THE WAR TIGER

OR,

ADVENTURES AND WONDERFUL FORTUNES
OF THE YOUNG SEA CHIEF
AND HIS LAD CHOW:

A TALE OF THE CONQUEST OF CHINA

BY WILLIAM DALTON,

AUTHOR OF THE "WHITE ELEPHANT," ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. S. MELVILLE

PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
1884.

The Escape from the Pagoda.

PREFACE.

As free use is made in the following story of the names of personages who played important parts in and during the last Tartar Conquest of China, the Author believes that a slight sketch of that turbulent epoch may not be uninteresting to his readers.

Twenty-two dynasties have given some two hundred and forty Emperors to the Celestial Kingdom; of these, two were Tartars, who obtained the throne by conquest and bloodshed. In the course of time, however, the first Tartar family, with the whole of their race, were either massacred or driven from the land by a Chinese leader, who, by mounting the throne, founded the celebrated family of the Mings.

The last of the Ming Emperors, Wey-t-song, had not been many years upon the throne, when, from a wise and energetic man, he became so indolent, and regardless of all but his pleasures, that the people became oppressed by the magistrates; indeed, to use a Chinese phrase, to such an extent did the "big fish eat all the little ones," that a famine grew in the land, which caused the starving people to arise in rebellion throughout the empire.

Taking advantage of this disorder, several ambitious lords collected together bands of vagabonds, set themselves up as petty kings, and plundered and oppressed the innocent people, till the land grew damp with their tears.

At the same time, the chief, or king, of the Mantchou Tartars, learning that China was like a house divided against itself, rode with a large army upon the frontier of Pe-tche-Lee, the capital province.

The appearance, however, of this great enemy aroused what little nationality remained, and three great lords came to the Emperor's assistance. The first was Woo-san-Kwei, who, at the head of an army, kept the Tartars at bay; the other two, Li-Kong and Chang, were sent into different provinces, where, although bad men, being good generals, they succeeded in crushing all other rogues but themselves. The last-named generals, however, on their return, becoming enraged at the Emperor's ingratitude, took up arms against him, and, finding no great difficulty in subduing a people who preferred any other Chinese to their Emperor, seized upon two of the richest provinces, and established themselves as independent royalets, or petty kings.

Now, as in the great revolutions of England, America, and France, so in China, anarchy brought forth its great men; but foremost among them all stood Chin-Chi-Loong—a kind of Paul Jones, a pirate in the eyes of his enemies, a patriot in those of his friends.

Found starving when a boy, by the Portuguese priests at Macao, they took him under their care, taught him Christianity, and baptized him by the name of Nicholas Gaspard. While quite a youth, he took service on board a trading ship, in which humble position, the strength of his intellect and will so soon exhibited itself, that at an early age he became second in command, and his captain dying soon after, left him sole owner and commander of the vessel and its rich cargo.

Then it was that his true character began to develop itself; he sought to accumulate great wealth; for this purpose he traded with Japan, Siam, and the Europeans, so assiduously, that at the outbreak of the rebellion, he had become the richest merchant in an empire of rich merchants; but what to him was of far greater importance, a powerful sea-chief—for he then commanded and owned the greatest fleet that ever sailed in the Chinese seas, and as he had taken care to arm every ship, he became the terror of the three great contending parties; namely, the Emperor, the rebels, and the Tartars, who, all in turn, at times, offered great rewards for his head, and at others, for his services.

Remarkable, however, as were the fortunes of this sea-chief, they were less so than those of his distinguished son, the hero of this story.

The Author will only add, that, although many of the adventures here set down may not be found in the pages of Chinese history, if, entwining information with amusement, they bring vividly before the mind's eye of his young reader, the manners, laws, legends, superstitions, history, or character of that great, though quaint people in whom more than a thousand years have failed to make any material change, his satisfaction will be the greater that he has again deserved well of those to whom his gratitude is due for the kind, thorough, and hearty reception they gave to the Adventures of "The Wolf-Boy of China."

WILLIAM DALTON.

CONTENTS

THE WAR TIGER.

CHAPTER I.

THE YOUNG SEA CHIEF.—HIS MISSION.

Nearly midway between Formosa and the most southern point of the Chinese province of Fokien are the Pescadores, a cluster of small islands, which are so barren that their few inhabitants are put to the trouble of procuring food, and even fuel, from the main land.

These islands, however, have a value of their own in the shape of a capacious harbor and safe anchorage, that was readily seen by the Dutch, the first civilized people who established themselves upon the neighboring island of Formosa, which, although a beautiful and fertile land, has not a sufficient depth of water for vessels of great draught.

It was in this harbor that a large fleet of trading vessels, laden with pearls, red copper, sabre-blades, fan-paper, porcelain, and many other articles of commerce purchased at Japan, and on its way to the large trading cities further south, sought shelter from one of the violent tempests so common to the China seas.

One of these vessels was anchored in the direction of Formosa, some distance in advance. Larger than the others, she was also of European build, and mounted with ten guns. A horde of wild half-naked men swarmed about the rigging, and decks, interspersed here and there with an officer garbed in the wide-sleeved robe common to the Chinese prior to the Mantchou Tartar conquest.

The afterpart of the deck was taken up with a tent formed of poles and matting of bamboo, the interior of which was luxuriously fitted with chairs, tables, and sofas, tastefully wrought from the wood of roses or, as it is termed in this country, rose-wood. The walls, highly painted and glittering with japan, were hung with Chinese pictures in gilded and japanned frames. Between these were long strips of satin up on which, imprinted in colors and gold, were some of the choicest moral maxims from the books of the philosopher Confucius.

The panes of the windows, four in number, were formed of stained transparent paper. In the piers between, supported by glittering branches, were painted lanterns, and from the ceiling, which shone with colors and carvings of celestial blue and burnished gold, was suspended a gong of pure silver. So far there could be no doubt that it was the floating habitation of a wealthy Chinese, but then, curiously, there was a total absence of those idols, altars, and burning incense, which to this day are to be found in all Chinese vessels. The truth was, that although a Chinese, the owner was a Christian, as was evinced by a niche at one end of the room, in which stood a handsome Priè Dieu, surmounted by a fine painting of Christ upon the cross.

At this altar, with his hands clasped, knelt a boy of seventeen, whose high cheek bones, dark eyes, and long black hair, declared his Chinese origin. His head and neck were bare, and his ample robe of green silk, which reached nearly to his close fitting leather boots, was confined in the middle by a crimson girdle, fastened by a clasp of agate stone. From the girdle hung a short straight sword. Although a Chinese, the youth was a Christian; one, indeed, of those whose faith had been gathered from the teachings of the early European missionaries, whose indefatigable exertions and untiring patience amidst much persecution, contumely, and even martyrdom, will forever keep their names green in the memories of the Chinese.

As the youth arose from his kneeling position, the report of a gun rang through the air, so snatching up his cap of sable, he went on deck to welcome the arrival of his father, who ascended the side of the vessel followed by some half-dozen officers, attired like himself in loose robes of thick brown silk, oiled to withstand the weather and without one warlike vestment, except the short swords which hung from their girdles.

Standing with his head bent forward and his arms straight by his sides, the attitude of respect, the youth waited for his father to salute him, after which he followed him through the rank of officers to the cabin, when observing the gloomy aspect of the chief's countenance, he said "Has my honored father, the great chief, not prospered with the barbarian Hollanders?"

"To the full, my son, for like the greedy wolves they have purchased the whole of my merchandise, and I have more than sufficient wealth to destroy the vermin enemies who are turning the children of the Son of Heaven from those habits of peace which have so long rendered them the greatest and most prosperous of the world's people."

"Of what enemies does my honorable father speak? Surely there are none but the savage Tartars."

"Of three, my son,—the Tartars, who are now within a few leagues of the palace of Ten Thousand Years himself; the European savages, who under pretence of commerce have obtained a footing, that, if not soon rooted out, will last forever; and worse, by far worse,—for internal rebellion is as destructive to an empire as to an household,—the rebel mandarins who are now at open war with their holy sovereign."

"Is this treble sore fresh, that it should now so rankle the heart and cloud the brow of my venerable parent?"

"Truly so, my son, for although long festering it has but now reached a head," replied the chief, adding, "To the days of my great-grandsire the empire had been free from the profane feet of barbarians.

"Then the different governments passed into the hands of cowardly mandarins, whose weakness became the advantage of the pirate Li-Lao, who ravaged the whole coast with fire and sword, and to get rid of whom the puny officials sought the aid of the Portugals, who traded at one of the outer ports. These barbarians, however, were brave; they sought, fought, and killed the pirate, and destroyed his ships and, as a reward, were permitted to settle at Macao."

"Surely, my father should be grateful to these Portugals, whose priests first shed upon his eyes and heart the light of Christianity," said the boy bowing reverently.

"They taught me for their own ends, and I would not trust the rats."

"But the red-haired barbarians of Formosa, from whom my father has just returned, are they of the same race?"

"Not so, my son, these Dutch dogs are from a distant country called Holland, where the people are so miserably poor they cannot afford even a king."

"Then why, O my father, were such pauper barbarians permitted to place the soles of their feet on the land of Formosa?"

"By fraud and artifice the rogues obtained their hold. During a tempest one of their vessels was driven upon the coast: the crew finding the island to be well situated to their wants, partly by presents, partly by force, persuaded the simple inhabitants to give them only as much land as could be encompassed by the hide of an ox, when the rogues cut the hide into thousands of narrow slips, tied them end to end and therewith measured the earth, to the great surprise and indignation of the inhabitants, who, however, were too powerless to offer resistance. In a short time they were joined by multitudes of their country men and erected yonder fort, which they call the Castle of Zealand."

"Surely the fleet of my father can exterminate these wasps?" said the boy, whom I shall for the future call by his Christian name of Nicholas.

