<SPAN name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
<!-- H2 anchor --> </SPAN>
<div style="height: 4em;">
<br /><br /><br /><br />
SAN FRANCISCO, 18—.
DEAR CHING-FOO: To continue—the two women became reconciled to each
other again through the common bond of interest and sympathy created
between them by pounding me in partnership, and when they had finished me
they fell to embracing each other again and swearing more eternal
affection like that which had subsisted between them all the evening,
barring occasional interruptions. They agreed to swear the finger-biting
on the Greaser in open court, and get him sent to the penitentiary for the
crime of mayhem.
Another of our company was a boy of fourteen who had been watched for some
time by officers and teachers, and repeatedly detected in enticing young
girls from the public schools to the lodgings of gentlemen down town. He
had been furnished with lures in the form of pictures and books of a
peculiar kind, and these he had distributed among his clients. There were
likenesses of fifteen of these young girls on exhibition (only to
prominent citizens and persons in authority, it was said, though most
people came to get a sight) at the police headquarters, but no punishment
at all was to be inflicted on the poor little misses. The boy was
afterward sent into captivity at the House of Correction for some months,
and there was a strong disposition to punish the gentlemen who had
employed the boy to entice the girls, but as that could not be done
without making public the names of those gentlemen and thus injuring them
socially, the idea was finally given up.
There was also in our cell that night a photographer (a kind of artist who
makes likenesses of people with a machine), who had been for some time
patching the pictured heads of well-known and respectable young ladies to
the nude, pictured bodies of another class of women; then from this
patched creation he would make photographs and sell them privately at high
prices to rowdies and blackguards, averring that these, the best young
ladies of the city, had hired him to take their likenesses in that unclad
condition. What a lecture the police judge read that photographer when he
was convicted! He told him his crime was little less than an outrage. He
abused that photographer till he almost made him sink through the floor,
and then he fined him a hundred dollars. And he told him he might consider
himself lucky that he didn't fine him a hundred and twenty-five dollars.
They are awfully severe on crime here.
About two or two and a half hours after midnight, of that first experience
of mine in the city prison, such of us as were dozing were awakened by a
noise of beating and dragging and groaning, and in a little while a man
was pushed into our den with a "There, d—-n you, soak there a
spell!"—and then the gate was closed and the officers went away
again. The man who was thrust among us fell limp and helpless by the
grating, but as nobody could reach him with a kick without the trouble of
hitching along toward him or getting fairly up to deliver it, our people
only grumbled at him, and cursed him, and called him insulting names—for
misery and hardship do not make their victims gentle or charitable toward
each other. But as he neither tried humbly to conciliate our people nor
swore back at them, his unnatural conduct created surprise, and several of
the party crawled to him where he lay in the dim light that came through
the grating, and examined into his case. His head was very bloody and his
wits were gone. After about an hour, he sat up and stared around; then his
eyes grew more natural and he began to tell how that he was going along
with a bag on his shoulder and a brace of policemen ordered him to stop,
which he did not do—was chased and caught, beaten ferociously about
the head on the way to the prison and after arrival there, and finally
thrown into our den like a dog.
And in a few seconds he sank down again and grew flighty of speech. One of
our people was at last penetrated with something vaguely akin to
compassion, may be, for he looked out through the gratings at the guardian
officer, pacing to and fro, and said:
"Say, Mickey, this shrimp's goin' to die."
"Stop your noise!" was all the answer he got. But presently our man tried
it again. He drew himself to the gratings, grasping them with his hands,
and looking out through them, sat waiting till the officer was passing
once more, and then said:
"Sweetness, you'd better mind your eye, now, because you beats have killed
this cuss. You've busted his head and he'll pass in his checks before
sun-up. You better go for a doctor, now, you bet you had."
The officer delivered a sudden rap on our man's knuckles with his club,
that sent him scampering and howling among the sleeping forms on the
flag-stones, and an answering burst of laughter came from the half dozen
policemen idling about the railed desk in the middle of the dungeon.
But there was a putting of heads together out there presently, and a
conversing in low voices, which seemed to show that our man's talk had
made an impression; and presently an officer went away in a hurry, and
shortly came back with a person who entered our cell and felt the bruised
man's pulse and threw the glare of a lantern on his drawn face, striped
with blood, and his glassy eyes, fixed and vacant. The doctor examined the
man's broken head also, and presently said:
"If you'd called me an hour ago I might have saved this man, may be too
Then he walked out into the dungeon and the officers surrounded him, and
they kept up a low and earnest buzzing of conversation for fifteen
minutes, I should think, and then the doctor took his departure from the
prison. Several of the officers now came in and worked a little with the
wounded man, but toward daylight he died.
