Chinese -- England -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Humorous stories
Being desirous of procuring a gift wherewith to propitiate a certain
maiden’s esteem, and seeing above a shop of varied attraction a
suspended sign emblematic of three times repeated gild abundance I drew
near, not doubting to find beneath so auspicious a token the fulfilment
of an honourable accommodation. Inside the window was displayed one
of the implements by which the various details of a garment are joined
together upon turning a wheel, hung about with an inscription setting
forth that it was esteemed at the price of two units of gold, nineteen
pieces of silver, and eleven and three-quarters of the brass cash of the
land, and judging that no more suitable object could be procured for the
purpose, I entered the shop, and desired the attending slave to submit
it to my closer scrutiny.
“Behold,” I exclaimed, when I had made a feint of setting the device
into motion (for it need not be concealed from you, O discreet one, that
I was really inadequate to the attempt, and, indeed, narrowly escaped
impaling myself upon its sudden and unexpected protrusions), “the
highly-burnished surface of your dexterously arranged window gave to
this engine a rich attractiveness which is altogether lacking at a
closer examination. Nevertheless, this person will not recede from a
perhaps too impulsive offer of one unit of gold, three pieces of silver,
and four and a half brass cash,” my object, of course, being that after
the mutual recrimination of disparagement and over-praise we should in
the length of an hour or two reach a becoming compromise in the middle
distance.
“Well,” responded the menial one, regarding me with an expression in
which he did not even attempt to subdue the baser emotions, “you HAVE
come a long way for nothing”; and he made a pretence of wishing to
replace the object.
“Yet,” I continued, “observe with calm impartiality how insidiously the
rust has assailed the outer polish of the lacquer; perceive here upon
the beneath part of wood the ineffaceable depression of a deeply-pointed
blow; note well the--”
“It was good enough for you to want me to muck up out of the window,
wasn’t it?” demanded the obstinate barbarian, becoming passionate in his
bearing rather than reluctantly, but with courteous grace, lessening the
price to a trifling degree, as we regard the proper way of carrying on
the enterprise.
“It is well said,” I admitted, hoping that he might yet learn wisdom
from my attitude of unruffled urbanity, though I feared that his angle
of negotiating was unconquerably opposed to mine, “but now its many
imperfections are revealed. The inelegance of its outline, the grossness
of the applied colours, the unlucky combination of numbers engraved upon
this plate, the--”
“Damme!” cried the utterly perverse rebel standing opposite, “why don’t
you keep on your Compound, you Yellow Peril? Who asked you to come into
my shop to blackguard the things? Come now, who did?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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