The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1901-06-20


soaked kind that is commonly thrust
under your nose in the majority of
eating houses. 1t is the pearl-white,
mellow, mountaineering kind, where
each grain is entirely distinct and full
blown and appetizing. John knows
how to cook rice, you bet!
In appearance the Chinese chop
house differs little from the average
cheap eating house. A large room is
always on the second floor above the
street, with saw-dust covered floor and
numerous small tables with chairs
arranged around the room. Upon
taking your seat, fat Chink waddles
up and says: "What you want?" You
order Yorkaman. Mr.. Chink then
raises his voice and lets 60 stream of
Chinese resembling loose ratchet on
cogwheel. This is answered from
the kitchen, and presently Mr.. Chink
comes back bearing bowl of what at
first sight you take to be macaroni or
German noodle soup. 1t consists of
long strings of doughy-looking stuff
like macaroni, but without the hole in
it., and is covered with yellowish, oily
looking liquid on which floats two
pieces of chicken, about half raw, two
pieces of ham and two halves of hard
boiled egg. AS dressing, small cup
of reddish-brOwn liquid is served,
which is diluted chicken blood. This
Yorkaman tastes-well it tastes Just like
Yorkaman and like nothing else under
heaven. The reason the chicken is
almost raw is that the Chinks prefer it
that way and never kill a chicken un-
til it is ready for instant use, the fowls
being kept alive in coop in the
kitchen for that purpose. All the
blood is kept for GAUGES.
Chop-suey consists of a mess of
vegetable fibers brought from China.
1t looks like celery that has been dried
and shredded and mixed with onions
chopped fine. Chop-suey tastes like
we'll it tastes more like chop-suey than
anything else. Other things, such as
dried duck, dried octopus, snails and
sea moss may be had, but space fore
bids further mention of them.
Now for the much talked of opium
joints which have been depicted as
luxurious, sumptuous, richly furnished
apartments, where the pipe fiend trans
ports himself to heaven, only to
awaken in hvll. In Chinatown, with
but two or three exceptions, those
gilded, bespangled apartments are only
pipe dreams, for the joints are only
dirty, foul dens,. situated as far back
from the street as possible and in the
cellar underground. The luxurious
couches are plain wooden hunks placed
against the damp walls, and your at
tendants are heavy-eyed, greasy, grimy
Chinks, who present you with dab Of
black mud on receiving your fifty
cents. You may stretch yourself on
the soft plank and roll your pills to
suit yourself, providing some poor
outcast "fend' does not beg for the
privilege, so he may steal pill or two
to satisfy his own craving.
All sorts of folks are to be found
here; young men, old men, girls in their
teens and women almost ready to pass
to the beyond-all slaves to "King
Dope" Statistics tell us that his
majesty is receiving an enormous in
crease in subjects. AS to how "hitting
the pipe" feels, the less said the better.
Suffice that while under its influence
you are happy and contented, but the
after effects produces a million blue
devils which oftentimes persuade the
beginner to indulge again to get rid of
them and generally leads him to the
grave.
The Chinatown theatre resembles
the lower class of vaudeville houses.
The audience drink and smoke while
everybody on the stage tries to see who
can yell the loudest. The fiddle and
tin pan music resemble a serenade at
Dutch wedding when the gang wants
beer.