But as at that moment an officer entered the cabin and reported the approach of a strange ship, father and son went on deck, prepared to give either a salute to a friend or a broadside to a foe.

The vessel proving to be a war junk and carrying the dragon flag of the Emperor, they fired a salute of respect, when a signal was made from the junk that she had on board the Mandarin, or Deputy-Governor of Amoy, with a secret communication for the illustrious merchant Chin-Chi-Loong, whereupon the chief bowed respectfully at the name of so great a personage, and prepared to receive him with all the customary tedious formalities.

This visit from so important a personage very much puzzled Nicholas, who stood the whole time the mandarin was closeted with his father, leaning against a gun, in deep thought. When the mandarin had finished and the official had taken his departure, Nicholas returned to the cabin, where he found the chief sitting thoughtfully with his hand upon the satin wrapper of a letter, which from the great seals affixed and the characters Hong Fong (guarded and sealed), he knew must be of great importance and from some high personage.

"My information is truthful," said the chief; "there is treason among the lords of the court, and the dogs believing Chin-Chi-Loong to be as vile as themselves, have offered him the title of king and the island of Formosa, if he will aid them with his ships, wealth, and men."

"What answer made my honorable father?" said Nicholas.

"A promise to consent, that the traitors may be caught like rats in a trap."

"Surely this is not well, for why need the brave stoop to such villainy?" replied the youth boldly.

Not noticing this reply, the chief became pensive for a few minutes, then exclaimed, "Would that I could place a letter in the hands of the Son of Heaven himself!"

"Surely that cannot be a difficulty," said Nicholas.

"Alas! my son, Wey-t-song is so resigned to his pleasures and the company of the vile bonzes, that the audience-denying tablet is for ever suspended at the gates of the inner palace."

"Truly it is a maxim that nothing is impossible to the brave. Let my father place the letter in the hands of his son, and it shall reach the imperial eyes!"

For a minute the chief gazed proudly at the boy, then passing his hand across his eyes, as if to chase away some sad thought, said, "It shall be so, but for nothing less than the safety of his Emperor would Chin-Chi-Loong risk the life of his only son; but haste, and assume the dress of a traveling merchant, while I prepare these important characters."

Without another word Nicholas left the cabin, returning, however, shortly afterward, dressed in a plain robe of coarse brown silk, with a girdle of the same color, a couple of short swords beneath his garment, and thick staff of bamboo.

"This promptness is good and bespeaks success," said the chief, laying his hand on a letter which was enclosed in three wrappers of satin, the outer being sealed in many places, adding, "Secure this packet beneath thy inner robe, for upon its safety may depend the fate of the empire. I know not by what means thou mayest reach the Emperor, therefore, when in Pekin it would be well to seek the merchant Yang, in the great square, who will aid the son of the great merchant of the south." Then taking another letter from the table, he added, "As you pass through the city of Hang-tcheou, seek out Father Adam, the chief priest of the Christians, and place this in his hands; but guard it well, for the contents are such that were they to meet the eyeballs of the bonzes it might prove thy destruction."

Then placing a valuable ring on the boy's finger and telling him to take what silver he might require, till he reached the merchant of Pekin, who would supply him with more, he bid farewell to Nicholas, who, signalling one of the consort ships, went on board, and was soon landed at the port of Amoy.

CHAPTER II.

THE DEMON SHIP.—THE BOY CHOW.

Taking a passage in a merchant junk bound to the port of Ning-Po, Nicholas continued his journey for some days without meeting with any event of importance. The voyage was, however, rendered very tedious by the idolatry of the sailors, who spent a great portion of their time in offering up presents to a dirty little wooden god stuck behind a small oil lamp, the odor from which was any thing but agreeable. They would moreover frequently stop the ship to offer meat and incense to the images of the sea goddess Ma-tsoo-po, which are perched upon almost every promontory upon the Chinese coast.

They had been at sea, or rather along the coast, for these sailors never venture far from land, six days, when the murky atmosphere, the heavy swell of the waves as they rolled inward, and the fluttering flight of the sea-fowl, betokened a coming storm; and the crew, trembling with fear, thought of little else but making offerings to the dirty little god, praying of him to stop the storm. A sailor and a Christian from his childhood, Nicholas was no less disgusted with their cowardice than their foolish superstition, and really fearing that the ship would be dashed to pieces upon a rock, he earnestly entreated them to exert themselves. His efforts, however, were useless, for their faith was firm in the power of their gods, whose protection they sought to purchase in the following curious manner:—

Taking a quantity of gilt paper, kept on board for the purpose, they cut it into the shape of copper tchen, the only coin in the empire, and threw them into the sea as a bribe to the goddess Ma-tsoo-po; but finding that the marine lady's favor was not to be bought so cheaply, the whole crew began to busy themselves in building a paper ship, which, by the way, was so ingeniously constructed that it formed an exact model of their own junk, being complete with masts, ropes, sails, flags, compass, rudder, a crew, victuals, and even a book of accounts.

When this redoubtable vessel was finished they let it into the sea with great ceremony, and amidst the deafening clatter of drums and instruments, and their own shoutings to the goddess, to wreak her vengeance upon the toy instead of her adorers' ship.

Nevertheless the hard-hearted goddess was not to be caught with tinsel, for the storm raged with such terrible violence that the frail bark would speedily have been dashed to atoms but for Nicholas, who, after persuading a few of the least obstinate of the men to help him, set to work and managed to keep her head so straight that they passed through the channel without touching the rocks by which it was bounded on either side. So fearful was the hurricane of circular winds that the shivering crew could see trees torn up by the roots as easily as corks out of bottles by corkscrews. At length, however, the storm subsided, and the sailors believing that nothing less than a deity could have enabled their vessel to live in such a storm, fell upon their knees before Nicholas and thanked him for quelling the fury of the elements.

"Let my brothers toss their stupid idol into the sea, and offer up thanks to the One true God of heaven, who alone has saved them," said the boy.

Enraged at this insult to their god, the sailors gave full vent to their disapprobation, and would have tossed the bold youth into the sea but for a sudden cry from the look-out man.

"The wasps of the ocean! the wasps of the ocean are upon us!"

At this cry the crew took alarm, and ran to different parts of the vessel, and armed themselves with pikes, swords, or any weapon upon which they could place their hands.

Taking the glass from the trembling hands of the look-out man, Nicholas endeavored to make out the cause of the alarm. It was a large floating object at a great distance, and bore some resemblance to a ship, still, notwithstanding the track it left behind in the water, he was doubtful; but before he could make up his mind the captain snatched the glass from his hands, glanced through it, declared his opinion that it was a wasp of the ocean, or pirate, and ordered his vessel to be put back, with the hope of outrunning her.

Then the first officer took the glass, and after gazing for some time, said, "Truly, my brothers, this is no ship, but a frightful demon that the insulted Ma-tsoo-po has sent from the bottom of the sea to devour us for carrying this impious youth."

This was sufficient for the superstitious fear of the crew, who, clustering toward Nicholas, with one voice cried, "Over the side with the irreligious dog."

Seeing no other chance, the boy ran to the stern of the vessel, and, keeping them at a distance with his sword, said, "Let my brothers open their ears. Their servant has brought this calamity upon them, but will yet save them from the anger of the demon by seeking him before he reaches the vessel, for surely the demon will be satisfied with one victim."

"The boy's words are good, and if he will pay for the boat it shall be so, otherwise it is not well that we should lose its value," said the artful captain, fearing he should lose any money Nicholas might have about his person.

"Back, rat!" said he to the advancing captain, keeping him off with his sword and springing side-ward on to the edge of the junk, adding, "Lower the boat, with provisions, and I will give you silver; refuse, and I will leap into the sea."

Fearing he would keep his word, the crew placed some rice cakes and a small water cask in the boat and lowered it; and when Nicholas saw it fairly afloat, and held but by one cord, he scrambled down the side like a cat, drew his sword across the rope, threw a handful of silver upon the deck, and pulled so hard at the oars that in a very short time he was far out of the cowards' reach and on his way to the floating demon; which, however he had no sooner caught full sight of than he laughed till he could handle the oars no longer, for the terrible demon who had scared the wits of the sailors proved to be neither more nor less than a great tree which the circular winds had wrested from the earth with such violence that the root had dragged with it a mass of earth and pebbles sufficient to keep it afloat in a perfectly upright position, when, with its spreading branches and lower boughs, it bore in the distance no bad resemblance to a well-rigged vessel.

Rowing cautiously, for fear the tree might topple over and upset his boat, he heard a faint cry. Surely it could not be human; he listened; again he heard it; and looking upward you may imagine his astonishment at seeing a boy sitting across one of the upper branches.

"Who cries for help?" said Nicholas.

"It is the miserable Chow, who must die if the benevolent stranger will not aid him," was the reply.

"Canst thou swim, O Chow? If so, drop into the water, for I dare not come nearer," said Nicholas; but scarcely had he spoken when a strong gust of wind toppled the tree over with its great arms stretched out as if to save itself from falling. Fortunately it fell in an opposite direction to the boat. In the fall the boy was dashed so violently upon the water, that becoming instantly senseless he would have sunk but for Nicholas, who, getting hold of the long hair of his head, managed to drag him into the boat. Upon recovering his senses he said, "Alas! then, Yen-Vang has poor Chow after all."

"Thou art far away from the king of the lower regions, my poor Chow," said Nicholas.

"By the social relations, I am alive and on earth—no, on water—and ungrateful to the benevolent stranger," said the boy, holding his head with both hands, as if the better to comprehend his situation.

"Satisfy thy hunger and say how it happened that Chow came to be perched like a wild goose on a masthead," said Nicholas, giving the boy some of the rice cakes, which he devoured as ravenously as if he had not tasted food for a week.

