many other people elsewhere, with regard to any thing incomprehensible,
they are inclined to ascribe it to a satanic origin. In California,
the Chinese residents make a liberal use of the telegraph; though
they do not trouble themselves with an investigation of its
workings, they fully appreciate its importance. John, in California,
is at liberty to send his messages in "pigeon-English," and very
funny work he makes of it occasionally. Chin Lung, in Sacramento,
telegraphs to Ming Yup, in San Francisco, "You me send one piecee
me trunk," which means, in plain language, "Send me my trunk." Mr.
Yup complies with the request, and responds by telegraph, "Me you
trunkee you sendee." The inventor of pigeon-English is unknown, and it
is well for his name that it has not been handed down; he deserves the
execration of all who are compelled to use the legacy he has left. It
is just as difficult for a Chinese to learn pigeon-English as it would
be to learn pure and honest English, and it is about as intelligible
as Greek or Sanscrit to a newly-arrived foreigner. In Shanghae or Hong
Kong, say to your Chinese _ma-foo_, who claims to speak English,
"Bring me a glass of water," and he will not understand you. Repeat
your order in those words, and he stands dumb and uncomprehending, as
though you had spoken the dialect of the moon. But if you say, "You go
me catchee bring one piecee glass water; savey," and his tawny face
beams intelligence as he obeys the order.

In the phrase, "pigeon-English," the word pigeon means "business,"
and the expression would be more intelligible if it were
"business-English." Many foreigners living in China have formed the
habit of using this and other words in their Chinese sense, and
sometimes one hears an affair of business called "a pigeon." A
gentleman whom I met in China used to tell, with a great deal of
humor, his early experiences with the language.

"When I went to Shanghae," said he, "I had an introduction to a
prominent merchant, who received me very kindly, and urged me to call
often at his office. A day or two later I called, and inquired for
him. 'Won't be back for a week or two,' said the clerk; 'he has gone
into the country, about two hundred miles, after a little pigeon.' I
asked no questions, but as I bowed myself out, I thought, 'He must be
a fool, indeed. Go two hundred miles into the country after a pigeon,
and a little one at that! He has lost his senses, if he ever possessed
any.'