/ 2. . -5", /6 . 
 
 0 f tut WMogitHi 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 Purchased by the Hamill Missionary Fund. 
 
 PZ 7 . B2 6 1 T 2 
 Barnes, Annie Maria, b. 
 
 1 857 . 
 
 Tatong, the little slave 
 
TATONG, 
 
 THE LITTLE SLAVE. 
 
 A STORY OF KOREA. 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNIE MARIA BARNES, 
 
 Author of “ Xinito “ The House of Grass,” “ Children of the Kalahari 
 “ How A-chon-lio-ah Found the Light,” “ Izilda ,” 41 Matouchon.” 
 
 RICHMOND, VA.: 
 
 The Presbyterian Committee of Publication. 
 
Copyrighted 
 
 by 
 
 JAS. K. HAZEN, Secretary of Publication , 
 
 1899. 
 
 Printed by 
 
 Whittet & Shepperson, 
 Richmond, Va. 
 
TO 
 
 my friend. 
 
 Mrs. J. P- CAMPBELL, 
 
 earnest teacher of tHe “jesUs doctriNe” 
 
 at seoUL, Korea. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/tatonglittleslavOObarn 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Page. 
 
 The One Who Caked, 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Old Kimki, 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Poor Tatong! 36 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 “ God, the Father,” ..... 50 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Home Lite of the Little Slave, ... 68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Kurdong, ...... 82 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In the Marble Pagoda, .... 98 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ They Cast Me Out to Die,” . . . 116 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Wedding at Mr Ni’s, 
 
 135 
 
6 
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER X. page. 
 
 The Faithfulness of a Little Heart, . . 154 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On the South Road, 171 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “ The Jesus Doctrine,” .... 195 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 In the Shelter of the Beautiful Place, . 220 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Conclusion, ....... 244 
 
TATOAG, 
 
 THE LITTLE KOREA 1ST SLAVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The One Who Caked. 
 
 T) IGTIT in the center of the quaint city of 
 lY Seoiil (pronounced Sa-ool), Korea, which 
 is surrounded by a massive wall as high as a 
 three-story house, and with its queer mud and 
 straw dwellings that look just like a great field 
 full of hay-ricks all tumbled together, stands the 
 little temple in which is the big bell that is rung 
 at the opening and closing of the gates. I say 
 rung, but I mean struck, for it is made to give 
 forth its sound by being pounded upon by a big 
 beam. All around this bell temple are the 
 stores, many of them no more than booths. Here 
 most of the business is transacted. At any hour 
 of the day you can find a crowd gathered. Some- 
 times it is so large that it is with difficulty a 
 passage through it can be obtained. Here men, 
 women and children come, either to buy, sell, or 
 to gaze upon the scenes with curiosity. There 
 
8 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 are merchants, peddlers, clerks, gentlemen, of- 
 ficers of the law, and even soldiers. The most 
 of them look like ghosts stealing about, for men 
 and women dress principally in white in Korea. 
 Sometimes it is very difficult to tell the men 
 from the women, so much alike is the costume. 
 Both dress in long, big-sleeved robes somewhat 
 like a blouse, with the trousers showing beneath. 
 The men wear very large, full trousers, which 
 are wadded, as are also their socks. On their 
 heads are immense hats of straw, bamboo or 
 horsehair. Many of the hats are tied under the 
 chin by means of a stiff ribbon. The shoes are 
 principally of straw or wood. The most of them 
 are sandals that cover but a portion of the foot, 
 others are in shape like a shallow boat. 
 
 The stores jut out into the streets. They are 
 very small, a large portion of them being no 
 more than straw sheds. The Korean merchant 
 does not make much of a display of his goods, 
 lie brings out piece by piece or article by article 
 as you ask for it. Often you will see the mer- 
 chant squatting outside his booth smoking while 
 he waits for a customer. You must ask him 
 for what you want before he will go to the 
 booth. 
 
 When it is a regular market day, the streets 
 are lined with sellers other than those in the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 9 
 
 stores and booths. Their wares are laid out on 
 mats spread on the ground. These merchants 
 have for sale strings of dried pepper, Korean 
 matches, which are nothing but shavings with 
 their ends dipped in sulphur, dried fish, sea- 
 weed, wooden combs, skeins of cotton, cord for 
 girdles, and the like. 
 
 Instead of purses or a money-box, each seller 
 keeps strands of a coarse twine made of straw, 
 on which is strung his “cash .” 1 
 
 One market day, when trade was very brisk, 
 and great streams of people were hurrying along 
 in the direction of the bell-temple, a little girl 
 of twelve or thereabouts came slowly down one 
 of the narrow alley-like streets. She was going 
 toward the market place as were the others, but, 
 unlike the others, was not hastening. Her dress 
 was neither clean nor neat. It was of coarse 
 cotton goods, winch had once been wliite, but 
 v r as now so soiled and worn all whiteness had 
 gone from it. The loose garment was fastened 
 at the w T aist by a girdle of straw. The skirt of 
 the outer garment caught her just half way be- 
 tween the knee and the ankle. Below it her trou- 
 sers fell, wliile on her feet were sandals of straw. 
 
 Unlike most of the women and girls wlio 
 passed her, her face v r as uncovered. They had 
 
 1 Copper coins with small square holes in the center. 
 
10 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 a kind of green coat with long sleeves, which 
 they held up tight around their faces, only the 
 eyes and forehead showing. But this little girl 
 had nothing over her face. This at once pro- 
 claimed that she belonged to the lowest class, or 
 that she was a slave. It was the latter. Poor 
 Tatong had neither home, parents nor loved 
 ones. She was the slave of the family of Mr. 
 Hi, the hat-weaver. She had been picked rip 
 when an infant in an old field where she had 
 been thrown to die. She thus, by the law of the 
 country, became the slave of the one who found 
 her. He could either keep her for his own use 
 or sell her. He had kept her until she was five 
 years old, then sold her to Mr. Hi. 
 
 Poor Tatong had had a wretched life, even 
 more wretched than is usual in that country 
 where woman’s lot is so hard and cruel. She 
 had known nothing all her life save hard work 
 and ill-usage, for she had begun her life of slave 
 labor as soon as her little hands were able to 
 carry water for the angpak. 1 Blows and hard 
 words had come even before labor had com- 
 menced. This treatment was enough to have 
 made Tatong herself hard and sullen. But it 
 had not altogether, for there was still within her 
 heart a little sunspot of brightness and sweet, 
 
 1 The great water jar kept in Korean kitchens. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 11 
 
 good-nature. The light broke forth every now 
 and then and shone. Yet how many hitter cries 
 there had been, and what sad, sad times she had 
 had brooding over her cares and her woes ! 
 
 As she went along now her face had a woe-be- 
 gone expression, yet despite this and the hard lot 
 she had had in life, it was a pleasant face, even 
 more, it was an attractive face. Her complexion 
 was not so yellow as that of the Chinese or J ap- 
 anese ; it was more of a brunette coloring. Her 
 nose was small and straight, and her eyes large 
 and of a soft deep gray. Down her back in two 
 long plaits hung her hair of a dark, reddish 
 brown. 
 
 She held her hands clasped before her, while 
 through a great string of the brown copper 
 “cash” her arms were run. It was evidently a 
 circlet of much weight though not of much 
 value, that is, as dollars were counted, for each 
 one of these copper coins was worth only about 
 one-fifth of our cent ; that is, it would take five 
 hundred of them to make our dollar. 
 
 But they seemed of great value in the eyes of 
 the little slave, for as she went along she kept 
 close watch upon them. Well she knew what 
 would be the consequence if any of them were 
 lost or stolen. How could she replace even five 
 of them ? Every one had been counted before 
 
12 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 she left on her trip to the market. She knew, 
 to the very last copper, what she was expected 
 to bring hack for them. If she failed, then a 
 beating would most assuredly he in store for 
 her. 
 
 She kept much to herself, that is, as much 
 as she could, during the walk to the market, 
 hut this was impossible where the streets were 
 crowded. Many jostled her, a man carrying 
 pottery on a great frame like an easel almost 
 ran over her, then stormed at her because she 
 had not gotten out of the way. One corner of 
 his frame had come near catching under her 
 string of “cash.” Had it done so the straw 
 might have been torn apart and the money scat- 
 tered. 
 