The lad, who had so unexpectedly made the acquaintance of Nicholas, was a tall, bony youth of about sixteen, with a broad forehead, sparkling black eyes, and covered with a coarse robe, so torn and tattered, that he might have passed for a beggar of the lowest class.

When he had satisfied his hunger, Chow clasped the knees of his new friend, and with tears of gratitude flowing down his cheek, said, "Chow will be thy slave, O generous stranger, for truly it could be for no other purpose that the gods have saved his life."

"Tush! talk not of slavery or gods, Chow, but say what is thy name, surname, and the rank of thy family," said Nicholas.

"Truly, the story of Chow is as miserable as his own mean person. I am from Tun-Hien, in Ching-Foo, in the province of Tche-Kiang. My father was a mandarin of the fifth rank, who having taken a good degree, held office under the governor of the fort, till one moon since, when the terrible rebel, Li-Kong, took possession of the city in defiance of the Son of Heaven himself, and massacred all who would not submit; my father being one of the first to acknowledge the traitor, became the first to be punished for his disloyalty to our holy Emperor, which happened as thy servant will relate.

"One day, my mother, who was accounted very handsome, so far forgot the social regulations laid down for women, as to stand gazing from a window while a body of soldiers passed through the street. For that unbecoming act, both my venerable father and myself suffered, for the officer clattered at the door, when the servants not daring to refuse so powerful a personage, admitted him to the house, when he ran into the inner apartment of my mother, who was so alarmed at such barbarian behavior, that she rose to leave, when the villain would have carried her away but for thy insignificant servant, who clutched his throat and so gashed his cheek that the waters even of the yellow stream will never wash them out.

"Hearing the struggle, the soldiers came to the rogue's help, and would have killed poor Chow, but for my father, who, returning at the moment, compelled the officer, bad and bold as he was, to make his escape; but, alas! no sooner had the rogue left, than instead of being grateful, my father burst into loud lamentations, crying, 'Alas, alas! that ever so mean a person was born, for thou hast insulted the chief favorite of the prince, who will assuredly be revenged;' and so it proved, for the next day we were all taken before the prince, who ordered the whole family to be exterminated, and our house burnt to the ground; but what was worse, alas! my father was not even strangled, but disgraced by being sent to the yellow stream incomplete, for he was beheaded on the spot, and the villain officer begged his wife as a slave, to which, in her misery, my mother offered to consent if they would but spare the life of thy miserable servant, her son. To this the prince consented, but the officer was so enraged at the wound in his cheek, that he ordered me to be dressed in beggar's rags, and beaten out of the town toward the sea. Accordingly the wretches beat me till I could not stand, and left me to starve and die on the sea-shore.

"For days and days I wandered in the hope that some fisherman would take compassion upon me; but alas! none dared to encourage so treasonous a youth for fear of suffering similar punishment; then, but for the hope that retaining my miserable existence would some fortunate day enable me to punish the villain, I should have thrown myself into the sea, although even that consolation I could not seek without impiously forgetting my duty to my father, for has it not been wisely said that we should not live beneath the same heaven with the destroyer of our parents?"

"It is a pagan doctrine, Chow; but how came you upon yonder perch?" said Nicholas.

"Without hope, tired, and sad, I wandered along the coast till the great storm sent the terrified wild animals in all directions; to escape from them I climbed a tree upon the very verge of the sea, when shortly afterward the wind-demon blew one great gust which carried it into the sea, where its great spreading root and the earth around kept it floating till the benevolent stranger came to my rescue."

"Thou shalt be revenged upon this villain officer, my poor Chow, and upon the greater rogue, Li-Kong," said Nicholas.

"How,—what words are these? surely the benevolent stranger cannot be in his senses to speak thus of men so powerful," replied the astonished Chow.

"What would Chow do to obtain the punishment of his enemies? Would he faithfully serve the stranger who has saved his life?"

"If these are the words of truth,—and who is thy mean servant that he should doubt?—O wonderful stranger, Chow will be thy slave till he goes to meet his ancestors."

"Then, surely as I have spoken, it shall be so. But how wouldst thou know this vile rogue again?"

"Is it possible for a son to forget the slayer of his parent, even if the wound in his face would not betray him?" said Chow, who gazing earnestly in the face of Nicholas, added, "Art thou really a boy or a man of short measure?"

"Truly, like thyself, a boy of long measure and ample fullness, whose mean surname is Nicholas," said the other laughing.

"No, no, noble Nicholas, not like Chow; for if a boy, thou art like him who became the Emperor Tait-sou, a little great man-boy," said Chow.

CHAPTER III.

ADVENTURES AT SEA.—RESCUE.

Having recovered his strength, Chow took a turn at the oars, and for an hour pulled lustily, to get as far from the coast as possible, for fear of being observed by any straggling party of the rebels who might pursue them, when, if they searched Nicholas and discovered the letter, farewell to the sea chief's schemes. This fear, however, soon became absorbed in a greater; night came on, and brave sailor as he was, Nicholas did not fancy being upon that stormy sea in such a fragile boat.

Then Nicholas took the oars, and had not been pulling long, when he perceived the glimmering of a light in the distance. He rested for a moment; the light grew larger and nearer: this was hopeful; it might be the lantern of a trading ship; yet fearful, for it might be a pirate. The suspense was terrible, and like a gallant fellow he determined to end it as soon as possible; for this purpose he pulled heartily, and was rewarded at length by getting near enough to the stranger to distinguish voices, then a few long pulls, and strong pulls, and he reached the ship, when by the light from her lanterns perceiving some ropes hanging out, he clambered up her side, telling Chow to follow. In another second they both stood upon the deck, but also in the arms of men, who would have stabbed them with their knives but for the presence of mind of our hero, who exclaimed, "Fear not, brothers of the sea, we are not pirates."

The men, however, not being so easily appeased, bound the arms of the boys with ropes and took them into the presence of the captain, much to the disgust of Chow, who said, "Truly it is a maxim that a servant should follow his master, but our career will be one of short measure by this strange frolic, O noble Nicholas."

"Silence, Chow, let not thy heart leap between thy lips at the first threat of danger," said Nicholas angrily.

"The bravest war tiger would become a mouse with his body packed as closely as a cotton ball," said Chow surlily.

The captain, however, no sooner saw Nicholas, than with a start of surprise he ordered the sailors to leave the cabin, and took up a large knife from the cabin table, when the terrified Chow cried, "Take the worthless life of thy mean slave, O noble commander, but in the name of thy ancestors spare my noble master."

Chow's fear became surprise in no small degree when the captain, without noticing his prayer, not only cut the cords from the arms of Nicholas, but made him a respectful bow.

"Thanks, worthy commander," said Nicholas, taking the knife and releasing Chow.

"Truly the heavens have tumbled down a surprise," said Chow, with a caper, adding, "Is the noble man-boy a good demon, that he can transform enemies into friends with a glance of his eye?"

Without, however, satisfying Chow, Nicholas asked the captain to give the boy a sleeping mat in another cabin, after which he said, "It is well, O Yung, that you chanced to be at sea this night, or my noble parent would have had to mourn his son." But little more passed, for Nicholas was glad to seek a long rest, and possession of the sleeping mat which the captain resigned to him.

The reason of this civility is easily explained—the vessel itself belonged to the sea chief, and its commander was one of his officers in charge on a voyage to Ning-Po, which port they reached the following day. Having landed, the boys took leave of the captain, and sought a lodging at one of the largest inns, where, after resting for a few days, Nicholas began to prepare for his journey inland.

His first care was to furnish Chow with a becoming robe of stout silk, a cap, trousers, and thick-soled leather boots. As soon as the boy had put them on he began to caper about, crying, "My master is generous, and the gods will reward him for making a poor boy decent enough to pay due reverence to the tombs of his ancestors, for truly he could not worthily sweep the dust from their resting-place in such unbecoming tatters; for although Chow is poor, he is of worthy descent and honorable relations."

"Truly, Chow, thou art now fit to take a degree at the next examination at Pekin, if we ever arrive there," said Nicholas.

"It is not reasonable that the noble Nicholas should laugh at his mean servant, for at the examination of his Hien he passed so creditably through the first two sacred books, that he would have obtained a government promotion but for the villain who destroyed his house. May his soul pass into the body of a rat!" said Chow gloomily.

"Pardon, O disappointed scholar. It was villainous to laugh, for it is a wise saying, 'that the well to do should sympathize with the unfortunate,'" said Nicholas, adding, as he took his cap, "But let us now seek for a passage-boat, for it is also wisely said, 'that the loiterer about the business of another is incapable of conducting his own affairs.'"

When they reached the river, they engaged a passage to Hang-tcheou, and having waited for a favorable tide, the barge was soon out of the river into a canal, upon which for days they proceeded, at times being pushed along by poles thrust into the water, at others, being drawn along by coolies, or porters, an employment that affords a means of existence to a vast portion of the population of China.

Tche-Kiang, through which they so leisurely traveled, is, perhaps, the most fertile and beautiful of the eighteen provinces of China, and large enough to contain the whole of Scotland and its adjacent islands. Besides rivers, it is watered by some sixty canals, which serve not only as an easy method of transit, but so to irrigate the great plains around that they yield crops of rice, pulse, and cotton, twice and sometimes thrice a year. It was pleasant to watch these canals pouring forth their sparkling limpid streams to lave the feet of the neighboring hills and mountains, which for many miles presented an aspect of singular beauty; some, like carved and nature painted pyramids, being wrought into terraces, which shot one out of the other, teeming with the yellow grain, cotton, or tea-trees, while others were thickly sprinkled with shady trees, which waved over sloping cemeteries of quaintly shaped tombs and temples. It was a charming picture—nature dressed to the verge of foppery—more, it was a glorious land, and smiling as if in pride at its power of blessing the human race—and more again, that its owners knew its worth and industriously stretched its blessings to the utmost.

