Chapter III: Part 3

“It was grand. The first day everything passed off splendidly. I was in my finest heroic vein. The second day I was even better, and the third day I could hardly be heard because of the applause of the Three Bridges people and the vituperations of the low scum from Ten Li village. That night was a landmark in my life. The villagers of Three Bridges made me a hero; I was fêted everywhere after the discomfited Ten Li folk had departed. Undoubtedly everyone in Three Bridges loved me as a brother, and everyone in Ten Li wanted my blood. Our satisfaction was, however, but short-lived; next day Ten Li made violent war against us. I say ‘us’ because I had now grown to love the people of Three Bridges. Jealousy had aroused the evil passions in Ten Li, and Three Bridges was, I fear, somewhat incapacitated from over-indulgence the previous night. My friends were defeated, Ten Li was victorious, and they dragged our company away as their prize, and, making their own terms, ordered Three Bridges to attend a five days’ performance at the expense of their conquerors. And now another theatre was built, this time over the clay pits, and far more gorgeous in appearance than that of Three Bridges. Rehearsals again occupied our time, and my part was even more heroic than previously. On this occasion I became superhuman; not only did I fight against fearful odds on earth, but I ascended to the skies, and there did battle against demons, foul dragons, and numberless evil spirits, capable of every transformation, all of whom I vanquished eventually. My former friends and admirers eyed these performances sullenly, with rage in their hearts, whereas my previous detractors extolled me to the skies and gave me food and drink till I nearly burst. Three Bridges had ruined itself by war, theatre building, and paying our fees, but Ten Li village must be in debt for all eternity over our performance in their town. This lavish display, far from pleasing their guests, only tended to rouse their most evil feelings, and by the end of the third day of our play my former friends of Three Bridges had become my bitterest enemies. All their spite was vented upon me, for, being the most important actor, I secured the greater proportion of praise from my backers and the maximum of hatred from my enemies.

“The people of Three Bridges were not to be despised as enemies, and after the fifth day of our performance I was suddenly brought down from my exalted position as the idol of Ten Li by being arrested by the village constable on a most serious charge, no less than that of having murdered my honourable father. Iron fetters were put on my legs and arms, I was thrust into a small strong room and closely guarded, and from being the popular idol of the people I suddenly found myself the most despised and execrated of persons. My erstwhile friends of Three Bridges, maddened by jealousy at my performing so well for the people of Ten Li, had concocted a most cruel scheme whereby I should be destroyed. They had produced the skull and dry bones of a certain person whom they claimed to be my father; in the skull there still stuck the remains of a rusty knife thrust through the eye-socket. These bones, they asserted, were found in my father’s grave, and I alone having been present at his demise, was proclaimed a parricide. As a matter of fact my father had died some two years previously in a most pleasant manner, his final end being caused by a fit, induced by an over-indulgence in fat pork and wine. It is true that I alone had been present when he died, but the law required that it should be further proven that those same bones truly belonged to my parent and no other man. While lying in prison awaiting trial, Lung Fook, the juggler and conjurer of our troupe, came to visit me. Having politely inquired after my health and appetite he said:—

“‘This matter, O brother, is most un-mirth-provoking. You will surely suffer the full penalty of a parricide, which is none other than “Ling Chi” or death by a thousand cuts. Let me be in all things your friend. Now it seems to me that you have much money owing you for your performances. It would be but seemly that you should make some will, and whom can you think of more worthy to receive the wealth you no longer desire than I, Lung Fook, your in-every-way bosom friend!’

“I saw the force of Lung Fook’s argument, and told him so, but begged him to explain further how the bones would be proved to belong to my honourable parent.

“‘It is a simple matter,’ replied the juggler. ‘The bones are old and dry, and the test will be by the close affinity of blood for blood. Thus you will be made to gnaw your finger until the blood flows, the blood will then drop on the bones, and if it sinks in, then, indeed, the bones are those of your father; should, however, the blood not soak in, but remain on the surface of the bones, then they are those of a stranger and of no one having any blood-tie with you whatever. Alas! the bones are very dry, and I know any blood will sink into them.’

“‘But,’ I replied, ‘surely this is a very cruel punishment. Come, O friend, find some means of escape for me.’

“‘Indeed! there is none that I know of. Our laws are indeed just, but I think they do not err on the side of severity.’

“‘It seems to me they do,’ I replied, ‘for not only shall I suffer death by a thousand cuts, but my heirs, if over the age of fourteen, have all to suffer death by decapitation, and, alas! dear brother, I have made you my heir.’

“‘Our laws may be severe, perhaps,’ replied he, ‘but surely they are not vindictive, and under the circumstances I decline to receive the legacy.’

“‘That, poor brother, is I fear unavailing, for the intimate friends of a parricide suffer death by strangulation, and all know how dear you have been to me. Yes,’ I concluded, ‘I think, after all, perhaps the punishment is a just one for such an evil person as one who would kill his father, and my death will be all the more bitter to me, knowing that you, my friend, must also suffer with me.’