 A magistrate’s procession delayed her. She 
 dared not cross in front of it, nor even between 
 it while it was passing, though some of the riders 
 were wide apart. Had she done so, by the law 
 of the country, she would have been arrested 
 and punished, perhaps flogged with bamboo 
 poles. 
 
 At last the market place was reached. Around 
 an old woman, who was squatting beside her mat, 
 a large crowd was gathered. It was composed 
 chiefly of hoys. The reason for so many hover- 
 ing about was soon disclosed. The old woman 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 13 
 
 had mochi 1 and sticks of barley sugar for sale. 
 The boys who could buy were stuffing the sweets 
 away as fast as they could and hooting at those 
 who could not buy. 
 
 Tatong tried to make her way through this 
 crowd, but failed. She was just turning aside 
 to cross over to the other part of the street, when 
 two of the boys spied her and began to jeer at 
 her. 
 
 “Slave ! slave !” they cried. “Why do you not 
 come on through ? Are you afraid ?” 
 
 She made no answer. This seemed to anger 
 them. They reached out, and catching her 
 roughly, began to jerk her and to pull at her, 
 sending her from one to the other like a ball, all 
 the time laughing at the fun of it. 
 
 “Don’t !” plead Tatong, “Oh ! don’t ! ” 
 
 Others turned around now to see whence the 
 noise came. They, too, joined in, either laugh- 
 ing or taking part in the sport of tormenting 
 poor Tatong. Suddenly her hands slipped apart, 
 her arms dropped down, and over them went 
 sliding the string of “cash.” She tried to get a 
 hold upon it and stop it, but failed. It slid past 
 her hands, then fell with a thud to the ground. 
 A boy who had been for some time watching the 
 string of “cash” more than he had the move- 
 
 1 A paste made of sweetened rice. 
 
14 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 ments of the group around Tatong, sprang for- 
 ward and attempted to seize it. But two other 
 boys had each placed a foot upon it, A scramble 
 now took place for its possession. In the scram- 
 ble the cord of straw was torn apart, and the 
 coins were scattered in every direction. 
 
 “Rogues !” cried a voice at that moment, and 
 a hoy of better appearance than any of the others 
 sprang into their midst, pushing right and left. 
 By sheer force he soon had a space cleared 
 around where the money had fallen, hut by this 
 time fully one-half of the coins had disappeared. 
 The hoy now began gathering them up. Others 
 helped him, for all had not been had. The most 
 of them had only intended to have fun. Some 
 had begun to feel regret as soon as they saw how 
 the rough play was ending. 
 
 By this time, Tatong, having seen the coins 
 rolling away, and the light fingers grabbing for 
 them, was weeping bitterly. 
 
 “What shall I "do ? What shall I do?” she 
 cried. “I shall surely he beaten ! I shall ! I 
 shall !” 
 
 The hoy had now gathered all the coin he 
 could get together, both from the ground and 
 through threats made to certain of the boys he 
 had seen scrambling for them as they rolled 
 away. He approached Tatong holding them in 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 15 
 
 his hat, for, unlike the others, his head had been 
 covered. 1 
 
 “I am sorry I conld not get more,” he said. 
 “Yes, I am very sorry. Here are all I could 
 find.” 
 
 His voice, too, was not like the others. It had 
 a different tone ; it was softer, gentler, and how 
 kind were his words ! 
 
 As deep as was her trouble, Tatong noticed 
 this, and noticed, too, that his clothes were not 
 made the same way. There was more of his 
 trousers showing, though they were not very 
 wide, and the upper garment did not come more 
 than to his knees. 
 
 “We will get another string,” he continued, 
 “one of the merchants will give us one, and I 
 will help you put the coin back.” 
 
 When the “cash” were put on the string again 
 nearly a hundred were found missing. 
 
 Tatong was so overcome that she sat right 
 down in the street and hurst into tears, swaying 
 herself to and fro. 
 
 The boy looked perplexed, then sad. This 
 
 1 It is not the custom in Korea for boys to wear hats 
 until they become men, and then often not until they are 
 married. They go bareheaded, with their hair parted in 
 the middle and hanging down their backs in plaits like 
 that of the girls. 
 
16 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 was surely a poor return for his kindness. He 
 had had a hard time getting so many of the 
 coin together. Was she not glad for that 
 much at least ? But it seemed not. If he only 
 had some to give her, he thought. But this 
 could not he, for there was not one in his girdle 
 or about him. He had had a few earlier in the 
 day, but all were gone now. How he wished he 
 had saved them ! 
 
 He tried to talk to Tatong, but her grief was 
 so violent she either could not or would not hear 
 him. He stood a few moments looking at her 
 sadly, then walked away. But he glanced back 
 once or twice as he went. He had done an un- 
 usual thing for a boy in Korea. Had not Tatong 
 realized it ? 
 
 Several minutes passed. Tatong was still 
 crying, though she had raised her head to regard 
 the remainder of the coins as they lay in her 
 lap. Some one else was standing near her now, 
 some one else was regarding her. 
 
 “Little one,” said a deep, strong voice at this 
 moment, “why do you weep ?” 
 
 Tatong gave a start, then looked up into the 
 face bending toward her. But she could see 
 little of the face because of the great brim of the 
 hat the stranger wore and a portion of his robe, 
 which was drawn up close about his chin. But 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 17 
 
 she could see his eves and his lips plainly. How 
 gentle were the former ! what sweet, kind words 
 
 O 
 
 the latter had spoken! Tatong could hardly 
 credit what her ears had heard. Had he indeed 
 spoken in this way to her ? to her, a poor little 
 slave, to whom others rarely ever spoke save in 
 command or abuse. And it was such a rare 
 thing, anyhow, for a man in Korea to thus accost 
 a woman or girl. 
 
 “Little one,” said the voice again, “I have 
 asked you what is the matter? Why do you 
 cry so ?” 
 
 “O sir,” replied Tatong, and bursting into 
 fresh tears, “such a dreadful thing has happened 
 to me !” 
 
 “What is it that has happened ?” asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 “My mistress sent me to market. I had more 
 than four hundred cash. I had to buy rice, 
 mochi, ginseng, matches and eggs. There was 
 just enough cash and no more for each one. But 
 some rude boys caught me and pulled me about. 
 The string of cash slipped from my arms. It 
 fell to the ground. There were thieves watching 
 for it. They sprang upon it, tore it apart, and 
 began picking up the coins. But for one who 
 was, Oh ! so kind ! who rushed into their midst 
 and forced them away and got back some of the 
 
18 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 coin, there would not have been one left. As it 
 is, there are nearly a hundred gone, and Oh ! I 
 shall be beaten for it ! Oh ! I know I shall ! My 
 mistress is hard, cruel ; she will not let me off !” 
 “Poor child ! poor child !” said the man. “Is 
 it so had as this ? Will you really he beaten for 
 something you could not help ?” 
 
 “Oh ! yes, I shall ! I know, sir, I shall !” 
 
 “But you say the larger part of the coin was 
 saved,” he continued. “Ought you not to be 
 thankful for that ?” and he looked at her closely. 
 
 “O sir, I suppose that I ought. But for those 
 that have been lost I shall he beaten all the same, 
 so it might as well have been all !” and she broke 
 forth again into tears. 
 
 “Hot so, poor child, as I think I can prove to 
 you. As you have lost but a part of the coin, then 
 I think that I may replace them, as I have about 
 that many, maybe a few more in my wallet here. 
 Thus, if I give them to you, you can get what 
 you were sent to get, and so will not be beaten. 
 But if you had lost all, I could not have replaced 
 them, since I have them not. Then you would 
 have been beaten. Do you not see the differ- 
 ence ?” 
 
 “O sir !” cried Tatong rapturously, and with- 
 out noting the question, “you will give me the 
 coin ?” 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 19 
 
 “I will give you the coin. I cannot bear to 
 think of your being beaten.” 
 