It was the longest, longest night! And when the daylight came filtering
reluctantly into the dungeon at last, it was the grayest, dreariest,
saddest daylight! And yet, when an officer by and by turned off the sickly
yellow gas flame, and immediately the gray of dawn became fresh and white,
there was a lifting of my spirits that acknowledged and believed that the
night was gone, and straightway I fell to stretching my sore limbs, and
looking about me with a grateful sense of relief and a returning interest
in life. About me lay the evidences that what seemed now a feverish dream
and a nightmare was the memory of a reality instead. For on the boards lay
four frowsy, ragged, bearded vagabonds, snoring—one turned
end-for-end and resting an unclean foot, in a ruined stocking, on the
hairy breast of a neighbour; the young boy was uneasy, and lay moaning in
his sleep; other forms lay half revealed and half concealed about the
floor; in the furthest corner the gray light fell upon a sheet, whose
elevations and depressions indicated the places of the dead man's face and
feet and folded hands; and through the dividing bars one could discern the
almost nude forms of the two exiles from the county jail twined together
in a drunken embrace, and sodden with sleep.
By and by all the animals in all the cages awoke, and stretched
themselves, and exchanged a few cuffs and curses, and then began to
clamour for breakfast. Breakfast was brought in at last—bread and
beefsteak on tin plates, and black coffee in tin cups, and no grabbing
allowed. And after several dreary hours of waiting, after this, we were
all marched out into the dungeon and joined there by all manner of
vagrants and vagabonds, of all shades and colours and nationalities, from
the other cells and cages of the place; and pretty soon our whole
menagerie was marched up-stairs and locked fast behind a high railing in a
dirty room with a dirty audience in it. And this audience stared at us,
and at a man seated on high behind what they call a pulpit in this
country, and at some clerks and other officials seated below him—and
waited. This was the police court.
The court opened. Pretty soon I was compelled to notice that a culprit's
nationality made for or against him in this court. Overwhelming proofs
were necessary to convict an Irishman of crime, and even then his
punishment amounted to little; Frenchmen, Spaniards, and Italians had
strict and unprejudiced justice meted out to them, in exact accordance
with the evidence; negroes were promptly punished, when there was the
slightest preponderance of testimony against them; but Chinamen were
punished always, apparently. Now this gave me some uneasiness, I confess.
I knew that this state of things must of necessity be accidental, because
in this country all men were free and equal, and one person could not take
to himself an advantage not accorded to all other individuals. I knew
that, and yet in spite of it I was uneasy.
And I grew still more uneasy, when I found that any succored and
befriended refugee from Ireland or elsewhere could stand up before that
judge and swear away the life or liberty or character of a refugee from
China; but that by the law of the land the Chinaman could not testify
against the Irishman. I was really and truly uneasy, but still my faith in
the universal liberty that America accords and defends, and my deep
veneration for the land that offered all distressed outcasts a home and
protection, was strong within me, and I said to myself that it would all
come out right yet.
AH SONG HI.
<SPAN name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007">
<!-- H2 anchor --> </SPAN>
<div style="height: 4em;">
<br /><br /><br /><br />
SAN FRANCISCO, 18—.
DEAR CHING FOO: I was glad enough when my case came up. An hour's
experience had made me as tired of the police court as of the dungeon. I
was not uneasy about the result of the trial, but on the contrary felt
that as soon as the large auditory of Americans present should hear how
that the rowdies had set the dogs on me when I was going peacefully along
the street, and how, when I was all torn and bleeding, the officers
arrested me and put me in jail and let the rowdies go free, the gallant
hatred of oppression which is part of the very flesh and blood of every
American would be stirred to its utmost, and I should be instantly set at
liberty. In truth I began to fear for the other side. There in full view
stood the ruffians who had misused me, and I began to fear that in the
first burst of generous anger occasioned by the revealment of what they
had done, they might be harshly handled, and possibly even banished the
country as having dishonoured her and being no longer worthy to remain
upon her sacred soil.
The official interpreter of the court asked my name, and then spoke it
aloud so that all could hear. Supposing that all was now ready, I cleared
my throat and began—in Chinese, because of my imperfect English:
"Hear, O high and mighty mandarin, and believe! As I went about my
peaceful business in the street, behold certain men set a dog on me, and—
It was the judge that spoke. The interpreter whispered to me that I must
keep perfectly still. He said that no statement would be received from me—I
must only talk through my lawyer.