Then the boat came to a dike, or sluice, and they were about to enter another canal at least fifteen feet beneath their level. To pass this, the barge was hoisted by Coolies up an inclined plain of freestone by means of ropes upon capstans and sheer strength of muscle, then gently let down a slope upon the other side into the water, a mode adopted to the present day to move even the largest vessels from canal to canal.

Thus pleasantly the young travelers were wafted through the province, now through vast plains of rice, then by the sides of great hills clustering with the tea-plant, on again through vast orchards of mulberry-trees and the useful and curious tallow-plant; then again through plantations of bamboo, that inseparable companion of the Chinaman from the cradle to the grave—for it receives the infant, corrects the boy, is the means of living for the man, and entwines the corpse. Then again they passed through towns and cities, swarming with busy workers at the silk-loom and multifarious handicrafts, and toiling children, women, and men in the fields, till they passed another dike, and then they were upon the beautiful lake Tsao-hou, about the naming of which the following pretty story is told:—

"Many years ago there lived a priest of the Taouist religion, who had obtained a reputation for his skill in magic. At the festival of the feast of dragon boats, the priest went to sport in the river in honor of his gods, but by some mischance he was drowned, and his body no where to be found. His dutiful daughter, Tsao-hou, a girl fourteen years of age, felt her father's loss so deeply that she wandered along the banks of the river for seventeen days and nights, weeping and wailing over her loss. At last she threw a large melon into the river, putting up the prayer, 'May this melon sink wherever the body of my father lieth.' With anxious eyes she watched the gourd as it floated on the surface of the stream, until it stopped at a certain spot where it sank. The poor damsel, frantic with grief, rushed to the place and plunged after it. She too was drowned, but five days afterward her lifeless trunk rose to the surface with her father's body in her embrace. Both were buried on the river bank, and in commemoration of that incident the name of the girl was given to the lake and a magnificent temple erected to her name."

On the sixth day they came to Chao-Hing, the Venice of China, where the canals are so numerous that any portion of the city may be reached by boats. Imagine a city with, in place of streets, one large network of water-roads, intersected with bridges, so light and fanciful that one could imagine them to have been blown together by the breath of fairies, and you will have some notion of Chao-Hing.

This city is celebrated alike for its silk-worms and book-worms. So great is the reputation of the scholars of Chao-Hing that they are sought for by the viceroys of provinces to fill government offices. Near to this city and not far from the mountain of Asses (so called from its being shaped in the form of that animal) is the sepulchre of the great Emperor Yu, the model sovereign of China.

This prince obtained the throne by having saved the empire from the deluge of water which in his time covered the lands; indeed, he must have been no common engineer, for in thirteen years, by unwearied labor, he leveled high mountains, embanked and confined great rivers within their channels, drained lakes and marshes, enclosed rapid torrents with banks, and divided rivers into canals, which not only gained a great extent of country, but rendered the whole more fertile. It was the great genius and wonderful energy of Yu that caused the reigning Emperor to choose him for his successor in preference to either of the four princes, his sons.

Among other remarkable things told of this Emperor, it is said that he first taught the people to cultivate, sow, and manure lands, and divided his dominions into nine provinces, causing as many great brazen vessels to be made, on each of which a map of a province was engraved. In succeeding times these vessels became very precious, for it was believed that the safety of the state depended on their security, and that whoever obtained them would also obtain the crown.

A qualification rare amongst kings was possessed by this useful prince. He hated flatterers, and the only way to gain his favor was to tell him of his faults. Moreover, Yu thought no employment so becoming a sovereign as doing justice to the people; thus he gave access to his subjects at all hours, and that no obstacle might be thrown in their way, he had affixed to his palace gates a bell, a drum, and three tables, one of iron, one of stone, and another of lead, upon either of which people who wanted an audience were to strike.

The bell was to distinguish civil affairs, the drum for matters relating to law or religion, the leaden table for the ministers, the tablet of stone to denote a complaint of wrong done by some magistrate, and lastly the iron tablet was to denote any very serious trouble. So rigorously did Yu adhere to this rule, that it is said that he arose from table twice in one day, and another day came three times out of his bath at the sound of the bell.

Another story is, that when wine, which was first invented in his reign, was shown to him, he expressed great regret, "for," said he, "this liquor will cause the greatest trouble to the empire." But wise and powerful as he was, Yu could not conquer sensuality; for in China, as in most other countries, the love for strong liquors is potent.

CHAPTER IV.

THE INNKEEPER.—ALARMING NEWS.

For six more days the boys sailed along this canal till they came to Hang-tcheou-fou, the terrestrial paradise of China, of which, in conjunction with another great city, the people have a saying, "Heaven is above, but Hang-tcheou and Foo-tcheou are below." As a combination of work and pleasure, a great manufacturing city, and a fashionable and healthful watering-place, this spot has not its equal in the world; for as the province of Tche-Kiang is the most celebrated in the empire for its growth of mulberry-trees and the finest silk-worms, so is its capital, Hang-tcheou, celebrated for its looms and the quality and quantity of those rare silks, satins, and taffetas, which no less gladdened the eyes of the moderns than they surprised and delighted the wealthy Romans, who, not knowing from whence they came, believed them to be the handiwork of "furthest Ind."

Not alone the Manchester, but the Bath or Cheltenham of China, this city is also famous for its scholars, and as being the residence of the fashionables, if such a term may be used to a people who are proverbial for having kept in manners, customs, laws, religion, and dress, and even ideas, with little exception, to the pattern men and women, fashioned and shaped by their early Emperors, Yaou and Yu, some four thousand years ago; for the latter perhaps Hang-tcheou is chiefly indebted to its vicinage to the celebrated lake See-ho. The waters are so clear that the smallest pebbles may be seen shining like crystals from the bottom. In the middle are two islands adorned with temples and houses, wherein water parties, after taking their pleasure upon the lake, resort for rest and refreshment. Upon piles driven into the bed of the lake are large stone walks or pathways for pedestrians, which stretch from the banks to the islands, with openings for boats, across which are thrown fancifully wrought bridges. The banks are studded with temples, mansions, monasteries, for the bonzes or priests of Buddah, as also a small but beautiful palace for the use of the Emperor, when he makes a tour through his southern provinces.

Near to this lake, and reposing in a valley beneath the foot of a mountain, upon the summit of which, as if in guard over the dead for the past forty centuries, the huge Lui-fung-ta, or tower of thundering winds, is the great cemetery, or vale of tombs, a city in size, which is kept reverentially clean, and strewn at stated periods with fresh flowers, over which forests of willows weep for the departed.

One of the chief beauties of this famous lake I had almost forgotten to mention. Its sides, where the water is shallow, are covered with the clustering and rare flowers, lien-hoa, a plant so choice that it is fostered in the innermost recesses of the houses of the great and wealthy. Not unlike our own tulips, the Lien-hoa has a little ball supported by a small filament similar to that formed in lilies; its color varies, being at times violet, white, or a mixture of red and white; it emits a fragrant odor; the fruit is as big as a small nut, and the kernel is white and of good taste. The physicians esteem it, and prescribe it for weak patients. The leaves are long, and swim upon the water, communicating with the root by long strings. The dense population, which has rendered it necessary to turn every atom to account, has led the busy-bee genius of the people to make every particle of this plant useful. The before-mentioned strings are used by the gardeners to wrap round their goods, and the white and pulpy root is eaten in summer for its cooling properties.

Although mid-day when they arrived at this city, you will not wonder that it was nearly dark by the time they reached the gates, when I tell you that the river was one vast floating town of vessels, the greater part of which were arranged into streets, crowded with passing mandarin junks laden with pleasure parties, and decorated with japan, gilding, silk streamers, and that emblem of rank, the umbrella; government junks, some of war, and others freighted with rice, silks, and other matters, which had been given by the different townspeople as taxes in lieu of money; then numerous junks laden with salt and other commodities, to say nothing of the many thousands of San-pans or egg-house boats, in which a vast portion of the poorer section of the Chinese reside, never being permitted to come ashore without especial permission from the governor; then again, the floating islands of trees, with their huts formed of poles and matting of bamboo. Indeed just such a scene is a picture of the every-day life presented on the canals and rivers of this country; but particularly in the southern provinces, which so swarm with human beings, that thousands are compelled from want of room on land to take refuge on the water, where they not only live, but carry on their various avocations.

Notwithstanding the haste of the boys to enter the city, as they passed through the gates the great bell above them began to sound the first of the five watches or divisions into which the night is divided, and the crowds who thronged the narrow streets began to scamper in every direction to their homes, for the law of China very wisely holds "that the daylight is for labor and the night for repose." Greatly fatigued, the young travelers sought the first inn where they regaled themselves with a plentiful meal, foolishly forgetting the passing time: indeed, before they had finished, they heard the sound of the second watch, when the landlord made his appearance and begged of his honorable guests to take their departure, much to the surprise of Nicholas, who had resolved to go no further that night. "Surely," said he, "the perfection of innkeepers would not turn away travelers who are willing to pay for their entertainment and lodging."

"From what distant province can the honorable youth have journeyed, that he knows not that the inns are full of the servants and officers of the illustrious Ching-Ti, who has this day arrived, to fill with his form of full measure the governor's sedan, and judgment seat?" said the innkeeper.

"Truly the worthy innkeeper will pardon his younger brother for observing that the name of the Mandarin of Hang-tcheou is Yang-ti, or the eyeballs of his humble guest have become twisted, for Yang-ti is the name upon this chop," replied Chow, producing a kind of passport which had been given to him at the custom-house before entering the city.

"Where have been the ears of my honorable guest that he has not heard that the noble Yang has completed the measure of his joys and sorrows in this world?"

"Surely the noble governor cannot have passed so suddenly to the yellow stream or the shadow kingdom of Yen-Vang," said Chow.

