San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1890-02-06

'NhJ H'sssJ bN't sfs 81 SNf'N
No, no, mol Lii gel go long way; b,
gleat singgel an be velly rich-good gel
Here plenty heap dollals-lil gel be gieal
singer-good blyr
Now, that speech the old man under
stood in n moment, for All Ching Fl
thrust into his hand box filed witt
bank notes, big and little, and a jolly
tumble of gold and silver coins 1t was
q hard struggle for the poor old German
violinist-in Bowery theatre Of varie'
ties, mark you-but he was gentleman
still, and he gave it back.
"No," he said. "You have good
heart, but you do not understand oui
ways. No, nor
Then he went slowly upstairs. AL
Ching Fo sat down in his laundry, and
for the second time that day his face
clouded, and he puffed out an opiated
sigh. John Chinaman had been saving
this money in order to 60 back to China
and be great mana magnatc in his
native village. Somehow or other that
old ambition seemed fiat, stale and un.
profitable now. 1t had lost its old time
flavor So All Ching Fo sighed and
looked disconsolate enough.
All of sudden he broke out into q
Gargantuan laugh, such as Chinamar
has never laughed before or since. Then
he locked up his shop and went out. In
few moments he returned with two
friends, slanting as to the eyes and yellow
as to the skin. The three sat and smoked
opium and chatted hieroglyphics together
for half the night. The first thing in
the morning they set off to lawyers
and All Ching Fo made his will-abso.
ltely made his willard the two friends
witnessed it.
Now, as a matter of fact, you may be.
lieve in old superstitions or you may not.
But how are you going to get over this
fact? The very day that All Ching Fo
signed his will he was taken desperately
ill. He was in terrible pain. He rolled
on the floor and groaned.
John grew worse and worse. One of
his friends went out for physician and
came back with pimply young man
assistant in the drug shop in Mulberry
street. This wise youth looked at the
squirming Chinaman very sagely, hem
med, pocketed dollar, and went away,
promising to send some medicine.
But before the medicine came John
Chinaman was past mending. All Ching
Fo was dead. Dead beyond doubt, you
understand, absolutely dead. One of his
countrymen went out and bought a
coffin, and All Ching Fo was laid out
forthwith. Prayers were burnt over him;
three pots of evil smelling incense dark
ened the air; in the corner prayer ma
chine clicked dolorously away.
Ah Ching Fo was dead. The next day
the coffin was taken away. Followed by
many of All Ching Fo's sorrowing, al
mond eyed friends, it was borne to its
last resting place.
Little Lischen looked down over the
staircase as the coffin was borne away.
She half wondered at the sudden tears
that flooded her eyes. The laundry was
sold out, and Mott street knew All Ching
Fo no more forever.
Lischen went back to her dingy little
room. She sat by the window brooding.
The old man, her father, drew mournful
sounds from his violin.
"Rat-tat-bangr
Herr Won Haeckel opened the door; a
fat, red faced man, with a long black
mustache, came in smiling. "Ahl' said
he, there we are all of u.s. "Misther
Hickle, Miss Hickle, mesilf-I congratu-
late yer'
"What do you mean" asked the old
German shortly.
"By that same token, Misther Hickle,
ye needn't be after being so quick l am
a lawyer-barrister Trim. COL, Dublin
an me clients dead; dead, sirl and by
that same token, though he was
hathen, he's lift 5000 to your daughter.
Here's the willl''
Aye, there was the will! 1t was duly
signed, sealed and witnessed, giving to
Lischen Won Haeckel all the property
whatsoever Of which All Ching Fo might
die possessed.
And, of course, she went to Milan and
became a great singer, and took high
name, and you have applauded
and cheered her, and lost your heart to
her, and so have l.
heard her the night she made her
American debut. She sang Marguerite
in Gounod's "Faust" German ver-
sion. The house was crammed. BY
chance | glanced up to the gallery.
There in dark corner sat dry, bland,
little Chinaman chuckling to himself.
Had I not known that All Ching Eo was
lead-dead as a coffin nail, absolutely
lead-I should have sworn that that
Chinaman grinning in the gallery was
Ah Ching Fo. But then there are no
ghosts in Mott street. And all China
men look alike.-Vance Thompson in
Y L. IL n - Ir--.--