 “I can hardly believe what I bear ! How is it 
 that anyone can care for me, for me, the poor 
 little slave Tatong ? Ob ! I did not think this 
 could be ! Sir, sir, do you give me the coin be- 
 cause you really do not wish me to be beaten ?” 
 “That is why I give it to you. Does it seem 
 so strange to you that I should ?” 
 
 “O sir, it does. All my life no one has ever 
 cai’ed before, no one,” collecting herself, “until 
 the kind boy did. Oh ! how sorry I am I did not 
 tell him my heart was thanking him ! But it 
 was the tears and the fear of the beating that 
 would not let me. It was so I could not even 
 see his face. I could hear his voice, but I could 
 not understand. How he is gone, and I can 
 never tell him.” 
 
 “You may see him again.” 
 
 “How I hope that I can ! I shall look for him 
 every day and with all my eyes. Oh ! he was so 
 different from the rest, different from the others 
 I have seen, and you, sir — .” 
 
 Here Tatong stopped. She had been on the 
 point of saying, “and you, sir, are too.” But she 
 did not, for she was not sure, though he had been 
 so kind, just how it would be received. He was 
 not a boy but a man ; so she could not express 
 her thoughts so freely to him. 
 
20 
 
 T atong, the Little Slave. 
 
 For the last moment or so he had been busy 
 •with a stout wallet he wore at his girdle. 
 
 “Here, Tatong,” he said, “are thirty cash and 
 one silver piece, which, together, will be more 
 than the ninety odd cash you have lost.” 
 
 “O sir, how can I take it, when it seems all 
 that you have ?” 
 
 “But I may get more,” he returned with a 
 smile. “Anyhow, I do not need them so much 
 as you.” 
 
 “I never thought anyone could or would care 
 so much for me,” said Tatong, overcome again 
 by tears. “Oh ! it seems like a dream ! Can it be 
 true ? Do you really want me not to get the beat- 
 ing ? Is this why you give me the cash ?” 
 
 “Yes, child, it is.” 
 
 “But you would not know it, you would not 
 see it ; how, then, could you care ?” 
 
 “I care now. It is enough to see you suffer as 
 you do.” 
 
 “Xo one ever cared before ! Xo one ever 
 cared before ! I might have died while they 
 were beating me and no one woiild have said, 
 ‘Poor Tatong.’ They would have thrown me out 
 in the old fields for the beasts to pick my hones, 
 and that would have been the end. Xo one 
 would have cared ! no one would have cared !” 
 
 “Yes, Tatong, there is One who would have 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 21 
 
 known, who would have seen, who would have 
 cared. That One is the great God who reigns 
 up yonder.” 
 
 “Ua-na-nim!” 1 cried Tatong quickly. Oh! 
 he is so terrible ! His eyes are like fire. Oh ! 
 surely you do not mean him !” 
 
 “Hot Ha-na-nim , Tatong, but God, our Father 
 in heaven. He cares for you. He cares for 
 even the tiniest bird with wings too weak to 
 leave the nest. There is not a blade of grass, 
 nor a flower on the stalk that he does not note 
 when it withers and dies.” 
 
 “O sir,” cried Tatong, “tell me more ! God, 
 our Father! You do not mean that he is my 
 father, too ? Oh ! I cannot believe it ! It is too 
 good to be true ! Tell me again !” 
 
 “Yes, Tatong, he is your father, too. lie 
 knows you, he cares for you.” 
 
 “Tatong’s father ! Tatong’s father ! And he 
 cares ! he cares! O sir ! O sir !” 
 
 “Yes, Tatong, he cares. He even loves you.” 
 “Tell me more ! Oh ! tell me more ! Hobody 
 ever cared before. How you tell me One does, 
 One other besides yourself. And he is my 
 father ! O sir, how can it be ? There was never 
 a father for Tatong, miserable slave Tatong ! 
 
 1 The name by which the Koreans designate God. It 
 means “the Lord of heaven.” 
 
22 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 Even those where I was horn would not have 
 me. They threw me out to perish with the 
 beasts. Oh ! tell me more of this F ather, this 
 Father that you say is Tatong’ s.” 
 
 “That I will, Tatong, but too many are look- 
 ing now. I must not be seen talking to you so 
 long. Sometime I will tell you why this is. Do 
 you know where the Marble Pagoda is, a part of 
 which has been taken off and set on the ground ? 
 The children go there now and then to play, and 
 I thought maybe you knew where it was.” 
 
 “Oh ! yes, sir, I do.” 
 
 “Well, I am there almost every night after 
 the bell has been sounded for the men to go 
 home and the women to come out. There I 
 meet and talk to a few who come to listen. Will 
 not you, too ?” 
 
 “O sir, that I will if I can. They send me 
 many times into the streets after the night bell.” 
 “Then come, Tatong, if you can. I must go 
 now, and so must you to get the things you were 
 sent to purchase. Let this remembrance be with 
 you, my child, whether I ever see you again or 
 not. There is One who cares, and that One is 
 God, your Father.” 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Old Kimbi. 
 
 ATOXG stood looking after tlie stranger 
 
 until lie disappeared within the sea of 
 white gowns and big hats. What wonderful 
 thing was this that had happened to her ? Had 
 he really been so kind ? had he spoken the words 
 that even now were ringing through her heart 
 like the music from sweet bells ? Yes, it had 
 surely been, for did not the “cash” and the tiny 
 silver piece lie there in her lap ? Oh ! but for 
 him she surely would have gone home to a ter- 
 rible heating ! She would not have dared run 
 away, for then they would have hunted for her, 
 and when they had found her, they would have 
 beaten her many times over. But now she would 
 not he beaten at all, at least not for what had 
 happened to her about the money. The kind 
 stranger had come, his heart had opened, he had 
 pitied her, he had given her nearly all that he 
 had in his wallet — only a few “cash” being left 
 — that the stinging blows might not descend 
 upon her, the cruel lash cut into her flesh. And 
 all this was done because he was sorry. He had 
 
2 4 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 said so. But what was this thing, the most won- 
 derful of all that he had told her ? There was 
 One who eared, cared all the time, One who was 
 her Father. Tatong’s Father! Was there 
 really a father for Tatong, the poor little 
 wretched slave girl ? Where was he ? Why had 
 he stayed away all this time ? Why did he not 
 come where she could see him ? Ah, now she re- 
 membered. This Father lived above the sky. He 
 was not only good, hut he was great. He owned 
 many things ; he could do many things. Per- 
 haps after a while he would let her look on his 
 face just once and hear his words. Oh ! what hap- 
 piness that would be ! But when was he com- 
 ing ? If he would only come soon ! Surely if he 
 knew how hard and how hitter it was, the life of 
 a slave, he would not delay. 
 
 But she must go now and buy the things. Her 
 heart was so light she scarcely felt herself walk- 
 ing. Some of the ruder ones in the crowd jostled 
 her first one way and then the other, but she did 
 not seem to notice it. All the while her lips 
 were saying, 
 
 “Tatong’s Father ! Tatong’s Father !” 
 
 She came shortly to a kind of open space or 
 lot, where a number of people from the country 
 had congregated. They had all kinds of wares 
 for sale — fowls, eggs, hunches of millet and bar- 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 25 
 
 ley, small bundles of wood, and even bits of rude 
 earthen ware which they had themselves manu- 
 factured. 
 
 Tatong was hurrying along almost blindly 
 when a shout arrested her. But that would not 
 have been sufficient to have restrained her had 
 not a hand at that moment caught her and firmly 
 kept her from taking another step. Not a mo- 
 ment too soon ! Had another step been taken, 
 she would have come directly in front of a great 
 ox laden with bundles of wood. As well-dis- 
 posed as the creature might have been, he could 
 not of himself have stopped in time to prevent 
 knocking her down and trampling upon her. 
 
 “Have you no sense ?” asked the one who had 
 caught her, and, turning her head, Tatong looked 
 up into the eyes of a tall, strong woman, her 
 face uncovered, a handkerchief of brilliant color 
 fastened about her head. Her clothes were not 
 only of the roughest material, but were soiled 
 and much worn. They had, too, the look of hav- 
 ing been put on carelessly. 
 