"There can be no doubt that it is a sad history, for greatly was the good Yang loved, not only in this his last province, but in all those over which he had ruled, never having retired from a government without receiving the boots of honor," replied the innkeeper.

It may be as well to explain to you, that when the governor of a city removes to another province, the people exhibit their approbation of his wisdom and justice by paying him great honor. When he commences his journey he finds, for a considerable distance along the road, tables covered with silk placed at certain intervals, upon some of which are laid burnt perfumes, candlesticks, waxlights, meats, pulse, and fruits; and upon others, wine, and tea, ready for use. As soon as the popular mandarin appears, the people fall upon their knees, bow their heads and weep, offer him the things upon the tables, and present him with a pair of new boots; they then pull off his old ones, and preserve them as relics in a small cage, which they hang over the gates of the city through which he passed.

"Will the worthy innkeeper relate the ill-doings that could have brought this good magistrate to misfortune?" said Nicholas, guessing at the innkeeper's meaning.

"Truly it was no less than a fondness for the religion of the Fan-Kwi."

"Surely that could be no crime under our good Emperor, who has befriended the Christians, even to permitting the members of his family to become followers of the Lord of Heaven," said Nicholas.

"It is true that the information may be incorrect, but such has fallen into thy servant's ears; moreover it is said that the great Yang's conduct has offended the bonzes at Pekin, who are all-powerful in the palace of the Son of Heaven, whom they persuaded to send the Christian-exterminating Lord Ching-Ti, with an order signed by the vermilion pencil, to put Yang to death."

"Has the vile deed been performed?" said Nicholas hastily.

"Hush!" said the host in a low tone. "Surely such language will bring a heavy punishment upon thy head."

"Has the noble mandarin suffered, O worthy man?" said Nicholas, whose rising indignation outweighed his prudence.

"It has been wisely said, that it is of little use to repine at what can't be recalled," replied the innkeeper, adding, "The soul of the great Yang is now in search of a better habitation, but he left this world with dignity, for the Son of Heaven, may he continue the circle of succession, remembering his servant's good deeds, mercifully permitted him to be his own executioner, and, moreover, gave him the choice either of the silken cord, the gold leaf, or his own state necklace."

"Truly if the great lords esteem these things as favors, thanks be to Tien that thy servant is but a small weasel of a personage," said Chow, making some very remarkable grimaces.

"When the noble Yang received the message, he called for the incense table, burned perfume in honor of his royal master, chose the silken cord, and having held it high above his head in token of his willingness to obey the royal will, immediately strangled himself," said the innkeeper, without noticing Chow's interruption.

That the boys did not shudder at this recital, may surprise you who are not perhaps aware that this is a common method of showing the royal gratitude for past services in the middle kingdom. Not only are these three methods used as punishments, but as a means of suicide, which in China, as in most unchristianized countries, is esteemed a meritorious means of slipping through a difficulty. The gold leaf being taken in the form of a pill, is washed down with water, which is supposed so to expand the leaf and extend the stomach that life soon becomes extinct. The death by the necklace is more uncommon. There is a bird of the crane kind, on the crown of whose head is a scarlet tuft of down or velvet skin, to which the Chinese believe the poison of the serpents which it eats determines. This crest is frequently formed into a bead which is concealed in the ornamental necklaces worn by the high officers of the empire, for the express purpose of surmounting worldly difficulties, for let this venom but touch the lip, and death instantaneously ensues.

There is a legend that the life of this bird extends to one thousand years, that it is in its prime at sixty, when it can sing regularly and beautifully every hour of the day, but that it cannot mount trees till it reaches its thousandth year.

When the innkeeper had finished, the clanging of the watchman's bamboo rattle in the streets reminded Nicholas of the lateness of the hour, and he said, "But, even now, the worthy innkeeper has not informed his younger brothers where they may find a lodging for the night.

"Thy servant, noble youth, must have been born in an unfortunate hour, that he cannot offer the advantages of his inn, but the truth has been spoken, none but the servants and officers of the great Ching-Ti can rest here to-night."

"Surely taels of silver are not so plentiful in this city that all will refuse," said Chow.

"Truly for less than an ounce of silver two travelers might find a lodging in the house of the bonzes."

"The priests of Fo are rogues," said Nicholas, giving utterance to an opinion that has been popular in China from all time.

"The noble youth possesses a tongue that will place him in the cangue, or procure him a branded cheek by this hour to-morrow, if he rules it no better," said the innkeeper; but before the boy could reply, the man's wife ran into the room, crying and beating her breast, and implored of her husband to follow her to the bedside of their dying daughter.

Shocked that they had been the means of keeping the man from so holy a duty. Nicholas apologized, and was about leaving the house, when with an hysterical laugh, the man said, "See, O honorable youths, this woman has but little faith in the power of the holy bonzes, who have been offering sacrifices to Fo, to save the life of this pearl of my existence."

"By what means, O foolish man, can these bonzes save thy child's life? Are not the physicians of Hang-tcheou famous for their skill?"

"Truly they are less than mice; they could not save my child, and I have dismissed them for a holy bonze, whose influence over the god who protects the lives of the young, has made him promise that my pearl shall not become dissolved in death."

"She is passing from us now, O my husband," said the unhappy wife.

"It cannot be, woman; the god is but chastising you with a terrible fear, for your want of faith; for how is it possible he can refuse so trifling a favor as the life of a young girl, when I have daily offered sacrifices of animals, and money, and burned incense at his altar?"

Shocked at the man's superstitious belief in the power of Fo, and his brother idols, Nicholas made one other effort to shake it; finding, however, that it was useless, he paid the bill, purchased a lantern for himself and another for Chow, and they went on their way to the Buddhist monastery, the only house wherein he could find shelter for that night.

CHAPTER V.

ADVENTURE IN A BUDDHIST MONASTERY.—CHOW'S ENCOUNTER WITH A BONZE.

To Londoners who find it an easy matter to pass, at any time of the night, from one end of the metropolis to the other, it may appear that Nicholas and Chow had no very difficult task before them. Such however, was not the case, for in the first place, instead of open thoroughfares, the great streets of the cities of China are barricaded at the ends with chains, and the smaller ones with wicket-gates, at each of which is placed a watchman, whose business it is to question every pedestrian, and through the night to keep clanging a piece of hard wood against a hollow bamboo cane, for the purpose of showing his watchfulness.

As the boys, by aid of their lanterns picked their way through the streets, they found them deserted; with the exception of a few stragglers, each of whom carried a lantern, upon which was ostentatiously emblazoned his name and rank. Imagine all the gas lamps in London extinguished, and their places supplied by a few dancing will-o'-the-wisp kind of lanterns, and you will have a tolerable notion of the appearance of the great cities of China by night. Dismal, truly, but perhaps not more so than were the streets of London not many years since, when they were lighted by flickering oil lamps. Again, as were those of London at the very period when these adventures happened, the streets are so narrow that a good-sized carriage or wagon cannot pass through without danger to the people, but then the narrowness of the streets was less pardonable in Londoners of that age, than in the Chinese of the present, whose great people ride in sedan-chairs, and whose little people walk, and convey their goods to and fro in narrow carts, like barrows, with one centre wheel. The Celestials are at least consistent in fitting their vehicles to their streets, which is more than could be said of old London, with its gutter streets and heavy lumbering coaches, types of which may be seen every day in the London of the present time.

The street in which the inn was situated was one of the principal, and, therefore, of great length, and along the pavement, which was in the middle of the road, the boys trudged onward, passing every now and then beneath one of the numerous Pai-ho, or arches, which are erected to the memory of good magistrates and virtuous women, till they came to a lattice-gate which led into a smaller street, when their progress was arrested, for the watchman was not at his post. They waited for some time, till becoming impatient, Chow kicked the gate, when there arose such a queer hissing noise, that the boy fell upon his face, exclaiming, "My master, my master the demons of Yen-Vang have swallowed the watchman, and are guarding the gate in his stead."

"Thou art a foolish coward," said Nicholas, who clambered up the gate, and after looking through the wicket for a minute let go his hold and laughed immoderately. "O Chow, Chow, thou idiot! not to know a demon from one of thine own kind; surely these demons are nothing but geese;" and as the watchman opened the wicket Chow saw that the noise which had alarmed him had been caused by a couple of those birds, which the watchman had trained to cackle and hiss at the slightest noise, so that he might take a comfortable nap, with the certainty of being aroused when wanted by the hissing.

"Truly they must be barbarian geese, for I should have understood them had they cackled in Chinese," said Chow.

To get the gate open was one thing, to pass through another, for perceiving neither name nor rank upon the lanterns, the watchman determined to detain the boys as suspicious characters, and for that purpose began to clang upon his bamboo for assistance, when a personage came up to the wicket, and both the watchman and Chow bent their heads respectfully. From the yellow robe, the string of beads around his neck, and his shaven head, Nicholas saw that he was a bonze, or priest of Fo. As this reverend gentleman came through the gate he ran his fingers up and down the beads, and muttered, "O Mi to-fo," and so would have passed, but for Chow, who said, "Will the man of prayer pardon an insignificant mouse for interrupting his holy meditations?"

"The dogs are vagabonds, perhaps robbers, who have no name, surname, or profession on their lanterns, O holy bonze," said the polite watchman.

"What would the nameless night prowlers with the priest of Buddha?" said the bonze.

"Truly nothing but a guide to the monastery, where they seek a lodging for which they pray of the holy father to accept alms."

At the word alms the eyes of the bonze sparkled with delight, and having lifted his lantern so as to get a full view of Nicholas, he said to the watchman, "Thou rascal! thy dog's head hath less brains than these geese, and thine eyeballs are of lead, or thou wouldst have seen that so well-looking a youth must be of honorable descent; moreover, where was thy charity, that thou wouldst not aid a traveler?"

