THE STORY-TELLER. THE GOLD GODS OF MOTT STREET.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXIX, Issue 3181, 12 November 1892, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE STORY-TELLER. THE GOLD GODS OF MOTT STREET.

By Fred. A. Wjlsox

Suing Poox was a worker in metal. Infar-off Chow Tsien he had learned from a great master how to make curious things out of gold and silver and brass, and so deft had his hands become ihat his master had been proud. The master had been a poor oue all his life because he so loved his art that he negleetod the cash which might have been his if he had even so much as held his hand out to take them. But just before he died he became suddenlyrich—so rich that those who lived in Chow Tsieu said the gods had made him wealthy because all his life he had lived an honest man. They said that one night the golden pieces had come tumbling into his rooms thiough the windows and in the doors. The yellow bits danced up and down on the floor as if they had life, and were glad to be near so great a man as the master. But this was only a story. The servant who cooked the rice and chie yok in the master's rooms used to toll how, when the master died, he had sent for his favourite pupil, Shing Poon. " I am going to die, Shing Poon," the master had said; "and am going to tell you a secret that will make you as rich as a Poking mandarin." That was the way Shing Poon got the secret, but no one ever knew what it was. because when the master told it his voice was like the whisper of a passing spirit, so low that no one but Shing Poon heard it. There was the beginning. Shing Poon had the great secret, and no good had come of it yet. He was still so poor he had to dress in common cloth, like a laundry-man who has to work seven days in the week. Before he had left China his friends used to say to him : "' I greet you, Shing Poon. When will the secret of the great master turn into gold ?" And somehow Shing Poon would become angry and deny that he knew any secret. So he came across the ocean with two other Chow Tsien men, and they all came down to Mott Street, and lived in the shadow of the ting-tong, where the worshippers went on odd days to burn the prayer sticks and learn their fortunes. Shing Poon's two friends were merchants who bought and sold goods. Two days after the metal-worker paid his rent, he hung out a sign which read : SHING POON. Worker in Precious Metals, Goldex Good-Luck Gods, Temple Images. It was a fine red sign, with red streamers on it to keep away the devils who come at night, sneaking around like evil winds, and the men in Mott Street who I'ead it wondered what the golden good luck gods meant. They bought rings from him and bracelets too, carved curiously with snakes and dragons and big-eyed fishes, and sometimes the picture of the Emperor, which was considered lucky. Never was there a more faithful worker than Shing Poon. It seemed to those who knew him as if he never left the bench at which he worked. Before long the two friends who had come with him from Chow Tsien had spread the rumour that he was in the knowledge of a great secret which would some day make him richer than a mandarin, and the curious ones of the street turned anxious to know more about the great secret. One more audacious than the rest went into the little room of the metalworker one day. and, first buying a ring of carved silver, began questioning craftily. "It is said Shing Poon, that some day you will be a rich man." "So I will if my friends will come and buy my goods." " But it is said that you know of a secret which will make a man rich very quickly." " Not quickly, but surely. The pathway of unceasing labour leads to it." Then he looked out of the corner of his eyes at his visitor, who went away feeling that he had found out nothing. It was not long after that when a change came. A Canton man who had gone up to see Shing Poon told about it. He told how he had gone into the room, and how he had found the metal-worker on his knees before a small good—Kwon Guet— made of pure gold. He told how he had watched a long while before he spoke, and how, overcome by curiosity, In had asked Shing Poon why he worshipped in the morning. " Be quiet," the metal worker had said to him ; li be quiet, I have changed Kwon Guet from the god of might to the god of money. He will bring me riches." Other men saw him worshipping after that. No one ever saw him working at his bench ; he was always on his knees, burning the prayer sticks, pouring wine upon the floor and salaaming. It became the talk of the street, and even the priest in the temple next day wondered if the new one, Kwon Guet, the god of money, would answer the prayer of the Chow 'Isien man. Unscrupulous ones, who wanted to get rich without working, hid themselves in the dark passageway outside his door that chey might hear how he worshipped, and learn the spell by

