Wichita eagle., 1890-02-06

Cning 70 sat down m 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 10 China
and be a great mana masnate in his
native village. Somehow or other that
| old ambition seemed fat, stale and An-
| profitable now. 1t had lost its old time
favor. So All Ching Fo sighed and
| looked disconsolate enough.
All of a sudden he broke out into a
Gargantuan laugh, such as Chinaman
has never laughed before or since. Then
he locked up his shop and went out. In
q few moments be 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 S
| and All Ching Fo made his wi1-abso-
.ltely made his willard the two friends
| witnessed it.
Now, as a matter of fact, you may be-
| ieve in old superstitiens 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 a physician and
came back with pinply young man
assistant in the drug shop in Mulberry
street. This wise youth looked at the
squirming Chinaman very sageiy, 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 a 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 Fos 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.
Il 4 lor G., f,,l
sounds from his violin.
''Rat-tat-bang"
Herr Won Haeckel opened the door; a
fat. red faced man, with long black
mustache, came in smiling. "Ah" said
he, '.here we are-all of us. ''Misther
HickIe, Miss Hickle, mesilf-I congratu-
Late yei'
What do you mean?" asked the old
German shortly.
''By that same token, Misther Hickle,
ye needn't be after being SO quick! am
a fawyer-barrister, Trim. COL, Dublin
an me clients dead; dead, sir! and by
that same token, though he was a
hathen, he's lift $3, 900 to your daughter.
Here's the will!''
Aye, there was the will! It 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 great singer, and took high
sounding 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 the 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 not known that All Ching Fo was
dead-dead as a coffin nail, absolutely
dead should have sworn that that
Chinaman grinning in the gallery was
All Ching Fo. But then there are no
ghosts in Mott street And all China
men look alike.-Vance Thompson in
New York Mail and Express.
Webstertana.
An interesting anecdote of Daniel Web
ster is given by Hon. Charles K. Tucker
man in his article on "Bygone Days in
Boston" in The North American Review.