"Surely the man would be wanting in sense who should suppose that he had the wisdom and divining power of a holy bonze," replied the trembling guardian of the night.

Not deigning, however to notice this observation, the bonze conducted the boys along several streets, till they reached a building surrounded by a high wall, through which, by means of a small gate, they passed to an avenue of magnificent trees, paved with marble, and which led to a large gateway, guarded upon each side by a very ugly stone god. Passing through the gateway, they entered a small room lighted from the centre by one large lantern, decorated with portraits of the god Fo, in every variety of character. This god, as you may probably know, is represented by almost every kind of animal, biped and quadruped, into which during the lapse of centuries his soul is supposed to have passed. Around this room, which was for every day use, were small idols of gilt copper, with ghos-sticks burning before them; on the table, in the centre of the room, stood a time measure, that must remind you of the period of our own King Alfred. It is termed the hourly incense-stick, and is notched at equal distances, and as from notch to notch the stick takes exactly one hour to burn, it accurately marks the passing time.

This ghos-stick, so named from its being burned as incense in the ghos-houses or temples of China, is compounded of sawdust mixed with glue and scent, and evenly rolled into thin rods of two or three feet in length; in fact, the very same brown stick adopted by smokers in this country for its pleasant perfume, and continuing to burn till reduced to ashes. Having introduced the boys to this room the bonze withdrew, and shortly afterward sent a servant with blankets and sleeping mats, upon which they stretched themselves, not a little pleased at the opportunity of getting a good sleep after their day's fatigue.

Long before morning, however, Nicholas was suddenly aroused from his slumbers, and to his surprise saw the bonze upon the floor, with Chow pummeling him with his fists, and crying, "I have thee, I have thee, thou slayer of people's parents."

Not knowing what to make of this strange scene, Nicholas caught Chow by the arm and endeavored to pull him away; this, however, served but to excite him the more, for he pummeled at the bonze harder than ever. The behavior of the priest was still more surprising, for instead of showing any indignation at this strange treatment, all he said was, "Harm the youth not my son; he is possessed with a demon; he sleeps, poor boy, and mistakes me for some terrible enemy."

This explanation Nicholas soon found to be correct, for poor Chow had been battling in his sleep; but how the bonze came into the boy's clutches was a mystery, and one that, worn out as he was with fatigue, he did not just then care about solving, so that he could get Chow to his mat again, which after considerable trouble he managed, by telling him that he was an officer of justice and would see that his enemy should be punished. After which Nicholas threw himself upon his mat, fell into a sound sleep, and slept till he was awakened by the deep tones of the monastery bell.

During the morning meal he related the adventure to the much-puzzled Chow, who could remember nothing but that he had dreamed that the slayer of his father suddenly entered the room, and after prowling about for some time, first searched the robe of Nicholas, and then came to his bed, when, thinking he was going to kill him, he attacked him in self-defence; though how his enemy should have become transformed into the bonze, who certainly had no business in the room, was a puzzle that he could not make out.

The explanation of the bonze was, that he had entered his visitors' apartment to see that they had been properly attended to by the servant—an explanation not at all satisfactory to Chow, who as soon as the priest left the room said, "Is my master's girdle safe? for these holy fathers are great rogues."

Alarmed for the safety of his letters, Nicholas examined his girdle; they were safe; when shocked at his insinuation, the repentant Chow exclaimed, "Truly, my master, Chow is less than the least of little dogs, and must crave the good father's forgiveness,"—which he took the first opportunity of doing, by falling upon all fours before the priest and knocking his forehead to the ground, till the latter in pity lifted the boy upon his legs again.

CHAPTER VI.

THRASHING THE GODS.—THE BOYS TAKEN PRISONERS.

Anxious to deliver his father's letter to the Christian priest, yet fearful of making inquiries where he was to be found, now he had heard of the governor's enmity to Christianity, Nicholas determined to make the effort alone, and having thanked the bonze for his hospitality and presented him with half an ounce of silver, he was about proceeding in his search, when the latter solicited him to join in the morning prayers of the monastery; a solicitation he was too prudent to refuse, for fear of awakening the suspicions of the bonzes, whom he knew to be the main persecutors of his religion.

As for Chow, like the majority of his countrymen he was of no religion in particular, but a little of each of the sects into which the Chinese are divided; Confucian, Buddhist, and Taouist; he, therefore, willingly followed Nicholas, who, with something like a feeling of disgust, entered a spacious hall, the ceiling of which shone with gold and japan. In the centre were placed three colossal representative gods of the past, present, and future—the Buddha who is, and the Buddha who will be—with a vase of incense and a lamp of burning tea oil before each. At the sound of a small bell, a number of yellow-robed priests, with heads shaven, clean and oily as bladders of lard, made their appearance and commenced the ceremony; one rang a bell violently, while another clattered like a watchman upon a hollow bamboo cane. This clamor was for the purpose of arousing the attention of the gods, which, after a few minutes, being supposed to be accomplished, the whole society of priests knocked their heads upon the ground repeatedly; and when tired, they began to chant hymns and create a fearful din by playing rough music upon much rougher instruments; after which they marched out of the hall regularly and in double file. Not a little pleased at the conclusion of the ceremony, Nicholas followed, taking care, however, on leaving the building, to choose an opposite direction to the bonzes.

The boys had not walked more than a hundred yards, when they came to the foot of a small hillock, which served as a base or pedestal for a shrine, in which, upon a raised platform, like a small boy upon a tall stool, sat an ugly little god with a dragon's head, so glittering, however, with gold and gaudy colors, that they knew it to be a private idol that some foolish devotee had decorated at his own cost, with a view to obtain some especial service from heaven. When within earshot of this deity, they observed two bonzes come from behind the shrine, attended by a servant, who, having prepared the incense table commenced to bow their heads to the ground and mutter their prayers.

Not wishing either to join in, or interrupt the priests' devotions, the boys took up their position behind the trunk of a large tree, where they witnessed the following scene:—

Scarcely had the bonzes commenced their head knockings when a mob of the lower class of people, with sticks and hammers in their hands, came clamoring toward the shrine. They were led by a man, who had no sooner reached the astute and kneeling priests, than with one kick he sent them rolling over each other, saying at the same time, "Get thee hence, thou rogues of bonzes, and let us deal with this villainous god." The bonzes, seeing so many persons, arose and scampered off to their monastery for help, when the leader, whom Nicholas now recognized as his friend, the innkeeper, approached the idol, saying, "How now, thou dog of a spirit! Have I not fed thee, lodged thee handsomely, and offered incense each day at the cost of half my hard earnings, that thou shouldst save the life of my daughter, who, notwithstanding, has been carried to the yellow stream? Let us punish him, my friends, that he may deceive no other father." As he uttered the last words, he struck off the arm of the god with such force that it struck a bonze, who was at that moment coming toward the idol in advance of some twenty of his brethren; at which the people cried, "This is indeed a just retribution upon the vile bonze."

"Do not the people fear the vengeance of the gods, that they behave thus?" said the stricken priest, calmly, and dissembling his rage.

"Truly the gods may render us unfortunate," said one cowardly fellow, and the superstitious crowd hesitated. Perceiving his advantage, the bonze followed it up. "Surely," said he, "the people are not unreasonable, like this man, who is ungrateful to the gods for taking his daughter, as if, forsooth, his child were better than the children of his neighbors."

"This is true. Why should one complain that he is not more fortunate than the rest?" said the cowardly voice.

"As for the worthy Sing, the gods may pardon him, in consideration of his great grief; but then he must desist from this profanity," said the bonze.

"The bonze is generous, and his words are reasonable," said another.

"Are my friends unjust that they will not listen to an injured man, whose injuries may be their own to-morrow?" said the innkeeper.

"This is reasonable also; let us hear Sing," cried several voices.

At that moment, Nicholas, who feared lest the artful bonzes should get the better of the dispute, came forward, and said, "Why should the worthy Sing waste words? surely he has been sufficiently injured; the measure of his grief is full, for he will leave no descendant to fulfil the necessary offices at his tomb."

"The words of the honorable youth are wise," said the fickle crowd; and Nicholas continued, "That there has been robbery, there can be no doubt, my friends; for, notwithstanding the god promised to cure the daughter of this worthy man, she has passed to the yellow stream, and, therefore, he is unworthy of his quality of godship, and should be punished; therefore, in justice to the worthy Sing, let this temple be pulled down, and the stupid idol pay the penalty in his own person."

To which the priest endeavored to reply, but the people would not listen to him, and acting upon the suggestion of Nicholas, threw a cord round the god's neck, pulled him to the ground, and belabored him with sticks and hammers.

During the proceeding the priests, who were too wise to lose their tempers, addressed a knot of lookers-on, vehemently threatening them with terrible misfortunes, but at the same time declaring, that if Sing would come to some agreement, the god, who was of a short temper, would do what was reasonable on his part and prevent future evils. This had the desired effect upon all but Sing and some of his friends, who continued to belabor the idol till the converts to the bonze's opinion drove them away, when, becoming broken into antagonistic parties, they threw aside their weapons and fought each other with their fists, till a body of yah-yu, or city police, entered upon the ground, and seizing Sing, the principal bonze, and the two boys, as the chief rioters, hurried them off to the police tribunal.

As for the mob, no sooner had the prisoners been removed, than mortified at the profanity into which they had been hurried, they gathered together the fragments of the deity, stuck them together as well as possible, washed him, and fell at his feet, exclaiming, "In truth we have been a little too hasty, but then your godship has been a little too slow in performing your promises, and thus brought the beating upon yourself. But still it is a good saying, that 'what has been done can't be undone.' Let us, therefore, think no more of this matter, and if you will forget what has passed we will repair thy temple and gild you over again."