which money was obtained. But, save a low mumbling, broken by the chink of metal, they heard nothing, and were compelled to go away unsatisfied. One afternoon, as the sun was shining on the other side of the street, there walked out of the doorway of the house next to the temple the metal-worker ; but the faantaan men who sat in the doorways on their little stools watching for the innocent men from the country hardly knew him. The old Shing Poon had worn ragged clothes and not even so much as one piece of the metal he worked in had ever ornamented his person. This new Shing Poon wore clothes of finest silk ; upon the top of his black silk cap was a dragon of solid gold, about his wrists were coils of solid gold chains, jewels were on his fingers, and around his neck was a great heavy chain. He walked down the street like the Emperor, swinging a fan heavy with gold. The idle men gazed at him till their eyes bulged out like fishes' eyes. The faantaau men whispered among themselves, but Shing Poon paid no attention. He walked down the street to the first corner; then he turned and went up the second step to where his friend the for-tune-teller lived. There were always a lot of Canton men in the rooms of Hing, the fortune-teller, and perhaps Shing Poon had an object in going in there. Always he had walked like a man who is familiar, but this day he tramped solemnly up to the door, and after closing his fan, carefully knocked one, two, three times. " Loi heung," came a voice from inside. But the metal worker would accept no such invitation as chat. He was no longer a poor man, and he must not be treated like one, and asked to open the door himself, just like any beggar who might knock. So he spoke out and commanded them to open. " Hoi, hoi !" he said drawing himself up. There was a movement in the room, for the folks from over the sea who live in Mott Street do not like to be commanded, especially by their own countrymen. At last Hing himself came grumblingly to open the door. He looked out in the dark hallway, and saw the shining jewels which the metalworker wore. " Ha !" he said. " Shing Poon ? Has the faan-taan Joss been smiling ha 1 Come in, my friend and tell us. It was only two days ago I lost all I had to the devils. Come in." With his robes gathered about him, like a dainty woman who enters an unclean place, Shing Poon walked in like the Emperor, holding his head straight up, and looking neither to one side nor to the other. He sat down on a stool, carefully, and began to slowly fau himself, like a man who has seen the world and has nothing more to learn. He was a very sly one was Shing Poon, and he knew why he had come to King's room. " Has your luck turned your head, or made you so you cannot enjoy what you have V " No, my brother," began Shing Poon, slowly, as if he were feeling his way along the path of speech ; " the gods who have brought me all this wealth demand most of my time. They are always with me and T must always bow down to them." He paused, looking over in a far corner, where one of Hing's friends lay on the couch, half asleep in the arms of the opium Joss. " See!" he said suddenly, as he started up, and dropped his fan. " Kwon Guet! great and good god, I salute you ; I worship you three times ;" and he salaamed, touching his forehead to the floor three times. Those who were in the room looked with wide-open eyes at the corner to which the metal-worker had pointed, but they saw only the shifting blue cloud of the opium smoke, nothing more. Shing Poon climbed back to the stool again, after having picked up his fan, and he acted as though nothing had happened. He talked and drank his tea with Hing and the rest who were there, and he even condescended to crawl into one of the bunks and smoke a pill of opium which the fortune-teller cooked for him. The man who told the fortunes of others could not discover what had coi »e over his friend the metal-worker, and while he cooked the dope over the little lamp, he peeped out of the corners of his eyes, at the golden ornaments which decorated Shing Poon. They looked brighter as he smoked, and the jewels seemed to flash until they hurt his eyes. Suddenly a thought came to him. He had heard that Shing Poon knew of a great secret whereby a man might become rich suddenly and without great effort. When he had first heard this he did not believe it. The soothing effects of the opium brought fancies with it. It was true about the secret. Shing Poon had become suddenly rich. He had always been his friend, and— He drew in a long whiff from the pipe. The smoke from the long draw went down into his lungs; he closed his eyes, he saw himself in China, home again; a great gold chain hung around his neck, upon his cap was a mandarin's button. He was rich and happy. He blew the smoke out slowly through his nose, after the fashion of opium-smokers. He opened his eyes and looked at the flickering light. His gaze wandered to Shing