“At these my words Lung Fook was greatly moved. His anxiety to have me proved innocent became beautiful to witness. He raved against our national penal code, he wept for the tortures I was soon to suffer, and begged and implored me to think of some means whereby the law might be circumvented. I pointed out that the laws were just, that they did not err on the side of severity, and I also discoursed at some length on the painlessness of death by strangulation, provided always that the executioner were a man of experience. I recalled to mind that the executioner of Ten Li was but a youth and somewhat slow-witted, but I trusted that the bystanders would be able to give him helpful advice and suggestions when occasion might arise. Lung Fook now became quite upset, and offered me many taels of silver if I could devise some plan whereby my innocence might be proved. In the tenderest manner I bade him farewell that day and begged him to come next day when I might have thought of some scheme. In the meanwhile I begged him to sleep well, to avoid all worry, and to be certain to bring me money next day.

“Next morning he reappeared greatly agitated, and was much relieved when I told him I had hopes of successfully proving that the bones did not belong to my parent. First, however, I begged him to hand over the money, which he did with some reluctance.

“My plan was this. Lung Fook had one juggling trick in which he put a small boy in a basket and apparently killed him with a sword, anyway blood flowed freely during the performance. I told Lung Fook that he must teach me how to produce this blood and also make it of such a nature that it would not soak into dry bones. He seemed much relieved and departed, having two days in which to experiment and find a blood-like fluid which would not soak in.

“After a day’s absence he returned with a rabbit’s bladder filled with a red fluid. He explained that he had mixed his ordinary fluid used in conjuring tricks with lacquer, that he had tested it on several dry bones, that it absolutely refused to soak in, and so he regarded my life, and incidentally his own, as safe.

“When the trial came on I was led in chains before the magistrate, and innumerable witnesses from Chin Wen Fu testified to the notoriously evil life that I had always lived. Therein I saw the hand of my old enemy the tao-tai, who having heard of my arrest was only too anxious to again get me into his clutches. However, all these witnesses were of no real importance, the great thing was to prove that the bones really belonged to my father. So at length I was taken to a table on which the skull and many other relics rested, and was ordered to bite my thumb until the blood flowed. The bladder containing the liquid was carefully concealed in my hand, and as I pretended to gnaw my flesh I gradually squeezed out a few drops. Soon my hand appeared to be covered with blood, and slowly the drops fell on the bones. Not a particle would soak in. All eyes were eagerly watching, but soon it was evident that I was innocent. My enemies were furious, my friends relieved, and the magistrate had nothing further to do than to acquit me and proclaim me entirely innocent.

“However, thinking my life unsafe, I thought it better to leave Ten Li village at once; so I once more started as an outcast and wandered alone till——”

The sound of wheels cut short Hong’s story, and as the Consul swings through the gates in a dog-cart a small figure can be seen fleeing across the lighted verandah. The amah’s shrill scolding is cut short by two chubby arms being flung round her neck, and any further remarks of hers are smothered by a small boy’s kisses showered on her ugly old parchment-like face.

Before going to sleep Jack tells Dorothy in confidence that he thinks Hong’s next story must be about real fighting, as he has heard up to the point when he gives up being an actor for ever.

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THE MELANCHOLY MAGISTRATE OF FOH LIN

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THE MELANCHOLY MAGISTRATE OF FOH LIN

THE new “chow” puppy certainly possessed a sense of humour. He was very funny just now, and appeared to know it, and the more his efforts were rewarded by laughter the more he strove to satisfy his audience. He resembled a diminutive square black bear, his small tail curled so tightly on his back that it appeared to be almost lifting his hind feet off the ground, and his front legs seemed to be so set on his body that he would of necessity tumble on his nose should he essay to travel rapidly. His beady eyes, like animated boot buttons, seemed brimful of merriment, and his final effort at carrying an old shoe in his mouth across the compound had reduced Jack and Dorothy to a state of helplessness from laughter. Hong, the gate-keeper, stood by enjoying the scene and laughing inwardly. He possessed the trait common to most Chinamen of being intensely amused without showing any outward sign, and although possessed of an enormous appreciation of humour, he was seldom seen to smile, and never known to laugh.

“What for you never laugh?” demanded Jack, turning suddenly on the burly servant. “Isn’t that funny enough for you?” pointing to the puppy.

“It is funny, very funny indeed,” replied Hong, “but, Excellency, this person has learned not to laugh and has learned it in a hard school.”

“Come, tell us about it,” orders the youngster; and the two children are soon seated near Hong, Dorothy cuddling the new puppy and looking up in the huge Chinaman’s face with big questioning eyes.

“It is hardly a story, Excellencies,” begins Hong, “but such as it is this person will tell it. After the trial at Ten Li village I left the Brethren of the Pear Orchard.”

“What’s that?” interrupts Jack.

“Brethren of the Pear Orchard, Excellency, for so we style play-actors in our country. In addition to the money given me by the juggler, the good people of Ten Li gave me quite a large sum, for I was still the popular idol of a play-actor to them. So once more I started on my travels, and on this occasion in good circumstance, having fine clothes, a white mule to ride, a servant to carry my baggage, and money in my pocket. Thus with a light heart I set out from Ten Li, trusting that fortune would continue to smile on me, and give me employment before my money should be exhausted. We journeyed some sixteen li that day, and arrived near nightfall at a fairly big town. Here I engaged the guest-room in the biggest inn and entertained royally. It was a most pleasant evening that I spent, for a rich man has no lack of friends, provided he spend his money freely.

