[Images not available]There was a big bouquet for Ping Pong
There was a big bouquet for Ping Pong
There was a big bouquet for Ping Pong
surely been here, for the table was covered with the most beautiful gifts they had ever seen,—lots of cunning little moon-cakes, sprinkled with poppy and caraway seed; and some like a horse and a cow, and all sorts of funny animals. And there was a big bouquet for Ping Pong, because it was his birthday too.
There were also some big candy dragons, with great staring eyes, but now, instead of the dragons eating them, they were going to eat the dragons. My! what fun that would be! and they could not wait, but planted their strong white teeth in the white heads, and bit them off. My! how sweet they were! so sweet that their bodies went next, and soon there were no dragons at all.
There were all kinds of gaudily painted toys of clay, and little Ping Yet’s dancing eyes danced more than ever, and she fairly rippled over with smiles when she saw, sticking out of a bright red pair of embroidered sandals, a real Chinese doll. It looked very much like Ping Yet herself, with its bright black eyes, rosy cheeks, and coal-black hair. She thought it surely must be the most beautiful thing in the whole big world, butmo chunsaid she knew something more beautiful. The little one wondered vaguely what it could be, and how anything could be more beautiful, but she was too busy to wonder long, for Ping Pong had uttered such a shriek of delight that she almost jumped out of her little sandals. What could be the matter?
“What foh you cly? you buhn youh fingeh?” she cried; and he in reply pointed to the cause of all his excitement; it was—oh, joy!—a pagoda, andmo chunsaid:
“The dragon pagoda it touches the sky;The dragon pagoda, thirteen stories high.”
“The dragon pagoda it touches the sky;The dragon pagoda, thirteen stories high.”
“The dragon pagoda it touches the sky;The dragon pagoda, thirteen stories high.”
It was just exactly like the one they had askedho chunto buy, and the dear white rabbit in the moon must have seen right down into their minds and brought what they wished. And oh, they were so glad now that they had gone to the joss house, and burned the incense and thrown the fortune sticks, for if they had not—who knows?—the white rabbit might have forgotten them.
MO CHUN called her the little Almond Blossom, as she was so bright and beautiful, and she loved her so. Her real name was Gum Sing, and she was, so the mother thought, the prettiest thing in all the big Chinatown of San Francisco.
Gum Sing’s father kept a store, where they sold all sorts of fine china and silk. She often went to her father’s store, but never alone. Oh, no! she was too precious to be trusted out alone, and then she was too young to find her way through the winding streets, and the doors alllooked alike to her, so themo chunor the nurse always accompanied her.
Gum Sing had such a round, dimpled face, and there always seemed to be kisses lurking in the dimples. And she had the merriest little laugh,—just like music to her mother. It was not enough formo chunto see this little face every day, and to sleep on the hard pillow with it at night. No, that was not enough, for how could any one ever have enough of so fair a thing? So the father and mother agreed that their little Almond Blossom must have her picture taken. That was a great day in the house of Gum. Such an event had never happened before.
Now Gum Sing did not know at all what it meant to have her picturetaken, but she knew by the smiles on her mother’s face, and by the careful and proud manner in which she was being arrayed, that it could be no small thing, and that some way or other she was expected to look as beautiful and as much like the almond flower as she could, as that was sacred to the Chinese.
With delight she saw that she was to wear her lavender silk blouse. “Oh,mo chun,” she giggled, “I likee wearho chun’sbig gold watch.”
Now, although the little mother did not think it just exactly the proper thing for any one so tiny as Gum Sing to wear a watch and chain, yet this was such an important event—and such a proud moment for her—that she could see no harm in letting her have her way about itthis time. She insisted upon carryingmo chun’sbig fan, too, and it certainly did look very wonderful to see it clasped in the tiny brown hand.
The trousers of pink silk were so bright and pretty, and the dainty little sandals had been embroidered bymo chunherself.
When all was ready,ho chunappeared on the scene, and the happy party started out for the photograph gallery of Hen Yin Gock.
“I so happy—I so glad,” giggled the little Gum Sing, not knowing just what she was happy about, only she was such a happy little thing always, and being the only child had so much love given her. At last they reached the place. There did not seem to be anything wonderful about it. There was a window with a lotof pictures in it, and a crowd of Chinamen were jostling each other to see them. Then they ascended the stairway and rapped on the door, and some one called out in Chinese, “Yap loi le,” which means “Come in.”
They went in, and the man talked to them pleasantly, but when he went and put his head under a black curtain on some kind of a box, then Gum Sing thought it was time to complain. This was too much! She cried: “Mo chun—I no likee—will it hurt? I ’flaid the big dlagon come out of the box.” (The nurse had evidently been telling her stories about the big Chinese dragon.)