For fear that my reader may think this episode exaggerated, I must assure him that similar scenes are even now of frequent occurrence—and why not? For although idolaters, the Chinese are neither enthusiasts nor fanatics. With the greater part, the worship of idols is an inheritance which it would be impossible to reject;—it is custom they worship. Moreover, like ourselves, they are a business-like people, and will have money's worth for money; therefore, if they pay an idol for a certain quantity of work, and he does not complete his contract, they give him a sound thrashing—and the principle is not a bad one after all.

CHAPTER VII.

TREACHERY OF THE BONZES.—NICHOLAS SENT TO PRISON AS A TRAITOR.

With the proverbial rudeness of most small officials, the yah-yu threw cords around the arms of the prisoners and dragged them along the streets, amid the jeers and laughter of the populace, who, enjoyed the prospect of the probable punishment of so serious an offence as rioting, namely, being led about the streets with the cangue, a wooden collar as large as a small table, around their necks; but in this the Chinese crowd was not worse than others in Europe, for, with shame be it said, a tendency to indulge in the minor miseries of their fellows is the cruel propensity of most masses.

When they came to the tribunal they found it crowded with people, who were standing upon either side of the hall, so as to form a lane by which to approach the mandarin, who was sitting at a table, upon which stood a box of bamboo reeds, tipped with yellow; upon his left side sat the secretary, and upon his right stood three men with ominous-looking bamboo canes in their hands. The first case heard was that of a youth whose propensity for gaming had led him to squander a large sum of money lent to him by his father for the purpose of commencing business. I must tell you however, that before bringing the boy before a tribunal, the father had fruitlessly tried every method of kindness. Having listened patiently, the mandarin severly reprimanded the youth, then taking fifty of the yellow-tipped reeds threw them on the ground as a signal for the men with canes to give him fifty blows. Before, however, they could obey, his mother, with tears in her eyes, threw herself at the mandarin's feet, begging of him to pardon her son. Being a kind-hearted man the magistrate complied, but ordering to be brought to him a volume written by one of the emperors for the instruction of his subjects, and opening it at a particular part, said, "Promise O youth, to renounce gambling and to listen to your father's directions, and I will pardon you this time; but that you may not forget, go and kneel in the gallery of the hall of audience and learn by heart this chapter on filial obedience, which till you repeat and solemnly promise to observe obedience, you shall not depart from this tribunal."

The youth being delighted at this lenient sentence bowed his forehead to the earth, and, moreover, I must tell you, kept his promise, although he was three days learning the task. Such being the spirit of the laws, and the paternal mildness with which they are for the most part carried out, excepting only in cases of high treason, we need not wonder that this great population has submitted to their rule for four thousand years.

When this case was over the chief of the yah-yu bowed to the ground and charged his prisoners generally with rioting to the disturbance of the public peace.

"What has the priest of Fo to say to this disgraceful charge? let him open his lips," said the mandarin. Whereupon the bonze fell upon his knees and accused the innkeeper of attacking the idol and leading a mob to destroy the monastery.

"What sayest the innkeeper? for surely the offence is serious," said the mandarin.

Then, bowing to the ground, the innkeeper related the morning's adventure, stating that but for the assistance of Nicholas and Chow, the bonze would have killed him, adding, "Truly, O jewel of justice, thy mean servant demands the punishment of this rascal bonze and his trumpery god, who, notwithstanding the sums paid to them, have permitted his only child to be carried from this life."

Having listened patiently to both sides, the mandarin said, "It is true that two offences have been committed, the one against the public peace, and the other against a private person. The former, being the most heinous, must be first dealt with; and, as without the bonze and the innkeeper, there could have been no such disturbance, let both be corrected with twenty blows. As for the two youths, who were drawn into this disturbance, let them pay half a tael each to some poor person to receive ten blows for them."

The sentence having gone forth, the men with the bamboos caught hold of the culprits, threw them upon the floor, and they received a similar punishment to that dealt out by a schoolmaster upon a refractory pupil; after which, the delinquents, smarting with pain, humbly returned thanks for this benevolent and fatherly correction.

"As for the second offence," said the mandarin, "it is clear that the bonze is either a rogue or no good judge of the powers of the different gods, and knew not to which to apply for this particular favor, an ignorance that has caused the innkeeper to lose his goods; and, in either case, is unfit for his office; therefore, if he is found within the city walls after this night, he shall be placed in the cangue for three moons. As for the god himself, who is the principal party concerned, let him be plucked down from his seat as a useless and malicious deity."

Thus compelled, by custom, to recognize the foolish superstition of Fo, although he no more believed in it than you do, the mandarin humorously punished the bonze.

The wily priest, however, had not quite played out his game, so, dissembling his rage at the result of the trial, he fell upon his knees, saying, "Pardon, O ever-flowing stream of justice, but the meanest and most insignificant servant of Fo, dares claim a reward for a great act."

"What words are these, thou dog of a bonze?' said the angry official.

"If the eyeballs of thy contemptible servant are straight in their sockets, he has seen placards bearing the character of the illustrious tsong-tou (viceroy) of the province promising twenty taels for any follower of the Christian priests, whose houses of prayer have been so wisely destroyed.

"What useless words are these, for where in this city is such a dog to be found, since they were hunted down by the illustrious governor? may he live a thousand years," replied the mandarin.

"This was a terrible surprise to Nicholas, for not only did it convince him that the persecution of the Christians had commenced, but that his own mission had somehow been discovered by the priest; nor was he disappointed, when the latter said, 'Truly, O grand canal of justice, that turbulent youth is even now on a treasonable errand to the Christian priest, Adam, who has so traitorously fled the city.'"

"These are dog's words, thou rogue of a bonze," said the boy.

Not regarding the interruption, the priest added, as he placed a paper in the hand of the mandarin, "The dragon vision of the lord of justice will discover to him that his servant's words are pearls of truth."

Having glanced at the paper, the mandarin said sternly to Nicholas, "Thou art young to be concerned in treason, and yet these characters warn the priest, Adam, against the great Ching-Ti, whom the anonymous writer tells him is about to arrive at Hang-tcheou, specially charged by the Son of Heaven to root out the Christian priests."

"As this is the first time, O mandarin, that thy servant's ears drink in this intelligence he must have been innocent of the contents of that packet," replied Nicholas.

"The youth is young; but, like the body of a snake, his words are twirling and slippery. It is true, those characters may not have reached his eyes, but it is equally true that he was the bearer, for the cover is even now in his girdle," said the priest.

"Thy servant, O mandarin, cannot deny that he bore the letter, but it was in ignorance that it was a crime," said Nicholas, taking the envelope from his vest, now fully convinced that the bonze had picked his girdle.

"Although it is certain that the writer is a traitor, it is not equally so that this youth is an accomplice," said the mandarin, after examining the envelope.

"The dog is a Christian, O lord of justice; and in the name of the Son of Heaven, I claim the twenty taels," said the bonze, forgetting the submission due to a magistrate, in his rage and fear that Nicholas might escape.

"Thy words are dirt, thou turbulent rogue, for it is not clear that the youth is a Christian," said the angry mandarin, adding kindly to Nicholas, "Let the youth deny this charge and he shall be believed, for his words are straight as the flying arrow."

Here was a chance, for it was evident the mandarin was his friend. Still, notwithstanding that imprisonment for life, if not speedy death, stared him in the face, Nicholas was too brave to forswear his Saviour, and he replied, "If to be a Christian, O mandarin, is to merit death, then am I ready to die."

Then the good-natured, but disappointed magistrate said sorrowfully, "The youth is as brave as he is honest, and deserves a better fate; yet must the commands of the great tsong-tou be observed, therefore let the youth be conveyed to the great prison to await his sentence." Without a word or the movement of a muscle, the boy permitted the attendants to bind his arms.

This was too much for Chow, who, with a leap like that of a wounded hare, cried, "The priest, O great lord, is a midnight thief." But such a demonstration being against the rules of decency, the officers seized and silenced the boy by clapping a gag in his mouth. Then the mandarin ordered twenty taels to be given to the bonze, and the latter having made the customary bow was about to depart, when the magistrate said, "Now priest, relate by what means that letter came into thy possession, for it is a maxim that justice should be equally balanced."

Then the bonze related how he met the boys, and took them to the monastery, adding that as they were passing through a passage the letter having fallen from the youth's girdle, he picked it up, and divining that its contents were treasonous, retained the document for examination.

"These are dog's words," exclaimed Chow, from whose mouth the gag had been taken by the mandarin's order; "the priest is a rogue and a rat, for he stole the paper at night while my noble master slept, and although for hours thy servant believed it was a dream, and mistook the bonze for an enemy, he now remembers that after filching the letter from the girdle, the rogue opened the envelope, stole the contents, and then by some mysterious means of his own closed it again."

The bonze being about to reply, the mandarin interrupted him, saying, "Truly has it been said that although eggs are close things, the chicks will out, for the rogue forgot to explain how the letter could leave the pocket of its owner without the envelope. The theft is clear, and it is but justice to the state that the thief should receive fifty blows, and pay twenty taels of silver." This sentence was speedily executed upon the roaring coward, whose back was still sore with the first beating, and so he left the tribunal considerably worse off than he had come before it.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHOW SETS OUT TO DISCOVER SOME THIEVES.

It was with no little distress of mind that Chow, who now loved Nicholas as a brother, parted with him at the gates of the prison. He tore his hair, beat his breast, and roared and capered as if in bodily as well as mental agony. Never should he see his noble master again; the wicked viceroy would kill him. O that he had not been a Christian, or so unwise as to admit it! These, and many other foolish things, passed through his mind, till he became wearied and fatigued. When more calm, he began to upbraid himself with folly and cowardice, for giving way to useless grief instead of setting his wits to work to aid him.