“I awoke late next morning, and found to my dismay that my servant had robbed me of all my money and had departed with the mule. The landlord at once clamoured for payment, and the little money I still had remaining by me and the fairly rich clothes in which I stood were just sufficient to meet his demands, and left me sufficient to purchase a blue cotton coat and trousers and bamboo hat. From a prosperous, well-dressed individual I was in a few hours transformed into a penniless out-of-work coolie. Pride, however, forbade my returning to my friends in Ten Li, where I should only meet with ridicule, so having burnt papers before the image of Lao Lang——”

“Lao Lang?” interrupts Jack.

“Yes, Excellency; he is the god of play-actors, and as I had followed that calling for some time, I thought he might interfere on my behalf.”

“And did he?”

“Who knows? Perhaps he did. Anyway this person will endeavour to show what further fortune befell him.

“After this pious exercise I started away from the town, taking a direction the opposite to that by which I had entered the town from Ten Li. Although a strong man, I still found it not altogether pleasant to march all day without anything to eat, and I was greatly exhausted when, near the hour of sunset, I came to the banks of a large river. This was crossed by a ferry, consisting of a large flat-bottomed boat, dragged from side to side by iron chains laid in the river-bed, and by this means passengers, beasts, baggage, and merchandise were conveyed from one side to the other. Having no money with which to pay my passage across, I sat somewhat disconsolately on the bank and debated with myself whether it were not better to at once end my miserable existence by drowning. Near me crouched a huge gaunt man in tattered garments, whose presence I had failed to notice, owing to my self-absorption, until he addressed me. My melancholy train of thought was broken in upon by his saying—

“‘Honourable stranger, it seems to me that you contemplate suicide. Many people attempt to pass over to their ancestors in this river, but almost invariably before drowning they wish to be saved, and it is then that I come in—in other words, I save them from death, and moreover I will do the same for you, for indeed I am sadly in need of funds. So, fair sir, I beg of you to do the deed speedily, for night approaches.’

“I explained that I was indeed an unhappy person, and at that very moment had contemplated suicide, being absolutely devoid of even a single ‘cash.’ At this he altered his tone, and said that if I were without money then I had his full permission to drown, for that nothing put him in a worse temper than to save people who were unable to requite him for his services. I liked the fellow for his honesty, and begged him to explain further. He then told me that his profession was one of life-saver, that people frequently fell into the water at the ferry, that he was always at hand to pull them out, and that by the gratitude of those he thus saved he made a living, but that unfortunately of late travellers were few; for days no one had tried to cross the ferry, and that should trade continue to be in its present stagnant state he would surely starve. His tale excited my sympathy. Here was a fellow-creature in as sad a case as myself, and for some time I sat by him in silence, idly gazing at the muddy stream, and seeing the blue-clothed people returning by the stone-paved path at the river’s side from their day’s work in the fields. Suddenly an idea seized me. I jumped up.

“‘Wait,’ said I to the sad man by the ferry, ‘and you shall yet earn some money by nightfall.’ With which I ran in apparent great haste up the causeway by the river bank. I kept on at my topmost speed, and people made way for me on the narrow pathway, but singling out the better class of wayfarer, I apparently by accident charged into them and hurled them into the stream. On I kept, in spite of the cries and execrations behind me. My large bulk and strength forced all to go into the water whom I deemed worthy of being rescued, and so I continued until quite exhausted and the darkness was almost complete. I must have pushed some eight or ten people into the river by the time I stopped, and then, wishing to rejoin my new friend, I too jumped in, and was rapidly carried, with little effort, towards the ferry. As I drew near the spot, swimming just to keep afloat, I heard wild shouts from the bank, and almost at once I felt myself seized by the collar, my head was thrust under the water, I received several severe kicks in the back, and when quite exhausted and almost drowned I was dragged ashore, and found that the person who had ill-used me so severely was none other than my friend the life-saver. His annoyance at finding that it was me he had saved soon gave way to feelings of gratitude for the services I had rendered by supplying him with material on which to exercise his professional skill. Of the seven people he had saved all had some money with them, and the few who had escaped him and had drowned he trusted possessed nothing of value. So, greatly cheered, we two retired to the village and dined together in the inn, and over a bottle of samshu that night we formed a compact to be partners in saving life.