Then the good Hen Yin Gock came out from the curtain, and assured her that there was no danger.He brought out two lovely yellow roses in a vase, and put them on a small table with a bright cover, and then told Gum Sing: “If you heap good girl, and do what I say, I give you the floweh, pletty soon.”
Then he also placed on the table a flute, with gaily colored tassels, and then the cunningest little jar, which looked very much as if it might contain preserved ginger, and she was just thinking how much she liked preserved ginger when the man said: “Now keep still! look light at this box!” (The little mother trembled; could it be that after all there was something horrible in the box?) “There is a little bird in this box, and you may see it fly out if you are quiet. Now!—all leady!” (ready).
Gum Sing was so full of giggles that she could hardly be quiet, and the dimples chased each other all over her sunny face. The father and mother gazed with love and admiration at the beauty of their little almond flower, with one hand thrown carelessly on the table and the other grasping the fan.
“There!” at last said the photographer.
Gum Sing wanted to know what it was all about, yet she could not seem to find out. But several days after that, whenho chunwas out on the pavement in front of their home, putting some China lilies in a bowl of water, a man came, and handed him a little package. Gum Sing was all curiosity in a minute.
“Oh,ho chun, what is it? Letme see!” she cried, andmo chunwas almost as eager. So the father opened the package while they waited wonderingly, and there, before their eyes, on pieces of polished cardboard—could it be?—yes, yes!—the picture of their little Almond Blossom—big watch, fan, dimples, giggle and all.
But Gum Sing wonders to this day why the bird did not come out of the box.
GUM CHING lived in America, but she had no way of knowing it, as she never saw any of the country, and was kept in her home all the time. As she was unfortunate enough to be a girl, she had never been permitted to go anywhere, except to play on the street in front of her father’s store. Sometimes, when playing thus, she had seen little American girls drive by in carriages with their mamas, and they seemed to be having so much fun that little Gum Ching would look very sad after they had passed, and would say to her brother Gum Lee: “I wishIwas a ’Melican little girl—they have heap good time.”
It was Christmas day, yet this had never meant any happiness for Gum Ching, for the Chinese save all their good times for the New Year. But it chanced that her little brother had been attending the Mission, and learning to read, and the little sister had heard him say that they were going to have a Christmas tree at the Mission that very night.
“What can a Christmas tree be?” said the little Chinese girl to herself; and her thoughts were busy with this all day, wondering what kind of a strange tree it was.
Oh, if she could only go! But how could she, when she had never been out of Chinatown, and there might be all sorts of ugly things waiting tocatch her as she passed. She could see the Mission from their upstairs window, and she wondered vaguely if any of the little “ ‘Melican” girls who had passed in their carriages would be there. She said to herself: “Even if they should punish me when I get home I no care—because then I have something nice to think of, anyway.”
The darkness came at last, and Gum Ching had never been out in the dark. She never knew before that it was quite so black, but she had made up her mind to go, no matter what the consequences were.
Now Gum Ching did not have any mama, and it was very lonely for her at home, with no one but just herho chunand the little brother, who was always off playing withsome boys. After she had eaten her supper, and had seenho chunlight his long opium pipe, she knew then that he would lie down, and not awaken until the morning. So she slipped out and toddled on, in her small sandals, in the direction of the light which streamed from the windows of the mission.
She looked up at the sky, and was just saying: “I wondeh what those pletty spahkling things are up there; I likee have one;” when suddenly she heard a mighty roar, and right through the blackness of the night came a great demon of fire, snorting, puffing, and screaming, and coming right toward the poor little trembling Gum Ching. She feared to move, and so stood quite still until the big giant had passed, and vanished again into the darkness of the night.
It was only the train, but Gum Ching did not know. She was only a girl. Onward she started again, brave little soul, and soon she had reached the Mission. No one would ever know what a terrible undertaking it was for a little girl from China.
The door was open, and a soft radiance streamed out, and lit up the timid form of the little Gum Ching, as she stood on the step, in the dark and the cold.
She could hear a confused murmur of happy voices, and just as she was hesitating whether she would venture in or turn and fly back to her lonely home again, a kind hand clasped hers, and a woman’s tendervoice said: “Why, come right in, dear.”
Gum Ching’s eyes filled with tears, for she had never before known the sweetness of a loving woman’s voice. She was led into the room, not even caring now if she was punished, for it was well worth it. Her sparkling oblique eyes almost danced out of her head at all this beauty. Everywhere were sparkles—sparkles—and they fairly dazzled her. It must be a dream, she thought. She looked before her, and—what was that great green tree towering toward the ceiling? It was—it must be—the Christmas tree! And did all those pretty things really grow on the tree? she could not understand it.
Her brother could not believe his eyes when he saw her there. She?—nothing but a girl?—what right had she to enjoy herself? But she was there, for all that, and her small brown and timid hand was held in a warm and loving clasp by one of the kind teachers, and she was made to feel that, after all, in the big lonely world there was some one who cared, and her little heart was full to overflowing, and she had to blink very hard to keep back the tears—tears of pure joy.
