The Joss House, which is the temple, is magnificently adorned and decorated. A cup of tea, which of course evaporates, is kept setting in front of the god, but his worshipers believe he drinks it. Lamps and incense are kept burning all the time to keep the evil spirits away. The worshipers come and go at all hours. No regular services are held except at New Years and on feast days. Upon request, however, the priest will accompany an individual to the temple and conduct services for him.
The home of an aristocratic Chinaman is full of interest to an American. In the home in which we visited everything except the chairs came from China, and these looked oddly out of place against the background of rich oriental draperies, and the quaint costumes of our hostess and her daughter. Our hostess was a large woman, but she proudly displayed her tiny feet, the mark of true aristocracy. She hobbled bravely about on these feet only four inches long and did the honors of her house.
When in exchange for the compliment of seeing these aristocratic feet I quite as proudly thrust out my American ones encased in No. 6 broad-soled mountain climbers, the dear lady bowed and smiled, but made no comment. The six-year-old daughter of the house was suffering the tortures of having her feet bound. When the Chinese become Christians they abandon this practice.
In an opium den an old smoker showed us how he smoked the fateful drug. He first took a large lump of opium on a long needle and holding it in the flame of a candle, burnt the poison out of it, then thrust it into the cup of his long pipe, the tiny opening of which he held near the lighted candle, sucking the blue smoke into his lungs and exhaling it through his nostrils.
In the drug store the druggist was putting up a prescription for a sick Chinaman who was standing near. He took down four different bottles and took some roots out of each. Telling the man to make a tea of them he tied them up and handed them over the counter and received his pay. There were lizards and toads there also to be made into medicine.
In the jewelry store four goldsmiths were at work making rings, bracelets and earrings, all by hand.
In the market all sorts of fish and birds were offered for sale. A big fat pig roasted whole looked tempting indeed. Beans, which had been kept damp until they had sprouted, the sprouts an inch to two inches long were ready to be made into a tempting salad. There were baskets of green watermelons the size of an orange.
This being Sunday the streets were thronged with Chinese in native holiday dress, who sauntered leisurely along or gathered in groups chatting away in their native tongue. Their long queues tied with black ribbon hung down the back or were tucked into the side pocket of the tunic. Here and there an Oriental who had imbibed some of the American energy hurried along dressed in the somber business suit of the American, his closely cropped hair, mustache and American shoes making a strange contrast to the groups on the corner.
There is no Sunday in the calendar of these almond-eyed Orientals,—the stores, markets and opium dens were all open.
Presently the weird music of the Salvation Army broke on our ears. Down the street came the Chinese Salvation band, dressed in American costume, the leader carrying the American flag.