The reader may have seen hist at work, may even have parted with a compassionate 10 cents. He is a bonny little Chinese lad of tender years, and his modus operandi in extracting small coin from the guileless foreigner is as follows:
Selecting—usually at. evening time—a quiet street in the Settlement where foreigners are sure to pass, he swings a drain grating up on its hinges, reuioves his shoes, placing them neatly together on the pavement—generally by the side of an empty basket—slides down into the drain, and begins to howl. Tears, sobs, and wailings are artistically mingled, and lustily maintained until a foreigner happens along, at which critical moment in the scheme distress becomes even more painfully voce'. The sympathetic foreigner, seeing the diminutive piece of abject misery, so small that only its head shows above the street level of the drain, inquires into causes. and is informed, in the intervals of much sobbing and smudging of eyes with a dirty fist, that the boy has had the misfortune to drop a 10 or 20 cant piece down the drain. In nine case out of ten, this financial disaster is retrieved. A ite of silver passes from West to East, the sobbing ceases, eyes are dried, and the clever little swindler crawls from the drain and scutters away—to another drain and for a second performance of the 10 cent tragedy. Jinkee Road was for ime a profitable pitch. Now we hear of his appearance in the neighbourhood of Quinsan Gardens, and the lost coin—thanks to the success of the scheme—has increased in value to a dollar.
Another amusing instance of the mendicant's art. is that of the elderly person shamuiing illness, You may come upon him huddled up and doubled up against a fence or wall, in any quiet foreign quarter, groaning as though in pains beyond the scope of the entire British Pharmacopeia. Too ill to speak, and on the point of collapse, his agonies are expressed in fearful groans. Presently, any inquiring foreigner will learn that he is on his way to hospital—(the chosen pitch is always some distance from Shantung Road). Money is tendered for a ricsha fare, and accepted with gratitude.
Immediately the charitable person has turned his back, the suf-forer's pains 1iagieally vanish. He becomes a sprightly, upright citizen of the Republic. and at once sets out on a foreed march—probably to enjoy a well-deserved cup of tea and game of dominoes at his favourite house of call.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.