She was given many things from that beautiful tree, and, best of all, the teacher took her home; andho chunwas good to her, and did not punish her at all, but promised—just think of it! promised—that she could go to the tree again next year.
HO CHIN was ten years old, and had never had a Fourth of July. Just think of it! Ho Chin was the son of the Chinese Consul, and his rank placed him so far above the ordinary Chinese boys that he was very much looked up to, and respected by them. Ho Chin did not live in one of the small, dark, opium-scented rooms in which the rest of the Chinese children lived, but in the elegant Consulate with its large rooms and marble stairway; but, after all, he was just a boy, and liked the things that boys liked. He attended a very select Americanschool, and dressed in American style. In fact, nothing was too good for Ho Chin—the eldest son of a Consul. But you know, sometimes he almost wished he was a common boy, and could run and play, and have the perfect freedom of the street boy.
Now at school he had of late heard of nothing but the Fourth of July. “What is the Fourth of July?” he finally ventured to ask.
And Johnny Moore replied, only too glad to be the first one to divulge all its wonders, “Why, it’s—it’s—fire-crackers, you know, and flags and soldiers, and popcorn and peanuts, and—and—everything. It’s the best time of the year; say, it’s just bully! Didn’t you ever see one?”
“No,” gasped the delighted Ho Chin. “Oh, do you think my papa would let me?” And from that time on he could hardly study, his mind was so taken up with this new subject, and he acted so strangely at home that his mama, who was a beautiful Chinese lady and loved her handsome boy, was very much worried over the change in him. He would leave his tea and rice untasted, and rush from the table most unexpectedly. Why? Because he had heard a faint whistle outside, from some of his American boy friends, and he was eager to get out to them, to talk about the wonderful event which was coming so near.
The more he thought of it, the more he decided in his mind that he had better not tell his father aboutit, because if he told him and should be refused—if— Oh, he could not bear the thought. He knew that his father had never allowed him alone on the Chinese streets, for wise fathers always accompany their children. For who could tell when the child of a wealthy and noted man might be kidnapped? And the timid little Chinese mother was never really happy when he was out of her sight.
So the time flew by. The Consul was called to a distant part of the state on official business, and when Ho Chin awoke in the gray dawn of the early morning his first thought was: “Well, I can’t tell papa when he is not here, and I know if I told mama she would not let me go. What will I do? I can’t miss it.
[Images not available]Through the narrow streets
Through the narrow streets
Through the narrow streets
The boys will think I am a coward if I don’t go, and—I have some money of my own.”
So saying, he crept out of bed, and astonished the servants by his early demand for breakfast. He knew his dainty mama would not leave her apartments for some time, for it took so long for the maids to dress her hair, and manicure her finger-nails, and array her in her rich silks; so, avoiding the eyes of the servants, he crept stealthily down the long marble stairway, jingling the money in his pocket as he went, and out through the narrow streets, whistling merrily, in the perfect delight of freedom. He knew he was not doing right, but here he was, at the gate of Johnny’s house, and there was Johnny himself, just running out atthe door, cap in hand. His face wore a look of delight as he saw the Chinese boy, and he yelled: “How’d you get here?”
“Oh, I just came; nobody knows it—and say! Let’s begin! I’ve got some money; let’s go to old Sing Chew, he’s got a whole store full of fire-crackers.”
Johnny’s mama, looking out of the window, remarked to her husband, “So they allowed him to come, after all. Well, I’m glad of that, for he seems such a dear little fellow.”
Ho Chin was as happy as it is possible for a boy to be, when he found himself in the wonderful store. Old Sing Chew was awfully busy, but not so busy that he could not see the son of the Consul, and hastened to attend to his wants.
“How is it that you come alone? I neveh see you come unless yourho chunbling you,” he said.
The boy replied, “Oh, I am a big boy now, and I like to have a good time on the Fourth of July. This is my friend!—he goes with me.” And the old man believed him, and admired the beautiful command the boy had of the English language.
It seemed a wonderful thing to Johnny that any one boy could have so much money to spend. It seemed great wealth to him, because he had only twenty-five cents for his fire-crackers, but the young Ho was as generous as could be, and they left the store with all they could carry.
What a pleasure to be a boy on the streets, where all was noise andconfusion and incessant popping of fire-crackers. One boy threw a bunch under a horse’s feet, and he ran away and frightened a lot of people. There were crowds of boys—boys everywhere, and a good many Chinese boys, but only those of the lower class. What would his papa think if he should meet him now, his hands and face all black with powder, and a wild and reckless air about him, which did not seem at all like the quiet little fellow his papa knew.
