Windows and doors were
illuminated. Brown, flat-nosed men in loose clothing gathered in groups
and discussed their affairs in a strange singsong tongue and high-
pitched voices. Here, was the sound of the picking of the Chinese
banjo-fiddle; there, we heard a cracked voice singing a melancholy song
in the confusion of minor keys that may pass for music among the brown
men; there, again, a gong with tin-pan accompaniment assisted to
reconcile the Chinese to the long intervals between holidays. Crowds
hurried along the streets, loitered at corners, gathered about points
of interest, but it seemed as though it was all one man repeated over
and over.
"Why, they're all alike!" exclaimed Mrs. Bowser. "How do they ever tell
each other apart?"
"Oh, that's aisy enough, ma'am," replied Corson with a twinkle in his
eye. "They tie a knot in their pigtails, and that's the way you know
'em."
"Laws! you don't say!" said Mrs. Bowser, much impressed. "I never could
tell 'em that way."
"It is a strange resemblance," said Mr. Carter. "Don't you find it
almost impossible to distinguish between them?"
"To tell you the truth, sor, no," said Corson. "It's a trick of the eye
with you, sor. If you was to be here with 'em for a month or two you'd
niver think there was two of 'em alike. There's as much difference
betwixt one and another as with any two white men. I was loike you at
first. I says to meself that they're as like as two pease. But, now,
look at those two mugs there in that door.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171