 “Did you think Mokpo a lamb, that he could 
 stop at any moment and walk around you ? What 
 did you mean, running right under his feet in 
 that way ? Why, didn’t you know it would have 
 been impossible for him to have stopped in time 
 with that great load ? No beast of his size could 
 
26 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 have done it, not even one so gentle and so kindly 
 disposed as Mokpo.” 
 
 “Oh ! I didn’t see,” replied Tatong, meekly. 
 “I had no idea he was there.” 
 
 “Well, you would have known it a second later 
 had you gone on. What’s the matter with you, 
 anyhow ?” 
 
 “Oh ! I’m happy ! so happy !” 
 
 “Well, you don’t look like one with any reason 
 to he happy,” and the woman glanced meaningly 
 at her wretched attire. “You are one of those 
 in bondage, are you not ?” 
 
 “Yes,” said Tatong, “I am a slave, and up to 
 only a little while ago I was a very miserable 
 one. But now I am happy, so happy, as I have 
 told you ?” 
 
 “What has made the change ?” asked the 
 woman wonderingly. 
 
 “One came who was kind. He said Oh ! so 
 many beautiful things ! But best of all he said 
 to me that there was a father for Tatong. Oh ! 
 to think of it, a father for a poor little wretched 
 slave like me !” 
 
 “There isn’t anything so uncommon in that. 
 I guess you have a father somewhere. It’s to be 
 supposed you have. But, as he cast you off, I 
 can’t see why you are so glad to hear of him 
 again. I’d he anything else if I were you.” 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 27 
 
 “Oh ! hut I have such a hard time ! Those who 
 have me do not want me, or at least they say so. 
 They beat me, and they do not give me enough to 
 eat, and they often send me out into the streets 
 after it is dark.” 
 
 “I wouldn’t stay ; I would run away.” 
 
 “They would be sure to catch me; then they 
 woxild beat me all the harder.” 
 
 “They would not catch you if you ran away to 
 the country,” said the woman in a low voice. 
 “Why do you not get outside the wall, then flee ?” 
 “I should be afraid,” admitted Tatong with a 
 shudder. “Tigers are there.” 
 
 “Oh ! you could find plenty of those in whose 
 company you could get so that the tigers could 
 not harm you.” 
 
 “Why are you talking there so long ?” cried a 
 quavering voice at this moment. “Come here, 
 I want to know what it is about.” 
 
 Tatong looked up quickly as she heard the 
 voice and the words. The woman who had been 
 talking to her had stopped to do so ; she had also 
 by a word or two brought the ox to a standstill. 
 Glancing in the direction whence the voice had 
 come, Tatong saw an old woman crouched down 
 against the corner of one of the booths. She 
 had evidently stopped there to await the pleas- 
 ure of the one who had caught and held Tatong. 
 
28 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 She was now tired of the waiting, and expressed 
 
 herself accordingly. 
 
 © «/ 
 
 “I must go and speak to her,” said the younger 
 woman, “for she will not rest until she hears.” 
 “Oh ! I want to tell you I am glad you pulled 
 me away from the feet of the ox,” said Tatong, 
 detaining her. “I ought to have told you before, 
 hut we began to talk about the other matter. It 
 was good of you not to let me be hurt.” 
 
 “You needn’t say any more about it. I am 
 glad for Mokpo’s sake as well as your own that 
 he didn’t hurt you. It would have given him a 
 bad turn had he done it, for Mokpo’s heart is 
 so tender, if his body is big and clumsy.” 
 
 By this time they had crossed over to where 
 the old woman sat. She, too, had her face un- 
 covered so that Tatong could see her plainly. 
 She was old and wrinkled and had a forbidding 
 appearance, so much so that Tatong felt a slmd- 
 der as she noted it. Her nose was bowed like a 
 parrot’s beak, and what teeth she had left looked 
 like yellow fangs. 
 
 “She would come,” said the younger woman, 
 who, by this time, Tatong had set down in her 
 mind as the daughter of the older one. “She 
 declared there was some things she must do and 
 see. The way was long and hard, and I know 
 she is worn out, but she will not say so.” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 29 
 
 Despite that the old woman was rather for- 
 bidding looking and had said enough to show 
 that she had a bad temper, yet the young woman 
 spoke to her kindly, almost tenderly. Filial 
 devotion is one of the golden-hued traits in 
 Korea. It is one of the rarest of occurrences 
 that parents are ill used. On the other hand, 
 let them be as cross and stirly as they choose, 
 they are treated with the greatest respect, even 
 veneration. 
 
 As Tatong came near the old woman she 
 stared at her closely, then began to work her 
 fingers together, crying shrilly, 
 
 “Who are you, and what are you doing here ?” 
 Tatong shrank away. The old woman was so 
 forbidding, and she looked at her with such a 
 scowl, but she managed to say, 
 
 “I am Tatong, the little slave that belongs to 
 the family of Mr. Hi, and I am going to the 
 market.” 
 
 “A slave ? Ha ! ha ! ho ! ho ! I thought it ! I 
 knew it ! It isn’t very nice, now, to be a slave, 
 is it ?” 
 
 “Xo,” said Tatong, ready to cry ; “it isn’t.” 
 “You get beaten, don’t you ? Oh, it hurts, eh ? 
 There are stripes on you now, I suppose. Wish 
 I could see them.” 
 
 “Yes,” said Tatong, the tears ready to come 
 
30 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 now ; “they do heat me. There are stripes on 
 my back that are not well yet. But Oh ! surely 
 yon don’t mean that you are glad about them !” 
 
 “Yes, T am !” she declared snappishly. “I 
 like to see such as you get beaten. It’s your 
 face, you know.” 
 
 Tatong wondered what there was about her 
 face that made the old woman so angry. She 
 was evidently going to say more to the child, 
 but by this time her daughter had succeeded in 
 drawing off her attention to something else. 
 
 Had you been there, you would have noticed 
 that the younger woman did not once address 
 the older one as mother, though this must have 
 been the relation she bore. The custom in 
 Korea is not to address parents as such, or even 
 to mention the name of mother or father in their 
 presence. 
 
 As Tatong was hurrying away, not knowing 
 what moment the old woman’s tongue might send 
 words after her, she heard one man say to an- 
 other, 
 
 “There is old Kimri again. I wonder what 
 mischief she is after now ? She never comes in 
 but she makes a stir of some kind. I am truly 
 sorry for her daughter. The old one fairly rides 
 over her. If it were not that she had some fear 
 of her son-in-law, I don’t know how they could 
 possibly get on with her.” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 31 
 
 “Isn’t she the old woman who is so vicious to 
 other women,” asked the other, “especially to 
 those who are young and good looking ?” 
 
 “Yes. The story is that all her life she has 
 been terribly ugly. Just by looking at her one 
 could easily surmise that. It all went very well 
 while she could keep her face covered. But when 
 she married and her husband saw her face, then 
 he cast her off. She was like a beast in her temper 
 after that, and would never wear the green coat 
 again . 1 From that time on she bore a dreadful 
 grudge toward good-looking women. She has 
 even scratched the faces of two or three of 
 them.” 
 
 Tatong passed on. What a dreadful creature 
 old Kimri must he. IIow glad she, Tatong, was 
 that she had gotten out of her sight as quickly as 
 she had ! How many more terrible questions 
 would she have asked ? And Oh ! what a hard 
 heart she had ! To think she could care so to see 
 the stripes where one had been beaten ! Tatong 
 could not help contrasting this with the gentle- 
 ness and tenderness of the stranger. He had 
 been so sorry for her. Bather than have her 
 
 1 A kind of coat, or outer covering, worn by the wo- 
 men and girls of Korea. They do not put it on, only 
 throw it over their bodies, the long sleeves hanging down 
 like great, flapping ears. With the upper portion they 
 cover their faces, drawing it together just under the eyes. 
 
32 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 beaten be bad given her almost the last “cash” 
 be bad. And be was a man and Kirnri a woman. 
 It was so strange, so new. All the men Tatong 
 bad known np to this time bad held themselves 
 aloof from the women and girls, rarely ever 
 speaking to them except to command. They 
 were cruel, too, in many ways. Tatong had been 
 roughly shoved by them often and often. She 
 had felt the force of hand and foot. From 
 whence had this kind, this tender one come ? 
 Surely he did not live here ! Yet in face, and 
 almost in dress, he was like the others. That 
 is, the face was the same in coloring, and the 
 features, too, were alike, but Oh ! how different 
 the expression ! Tatong had never seen a face 
 so tender, so gracious as that, for when he had 
 been getting the cash she saw it plainly. The 
 remembrance of it now was like a little fire 
 glowing in her heart. 
 