Finally the great parade approached. He had only seen Chinese parades, with the great green dragon, and it had always frightened him; but there was no dragon in this parade. There were soldiers,—oh, so many hundreds of them!—with their bright uniformsglittering in the sun, and their spirited horses prancing and keeping time to the music of the many bands. Many of the horses became scared at the noise, and Ho Chin, being a boy, thought it great fun to see them stand on their hind legs and prance, and act as if they would run over everybody. He did not feel afraid, and he liked to hear the big drums; they sounded beautiful to him, almost as beautiful as the Chinese “tom-toms.” There were so many fine things about that parade that little Ho did not realize until after it had passed that he was hungry. He mentioned the fact to Johnny, and, strange to say, Johnny was hungry too. They were a long distance from home; what should they do?
“If I had any money left we could go into a restaurant and have our dinner,” said the wary Johnny.
“Oh, could we?” said Ho. “Well, we will go then, for I have plenty of money.”
Johnny did not need any urging, you may be sure, and many people in the restaurant were amused to see the two little friends seated at the table with their fire-crackers on a chair beside them. Still more amused was the waiter, who brought them such a mixture as he had never before served for lunch. It was dreadful! but it did not seem so to the two hungry boys, who, with mouths full, were so interested in talking that they did not even see the waiter. Little Ho Chin paid the bill with a kingly air, and theystrutted out to pop their crackers for the rest of the day. They were having a fine time,—but what of the little Chinese mother?
When her toilet was completed she inquired for her boy, as she knew he was to have a holiday to-day, and was told that he had breakfasted earlier than he had ever done before, and they had not seen him since. They supposed he had gone to her apartments. She had the whole house searched, and was frightened almost to death. She burned her incense before the god, and murmured: “Oh, good joss! protect my boy, and bring him to me.”
At that moment her boy had just blown off his coat-tail with a bunch of fire-crackers, and it was lucky that he had not been blown to pieces.The mother could only wait till the day wore on, as her husband was not there to advise her, and Chinese women are so helpless.
After this day of delight the dark night fell, and not until then was the little Ho reminded that his mother would be worried, and he must go home. His fire-crackers were all gone, he was tired, and so covered with powder and dirt that one would never have recognized him as the elegantly dressed little boy who had left home in the early morning. “But,” he reflected, “I have had the finest time of my life; I will never forget it.”
It must be admitted, though, that his conscience hurt him very badly as he wended his way home. He wondered if his father could havecome home unexpectedly. There was no way out of it; he must go and face it. He almost felt as if he would like to run away to some place where there were no fathers and mothers, and where it was always the Fourth of July all the year round.
He entered the great iron door, and had reached the top of the marble stairway, his heart beating with fear. He almost wished now he had not gone. The silence was so intense that he could almost hear his heart beat—he feared the worst. But now he heard a rustle of silken garments, and there came through the portieres—his mother!
With wide-open black eyes he gazed at her. Oh, what would she do? what would she say?—he stood trembling and speechless; and she?—Why, she was just a mother, after all, and with one great sob she took him in her arms and showered kisses on his handsome but very dirty face. He could feel her tender heart beating through the silken blouse, and she clasped him closer as she murmured: “The good joss has brought him back to me—my brave and beautiful little Ho.”
And he whispered, “Mother—forgive me! but it was all so lovely, and—I justlovethe Fourth of July!”
And she, being a mother, forgave him.
LO LUEN was the little daughter of a poor Chinese fisherman, and lived in the Chinatown of Monterey, California. She was born in this beautiful country, and did not know anything about China, except what she had heard her parents say. But this country was good enough for her, she thought, with its endless skies of blue overhead, and the big noisy ocean dashing its white spray up on the silver sands right in front of the little hut she called home.
It was a very poor place, and they were very poor people, but Lo Luendid not know this, because it was all she had ever known, so it did not disturb her simple celestial mind in the least. Then she could not get lonely, for there was her small brother, Lo Duck, who was the cunningest, chubbiest little boy that she had ever seen.
Mo chunwas very busy always, in the little hut, as she was a cigarette-maker, and worked at this all the time she was not doing the cooking, and making the simple garments for the family.
The father dearly loved his children, and often called Lo Luen his little fisher-maiden. This was because she was such a help to him in his fishing. She and little Lo Duck would sit out on the ground in front of their home for hours at a time,putting bait on the hooks; and this was a great help, for it saved so much time.
He would cut up a great deal of fish into small bits, and put it in a box by the children, and they would fasten it on to the hundreds of hooks on the lines, and then the big round baskets would be all ready forho chunto cast the lines into the ocean, and draw out the beautiful fish. Lo Luen was very proud when she saw the fine fish in the boat every day, for she almost felt as if she herself had caught them, since she had put the bait on the hooks. One day she had been working so hard that her father looked at her, as she sat there in the sun with her sleeves rolled up, working away as if her life depended upon it, and he said to her: “Lo Luen,how you likee go out in big boat withho chun?”