Like most Chinese, Chow believed, or at least followed, the mongrel creed of the country, and he proposed to himself to seek the aid of the gods; although even his faith in their powers had become weakened by the exhibition of the morning; at length, however, it occurred to him to seek the innkeeper, who being well to do, and an old inhabitant of Hang-tcheou, could if willing, give material assistance; if not willing, thought Chow, he must be the most ungrateful of human beings. So he went off to Sing, who was not only glad to see him, but invited him to live at the inn until they could hit upon some good scheme to rescue Nicholas; and so, that night, they talked and talked the matter over, till, becoming tired, they went to bed to sleep on it.

The next morning they compared notes as to their sleeping thoughts. The result of Chow's was to get a mob together to burst open the prison gates; at which very wise suggestion Sing laughed loudly, greatly to the disgust of Chow, who became very angry, as he fancied the innkeeper doubted his courage; but when Sing explained a little plan of his own he capered about joyfully, and begged that they might commence immediately.

"Let us first ask the gods for a fortunate day," said Sing.

"Then will not the worthy Sing seek a temple at once?" said Chow.

This being agreed to, they started off to the suburbs, where, in a retired spot, near the great lake, they found a divining temple.

These temples, which are sprinkled through the country, are always open for the convenience of the people, who enter upon nothing of importance, whether it be marrying, burying, buying, selling, house-building, party-giving, or setting out upon a journey, without first seeking to discover in the cup of destiny a fortunate day or hour for the proposed undertaking.

Upon the altar stood a large wooden cup, filled with small sticks, marked with certain mystic characters, representing both good and ill luck. Taking up this cup, Sing began to give it sharp quick jerks, while Chow, taking hold of a book that was hanging to the wall, searched for marks to correspond with those upon the sticks which might be thrown to the ground by Sing's jerking. With serious countenances they went through this performance, Sing believing that by a peculiar scientific twist of his wrist he could jerk out a few sticks of luck. For some time, however, the sticks were obstinate, and would not move; then a sharper jerk and one jumped out, then another, and another, three in all; and Chow, having examined the luck spots very earnestly, groaned with despair, for neither bore the required mark. Then, to propitiate the god of wood, paint, and gold leaf, they burned incense and tinsel paper, and, by way of reaching the cupidity of the deity, for it is difficult to made a Chinese believe that even a god will "do something for nothing," they placed some copper coins upon the altar, enough, I suppose, to satisfy his greedy godship; for when, at the risk of spraining his wrist, Sing gave the next jerk, out jumped two of the lucky spotted sticks, and the oblique eyes of Chow began to smile so satisfactorily that there really appeared to be some danger of their meeting across his nose and melting into one big orb in the middle of his forehead. Holding the sticks above his head, the boy capered about with delight, crying, "Thanks to Tien, the day will be fortunate, for the god has promised, and there is no rogue of a bonze present to persuade him from his good intentions."

As for Sing, he was no less pleased, for, notwithstanding his previous experience, his faith was entire in the cup of destiny, as it was, indeed, in the gods.

Chow's delight was almost as great as if his master had been already rescued. However, as soon as the first ebullition had subsided he began to think how he should commence operations, and so, puzzling his brains, he walked by the side of Sing, who was also quietly endeavoring to think out some grand plan of proceeding. Thus they proceeded till they came near the walls of the city, when their attention was aroused by a terrible discord. Not a dozen yards from them was a small house (like all Chinese habitations, one story high), before which stood the wall of respect, so called, because like a brick curtain it hides the domicile from the gaze of strangers. Near the doorway stood an elderly man with two pieces of metal, which he kept clanging against each other, stopping only at intervals to fulminate at the very compass of his voice, many fearful curses and maledictions against thieves who had plundered his house, fully believing that by the agency of the gods these curses would reach and crush the thieves, wherever they might be.

"It is only old Hoang, the retired innkeeper," said Sing cooly, as if not at all regretting the misfortunes of his successful rival. He could not, however, have possessed any such paltry feeling, for he added, "Will the venerable Hoang permit his younger brother to assist him in discovering these rogues?"

"The offer of the worthy Sing is good and grateful to his mean brother, but alas! nothing can avail old Hoang, for the Fong-Choui is his enemy, and will not be satisfied till his house is destroyed," was the reply.

To explain what I must tell you, that it is one of the most remarkable and foolish beliefs of the Celestials, that, apart from sanitary reasons, the situation of a house may effect the happiness and fortunes not only of its owner, but his descendants for several generations. The demon who exercises this baneful influence is the Fong-Choui, or wind and water. Thus, if a neighbor (it had been Hoang's case) builds his house in a contrary direction and so that one of its corners is placed opposite your own, your destiny is fixed, your only remedy being to have it immediately pulled down. To obtain the removal of the house in question, Hoang had applied to the mandarin, but as that officer had received a larger bribe from the neighbor than he could afford, the official recommended the old man to pull down his own house; but as this would have ruined him, he had had recourse to the only other remedy, which was, to erect upon the roof of his house a monster with a dragon's head and a large forked tongue, so pointed at the unfortunate corner that it would frighten away the Fong-Choui. That wind and watery personage, however, was not so easily frightened, for the next day some thieves entered his house and effected a very clever robbery.

By the aid of a mysterious engine (known, I suppose, only to the thieves of China), which will burn great holes in the thickest wood without causing either scent or flame, the rogues had entered Hoang's dwelling in the night so quietly that when the old gentleman awoke in the morning he found his bed without curtains or coverlid, and the room without furniture, all of which, besides other things of value, had been taken from the house.

"Surely thy dogs of servants must have been accomplices," said Chow.

"Not so, youth, for although I slept deep into the day, when I arose the servants were all in such a deep slumber that I believed them in the sleep of death."

"Surely my elder brother will seek the mandarin, and have the dogs' heads searched for," said Sing.

"Alas! O worthy Sing, thy unhappy servant is under the baneful influence of the Fong-Choui, and the mandarin dares not interfere."

Feeling deeply for the poor man, and not liking the idea of the thieves escaping so easily, Chow asked, "Has the worthy and honorable Hoang sought the mandarin?"

"It would be useless youth, without, indeed, a stranger would interfere, and break the charm of the Fong-Choui."

"With the will of the venerable Hoang, his younger brother will seek the tribunal of police," said Chow.

Delighted with the offer, Hoang led them through the rooms of his house, which Chow examined with the talent of a detective police officer, and after pacing about for some time he stumbled. Looking to see the cause, he saw it was a small square box. "See," he said, "the robbers in their flight have dropped some of their plunder."

"Surely that box must belong to the villains, for it has never before darkened my eyes," said Hoang.

"Then by the toe of the Son of Heaven we have some clue to the way in which the robbery was effected," said Chow, as he opened the box and took out a little pyramid, resembling our own pastiles. Placing one to his nose he said, "It is the baneful drug of Setchuen. Light but one and place it near the nostrils of a sleeper, and it will be many hours before he can be awakened. In this manner, O venerable friend, has the house been robbed,—its inmates were under the influence of the drug."

"Thy discovery is great, and may lead to the capture of the thieves. Would that so poor a man could reward such a benafactor."

However, as time was an object to Chow for the success of some plan, which from the cunning brightness that flitted through his eye seemed just then to have crossed his mind, he stopped the garrulous gratitude of the old gentleman by begging the box of pastiles as his reward. This being granted, he took a very formal leave, promising not to rest till he had seen the mandarin himself.

CHAPTER IX.

CHOW OUTWITS A GREAT MANDARIN, AND SETS OUT TO RESCUE HIS MASTER.

As they walked to the inn Chow explained to Sing his plan for the rescue of Nicholas, which, after some serious consideration and many words of advice, the innkeeper approved; but as it could not be put in operation before evening, as soon as they reached the inn they went into one of the inner apartments, and while they refreshed themselves with a good meal, chatted over the details.

After they had completed their arrangements, Sing led Chow to an outbuilding, in which were two oblong coffins, the one sealed down, the other with the lid half off. The first contained the body of Sing's daughter, of whom he had been so fond in life that in death he kept her in the same room with the open coffin which had been presented to him by the girl as a filial offering.

Such gifts as this, which I dare say you will think a sombre one, are by no means more rare among the Chinese than the preservation in their own houses of the bodies of those they have loved. And just above an altar upon which incense was burning, hung a portrait of the dead girl, before which silently and with cheeks damped with tears of memory, Sing threw himself reverentially, and prayed fervently for the other world happiness of his child. Having, with as much real sympathy as mere courtesy, joined in the ceremony for a short time, Chow arose, and left the bereaved parent throwing cuttings of silver paper upon the burning dish, in the belief that in the next world it would change into real money for his daughter's use.

As when Chow reached the police tribunal he found it closed for the day, he clattered upon a large gong or kettle drum, affixed to the door, a piece of great daring on his part; for if his business did not strike the mandarin as being of the greatest importance, he might make sure of some fifty blows for his impudence, for the public officers in China are quite as averse to doing too much for the public money as many that I could name of our own.

The door was opened and the boy was shown into the hall of audience, where he had not long to wait before the mandarin and four bamboo sticks in waiting made their appearance. "How, dog! Why this clatter at our gates when the tribunal is closed?" asked the surly grandee.

"Will the magnificent fountain of justice give his unworthy servant a private hearing?" said the bold boy, glancing significantly at the bamboo sticks in waiting.

"Let the fellow's mouth be opened with ten blows for his impudence," said the polite magistrate; but as the men were about to obey, Chow thrust his hand into his robe, and pulling out a letter threw it into the great man's lap, a piece of effrontery so beyond all precedent that the bamboo sticks waiting stood aghast and ready at a glance from the mandarin to immolate the profane boy. The magistrate, however, no sooner opened the paper than in tremulous tones he exclaimed, "Leave us alone, this fellow has matters of private importance to communicate."

This order having been obeyed, Chow broke through the rules of decency and etiquette by speaking before he was spoken to. "A crime has been committed within thy district, O mandarin, yet justice sleeps. Surely this is not according to the sacred books," said he.