“Being a stranger in the neighbourhood, it was for a few days easy for me to push people off the tow-path, and we did a good trade, but soon people became careful and suspicious and would not walk singly near the river-side. My partner was a man of hasty temper, and his manner became more and more disagreeable towards me as trade became worse. It became daily more and more difficult to earn a living, and one night, my partner having made some disparaging remarks about the zeal with which I carried out my part of our agreement, I determined to make a desperate effort the next day to supply him with subjects on which to practise his professional skill. Warily I trudged near the tow-path, but only the most indigent dared to use it. I went further afield, but could meet no one who was unaccompanied. At last, desperate and hungry, late in the afternoon, I struck away from the river bank towards the foothills. Some mile and a half from the river I found a woodcutter. He fled from me, but I rushed on and pounced upon him. A sharp struggle ensued, no one was by to help him, and his cries passed unheeded. My strength soon overpowered him, and I carried him screaming and shouting to the deserted river bank, and with a supreme effort hurled him into the muddy current. Then, thoroughly exhausted, I wearily made my way back to the ferry. On arriving there I found my partner in the most evil temper I had ever seen him in; in fact, he was in such a towering rage with me that he could scarcely speak. He had saved the man, but it appeared he was an indigent second cousin of my partner, and so far from being able to reward he had signified his intention of remaining with and living on his rescuer, arguing that the person who had prolonged such an unhappy life as his had incurred the responsibility of keeping that life going, and that henceforth, if he died of starvation, then his death would lie at the door of his rescuer. I think some unreasonably offensive remarks were hurled at me on this occasion, both by the rescuer and the rescued, so I left their company and that night slept unfed and uncovered in the fields.”

“But what’s all that got to do with your never laughing?” says Jack.

“And I don’t believe that story,” adds Dorothy. “You wouldn’t drown the puppies the other day, so I’m certain you never pushed people into a river.”

It was true. Hong, as a Buddhist, had scruples about the taking of life, and had recently failed to do away with certain blind puppies that were considered superfluous in the Consular household. If it were possible for a Chinaman to look disconcerted, then Hong would have looked it at that moment, with the eyes of both children fixed on him. His love for talking to them and engaging their attention had led him into spinning an endless yarn, but now he was brought up suddenly with a round turn.

“It is true, high-born one, this miserable individual had forgotten; but wait, and soon, Excellencies, you shall learn how this despicable individual was taught not to laugh. It being necessary for me to live somehow, I tried to earn a few cash by reciting passages from my plays at any small village where I could gather together an audience. I found that my fine declamations of heroic parts met with but little favour; but when I repeated some of the ancient jests of our comedian I met with some slighter success. It so happened that one day, starving and miserable, I stood on the cement threshing-floor before the inn of a small village, reciting the funniest jests I could remember, in a melancholy voice, to a dull and unappreciative audience of rustics, when, unnoticed by me, a high official, accompanied by his retinue, had ridden up to the outskirts of the crowd. It appeared that he listened to my merry jibes, and at the same time carefully scrutinised my miserable and utterly woe-begone appearance, and when I had finished my recital and collected what I could from my audience he entered the inn and summoned me to his presence by one of his servants. On entering the great man’s presence in the guest-room of the inn, he informed me that it was his pleasure to take me into his service, that I was to attach myself to his train, and that my duties would be made plain to me later on. Being in sorry straits I was willing to accept any fate, and so journeyed with his retinue to Foh Lin, of which town and district I found my new master to be magistrate. Arrived at his Yamen, I was given a room to myself and a generous meal, of which I stood greatly in need; after which I felt once more a man, my old confidence in myself returned, and when later a servant entered and burst into uncontrollable laughter, I felt ready to join in his merriment could I but learn the cause of it.

“‘Come,’ I said, ‘speak! Why this outward seeming of internal merriment?’

“After several ineffectual attempts to explain, he managed in the intervals of laughter to tell me that to laugh was the greatest privilege imaginable in that Yamen. He then further explained that the magistrate was a man who had never experienced any of the emotions common to ordinary mortals, that he was the most amusing person himself; he knew no fear, no sorrow, no pain, and had never been known to laugh. The sound of merriment was most objectionable to him, and was invariably visited with the most rigorous punishments in the case of anyone who so far forgot himself as to laugh in his magisterial presence. That he had singled me out as fitted for his service because I could apparently tell funny stories and at the same time preserve a countenance like a well-worn boot.

“I also learned from the fellow that my new master was in every way most excruciatingly funny himself, that his retainers suffered agonies daily from suppressed amusement at his humorous remarks, and that to smile at them was a grave offence, but to laugh was a crime punishable by death. His latest jest had been to build a superb summer-house in his grounds, and when completed he had taken his mother-in-law to see it. When asked her opinion of the structure she had, womanlike, offered criticisms and suggested improvements. The magistrate feigned to agree with her, and flattered her into making a suggestion as to how the building might be rendered perfect. She thereupon suggested some sculpture or figurehead in the centre of the roof as a fitting rounding-off of the structure. The magistrate concurred in her opinion with enthusiasm, and suggested her own head as a suitable finish-off of the concern. In vain his mother-in-law protested that she possessed insufficient beauty for such an honour, and suggested her daughter’s head—his wife’s—as being eminently more suitable. He carefully argued the matter out with her, and so wittily withal that she shook with uncontrollable merriment till the moment the executioner’s sword curtailed her giggles.

