Carter with
Mr. Horton followed.
Corson was waiting for us at the old City Hall. I had arranged with the
policeman that he should act as our guide, and had given him Porter and
Barkhouse as assistants in case any should be needed.
"A fine night for it, sor," said Corson in greeting. "There's a little
celebration goin' on among the haythens to-night, so you'll see 'em at
their best."
"Oh, how sweet!" gushed Mrs. Bowser. "Is it that dear China New Year
that I've heard tell on, and do they take you in to dinner at every
place you call, and do they really eat rats? Ugh, the horrid things!"
And Mrs. Bowser pulled up short in mid career.
"No, ma'am," said Corson, "leastways it ain't Chaney New Year for a
couple of months yet. As for eatin' rats, there's many a thing gets
eaten up in the dens that would be better by bein' turned into a rat."
Looking across the dark shrubbery of Portsmouth Square and up
Washington Street, the eye could catch a line of gay-colored lanterns,
swaying in the light wind, and casting a mellow glow on buildings and
walks.
"Oh, isn't it sweet! So charming!" cried Mrs. Bowser, as we came into
full view of the scene and crossed the invisible line that carries one
from modern San Francisco into the ancient oriental city, instinct with
foreign life, that goes by the name of Chinatown. Sordid and foul as it
appears by daylight, there was a charm and romance to it under the
lantern-lights that softened the darkness.
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