after the war, he was conversing with a friend near the
Tuileries, when a wicked-eyed young gamin overhearing
his bad French with an English accent, observed, “ Ah,
M’sieu rost-bif, God-dam,” as he rapidly vanished round
the corner. Many of the rich merchants speak English
well; if not, then Malay is the medium of conversation.
And the wherewithal to wash down your food is not forgotten
: indeed, many of the rich “ babas ” give excellent
champagne breakfasts, and “ Bass ” and good Bordeaux
are as common as at European meals. However addicted
to “ samshu ” and “ shandu,”—the baleful narcotic immortalised
by De Quincey,—a Chinaman may be privately,
you will find him courteous, and eagerly apprehensive as
to the comfort and enjoyment of his guests on all occasions
when he entertains Europeans.
Sometimes you meet with a surprise at a Chinese
dinner—a surprise especially prepared for your benefit.
I was present at one where we had small dishes of rice
and condiments set before us, with “ chop sticks ” in
lieu of knife and fork. Now a native to the manner
born will use his two chop sticks as cleverly as Mr. G.
W. Moore handles his hones; and as he leans over his
dish you see a constant stream of food running up to his
mouth, while with your chop sticks awkwardly held you
simply demonstrate what “ eating porridge with a
knitting pin ” really means. Well, dish followed dish,
and we began to think the whole thing “ awfully slow,”
when the host arose and requested us to accompany him
to the “ dining-room.”
Sure enough we found ourselves in a large and well lit
interior. There was a dinner-table laid in European
style, the silver and glass irreproachable, and floral decorations
rather tastefully arranged graced the hoard. Of
course there was a good deal of laughter as the neat
Chinese “ boys ” handed round the sherry and hitters as
we stood in groups 5 and a few minutes afterwards the
gong was beaten for dinner in quite a homely fashion.
A jolly old Spanish priest was present, and our longtailed
host did not omit to ask him to say grace, which
he solemnly did, first in English, standing the while, and
then we were all surprised as the rubicund-cheeked friar
rolled out a Chinese prayer interlarded with choice
maxims from Confucius, and all in the Hokien dialect of
Chinese. The whole thing was much enjoyed. We had
soup oxtail and § birds’ nest,” the latter extremely good,
but perhaps rather too sweet for European liking; fish
of several kinds, beef and mutton cooked in various
ways, also pork cutlets excellently cooked, as indeed only
Chinese cooks can prepare them; pastry, cheese, and
such fruits for dessert as no money could procure from
Covent Garden. Fat juicy mangoes, delicate mangos-
teen, rambutan, bananas, and other kinds, never eaten in
perfection anywhere but in the tropics—the gardens of
the sun.
A “ wyong ” or Chinese play had been organised by
our host, one portion of his house being fitted up as a
private theatre, and to this we adjourned after dinner.
The performers were a celebrated troupe just arrived
from China, and very clever they were, especially in
pantomime. Of course we understood not a word of
what was spoken; and yet so expressive were the actions
that the plot and motive of the play was perfectly comprehended
even in detail. The music of shrieking two-
stringed violins, and the rattle of gongs and tom-toms
which accompanied them, however, might fairly be added
to Mr. Sothern’s list of things which “ no fellah can
understand.” The plot was of an undutiful daughter of
poor parents who was beloved of a youth of her own age