“In spite of these stories I slept well, and felt ready to meet my new master the next morning with a befittingly lugubrious exterior. Everything passed off well at the first interview, the extreme thinness of my face and my general starved condition making a picture sufficiently unmirthful in the magistrate’s eyes; but as my condition under good living improved, so I found my powers as an actor more and more taxed to maintain my gravity in my master’s presence. I would lie awake all night screaming with laughter, hoping thereby to relieve my feelings of the strain caused by the previous day’s gravity. My master never seemed at a loss for a witty remark or humorous suggestion, and these were always delivered with a Buddha-like impassivity that rendered them the more ridiculous. One after another of his servants I saw degraded for levity, until I stood first in his favour; however, I knew the strain would prove too great for me, my face used to feel like scorched parchment, my eyes burnt like hot cinders, and often I feared to choke, and tears would stream down my face from the enormous efforts I made not to offend. I also became very popular with the other servants, frequently saving them from disgrace by stepping forward and drawing the master’s attention upon myself and from any unlucky one whose merriment had got the better of his prudence. At last I snapped under the strain, having been made weak and nervous by many sleepless nights of laughter. On the day of my downfall the magistrate was in an exceptionally happy vein. He had dispensed justice for five hours, never repeating a jest, and never failing to send a criminal to the potter’s field who did not leave the court convulsed with merriment. It came suddenly on me without warning, falling like a fit of madness, the restraint of months running riot, my pent-up emotions suddenly gave vent to themselves in peals of maniacal laughter. I rolled from side to side, now screaming like a parrot, again whooping like a child with the cough, hiccuping like any drunkard, squealing like an unbroken mule—every sound in the animal kingdom I seemed to reproduce as I rolled on the ground with streaming eyes before the horrified magistrate. He alone remained calm in the face of my shocking exhibition. Having dwelt upon the disappointment I had been to him he condemned me to death, pointing out that my ingratitude was the greater seeing how I had been advanced by his kindness, and having made a few quotations from the precepts of Confucius, which latter he rendered in rhyme, interlarded with some excruciatingly funny puns, he dismissed me, a limp, chuckling mass, from his presence. I now felt certain that I should end my days by a felon’s death, but the relief was so great that I passed the night in the greatest hilarity, enjoying the company of my friends, and entertaining them with a colossal farewell feast. Merrily the wine bowl passed, until the hour for the execution arrived, when I was led in the best of spirits to the potter’s field, and prepared to look my last on this beautiful world.

“Soldiers were drawn up in a hollow square, the executioner stood stripped to the waist in the centre, and a little in advance of the troops sat the melancholy magistrate on a milk-white pony. The world never looked brighter, as the early morning sun shone on the bright uniforms, glittering weapons, and gaudy banners of the soldiery. As a special mark of favour I was allowed to be unbound, and advancing to the centre of the square, I politely saluted the magistrate and thanked him for all his past kindness. He, however, replied with some apt jest, which again aroused my mirth. Now, thought I, I will have my fling. My wits were peculiarly sharpened, and I turned to the executioner and twitted him on his solemn demeanour. The fellow answered me to the best of his dull intellect, but as I made my preparations in a leisurely manner I soon had him hopelessly trembling from a mixture of laughter and fear at offending the great man. Even the soldiers began to snigger at my repartee and the executioner’s obvious distress, when suddenly a change came over me. Why should I die? What evil had I done? A feeling of huge wrath sprang up in me against this unfeeling wretch who never smiled. With the madness engendered by this reaction of feeling, I dashed at the now helpless executioner, wrenched the sword from his grasp, and with a yell of a madman rushed towards the crowd. The soldiers, cowards to a man, drew back before my onslaught. Blinded with fury I bounded towards the hated tao-tai, seated calm as ever on his pony. The sword was raised to strike, and in another moment I should have killed the callous fiend, when something in his face arrested my arm in mid-air. Could it be? Yes it was. He smiled, the smile broadened, and the melancholy magistrate of Foh Lin broke into peals of merriment. I stared like a fool, and let the sword drop, the situation was unique. I felt almost sorry for what I had done, shocked, it seemed to me, that my idol too had been shattered.

“When at last he spoke I listened with bowed head. He, bending a look almost of kindness upon me, addressed me thus—

“‘Brother, all my life I have never felt any of the emotions common to men until now, and now I have felt fear. Undoubtedly you have just held my life in your hands. This, the first emotion of my life, felt so strange that I laughed at the idea. I thank you for it, but you must leave me. Should I ever again wish to laugh you might be unable to afford me that pleasure. So it were better for us both that we parted. Fare you well, brother.’

“Thus, Excellencies, I learned the secret of gravity.”

“Is that all true, Hong?”

“High-born, I would have you ponder this saying of the philosopher—‘A bad liar is a better companion than a deaf mute.’”

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THE HUNCHBACK’S PIETY

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THE HUNCHBACK’S PIETY

THE people had long laboured and groaned under the oppressive misrule of Hang Ti, the local magistrate. He was, without doubt, a bad ruler, a man possessed of none of the tenderer feelings of humanity, and one who ground the faces of the poor for his own advancement. Under his mal-administration illegal taxes had been super-imposed on salt, likin barriers established where none should exist, the gaols were crowded with those unfortunates who would not submit to his further extortions, and the whole land cried out for redress.

At last the long-suffering poor took into their own hands the only means they possessed of calling the “Son of Heaven’s” attention to their pitiable condition. An insurrection was fomented and quickly blazed into serious rebellion. Villages were sacked, whole districts laid waste, and soon accounts of these doings reached Peking. By swiftest messengers a mandate signed with the “Vermilion Pencil” was conveyed to Hang Ti, ordering him to raise troops forthwith and to crush the rebels, at the same time enjoining all peacefully minded persons to abstain from nervous excitability, but rather to pursue the cultivation of all the virtues, more especially those of thrift, energy, and the study of the classics.

