It is picturesque; it is revolting; it is colorful and wicked.

The weird odors of it still fill my nostrils; the sinister portrait of it is still before my eyes.

It is the Chinatown of London--Limehouse.

Down in the dregs of the town--with West India Dock Road for its spinal column--it lies, redolent of ways that are dark and tricks that are vain.

Not only the heathen Chinee so peculiar shuffles through its dim-lit alleys, but the scum of the earth, of many colors and of many climes.