Poon. He leaned across the tray until his lips almost touched the ear of the metal-worker. " Is it the secret, Shing Poon ?" he asked. Then he held his breath. " The gods have been good to their faithful slave," answered the other. "The secret of the master has has come true." " Will you tell your friend ?" he asked, making his voice humble. There were a dozen men in the room, talking and smoking, and before he answered, Shing Poon raised himself up on one elbow and looked at them. "Send your friends away, my brother, and I will tell you enough about the secret of the master to make you rich." Then he lay back and shutting his eyes, pretended to be asleep. In an instant Hing had crept out of the bunk. He walked over to one of the lamps and put it out. " P'ang-yan," he said to one of the men, " you must go, and the others, too," waving his hands at them. " I am to tell a great fortune now, and we must be alone." They went out grumblingly. They had heard of the secret, and had only stayed in the hope they might hear something which they could use. They went away like children, afraid to disobey, yet with laggard steps. In Hing's heart there came a feeling of exhultation. As he put the bar. acros the door, he looked over at the bunk where the metal-worker was smoking a cigarette. He saw the shining gold and there came a smile to his lips. Like a man preparing for a feast, he walked towards the bunk. He drew his feet out of his sandals, and lay clown on the other side of the lamp. His cheeks burned, and his hand trembled as he held the yen hoc with its burden of opium over the conical flame of the tang. " I am glad the secret has come to you," he began, still looking out of the corners of his eyes at the other, while he rolled the pill upon the pipe. " Is it very hard to make it turn to money?" "It requires great labour," returned the metal-worker, as he smoked the bit of opium which Hing had prepared for him. He blew the last whiff up towards the smoke-blackened ceiling, and then he began his storey, while the fortune-teller listened. In all his life he had never heard such a story as this. He had conjured up many strange fortunes for the men who came to him to read the future, but this was the most wonderful thing of all. But though all the telling he noticed a queer leer in the eyes of the metal-worker. He did not pay much attention to it at the time but it all came to him later. "Just before my good master died," began Shing Poon, "he called me to him and he said: 'Poon, you have been a faithful servant, and some day you will be a great man in the kingdom. But as great men are often poor men, I will tell you how you may become rich. On the night of that day when the sun is darkened, take all the gold you have and make the image of Kwon Guet, the god of might. Make the eyes of pearls and the cap of silver. But you must use in the making the coins of the country you are in. Turn aside, then, from all work and worship Kwon Guet, and pour wine upon the floor before him. When twenty-eight days have passed, gold in flakes will drop from his sides, and he will become the god of gold ; fur every day after that that you worship him, enough gold will come from him to more than equal his own weight. You will be rich.' Then the great, and good master died. I have made a gold Kwon Guet and am rich, I need no more now, but will help those who have been my friends. I will make for you a golden god, and you shall be rich with me, for it will cost me nothing if you give the gold, and then you can make money by telling the fortunes of others and sending them to me. Your fame as a fortune-teller will grow like the flowers when the rain comes, and you will be great as well as rich. Now I must go." The metal-worker arose, shoved his feet into hi? sandals, and, taking down the bar of the door, went out into the dark hallway, down the creaking stairs, and around the corner to his room in the house next to the temple All his life the fortune-teller had been a careful, cautious man. His friends had called him Kan-shan. He had put away in his trunk some money, and after Shing Poon had gone, he lay by the side of the lamp and thought. He would take from the trunk enough of the precious gold to make a god, he would give it to the metal-worker, and he would become wealthy. Besides, had not Shing Poon given him permission to tell to those who came to him for fortunes how lo become rich without work ? And so he smoked himself away in an opium dreamland, and lived until the morning with his head among the clouds. When he awoke there was a bad taste in his mouth, the lamp had burned out and was cold, and the door was unlocked. The first thing he did was to paint a new sign upon red paper aud post it on his door. It read: The Road to Wealth Fortunes Told How to Become Rich Without Work. Then he went to the chest where he kept his money. Out of a bag he poured a double handful of gold pieces. Some were shiny and some were dull, but they were all good gold. They would make a god a

