. Celestials don’t waste much money in rent of housoromn. I saw one—a square building with about 10 rooms—in which GOO of them existed. They burrow underground, in dark, foul tunnels. These have two or three shelves on each side, from floor to coiling, and on those shelves they were coiled up, in various degrees of unconsciousness. Some were just lighting their opium pipes, their dull eyes almost bright with the expectation of coming joy ; others lay there with their pipes half smoked, and eyes half filmed over ; others, again, were quite off for the night, their pipes lying beside them. I dare not put down bow few cubic feet of air—and that not fit for a rat to breathe—each sleeper had. Some were in dense darkness. In one I heard the Amice of a woman, totally blind, who exists there month after month, never coming up into the light and air. Is there any subtle quality in opium which renders exercise and oxygen alike unnecessary? Yet these men work for 1G and 18 hours out of the 24, and work so well that the English mechanic throws up the sponge and declares that successful competition with them is impossible. It was 11 o’clock at night when we were there, yet nearly every shop was open, and tradesmen were hard at work. Close to the theatre is the Joss House. This is a small house of two rooms, containing about half-a-dozen ugly gods, and a shrine before which a dismal lamp swings, ami incense burns. There are gods of wealth, peace, war, and physic, the latter having a good round pill in his band. The figure which interested me most was the Chinese representation of limbo. It was a lean, haggard, skelc-ton-likc figure, and supposed to bo an exact mode] of a bad Chinaman in the other world. I can hardly conceive of anything better calculated to keep Ah Sing from neglecting iiis prayers or refusing Ids tithes. Thence wo passed through “ Murderer’s Alley,”£which is said to have earned its name ; and down a narrow street occupied by Chinese girls, who sit at open gratings soliciting passers by. I may add that, bad as San Francisco is supposed to be in the matter of the social evil, it docs not appear iu the public thoroughfares. The police keep the streets clear, except iu one part of the city, which is given up to this class of women. In tins respect American cities contrast most favourably with those of Great Britain or Australia.—“ Otago Daily Times.”