LONDON'S CHINESE QUARTER.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3058, 20 February 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

LONDON'S CHINESE QUARTER.

I wonder how many people, even in East London itself,know of the Chinese quarter P It is a very little quarter— fancy a whole quarter of London being in the hands of the Mongols. You mry walk about that place and never find it out; perhaps a Chinaman or two may lounge along the pavement; the observant person —but he in rare— may see a Chinese name over a shop door ; that is all to mark the street where nearly all the Chinamen in London congregate; there is but one street and that is a short Btreet off the main throaghfare ; nobody for choice would enter that street, Lastly, it belongs to a part of London which is, to put, it mildly, unattrsotive to persons of strict principles, and religions conviction. Yet in this quiet, retired street there are lumps and slices and Binall chunks] of China, of the great Chinese empire itself, sported and set down in this corner of London. Behind these dirty doors, above a grimy lit' 1b shop, are the opium dens and gambling dens, the lodging and boardting houses of the Chinese. They are a floating population ; a few only are residents - thoM who keep the houses ; the rest are sailors or men who have been engaged upon ships in the China trade; they do not for the most part, dress in the national garb, but in a semi-nautic.il fashion. Nobody couMmake a Chinaman dress like a sailor — yet some Chinaman dress like sailors when they are in the port of London. Will you enter the private hotel kept by Mr Uh Kee ? Downstairs there are, front and back. Chinamen sitting on British chairs, smoking. Every man has pipe, cigar, or cigarette between his lips. They lookup as yoaopenthe door but nobody takes any notice. do not seem to be talking, a metallic tinkling and metallic rasping. It is celestial music. The landlord himself, who is sitting behind the door, produces the tiukling from a kind of banjo ; a friend produces the rasping from a fiddle which looks like a tin bow and a wire bowstrinir. There are about a dozen men and boys in the place. They are all sitting on chairs and smoking—every man is smoking—and the [atmosphere is heavy and sickenig for beside the tobacco there is that other thing of which we hear so much, la the corner of the room is a broad bed covered with a ruir, and on the rug lie two men, and the other nearly asleep. They are opium smokers. When they recover they will get up and walk away and others will cake their place. The opium den is curious and interesting, and not in the least bit horrible. NOT HINT. OI'STAIItS : OH, NO 1 Come away. Let us go into the shop opposite. It is little bit of a shop crowded with Chinamen. The keeper of the shop speaks English a'littla—a very little. He knows our guide and we all shake hands. May we go upstairs ? No : nothing upstairs —no opium—nobody—nothing. He stands at the bottom of the stairs and vehmentlv protests that there is nothing and is very violent about nihilism, or vacuity , or empty space upstairs that one oomes away bursting with curiosity to know what they were actually doing upstairs. May we go behind ? "Oh ! Yes. All a same a pel-ay-car." Behind the shop is a small room furnished with a large table and nothing else. Stay in the room is the shrine, the lamp burning before it and the joss sticks stuck in a pot with tawdry coloured paper and all complete. On the table is a grass mat. And round the table, three deep, and some on the table, and some standing are the gamblers. They play with Chinese coins ; they have a banker and a croupier ; the game is one of dominoes and the excitement is intense. Look round upon the faces. At the back of the room are a window and a door, the latter opening upon the kitchen. Through the window wo can see a great cauldron. One man has an instrument with which he stirs the contents of the cauldron. Suddenly he calls out. Then there is a sjuffie from the shop and from the rooms above—Ha ! there was somebody upstairs then ! — They run in bearing basins and bowls ; the cook ladles out the contents of the cauldron and they carry out their basins full. The dinner hour of the Mongol is therefore 3p.m. But the gamblers hear not the call to dinner. They play on. Mark, especially, that nowhere—not in the opium den—not in the gambling den —not in the shops—any sign of any drink. One would not rashly infer that the Chinamen never drinks or gets drunk. But so far aswe could see —no drink. Only we were not allowed to go up those.stairs, »ndl wonder'still. I wonder and surmise in vain what was going on upstairs, and why our friend was so eager to prevent any approach to the upper chamber. —Walt Besant in Chicago Herald.