“Oh!” she shouted, as she clapped her little brown hands, “I likee velly much; I likee catch big fish to blingmo chun.”
“All light,” said her father. “We no takeehai tong(baby); he stay withmo chun, he too little.”
Lo Duck objected to this; he wanted to go too, but he would only be in the way, and then his mother would be worried if he went, so he was taken into the house, screaming vigorously. The timid mother felt rather afraid to trust her little daughter out on the great noisy ocean, whose waves came dashing upon the rocks with a boom like thunder; but the father said she was a big girl now, and it was time she learned something ofthe sea. So, while he fitted up the boat and got the nets into it,mo chunwas dressing the little girl in her warmest blouse, all heavily padded, and then got out a very thick silk hood, fastening it securely on her head, and last of all, she took from the paddedmumboo(tea-pot holder) a pot of boiling tea, and gave it to Lo Luen.
“Maskee-maskee, mysamen jai” (never mind, my little boy), she said to the baby brother, “maybe you go next time.”
Mo chunand the baby boy went with them as far as the boat, and Lo Luen jumped in gaily, and they were off. The water was smooth to-day, and everything would surely be well, thought the mother. She went in and placed a little bowl ofsteaming rice before the joss, so that he would protect her little girl from the wrath of the mighty ocean, and lighted the punks before him, so that the incense filled the little room.
Meanwhile, the little fishing boat went dancing over the blue waves, as light as an egg-shell, and the little Chinese girl was happy.
They kept near the shore at first, and when they passed the Del Monte hotel she saw hundreds of little American children running on the beach. She loved to watch them, as they ran with bare feet, kicking up the white sand. Some of them were jumping rope with long strands of kelp; some were hunting shells and bits of sea-moss; some were running into the foamy surf, filling their bright tin pails with water, and then hurryingfrom the big waves they would run back to pour the water into some little place in the sand, where they were building all sorts of wonderful things.
Some of the little girls had the most wonderful dolls in their arms,—or at least they seemed wonderful to a little girl who had no doll, except just the hard kelp balls which she had dressed up and used for dolls, as she did not like to ask for one, for fear it would cost too much.
They left the shore now, and went farther out, where the ocean was deep and the waves were rough. The cool salt spray dashed in her face, and her long queue hung over the side of the boat and dipped into the water.Ho chuntold her to take it in, or a big fish might come along and pull her in.Oh, what fun it was to see him cast in the net, and pull out so many big fish! but she was a little afraid of them, they were so squirmy and floppy. She cuddled up in one end of the boat, so they could not jump on her, butho chunfixed a plank in front of her, so she was not afraid.
It was her turn now, and so the father produced a stout little fishing pole and tackle, and she tried her luck at fishing in the big ocean. Soon she felt a strong tug at her line,—so strong that it almost pulled her in. She tugged away, though, till she almost fell out of the boat, but it was too big for her; she could not manage it without the help ofho chun.
“Maskee!” he said, and took hold of the pole. She still kept her smallhands on it, though, so she could say that she caught it. Pretty soon there came up out of the water a big, big salmon, all gold and sparkling in the sunlight. She just squealed with delight, and her father said: “Heap good girl; catchee velly big fish.”
They were so interested in the work and were having such fine luck that they did not realize how late it was getting. Lo Luen was enjoying it so, that her father could not bear to stop her pleasure.
The darkness fell upon the waters now, and the sea moaned sadly. The waves grew rougher, and the air colder. It was not pretty when the sun was not shining on it.
“The wateh too black now; I no likee; I want seemo chun,” falteringly said the little one.
They could see the dim outlines of great ships with their lights sending long, narrow rays across the dark of the ocean. They looked like stars, and made one feel as if they were not alone on the vast waters.
“We go home now—seemo chun; get nice hottea,” said the father, in a kind tone, as he clasped the little figure closely to him, and started to row home. Of course Lo Luen did not really feel afraid, with her father so near, and said: “I no ’flaid; but I likee go fast. I cold and hungly—that’s all.”
Her father smiled in the dark as he murmured consolingly, “Yes—that’s all.”
Lo Luen was thinking, as she crouched there, nestled up againstho chun, “How pletty those dollswere; I be so happy if I had one—just one, foh my velly own.”
The moonbeams lit up the water in a silvery path, and as Lo Luen looked at this path and thought how very beautiful it was, she noticed something floating in the light and bounding up and down on the waves. It looked like a big lump of seaweed.
“What is that,ho chun?” she said, with childish curiosity.
“Oh, I think just a piece of wood or a bunch of kelp; you likee get it, little girl?”
“Yes, we see what it is,” she said.
It seemed determined to get away from them, for almost every time they were near enough to touch it a big wave would come, and take it away in the dark, and it would be lost to sight for a while. But soonthe light revealed it right within reach.Ho chunput out his hand and grasped it, and putting it on the fish said: “We see when we get home,” and rowed away as fast as he could.