little bigger than his fist, he thought. Then there came to his mind the words of the metal-worker,' 'Enough gold would come from him to more than equal his own weight." He took a greasy rool of bankbills from out of another bag, and carried them to a big shop where they gave gold for paper. He came back with gold, which he added to the pile. He took it all around to the house in the shadow ot the temple. Ho laid the bag upon the bench of Shing Poon, and said, " Make me a god of gold." The eyes of the metal-worker glistened'as he poured the gold into a big iron pot. " Your god will be ready in twentj'-eight days," he said, and the fortune-teller went away happy. He went around to his own room, where he found men waiting for him. They had read his new sign, and had heard from others that the metal worker, become suddenly wealthy, had called upon him the night before, and they were anxious. " Come, Hing, tell me my fortune, said one : " tell me the fortune of wealth." " You must put five taels in gold upon the table first," said Hing. The man grumbled. He had silver, but that wouldn't do. So he went out and got gold. Hing took him into an inner room and told him how he might become rich, how the metal-worker would make a god of j gold which would give its owner its weight in gold every day it was worshipped after a certain time. As a proof he pointed out how Shing Poon had become suddenly rich himself. The man went right out among his friends to borrow all the gold he could, to take to Shing Poon. That was only the beginning. Half of the men in Mott Street went wild after the gold money, so they could have the metal-worker make them gold gods. The poorer men formed themselves into companies and associations, and each contributed as much gold as lie was able. Every day Hing would go around to the metal-worker with a few more pieces of gold, and say, " Make my god a little bigger. Here is some more gold." The money poured in like a stream, and every man who went into the metal-worker's saw him making gods from a potful of yellow metal. The priests in the temple heard of the ' new gold gods, and they went to see Shing Poon. They asked him about his god. and he pulled aside a little curtain and showed ihem a small yellow figure as big as a man's two fists put together. In front of the figure were two pots of burning oil, perfumed, and a bunch of smouldering prayer sticks. All around the god were bits of yellow metal. Shing Poon picked up one of the pieces and handed it to the priests, saying : "That is what my god gives me—every day enough of those to equal his own weight. You may keep that piece. I have plenty." They went away wondering ; but one more crafty than the rest said : '' Perhaps this is not gold. Perhaps it is a deception." Then they sent the piece to a man skilled in metals, and asked him to tell what it was. He sent it back with his answer. It was pure gold. The priests talked among themselves. If this was all true, why should they not have a god and profit by it ? They did not spend much time in thinking after they had made up their minds. They gathered all the gold there was in the temple, and carried it next door to the metalworker's to be made into a god. Never in the history of the streethad there been such a sensation. Business was neglected, gods were left unworshipped, and even the faan-taan games ceased to be profitable. There was only one place of interest in the street, and that was the house in the shadow of the temple, in one of the rooms of which a man was working to make all Chinatown rich. The time drew near when the gods were to be ready. Once or twice men had come to Shing Poon and had said, " How do we know the gods you make for us will be of gold ? " I will show you," Shing Poon had answered. He had taken one of the half-made gods from the shelf, and had bored a bole in its side. He had given the dust which came out to the unbelievers, and they, having paid a man to examine it, learned it was pure gold and were satisfied. At last Hing's god was finished, and the fortune-teller went round with his friends to get it. It was handed to him—a dull yellow figure, squat-shaped and evil-looking. " It does not look like gold." said one. " Wait, my friend, and I'll show you," said the metal-worker, and ho did just what he had done before. With a tool he bored a hole in the back of the god. He gave the dust which came out to Hing. " Take that to the men who know, and ask them if it is not gold," he said. Just to make sure Hing did take the dust to a man clever in minerals, and he felt very well satisfied when he learned it was gold. At last all of the gods were made, prayers went up, and wine was' poured on the floor before them. Every god had a hole in its back, which the metal worker had made to show it was pure gold. The door of the room which Shing Poon bad rented was locked. He had gone. He went in the night, and rot one of all those who knew him and trusted him had seen him. The days passed by, and the glassy eyes of

the golden gods stared at their owners in disgust. No one had become rich yet. Every morning Hing had looked for the flakes of gold, but they never came. Nor did golden Hakes ever come from any of the gods. A man who knew wont up and looked at the god in the temple. He said it was pure brass, but in the back, whore the hole was. gold had been pnt, but only a small quantity. They say in the street that the metal-worker took away enough gold to fill a wheelbarrow, but if they catch him he will die.