I had no lawyer. In the early morning a police court lawyer (termed, in
the higher circles of society, a "shyster") had come into our den in the
prison and offered his services to me, but I had been obliged to go
without them because I could not pay in advance or give security. I told
the interpreter how the matter stood. He said I must take my chances on
the witnesses then. I glanced around, and my failing confidence revived.
"Call those four Chinamen yonder," I said. "They saw it all. I remember
their faces perfectly. They will prove that the white men set the dog on
me when I was not harming them."
"That won't work," said he. "In this country white men can testify against
Chinamen all they want to, but Chinamen ain't allowed to testify against
What a chill went through me! And then I felt the indignant blood rise to
my cheek at this libel upon the Home of the Oppressed, where all men are
free and equal—perfectly equal—perfectly free and perfectly
equal. I despised this Chinese-speaking Spaniard for his mean slander of
the land that was sheltering and feeding him. I sorely wanted to sear his
eyes with that sentence from the great and good American Declaration of
Independence which we have copied in letters of gold in China and keep
hung up over our family altars and in our temples—I mean the one
about all men being created free and equal.
But woe is me, Ching Foo, the man was right. He was right, after all.
There were my witnesses, but I could not use them. But now came a new
hope. I saw my white friend come in, and I felt that he had come there
purposely to help me. I may almost say I knew it. So I grew easier. He
passed near enough to me to say under his breath, "Don't be afraid," and
then I had no more fear. But presently the rowdies recognised him and
began to scowl at him in no friendly way, and to make threatening signs at
him. The two officers that arrested me fixed their eyes steadily on his;
he bore it well, but gave in presently, and dropped his eyes. They still
gazed at his eyebrows, and every time he raised his eyes he encountered
their winkless stare—until after a minute or two he ceased to lift
his head at all. The judge had been giving some instructions privately to
some one for a little while, but now he was ready to resume business. Then
the trial so unspeakably important to me, and freighted with such
prodigious consequence to my wife and children, began, progressed, ended,
was recorded in the books, noted down by the newspaper reporters, and
forgotten by everybody but me—all in the little space of two
"Ah Song Hi, Chinaman. Officers O'Flannigan and O'Flaherty, witnesses.
Come forward, Officer O'Flannigan."
OFFICER—"He was making a disturbance in Kearny street."
JUDGE—"Any witnesses on the other side?" No response. The white
friend raised his eyes—encountered Officer O'Flaherty's—blushed
a little—got up and left the courtroom, avoiding all glances and not
taking his own from the floor.
JUDGE—"Give him five dollars or ten days."
In my desolation there was a glad surprise in the words; but it passed
away when I found that he only meant that I was to be fined five dollars
or imprisoned ten days longer in default of it.
There were twelve or fifteen Chinamen in our crowd of prisoners, charged
with all manner of little thefts and misdemeanors, and their cases were
quickly disposed of, as a general thing. When the charge came from a
policeman or other white man, he made his statement and that was the end
of it, unless the Chinaman's lawyer could find some white person to
testify in his client's behalf, for, neither the accused Chinaman nor his
countrymen being allowed to say anything, the statement of the officers or
other white person was amply sufficient to convict. So, as I said, the
Chinamen's cases were quickly disposed of, and fines and imprisonment
promptly distributed among them. In one or two of the cases the charges
against Chinamen were brought by Chinamen themselves, and in those cases
Chinamen testified against Chinamen, through the interpreter; but the
fixed rule of the court being that the preponderance of testimony in such
cases should determine the prisoner's guilt or innocence, and there being
nothing very binding about an oath administered to the lower orders of our
people without the ancient solemnity of cutting off a chicken's head and
burning some yellow paper at the same time, the interested parties
naturally drum up a cloud of witnesses who are cheerfully willing to give
evidence without ever knowing anything about the matter in hand. The judge
has a custom of rattling through with as much of this testimony as his
patience will stand, and then shutting off the rest and striking an
By noon all the business of the court was finished, and then several of us
who had not fared well were remanded to prison; the judge went home; the
lawyers, and officers, and spectators departed their several ways, and
left the uncomely court-room to silence, solitude, and Stiggers, the
newspaper reporter, which latter would now write up his items (said an
ancient Chinaman to me), in the which he would praise all the policemen
indiscriminately and abuse the Chinamen and dead people.
AH SONG HI.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Goldsmith's Friend Abroad Again
by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)