 She was awakened from her dream of it by 
 the surly tones of the man from whom she had 
 bought some eggs. 
 
 “Move on, and don’t be blocking up the way so ! 
 Don’t you see there are others who want to buy ?” 
 
 lie almost threw the eggs at her. Had they 
 been like we buy eggs, some, if not most of 
 them, would surely have been broken. But the 
 Korean eggs were fixed in such a quaint way. 
 I am sure you would have smiled to see them. 
 
33 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 They were laid end to end and wrapped with 
 straw, which was tied together between each 
 eg-o-. It looked like a clumsy, knotted stick. 
 And how do you think Tatong bought them? 
 Why, she bought them by the yard and not by 
 the dozen as we do. 
 
 Before one of the booths in which was dis- 
 played some immense sticks of pulled candy 
 stuffed with sesamum seed, Tatong stopped, 
 looking at it longingly. How she did want some 
 of it ! Oh ! it did look so good ! But she dared 
 not spend any of the “cash” for it. Had not her 
 mistress counted them to the last one ? Some 
 rude boys came and pushed her out of the way. 
 They, too, wanted the candy, and they had the 
 money with which to buy it. They jeered at her 
 and held the candy before her, tantalizing her. 
 
 “Oh ! shame !” said a voice at that moment, but 
 I think no one heard it but Tatong. She heard 
 it so plainly that she looked up quickly' to see 
 whence it came. The nearest person to her was 
 one in a mourning hat, a great broad-brimmed 
 hat that stood out from his head like an um- 
 brella, and that completely concealed the face 
 from view when the head was bent. But at the 
 moment Tatong looked the head had been partly 
 raised and the eyes were regarding her. 
 
 She started in wonder, for the face was dif- 
 ferent from any she had ever seen before. It 
 
34 Taiong, the Little Slave. 
 
 was fairer and more delicate, it seemed almost 
 white. She knew in the next moment that it 
 was, and felt sure that it belonged to one of the 
 race called the white race. She had heard of 
 these people, hut until to-day she had never 
 looked upon one. He dropped his head again. 
 Evidently he had not intended that his face 
 should he seen. He moved near the booth, and 
 ere Tatong had any idea of what he intended to 
 do, the “cash'’ had been laid down for one of the 
 great sticks of candy. The next moment it was 
 in her hand and the stranger had gone. 
 
 She was so overcome she could only stand and 
 stare at the great mass of sweet for which she 
 had so longed. Was it really true? Had it 
 been given her ? She felt like crying out in her 
 joy. Oh ! she must find the mourning stranger 
 and tell him how glad she was ! But he had dis- 
 appeared in the crowd, and though she hastened 
 in the direction he had taken, she saw nothing 
 of him. Then she remembered that, by the cus- 
 tom of her country, she could not speak to one 
 thus attired in the garb of sorrow. When a man 
 in Korea went abroad in one of these mourning 
 hats, with the hempen girdle about his waist, he 
 must neither speak nor be spoken to. He had 
 absolute security from molestation of any kind. 
 He could not even be arrested for a crime while 
 this season of mourning lasted. Thus one walk- 
 
A KOREAN CANDY SELLER 
 

Tatong, the Little Slave. 35 
 
 ing under tlie shadow of one of these great um- 
 brella hats with a piece of hempen rope for a 
 hatband, which denoted mourning, could go any- 
 where undisturbed. 
 
 The strangest part to Tatong was that this 
 mourning one had not been a Korean. Did the 
 white race have these mourning customs too ? 
 
 While she was hurrying along looting for the 
 mourning stranger she almost ran over old 
 Kimri, who had changed her crouching place by 
 this time for one lower down the street. An- 
 other step, and she would have done it. As it 
 was, she just caught herself in time. But she 
 stopped with such a jerk she almost lost her bal- 
 ance. In the effort to recover herself she threw 
 out the hand in which the candy was grasped. 
 Her fingers relaxed, and, alas, the candy went 
 tumbling, not to the ground, hut right into the 
 lap of old Kimri ! She pounced upon it in 
 astonishment, then raised her head to see whence 
 it came. But Tatong, overcome with fright, had 
 dodged around her, and was now moving through 
 the crowd as fast as she could. But she was not 
 so far away that she did not catch the “He ! he !” 
 and the “Ho ! ho !” of the old woman. There 
 was a sob in her throat as she thought of her 
 precious stick of candy, hut she would rather 
 have lost two than to have gone back to face old 
 Kimri. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Poor Tatoxg! 
 
 A S TATOXG had finished her marketing 
 AAA- and was starting home, she saw again the 
 boy who had been so kind to her. She tried to 
 get near him, that she might speak to him. She 
 did want so much to tell him how her heart 
 thanked him, and had thanked him from the 
 fii-st, tliongh she had been too overcome by her 
 crying to give him even a word at the time. 
 What must he think of her ? And he had been 
 so different from the others ! She felt sure there 
 was not another hoy who would have done it, at 
 least, not in Seoiil. Pier experience with boys 
 had been to receive only jeers from them and to 
 be tormented in all sorts of mean little ways. 
 But this boy had been so kind, so good ! Oh ! she 
 must speak to him ! She must tell him of how 
 glad her heart was because of what he had done. 
 1 lowever, she could not, for, though she made a 
 brave effort to get through the crowd to where 
 she saw him standing, he was gone when she 
 reached the spot. 
 
 At one of the corners Tatong had to stop to 
 36 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 37 
 
 let a funeral procession go by. It was that of a 
 workman, and he must have been a man of some 
 means, for it was- quite an imposing display for 
 one of the common people. First came four 
 drums and a fife, then two or three singers. 
 The drums and the fife were making all the 
 noise that could he gotten out of them, while the 
 singers were pouring forth a lively song at the 
 tops of their voices. Following the singers was 
 the hearse, a queer, dome-shaped affair, with a 
 great wreath of gaudy artificial flowers wound 
 around it. At each of the four corners there was 
 a flag, and thrown across the center of the hearse 
 the white coat that had been worn by the work- 
 man in life. On the front and sides of the 
 hearse, by way of ornament, were shield-shaped 
 flags of coarse, brilliantly-colored muslin. The 
 hearse rested on a kind of platform made of 
 bamboo poles entwined with flowers. It was 
 borne by eight men. Each had on a peaked yel- 
 low hat ornamented with blue and pink flowers. 
 Surrounding the hearse were men walking back- 
 ward and singing. Every now and then they 
 would slap their hands and make a shuffling 
 movement Avitli their feet. The chief mourners 
 followed. There were two of them. They were 
 completely enveloped in sack-clotli. On their 
 heads were the great umbrella hats wound with 
 
38 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 rope-like strands of liemp. As an extra shield 
 from the gaze of the piiblic each held a sack- 
 cloth screen in front of his face by means of two 
 handles of bamboo. 
 
 Tatong had to wait several minutes for the 
 procession to pass, for it seemed this workman 
 had had a large number of friends, to judge by 
 the long string of them that followed him to his 
 last resting place. 
 
 A great fear now began to take possession of 
 the little slave. She knew that she had been 
 gone a long while, that much more time had been 
 taken than her mistress had allowed. The en- 
 counter with the rude boys, the loss of the 
 “cash,” with all the subsequent events had de- 
 layed her considerably. What would her mis- 
 tress say ? Of more importance still to poor 
 Tatong, what would she do? The little slave 
 feared it meant a beating, and her heart sank ac- 
 cordingly. Was she really to receive the stripes 
 after all the kind stranger had done to keep her 
 from them ? 
 