Hang Ti’s troops, with their pay long in arrears, no stomach for the fight, and most of them secretly in sympathy with the rebels, were routed at the first engagement, and then the whole province was given up to bloodshed, rapine, and excesses of every description.

A second Imperial Order soon followed the first summoning Hang Ti to the capital, whither he hastily repaired, having first laid his hands on as much of his ill-gotten wealth as he could conveniently carry, hoping thereby to bribe the palace underlings, and so mitigate in some measure the punishment he deserved.

On his arrival in Peking he was not permitted to enter his Imperial master’s presence, but was presented by an official with a handsome silk scarf, a polite hint that he might hang himself and so save his person the greater indignity of decapitation. So Hang Ti passes out of the story, and an energetic officer named Yeh Lok reigned in his stead.

Yeh subdued the rebels with a firm hand, and in three months the district, although somewhat depopulated, was reported to the “Son of Heaven” as being “Happy, contented, and at peace.” Yeh next turned his attention to the administration of his district, and found that there utter chaos reigned in every department. The prisons were overcrowded to a disgraceful extent, and the majority of the unfortunate prisoners had not even any crime registered against them. Yeh’s heart bled for them: this shocking state of affairs had to be at once remedied. The idea of keeping people in prison for indefinite periods without trial revolted Yeh’s every sense of what was right and just. He ordered them, therefore, to be taken out in batches of forty and to be beheaded. Forty each day till the gaols were empty and cleared of all persons wrongfully incarcerated.

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Lok Hing squatted in tattered blue cotton garments behind a tin of pea-nuts at the roadside; an old umbrella afforded him a grateful shade from the blazing sun, and his well-ventilated and roomy clothes allowed of his scratching any portion of himself with the least possible effort. He was a man of no ambition, content to earn a few cash by selling pea-nuts and spend his life in a philosophical melancholy. As he sat tapping the tin with an elongated finger-nail and droning out a mournful eulogy of his wares, To Tao, the hunchback, passed.

To Tao by his infirmity was unfitted for heavy manual labour, but his distorted body seemed to be endowed with some marvellous power of rendering natural objects equally grotesque. No one for hundreds of li around could produce small trees in such fantastic shapes and weird eccentricities of growth as he. Hence to all outward appearances almost as poverty stricken as Lok Hing, To Tao was a man of some means, seeing that the wealthy gentry were only too glad to purchase the curious trees and shrubs that resulted from his untiring care and peculiar skill.

As To Tao passed, Lok Hing softly sang: “Forty yesterday, forty the day before, in all three hundred and sixty, and now all are finished.”

“What does my brother mean?” asked To Tao, whose close attention to the cultivation of his plants had left him ignorant of public affairs.

“Forty each day for nine days have been beheaded, and now there remains but one, whom my lord the magistrate will have strangled this day.”

Then Lok Hing told the hunchback of the one remaining prisoner, an old woman whose crime no one knew. She had been about forty years in prison, and had herself forgotten why she had been placed there, and that Yeh Lok had been so moved at the recital of her wrongs that he had vowed neither to eat nor drink until justice had been done her by suitable strangulation.

The hunchback heard the story without any outward emotion, but his heart was heavy within him. He alone knew the old woman’s story. She was his mother. His father had been a notable brigand, and his mother had been seized by the then tao-tai and held as a hostage till the brigand should be caught or slain. To Tao’s father, however, died a natural death at a ripe old age, and now for some years the hunchback had ministered to the material comforts of his remaining parent by sending her food and little luxuries daily in the prison.

There was nothing more to be done now, however, as already the procession was approaching along the dusty road with two stout coolies carrying the old woman in a basket slung on a thick bamboo pole.

Hastily purchasing some pea-nuts from Lok Hing, the hunchback approached the basket and handed them through its wide meshes to his mother. The old dame received the nuts gratefully, and continued to munch them with evident enjoyment until the final tightening of the string round her neck rendered further deglutition not only unnecessary but impossible.

The magistrates, officials, soldiers, and rabble then returned to pursue their several occupations or amusements, and To Tao, with rage in his heart, also departed to his house, where he had long kept a handsome coffin with which to do the last thing properly by his aged parent. This action of To Tao in providing a coffin for the aged prisoner was accounted to him for righteousness, no one being cognisant of the relationship that had existed between the two.

In this way peace having been restored and all internal affairs of State set running smoothly, the new magistrate, who was something of a Sybarite, began to turn his attention to improvements in his yamen, and to the surrounding of himself with every luxury. He spent money freely, employing hosts of builders, carpenters, painters, and other workmen in embellishing his house and grounds, and in this way soon earned a certain popularity as a beneficent magistrate. Yeh, however, had unwittingly earned the undying hatred of the hunchback, whose filial piety would allow him to leave no stone unturned in his endeavour to avenge the—to his mind—illegal execution of his aged mother. Having beautified the interior of his yamen, the magistrate turned his attention to the spacious grounds surrounding his residence, and who more able to provide fantastic rock-work, design ornamental ponds, bridges, hills, and valleys, and complete the whole scheme with cunning dwarf trees and shrubs, than the hunchback gardener, To Tao?

