But the hands that were played By that heathen Chinee, And the points that he made, Were quite frightful to see-- Till at last he put down a right bower, Which the same Nye had dealt unto me. Then I looked up at Nye, And he gazed upon me; And he rose with a sigh, And said, "Can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour"-- And he went for that heathen Chinee. In the scene that ensued I did not take a hand; But the floor it was strewed Like the leaves on the strand With the cards that Ah Sin had been hiding, In the game "he did not understand." In his sleeves, which were long, He had twenty-four packs-- Which was coming it strong, Yet I state but the facts; And we found on his nails, which were taper, What is frequent in tapers--that's wax. Which is why I remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark, And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar-- Which the same I am free to maintain. BRET HARTE. * * * * * THE HEATHEN PASS-EE. _Being the Story of a Pass Examination._ BY BRED HARD. Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for plots that are dark And not always in vain, The Heathen Pass-ee is peculiar, And the same I would rise to explain. I would also premise That the term of Pass-ee Most fitly applies, As you probably see, To one whose vocation is passing The "ordinary B.A. degree." Tom Crib was his name, And I shall not deny In regard to the same What that name might imply, But his face it was trustful and childlike, And he had the most innocent eye. Upon April the First The Little-Go fell, And that was the worst Of the gentleman's sell, For he fooled the Examining Body In a way I'm reluctant to tell. The candidates came And Tom Crib soon appeared; It was Euclid, the same Was "the subject he feared;" But he smiled as he sat by the table With a smile that was wary and weird. Yet he did what he could, And the papers he showed Were remarkably good, And his countenance glowed With pride when I met him soon after As he walked down the Trumpington Road. We did not find him out, Which I bitterly grieve, For I've not the least doubt That he'd placed up his sleeve Mr. Todhunter's excellent Euclid, The same with intent to deceive. But I shall not forget How the next day at two A stiff Paper was set By Examiner _U_-- On Euripides' tragedy, Bacchæ, A Subject Tom "partially knew."