 Mrs. Xi was a woman of a very high temper. 
 She had never forgiven her husband for bring- 
 ing the little slave to their home. The money he 
 had paid for her was as good as wasted she de- 
 clared, since, according to her estimate, Tatong 
 was both stupid and lazy. She never stopped 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 39 
 
 to consider that often and often she confused the 
 poor child by contradictory orders ; furthermore, 
 that she expected entirely too much of one so 
 small and weak. The little slave had never been 
 a strong child, but this strength might have been 
 considerably fostered by the right care and 
 thought. But as it was poor Tatong had had to 
 draw ahead of its resources and to exhaust her- 
 self with burdens far too heavy to hear. 
 
 Tatong pressed on through the narrow, dirty 
 streets, but little more than alley-ways, with the 
 gutters of slime on either side and the low mud 
 hovels with straw roofs so packed together that 
 hut for their queer horseshoe-like shape it would 
 have been impossible to tell where one began and 
 the other ended. Dogs and children were every- 
 where, the most of the latter half naked and roll- 
 ing about in the filth, many of them in much 
 danger from the feet of pedestrians. It was a 
 great blessing for these miserable little atoms 
 of humanity that there were no oxen and ponies 
 along this street. The life would have been 
 crushed out of more than one of them surely. 
 
 Tatong kept on imtil she came to a more in- 
 viting portion of the city. Here some of the 
 houses were of stone for part of the way up in- 
 stead of mud, though all had the roofs of thatched 
 rice or barley straw. The house of Mr. Hi stood 
 
40 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 right on the street. It had a door of bamboo 
 poles opening into the front or men's apartment. 
 To the right of it, and just under the roof, there 
 was a small window covered with glazed paper. 
 TIad you entered this apartment you would have 
 found the stone floor covered with mats, and 
 placed about the blocks of wood used as pillows 
 and the cotton-wadded bedclothes now folded up. 
 On a small table there were some artificial flow- 
 ers, and hanging from the rafters two or three 
 large red and green hat-cases in which the great 
 hats were stowed away for the night. The par- 
 titions were of bamboo, and the floors of two of 
 the other apartments were of a sun-baked brick 
 covered with glazed paper like that over the win- 
 dow, only thicker. Underneath these floors ran 
 the flues from the “kang” or brick oven. It was 
 in this way the people kept warm in the winter. 
 
 Mrs. Hi was in the kitchen. She was just be- 
 ginning preparations for the evening meal. 
 Hear hv were the ang-paks, great earthen jars, 
 in one of which grain for cooking was kept, and 
 in the other water. A man could easily have 
 hidden in either one of them. 
 
 Tatong did not dare enter through the front 
 apartment. Some of the men might have been 
 there, and that would not have done. So she 
 went to the side, intending to make her way to- 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 41 
 
 ward the kitchen. But at the door she hesitated, 
 her heart heating loudly. ]\Irs. Xi was there 
 she knew. Indeed, she could hear her. She was 
 getting the fuel for the fire. That was always 
 the task of the little slave. What would Mrs. 
 Xi say now that she had come too late to do it ? 
 
 Tatong moved a little nearer the opening. She 
 could see Mrs. Xi very well. She had collected 
 the fuel and was bending over the ang-pah, pre- 
 paring to dish up the rice. She had on the white 
 cotton dress usually worn hv Korean women, 
 with large, loose sleeves. It fell to within a foot 
 or so of her straw sandals, and between them 
 and the hem of the robe were showing the loose, 
 baggy trousers. About her waist was a girdle of 
 leather, to which was attached a pouch contain- 
 ing the various small articles in use by a house- 
 wife. Korean women have no pockets, neither 
 do they wear buttons. Strings and girdles take 
 the place of these. Her hair was twisted in a 
 knot at the top of her head, and through it was 
 run a great wooden pin gilded over, together 
 with several smaller ones from which were 
 pendant various rings of horn and brass. 
 
 Tatong could delay no longer. At least, she 
 knew it was best not to do so. Sooner or later 
 she must face Mrs. Xi. Every moment but 
 made it worse. Kom, the baby boy, rolling on 
 
42 
 
 T along, the Little Slave. 
 
 the floor, was the first to spy her. He began to 
 make a gurgling sound, then squeaked forth his 
 delight. He at least was fond of the little slave. 
 
 Mrs. Hi looked up quickly. 
 
 “So you’ve come at last !” she exclaimed. 
 “Speak ! What kept you ?” 
 
 Her face, never very attractive, was now cov- 
 ered by an iiglv scowl. There was, too, a threat- 
 ening expression about her lips. Poor Tatong, 
 seeing these, began to tremble. 
 
 “There were many things,” she said. “I could 
 not — .” 
 
 “What were they?” demanded Mrs. Hi, inter- 
 rupting her. 
 
 “O madam, the crowd was great, and there 
 were many rude boys. They pushed me about 
 and delayed me.” 
 
 Although she had received the “cash” back 
 from the kind stranger, still Tatong did not have 
 the bravery to tell Mrs. Hi of the loss of the 
 coin. She would call it carelessness, she knew, 
 and she would be beaten for that as well as for 
 staying. In that case, the beating would be a 
 double one. 
 
 “That’s a poor excuse,” said Mrs. Hi. “How, 
 I ask you again, what kept you?” and the scowl 
 deepened. 
 
 “There was a funeral,” answered Tatong. “It 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 43 
 
 was long in passing. I could not get by as I de- 
 sired.” 
 
 “Yeither of those things would have kept you 
 so long. You have not told me the right story 
 yet, and I shall beat you for that as well as for 
 staying all this time. You could have gone to 
 the market and back twice over. I know you, 
 you little wretch !” she continued, now showing 
 her teeth in her anger. “You love to play on 
 the streets. You are filled with curiosity. You 
 gaze about. You must see everything. Here I 
 must wait your pleasure, while you stand and 
 stare about. What is more, I must do your 
 work myself. Yo; I cannot put up with this. 
 Set the things down and come here. Yow give 
 me the bamboos. Mind you get them all. One 
 or two will not do.” 
 
 “Oh! please, madam,” cried Tatong, bursting 
 into tears, “please do not beat me. I will tell 
 all.” 
 
 “I don’t want to hear anything from you now. 
 Why didn’t you tell it at first? But I know 
 very well what it would be if you were let talk. 
 It would be about things you stopped on the 
 street to see. I haven’t time now to listen to 
 such. Why didn’t you speak when I gave you 
 the chance ? Come, bare your back.” 
 
 “O madam, madam, please strike me through 
 
44 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 the robe. Please do not beat me on mv naked 
 back.” 
 
 “Yes, beat lier on lier naked back !” cried a 
 voice at this moment. “It will be sucli fun, and 
 I am sure she deserves it.” 
 
 The words came from Fuyu, the youngest 
 daughter of Mrs. Xi, a girl of fourteen. She 
 was standing in the opening between the middle 
 apartment and the kitchen. Her purpose was 
 evidently to enjoy the scene. 
 
 “O madam,” plead Tatong, now prostrate be- 
 fore Mrs. Xi, “my back is still sore. The cuts 
 have not healed from the last beating.” 
 
 “So much the better,” said the cruel voice 
 again. “You will feel it all the more, and you 
 will learn to do better. Pull off the robe as you 
 are told. If you don’t I’ll come and jerk it off 
 your lazy back myself! You bear?” 
 
 “Yes, take off the robe,” said Mrs. Xi firmly. 
 “You deserve a beating you will long remember. 
 This is about the worst you have ever done in 
 the way of staying. You shall not forget it.” 
 Poor Tatong! There was now no help for it. 
 The robe must come off. Ob ! what a pitiful 
 sight it was as lier back came to view, all cut and 
 scarred, and still with festering sores ! Mrs. 
 Xi’s heart must have been of stone that she could 
 look upon it unmoved. Harder still, if that 
 
45 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 could be, was that heart since it could lend sanc- 
 tion to the arm that now sent such cruel blows 
 raining down upon the poor wounded back. 
 
 Tatong writhed and moaned under the tortur- 
 ing pain. She dared not cry out, for then she 
 would have been beaten all the more to make her 
 hush. 
 
 Kom now began to cry with Tatong. He 
 toddled to his mother, and tried to catch her arm 
 by its flowing sleeve so that he could pull it down 
 and stay the work of the cruel canes. All the 
 while he was protesting against it vigorously in 
 his babv language. Had he been an American 
 baby, bis words would have been, "Stop! stop! 
 Don’t beat my poor Tatong !” 
 
