It added
a gloom to the show more realistic than any the utmost art of
professional skill might have attained.
So I became a photographer, after a fashion, and thereafter took
the pictures myself. I substituted a frying-pan for the revolver,
and flashed the light on that. It seemed more homelike. But, as I
said, I am clumsy. Twice I set fire to the house with the apparatus,
and once to myself. I blew the light into my own eyes on that
occasion, and only my spectacles saved me from being blinded for
life. For more than an hour after I could see nothing and was led
about by my companion, helpless. Photographing Joss in Chinatown
nearly caused a riot there. It seems that it was against _their_
religious principles. Peace was made only upon express assurance
being given the guardians of Joss that his picture would be hung in
the "gallery at Police Headquarters." They took it as a compliment.
The "gallery" at Headquarters is the rogues' gallery, not generally
much desired. Those Chinese are a queer lot, but when I remembered
my Christian friend of the nursery I did not find it in me to blame
them.
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