At home the little mother was getting very uneasy. What could keep them so long? “Cheung kan ye lok” (it is getting very late), she said. Oh, why had she ever let her go? To think of herpao chu(precious pearl) being out on the big ocean at night. She imagined all sorts of horrible things, and blamed herself. Perhaps she had not set enough food before the joss, nor burned enough incense. She had the tea all nice and hot, and knew if nothing had happened they would be very hungry when they reached home. So she lighted more punks before the god,and had already sung the baby’s little Chinese song:
“My little baby—little boy blue—Is as sweet as sugar and cinnamon too;Isn’t this precious darling of oursSweeter than dates and cinnamon flowers?”
“My little baby—little boy blue—Is as sweet as sugar and cinnamon too;Isn’t this precious darling of oursSweeter than dates and cinnamon flowers?”
“My little baby—little boy blue—Is as sweet as sugar and cinnamon too;Isn’t this precious darling of oursSweeter than dates and cinnamon flowers?”
He now lay asleep on his couch, and she was all alone.
After what seemed an age to her she heard the sound of a boat being dragged upon the sand, and ran to the door of the hut, and stood there looking out upon the beach. “Lo Luen! Lo Luen!” she called out in the darkness, “Yap loi le!” (come in!) and there was a rush of sandalled feet, and in just a moment two cold brown hands were clasped in her warm ones, and a dear little cold nose was pressed against herface. “Lo Luen, precious pearl, you have come back, and the joss is good,” she said.
After the fish were put awayho chuncame in, and everything was peace and happiness again. The warm room seemed more welcome than ever before, for they were benumbed with cold, and oh, so hungry!Mo chun, with all gentleness and love, soon had them seated, with bowls of steaming rice before them, and fried fish, and other good things which she had prepared in their absence.
After supper Lo Luen happened to think of the mysterious bundle of seaweed, andho chunwent out and brought it in. It was very wet, and smelled of the sea.
“I guess it’s only a piece of wood with kelp on,” saidmo chun; butanyway, they tore the wet seaweed from it, while Lo Luen looked eagerly on. What could that be sticking out of the weed? It looked—it actually looked like a doll’s foot. It couldn’t be, and yet—With a great cry of joy Lo Luen saw her father uncover the treasure. All the pent-up feeling of starved child-life was in her cry, for there, disclosed to her dancing, oblique eyes was a doll—a real one, and a very beautiful one. She could not believe it at first, but rubbed her eyes. They were all astonished, for this was indeed an event in their barren lives.
The doll opened her eyes as if she were alive, and seemed to gaze at them in gratitude for being saved from the cruel water. Lo Luen hugged it to her wildly beating heartand her face beamed with a rapturous joy the like of which had never before come to her. She was such a little mother, always, and now she would have something upon which to shower all the wealth of love repressed in her warm little heart.
They did not attempt to solve the mystery. To them it was enough that this beautiful toy had been sent to them from the waters. It may have been that the doll was lost in some shipwreck, or that some of the little maidens at Del Monte had left it too near the water, and the waves had carried it away. It belonged now to the little Chinese fisher-maiden, and that was enough to know.
She slept that night with the precious doll in her arms—dear little Lo Luen!
LITTLE SING HO did not look very happy as he stood out on the pavement in front of his home. He had intended taking a beautiful walk, and had his umbrella already over his head, preparatory to starting, when hismo chunappeared on the scene, and said: “Where you going,hai tong(baby)?”
Now Sing Ho did not like to be calledhai tong, for he felt that he was almost a big man, so he replied: “I going foh walk, down stleet.”
“No, no! you too small; you stay home now, and maybe bimebymo chuntake you,” she said; andthen she hurried into the house to see if the rice was burning. When she had disappeared he stood there for a moment, with the gay umbrella over him, looking very much displeased.
He was only four years old, it is true, but do you know, he often thought he knew more than his dear mother. Now Sing Ho was the only child, and had always been loved and petted, and had never been denied anything in his short little life. He remembered many walks he had taken with his father and mother, and he had always had such a good time that he thought it would be still better if he could take a walk all alone. He had just seen two of his little friends, with their queer little Chinese caps on,
[Images not available]Two of his little friends, with their queer little Chinese caps on
Two of his little friends, with their queer little Chinese caps on
Two of his little friends, with their queer little Chinese caps on
and they had said they were going for a walk, so why not he?
He knew hismo chunwas very busy, embroidering ablousefor him to wear on the New Year, and the San Nin (New Year) would be here to-morrow. So he thought in his baby way that he would take advantage of his mama, and only walk down the street a little way, and she would never know. He was too small to realize that it is a very difficult matter for even grown-up persons to find their way through the narrow and tortuous streets of the big Chinatown of San Francisco. He could not be expected to know these things.