 How unlike was the conduct of Fuyu, hard, 
 cruel Fuyu ! She encouraged every blow given 
 by her mother. She had a taunt for every one 
 of poor Tatong’s moans. 
 
 “Serves you right,” she said. “What’s the use 
 of having a slave if you can’t beat her and make 
 her mind ? I’m sure you’ll not poke so much 
 again when you go into the streets. How, will 
 you ?” 
 
 As Mrs. Hi laid by the cruel canes poor Ta- 
 tong fell over all in a heap from pain and weak- 
 ness. She had almost fainted from the torture. 
 She had scarcely the strength to pull up her robe 
 
40 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 again over her bleeding shoulders. It was Kom 
 who helped her, Kom who all the while was 
 stroking her face with his chubby forefinger, 
 and pitying her in his baby way. Hot more than 
 five vears hence and he would be getting 
 ashamed of showing any gentleness even to his 
 mother and sisters, let alone to a slave. But, 
 happily for Kom, not yet had his heart grown 
 hardened in the Korean domestic school. He 
 was still a baby and his heart was tender. 
 
 Mrs. Hi did not leave Tatong to remain long 
 undisturbed in the corner to which she bad 
 crawled. She went to it shortly and gave her a 
 shove with her foot. 
 
 ‘"'Get up,” she said roughly, “and go and pre- 
 pare the rice.” 
 
 In Korea three meals are eaten a day. The 
 breakfast meal is rather a light one. Opan , or 
 mid-day rice, is much heavier. So, too, is the 
 evening meal, which is eaten just about the time 
 the evening star rises. The amount of food one 
 family can consume is enormous, for the Ko- 
 reans, men, women and children, are very vo- 
 racious eaters. One eater will think nothing of 
 consuming at one sitting a half-gallon howl of 
 stewed beef, together with a quart vessel full of 
 rice. 
 
 Suffering as she was, poor Tatong had the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 47 
 
 evening meal to prepare. Occasionally Mrs. Hi 
 or Euyu looked in to taunt her or to spur her to 
 increased speed by stinging words. She was 
 glad when at last Chansa, Mrs. Hi’s daughter- 
 in-law, came in. She was so much kinder. Her 
 heart really pitied the poor little slave, and she 
 helped her in every way she could. Chansa her- 
 self had a hard time, so she knew how to pity 
 through her own experience. 
 
 “You can leave me the rice,” said Chansa. 
 “I will mind it. I will also fix the ginseng 
 water and the tables .” 1 2 
 
 Tatong looked at her gratefully, then sank 
 down in a corner, her poor cut and bruised hack 
 giving her so much pain she could not keep hack 
 the tears as she rocked to and fro. 
 
 The tables were brought out and set — little 
 round tables, only a foot and a half from the 
 floor, one for each sitter. Instead of cloths they 
 had spread over them pieces of oiled paper. The 
 rice was served in bowls. Beside the bowls on 
 each table there were some glazed earthen-ware 
 vessels containing taro ? dried persimmons and 
 other things. Each sitter had besides his chop- 
 sticks a spoon or two made of horn. In this the 
 Koreans are ahead of the Chinese, who do not 
 use spoons. 
 
 1 In Korea a favorite drink is ginseng in rice water. 
 
 2 Potatoes cooked with meat. 
 
48 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 When the meal was announced the men came 
 in, each in a great hurry. They were the three 
 sons and the son-in-law of Mr. Xi. Mr. Xi him- 
 self was away. They took their positions, each 
 at a table and squatting on his heels. Then they 
 fell to eating with all their might. Such noise 
 as they made ! for the Koreans think that if 
 they do not make a great noise it shows that 
 they do not appreciate their food. Therefore, 
 the louder the noise they make, the greater their 
 appreciation. They also eat all they can hold. 
 It is no uncommon occurrence for one who has 
 overeaten to have to use what is known as a 
 stomach paddle. This is a small instrument of 
 wood, by means of which, it being used briskly 
 over the surface of the bulging stomach, a more 
 even distribution of the food is given. 
 
 When the men had eaten and gone then the 
 women took their places at the tables. Through 
 some kindly maneuvering on the part of Chansa, 
 Tatong had been allowed to lie undisturbed in 
 her corner. After the coming of the men to the 
 apartment she had not dared to utter a sound. 
 Their attention would have been drawn to her 
 had she done so, and they would certainly have 
 asked what it was about, and tliey might have 
 ordered her beaten again, especially the oldest 
 son of Mr. Xi, who was now, according to the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 49 
 
 rule, the head of the household in the absence of 
 his father. 
 
 When the women came to the tables to eat the 
 kind-hearted Chansa started to call Tatong to 
 get her share, but Mrs. Xi stopped her. 
 
 “She is not to have anything,” she said firmly. 
 “She does not deserve it.” 
 
 Tatong heard the words, hut they did not have 
 the effect upon her Mrs. Xi desired and ex- 
 pected. She did not care that food had been de- 
 nied her. Her heart was too full to mind it. 
 How could she he hungry with that choking feel- 
 ing in her throat and her back aching so it made 
 her sick almost to faintness? 
 
 But throughout all her misery and torture 
 there rang the sweet, precious words she had 
 heard : 
 
 “There is One who cares, God, your Father. 
 He pities, he sympathizes, he even loves you.” 
 
 Yes, there was “One who cared !” What joy 
 that brought to her heart ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 “God, the Father." 
 
 T HE next day Tatong was so ill she really 
 could not so much as get up from her 
 hard bed. Mrs. Hi had finally to recognize that. 
 She could only have the satisfaction of abusing 
 her, for even her hard heart could not bring her 
 to use the rods so soon again on the weak and 
 wretched Tatong, though she felt like doing it. 
 
 Fuyu, as usual, following out her mean in- 
 stincts, came in to taunt her and to torment her 
 in every way she could. She even threw pieces 
 of mochi all about Tatong so that Layo, the pet 
 monkey, and a vicious little beast, might scram- 
 ble over her in his efforts to get them. Every 
 time his sharp claws caught hold of Tatong’s 
 clothing, piercing to the skin, she flinched or 
 moaned outright with the pain. It was Kom 
 who put an end to this cruel performance. He 
 gave Layo a blow with his chubby fist that sent 
 him rolling away from Tatong. Then he estab- 
 lished himself beside her, her gentle and loyal, 
 if not strong, defender. Soon he lay, with his 
 tousled head close against her, and asleep, and 
 50 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 51 
 
 she would not have disturbed him for anything, 
 not even to ease her strained and aching body 
 by taking another position. Some one else, too, 
 came to sympathize with her, this some one hav- 
 ing tousled hair all over, Kijun, the little gray 
 and black woolly dog. He, too, loved her; he, 
 too, snuggled down beside her; he, too, would 
 have defended her to the last, but he had not 
 Korn’s showing of authority in the household. 
 
 Though Tatong was so weak and sore in body, 
 she was still active in mind. As she lay there 
 she could hear the men talking in the front 
 apartment. Some neighbors had come in, and 
 while they all sat around on their heels and 
 smoked their long pipes they talked, their voices 
 getting loiidcr and louder as the speakers grew 
 more and more excited. There seemed to be 
 two subjects in which they were taking consider- 
 able interest. One was the war then in progress 
 between China and Japan with reference to 
 Korea, and the other that of some teachers who 
 had come to teach a new doctrine called the 
 “ Jesus Doctrine.” 
 
 As Mr. Ni was then away with the Chinese 
 army, of course his sons took the part of China, 
 as did by far the larger number of Koreans. But 
 one of the neighbors was warmly on the side of 
 J apan. 
 
52 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “I tell you the Japanese are our friends,” he 
 declared. ‘‘They mean nothing hut good to us 
 in this Avar.” 
 