Accordingly, to his huge inward satisfaction, the hunchback was commanded to wait on the great man, and he failed in no way to please the magistrate with his original ideas and quaint suggestions. To Tao’s manner was all that could be desired: he grasped every idea of the magistrate almost before it was expressed, and his own politely suggested improvements so entirely corresponded with Yeh’s wishes that he completely won his employer’s confidence. No tree in To Tao’s collection was too valuable for Yeh, and soon the grounds of the yamen, under the magic of the hunchback’s witchery, became a veritable paradise. When all was completed Yeh insisted upon taking the hunchback into his permanent service as gardener-in-chief, and the cunning fellow, after a suitable demur, accepted the position in the magistrate’s household. Thus the first step in his scheme of revenge was accomplished.

The hunchback was the only servant in the yamen engaged locally, the remainder of Yeh’s retinue having followed their master from a distant province where this official had previously held sway. This fact proved of the greatest value to To Tao, for as he continued to ingratiate himself with his master he was employed on various other duties in addition to gardening, and his local knowledge enabled him to carry out every commission entrusted to him with complete satisfaction to his lord. The district having now lapsed into a condition of uneventful peace and a certain amount of commercial prosperity, Yeh sought relaxation in every luxury and some small amount of dissipation. To Tao here again proved most useful and trustworthy, and he took good care to unobtrusively encourage his master in what, at first, were mild extravagances, but which with the insidious help of To Tao soon developed into vices.

The hunchback gardener, having now completely won the confidence of his master, made frequent journeys on his behalf to the distant city of Canton, and these journeys resulted in many cases of sweet champagne finding their way to Yeh’s yamen, to say nothing of dancing and singing girls, troupes of entertainers and acrobats, and the charming frail beauties for which that city is so famous. Indulgence seemed to only whet Yeh’s appetite, and far from any feeling of satiety he more and more relied on To Tao’s resource and good taste in furnishing him with the continual novelty and change that now seemed necessary to the magistrate’s very existence.

After every absence the magistrate would insist on hearing all the gossip of the great city, and the hunchback, with a vivid imagination, never failed to interest and amuse his master. Consequently Yeh, in addition to receiving some new beauty into his establishment, had the pleasure of hearing of others from his faithful servant, and of many new delights, polite amusements, and gorgeous scenes that the clever fellow professed to have witnessed while away.

Yeh’s curiosity had for some time been greatly piqued by hearing the praises of one Su Sing, a beautiful girl residing in the Flower Boats of Canton, and at length, after a somewhat prolonged absence, the hunchback was able to return to the yamen with the much-desired charmer under his protection. Yeh was entirely delighted with her appearance, manners, and accomplishments, and the same evening, after a sumptuous meal, he was in the very best humour for hearing an account of his faithful messenger’s adventures.

To Tao being summoned found his master reclining with one arm round the new favourite, smoking a cigar and sipping the sweetest of sweet champagne, the only other person present being the female attendant of the new beauty. Yeh ordered the hunchback to speak freely, as the four of them were safe from any interruption or eaves-dropping, and so pleased was he with his new inamorata that he was willing to make her the confidante of all his affairs and intrigues, even of his amours.

For at least an hour To Tao, who was no mean raconteur, amused his audience with accounts of his doings in the great city, amusing anecdotes of important persons, the latest gossip and scandals, and even some account of the doings of the outer barbarians, who were separated from the Middle Kingdom by the seas.

“And there is one other strange thing I have seen in Canton,” continued the hunchback. “It is a method of detecting leprosy sometimes practised by the _jeunesse dorée_ when visiting the Flower Boats.”

To Tao was quick to notice the almost imperceptible start given by Yeh at the mention of this dreaded disease, and a wild exultation filled his breast. Here at last was a means to his hand whereby his master should pay his debt in full for the execution of the old woman.

“Tell us of it,” commanded Yeh, with a forced gaiety; “it will perhaps amuse us. These superstitions, however, bear seldom any foundation of truth in them.”

“It is in this way, Excellency. The suspected person and one or two others known to be untainted are taken into a dark room. Some spirit mixed with salt is poured in a dish, a small piece of tow is dropped in to act as a wick, and then a light is applied. As your Excellency knows, the light produced is of a bluish green, and by this illumination the faces of all healthy persons look deadly white, but the face of the leper appears red as fire, although he have no other sign of leprosy visible to the most careful observer.”

“Come, come, we will test the efficacy of this foolish old superstition,” cried the magistrate.

The materials having been brought, the four retired to a small unlighted apartment, and To Tao ignited the spirit. Eagerly Yeh scanned the faces round him, now rendered ghastly by the green light, when suddenly he noticed a look of horror spread over the faces of the two women. Su Sing burst into tears, and her attendant threw herself on her face on the floor. To Tao alone remained unmoved.

“Speak! speak!” screamed the magistrate. “What means this foolishness?”

With bowed head To Tao meekly responded: “It is nothing, Excellency, the girls are silly and frightened. Believe me, it is nothing. The girls must most certainly be low-born, or they would know better how to behave in your august presence.”