So he wandered on, and soon forgot his fear in watching the beautiful things all around him. Chinatown was in holiday attire, and as far as the eye could reach the narrow streets were a perfect mass of bloom and beauty. On both sides of the streets were ranged great stands of the China lily and fragrant almond blossom, with delicate shades of pink.
Someway he found it very hard to get past the store windows, as they seemed to have so many things in them that boys like, and he forgot everything in the delight of gazing at them, and pressed his eager little round face right up against the glass in some places, and poked his cunning little nose into a fragrant bunch of lilies, to inhale their sweetness.Mo chunhad some lilies at home, but not so many nor such beautiful ones as these. At every door were strange Chinese letters,and he looked longingly at great bunches of peacock feathers with their many eyes, and the gaudy rosettes of red paper which are everywhere on the New Year. Almost every one that he met carried a brown paper parcel of pork and an onion, or some kind of funny looking lettuce, for the Chinese love pork better than the Americans love turkey, and it had to be a very poor person indeed who did not feel able to buy himself a piece of pork on the New Year.
Chinamen of all kinds were thronging the streets, and so many children, too, were toddling along with some older person, that no one noticed that the little boy was alone.
He believed he had only to walk back just a little way and he wouldbe at home. He did not know that he had made several turns, and that it would be impossible for him to find his way back alone.
Naughty little Sing Ho! There were so many American people, too, in the shops, buying curious and beautiful things. On both sides of the street were rows of great dragon lanterns. He looked at them in childish wonder, longing for the great swaying globes. Suddenly he felt something hit him on the arm, and, looking upward, saw far above him some beautiful Chinese ladies on a balcony; and what is this that they have thrown down? Something very near to the heart of a boy,—a bright bunch of fire-crackers!
He was smiling now without any difficulty. Just then he heard awoman’s shrill, high-pitched voice speaking to him from the latticed window above him, saying: “Little boy! little boy! where is yourmo chun?”
“She at home,” he replied, and then hesitatingly faltered, “Ngo pa ngo tong cho lu lok” (I am afraid I have lost my way).
He was crying now, and presented a very mournful appearance to the gaze of the passer-by. These ladies above him were those of the tiny “golden lily feet,” and very wealthy and aristocratic, so they could not leave their rooms and come down to him, as that was not their custom. If it had been the next day they could have done so, for on every day of the week of San Nin they were permitted to leavetheir homes and go anywhere they pleased.
“Ni kiu mat meng a?” (what is your name?) they asked.
“My name? Sing Ho,” he cried.
“You come up,” they called down to him, pointing meanwhile to a dark and narrow stairway which led up from the street.
“It so dark—Sing Ho ’flaid to go alone—I wantmo chun—boo, hoo,” he wailed, in a pitiful little voice.
“But you must come. We findmo chun; we give you heap plenty fiah-clackeh (fire-cracker), plenty nice little cake; come on!”
Baby though he was, he remembered that his mother had always warned him against strangers, and told him never to allow any one topersuade him to go with them. But finally he decided that this was very different, and that anything would be better than being lost on the street.
“All light!” he sobbed, and started in great fear up the narrow stairway. Ugh! how dark it was! and he trembled, as his little sandalled feet crept hesitatingly on. When he at last reached the end of the stairway he found himself in a dark and narrow hall thick with the fumes of opium.
Where were the beautiful ladies?—and the little cakes? Nothing was to be seen but the gaunt figures of Chinamen gliding stealthily to and fro in the narrow hall. There were many doors on either side the hallway, and in each door was a small, square lattice into which themen would speak some queer words in Chinese, when the door would be cautiously opened, and he would enter. When the doors opened little Sing Ho caught glimpses of many Chinamen with cards in their hands, seated around some tables and calling out in a loud voice strange Chinese words which he could not understand. In some of the rooms he could see men reclining on bamboo couches and smoking opium. Oh, if his mother could see him now, as he stood there alone, and trembling in the half-darkness!
Just then his dear and beautiful little mother had put the last stitch in the blouse she was embroidering, and proudly held it out to the admiring gaze of her sister, who lived with her.
“He is playing outside; I go get him,” she said; and with a smile on her lips she opened the door and called him.
“Sing Ho! Sing Ho!”
No reply.
“Why, that is strange,” she thought. “Maybe he come in the house and go to sleep.”
She hurried into the small bedroom and looked eagerly at the couch. No, there was nosamen jaithere. She was trembling now, with a nameless fear. Her pretty face grew pale, and the little brown nervous fingers were like ice.
Her boy—her baby—the honored one of the house of Sing, whose birth had crowned her with glory. Why, he must be there; he could not be gone from her—and yet—where was he? Her little tender baby boy who had never been from her side; the little brown face, naughty, sometimes, it is true, but always, to the mother, the dearest of things in all the big world.
