"Then I looked up at Nye,
And he gazed upon me:
And he rose with a sigh,
And said, 'Can this be?
We are ruined by Chinee cheap labour'--
And he went for that heathen Chinee."

There are all kinds of jugglers in Chinatown and among them are
numerous fortune-tellers. This kind of pastime is as old as the human
race, and you find the man who undertakes to reveal to you the secrets
of the future among all peoples. The Orientals are always ready to
listen to the "neby" or the necromancer or the fakir or the wandering
minstrel, who improvises for you and sings for you the good things
which are in store for you. We see this tendency among our own people
who would have their destiny pointed out by means of a pack of cards,
by the reading of the palm of the hand, in the grounds in the tea-cup,
and by other signs. It was with some interest then that we glanced
at the mystic words and signs which adorned the entrance to Sam Wong
Yung's fortune-teller's place.

Passing on, we next visited a hardware shop, where you could purchase
various kinds of Chinese cutlery. Among other things that attracted my
attention was a simple-looking Chinese fan, apparently folded up. On
examining it I found that inside of the fan-case was a sharp knife or
blade like a wide dagger. This could be carried in an unsuspecting
manner into the midst of a company of men, and in a moment, if you
had in your breast the wicked spirit of revenge, your enemy could be
weltering in his life blood at your feet. It suggested all kinds of
tragedies, and no doubt its invention had behind it some treacherous
impulse. The writer ventured to purchase it, but he hastens to