Yeh, however, was far from satisfied. He summoned the attendants, ordered lights to be brought, dismissed the girls, and ordered To Tao to remain. The two being left alone, with nervous haste Yeh poured out a tumbler of champagne and demanded an instant explanation of the hunchback.

“Speak!” he said, “and the truth, moreover, or it may be my unpleasant duty to interrogate you under torture.”

To Tao begged his master to excuse him, repeating that the whole affair was due to the stupidity of the girls. Yeh flew into a violent temper, and said that if the hunchback did not instantly explain the servants would be called in and To Tao delivered to the inquisitor. Whereupon, with downcast eyes, the trembling servant said—

“Excellency, your face by the green light was——”

“Was what?” thundered Yeh.

“Red,” faltered the shivering cripple.

Yeh staggered and looked like to fall had not To Tao supported him. After gulping down more champagne the magistrate became somewhat more composed, when he ordered the hunchback to leave him till the morning. The exulting servant retired well satisfied with the first effects of his revenge.

Early next morning To Tao was summoned to Yeh’s couch. The magistrate’s appearance was ghastly, and he seemed to have aged a decade since the previous night.

“I will not live with this loathsome disease in my blood,” he said. “All my life the fear of contracting it has haunted me, and now it has come. The foreign devils, however, possess a wonderful poison, and by that means I will die. The poison is contained in a glass tube fitted with a piston, and is taken by pushing a needle under the skin. Death by this means is most pleasant, I have heard. You will go at once to Hong Kong and procure these things, and during your absence I will set my affairs in order. Go!”

To Tao would have preferred to stop and gloat over his enemy’s mental anguish, but this pleasure was denied him. It took him four days to journey to Hong Kong; there he easily procured a hypodermic syringe, but the obtaining of morphia was a more difficult matter. It took To Tao a further two days to make the acquaintance of a hospital orderly and bribe him to steal the required drug. Then To Tao returned. The ten days of his absence had been passed by Yeh in a fever. He had ordered all his affairs, given out that he was seriously ill (as indeed he was), and had paid and dismissed all his dancing-girls, courtesans, and mountebanks.

The change in Yeh would have struck To Tao as dreadful were it not as a soothing balm to his revengeful spirit to see how terribly his enemy had suffered. Yeh was at once all eagerness for the drug which To Tao, much as he would have wished it, was unable to withhold. And now Yeh had composed himself on his couch, and To Tao alone silently watched him with impassive face. Soon the drug’s influence was felt, and a delicious drowsiness came over the magistrate.

“Excellency, can you hear me? I have much to say.”

“I can hear well, brother. All is peace,” replied the magistrate.

“That is well,” continued the hunchback. “Your life was pleasant before this disease held you, was it not, my lord?”

“Yes, very, very pleasant, but now I would rather die than live a leper. Before, life was sweet, but now, death seems far preferable.”

“But you do not suffer from leprosy.”

Yeh started up and leant on his elbow.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, almost thoroughly aroused.

“I mean,” responded To Tao, “that Su Sing and her attendant were my creatures and with me in a plot to kill you. Many times I could have killed you by poison, but I wished to make you suffer first, and I think I have indeed succeeded by persuading you that you had contracted that loathsome disease.”

Yeh remained silent for a while, and To Tao feared that he would sink into the sleep of death. At last he dreamily asked—

“Why did you wish me this ill?”

“Because you slew my mother, the old prisoner in the gaol. She is now avenged.”

Again a silence. The drug was rapidly gaining entire possession of Yeh’s brain. Very slowly he spoke his last words.

“Brother, you did well. You acted as a filial child should. I have a wife and two sons in Szechuen. If my sons heard of the manner of my death they would do the same to you and more also. But they will never know. I think, perhaps, it is better they should not, for, indeed, you are a marvellous gardener. Send my body to Szechuen and now—now—I would—sleep——”

So Yeh the magistrate slept, To Tao religiously carried out his dead master’s last wishes, and then returned to his gardens.

His fame as a producer of dwarf trees spreads daily further and further afield, which, coupled with his increasing prosperity, point to rewards received for a virtuous life.

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HOO, THE DAUGHTER OF TAK WO

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HOO, THE DAUGHTER OF TAK WO

ON YICK’S residence was quite charmingly situated in a narrow gorge down which a small torrent ran, winter and summer alike. This small stream was turned to every use that the ingenious and painstaking Chinaman so admirably accomplishes invariably where running water is present. This particular hill stream, although not more than two miles in extent, from its source where it bubbled as a spring from the rocks some fifteen hundred feet above sea-level to where it joined the sea across the sandy beach of the small village of Tai Kok, had been trained and coaxed to turn three mill-wheels, flood acres of paddy in irregular curved mud-walled fields, varying in size and shape from a table-cloth to a barrack square, from a crescent to a hexagon, after which it afforded nutriment and recreation for numerous ducks, water for the pine-apple fields on the hillsides and also for cooking purposes, and possibly for washing, to the peaceable inhabitants of Tai Kok. This little nameless stream through countless ages unostentatiously has continued to benefit hundreds of our oblique-eyed fellow-men in Southern China.