Without stopping to change her house-robes she rushed down the street, and to the store of her husband, Sing Kee. He was just going down into the cellar after some tubs of preserved ginger, when he was startled by seeing his wife appear before him. The cat, that had always been loved and petted by little Sing Ho, lay sunning itself at the entrance, and Sing Kee looked up with a very serious face, for he knew that no little matter would bring his wife thus unexpectedly to his place of business. She surely would not begoing on the street the day before the New Year.
“What’s the matter?” he asked in Chinese. She could hardly reply for the wild throbbing of her tender heart.
“My baby—my precious pearl—he lost! I no can find him; he gone—I no know where.”
And then she hid her face in her trembling brown hands and wept in the wildest grief. The poor father was terrified, for he knew what a big place Chinatown was, and how easily a little child could be lost or stolen, or hidden away, and no one would ever see it again. He knew the underground passages and dark opium dens which were thick around them, and his heart almost broke as he listened to her story. She hadlittle to tell. It was only that he had wanted to take a walk, and she had told him he must not go, believing that he would obey her, as he always had.
They started through the streets now, in search of him, their eager eyes gazing in all directions. Two of his little playmates stood on a doorstep, and they inquired of them if they had seen him. Yes, they had seen him early in the afternoon. He had passed them, carrying his umbrella.
The distracted parents searched until the dark night fell and the great dragon lanterns were lighted in the balcony of the joss house near by.
The joss house!—there was an idea! Why had they not thoughtof it before? They would go there at once, and supplicate the god, that they might find their baby. They ascended the long flights of stairs until they were right in the room with the joss. There were little bowls of ashes full of punks, to be burned before the god, and the odor of incense filled the air as they lighted them and waved them before the joss.
Sing Kee threw many of the little carved prayer-sticks into the air, too, and when they fell, looked at them eagerly, evidently seeing something about them which pleased him, for he smiled, and said to the timid little mother: “They say we find him to-mollow—we go home now.”
They went home, but it was not home to-night without the dear little round, saucy face on the hard pillow,the patter of the little sandalled feet on the floors, and the click of the little chopsticks. There was no sleep for them that night. They had told the Chinatown police of their loss, but no clue had yet been reported.
Early next morning they started out again, on their weary search. It was the first day of the New Year, but they had not dreamed they would celebrate it in this way, as with heavy hearts they picked their way through the narrow streets, glancing in every direction, and up at the flower-laden balconies, with the candles burning for the joss.
Meanwhile the little Sing Ho had stood in fright, and looked around him, in the darkness of the hallway. Where were the pretty ladies? Had he only dreamed he saw them?
Suddenly he heard a high-pitched but sweet voice somewhere above him, saying: “Where are you, little boy? Come up the other stairs.”
The other stairs? where were they? He had supposed that he was at the top now, but on looking around he saw still another flight of steps, and gladly running to them he started on upward again, as fast as his tired little legs could carry him. When he reached the top, some one opened a door, cautiously, and calling out “Yap loi le!” (Come in!) reached out a beautiful jewelled hand, and drew him softly within the room.
Oh, how lovely it all was! There was a chatter of women’s voices in high-bred, nasal tones, and the room was warm, and smelled of incense. One very pretty little lady drew himto her as tenderly as a mother, and said to him in the sweetest tones: “Do not fear, little one! I will findmo chunfor you. Where do you live?”
“Why, I live withmo chunandho chun,” he said.
“Where do they live?” she inquired.
“I no know—they live at my home—andmo chunshe make me velly pletty blouse.”
Poor little boy! so he could not give them any clue, then, by which they might find his parents. Well, they would have to wait, and do the best they could under the circumstances. They tried to make him forget his sorrow for a while, and showed him many wonderful things. In the centre of the room was a table, allarranged for the New Year, and on it were great bowls of China lilies, and Chinese lemons and oranges. Then there was a polished tray, holding all kinds of candy and nuts. The windows were a perfect mass of lily and almond blossom, and peacock’s feathers were everywhere staring, with their green eyes. Outside was the balcony, from which the ladies had first spoken to the little lost boy, and on it were many big dragon lanterns, whose soft light fell upon the flowers, and made it look like fairyland.
They served tea out on the balcony, and gave Sing Ho the dearest little cup, and cakes, and plenty of watermelon seed to nibble at, and everything that he loved, except—his dear mama. When the breezesbegan to blow too roughly and sway the dragon lanterns, they decided to put the little stranger to bed. This was the worst moment of all. How could he go to bed without his dear mother’s kiss? Oh, how his lonely little heart ached and ached, and he just had to let the big tears come, and roll down his cheeks. He didn’t want to be rude to the pretty lady, but—there was no one like hismo chun. Finally he did go to sleep, though, and when he awoke it was the first day of the New Year.
He was waited upon like a little king, with a big bowl of rice and ivory chopsticks, nice hot tea, and little almond cakes—everything that one could wish, but—it did not take the ache out of his heart. After breakfast he and the beautiful lady went