 ‘“I don’t see how you can say that,” asserted 
 Mr. Yin, Mr. Yi’s oldest son, hotly. “The Jap- 
 anese are our enemies, I tell you. They have 
 been that for years. Have we not every evi- 
 dence of it ? They are treacherous and cruel. 
 Can you so soon forget the ear-mound ?’ n 
 
 “Yo; I have not. But that was long years 
 ago. Men, as well as things, change with time. 
 The Japanese have now shown themselves our 
 friends. They have conducted themselves as 
 such ever since they entered Seoiil. I believe 
 their conquest of China — and, mark me, they 
 will conquer — means the dawn of a better day 
 for Korea in every way, better government, bet- 
 ter schools, better trade.” 
 
 There was a sharp wrangle over these words, 
 hut the man sustained his position well. How- 
 ever, the neighbor who had accompanied him, 
 seeing whither things were drifting, had the 
 tact to turn the conversation, and thus get mat- 
 ters quieted down again. 
 
 The talk now turned on the teachers of the 
 
 1 A mound that, during one of the earlier wars, the 
 Japanese erected out of the ears taken from Korean cap- 
 tives. 
 
TWO KOREAN GENTLEMEN AND THEIR SERVANTS. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. ' 53 
 
 new “Jesus Doctrine.” They had been in the 
 city quite a while, although there were no; so 
 many who knew it. Just at present, it seemed, 
 they were having a hard time, because they had 
 been accused of taking babies to slay, so that 
 their blood, if offered up, might appease the God 
 of the “Jesus Doctrine.” They had even been 
 seen picking up the babies. It is true they were 
 abandoned babies. But, then, what else did they 
 want with them if not to slay them ? There was 
 also a school where they taught girls. Think of 
 that ! Mr. Ko freely gave vent to his disgust as 
 he mentioned it. 
 
 “They actually try to teach them,” he said 
 with scorn. “The idea of a woman or a girl be- 
 ing able to learn anything so difficult as a book 
 or a doctrine. Why, you might as well try to 
 teach the ponies,” and Mr. Ko sniffed. 
 
 All the others agreed with him. A school for 
 girls! Astonishing! Ridiculous! Why, where 
 in Korea could fathers be found so slack and so 
 foolish as to let their girls attend such a place ? 
 
 Tatong’s heart leaped at the words. A school 
 for girls ! Could it he possible there was such a 
 thing ? She wondered how it could be, how they 
 were given anything to learn, and in what way 
 it was managed. Were they really treated as 
 creatures of sense, as though they had under- 
 
54 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 standing ? Oli ! liow she longed to see such a 
 place! What did it look like ? What did those 
 who were there do ? Were they allowed to talk, 
 to say what they pleased ? Oh ! what a sweet 
 place it must he if that were so ! if they were 
 treated kindly, if they were encouraged to speak. 
 
 “And what does this Jesus Doctrine teach?” 
 asked Mr. Yin suddenly of Mr. Ivo. 
 
 “It seems to teach many things. I don’t be- 
 lieve the teachers know half themselves, though 
 they pretend to have so much to tell. But there 
 is one thing I have heard that I think very won- 
 derful.” 
 
 “What is that ?” 
 
 “This doctrine teaches of hut one God. He is 
 so powerful he reigns over all the earth as well 
 as heaven.” 
 
 “ Ha-na-nim V’ said Mr. Yin quickly. 
 
 “Ho, not Ha-na-nim. He is greater even than 
 II a-na-nim. They call him God, the Father.” 
 
 Tatong’s heart gave such a leap at that it 
 seemed it must come right out through her poor 
 little frail body. “God, the Father!” Why, 
 that was the very one of whom the kind stranger 
 had told her. It was the “One who cared.” Oh ! 
 if she only knew how to get a message to him ! 
 Oh ! surely he could not know all that she suf- 
 fered ; how she needed him ! If he did, would he 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 55 
 
 not send a message, just one little word, to show 
 he was thinking of her ? that he was pitying her ? 
 Oh ! she must see the kind stranger again. She 
 must ask him about this One who cared, this One 
 who was her Father, this One who did not want 
 her to suffer. If he would only come and speak 
 to her. If he would only say two words, “Poor 
 Tatong !” 
 
 As she thought again of what Mr. Ko had 
 said her heart sank. This God, the Father, was 
 very powerful. He ruled over both earth and 
 heaven. Could it be expected then that he would 
 be her Father ? Her Father, and she a poor, lit- 
 tle wretched slave ! Mo, no, it could not be ! 
 The kind stranger had surely been mistaken, 
 lie was not her Father. She was too low for him 
 to notice. At these thoughts poor Tatong’ s 
 tears welled forth and rolled down upon her 
 wooden pilloAv. Oh ! how could she give up that 
 sweet thought of One who was her Father ? Oh ! 
 she could not ! She must go to see the kind 
 stranger at the pagoda. He had said that she 
 must come. She would pick her chance. She 
 would go if only for a few moments, if only long 
 enough to ask him how it was that a poor, little, 
 wretched slave, as she was, could have a Father, 
 a Father, too, who was so great and so powerful. 
 It was all so wonderful, it seemed well-nigh im- 
 
56 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 possible that it could be true. And be was not 
 only a Father, but he was a Father who cared. 
 The kind stranger had said so, and he must 
 know. Oh ! this was such a rare, such a beauti- 
 ful thing, a Father who cared, who loved her, 
 though she was only a wretched little girl, a 
 slave. 
 
 Another incident of that day was the coming 
 of the “go-between,” the old woman who was 
 making the match between Fuyu and Mr. Kibi. 
 It was hoped the wedding would soon occur. 
 Fuyu was full of airs and self-consciousness. 
 As Tatong looked at her she wondered that if 
 Mr. Kibi knew just how dreadful she could be, 
 if be would really want the “go-between” to suc- 
 ceed in the match. 
 
 Tatong had been up only a day or so and was 
 hardly able to walk about when Mrs. Ki told 
 her the clothes must be washed. They had al- 
 ready waited too long. 
 
 Washing is one of the big undertakings of the 
 women and girls in Korea. They spend fully 
 one-half the time ripping the clothes apart, 
 washing, ironing, and putting them together 
 again. The men are very particular about the 
 whiteness of their clothes, and in some families 
 the washing and ironing must be done as often 
 as three times a week. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 57 
 
 “Come,” said Mrs. Mi, as with Chansa she ap- 
 proached Tatong, “we must go and do the wash- 
 ing. We took the clothes to pieces while you 
 were lying up resting your lazy body. Mow they 
 must be washed.” 
 
 It was a long distance to the stream where 
 Mrs. Mi and Chansa washed, for they were very 
 particular about getting the best water they 
 could. That in the ditches nearer the home, 
 with which some women washed, was entirely 
 too slimy and bad-smelling for them. 
 
 They started off, Tatong having a large part 
 of the burden of the clothes to bear. But the 
 kind-hearted Chansa, despite Mrs. Mi’s protest, 
 relieved her of some of them on the way. 
 
 “I think she is not able to carry so much,” 
 said Chansa. “She really seems weak.” 
 
 “She is putting some of it on,” declared Mrs. 
 Mi. “You do not know her as I do. Oh ! she is 
 a sly one !” 
 
 Tears started to Tatong’s eyes, for she had 
 heard the words. Oh! why did Mrs. Mi think 
 thus of her ? Coidd not she see that she was 
 really faint and weak? And how sore her poor 
 back was still from that terrible caning? IIow 
 was she ever going to be able to beat and pound 
 the clothes as they had to be done? If Mrs. Mi 
 would only have more pity, if she would only 
 
5S Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 wait for her back to heal ! Chansa’s kindness 
 sent a warm thrill of gratitude through her 
 heart. She resolved she would do all she could 
 to deserve it. She would help Chansa whenever 
 she could, for Chansa, too, had a hard time with 
 Mrs. m. 
 
 They overtook or passed many women going 
 in the same direction, like themselves each laden 
 with her great bundle of clothes. It seemed to be 
 one of the general washing days. Even small 
 children were trudging along bearing the bun- 
 dles. In addition to the clothes each washer had 
 a small paddle of wood a foot or a foot and a 
 half in length and three or four inches wide. It 
 was with these paddles the clothes were beaten. 
 
 After .a while they came to the stream. All 
 around were stones worn smooth, on which the 
 paddling of many previous washings had been 
 done. 
 
 Mrs. Xi, Chansa, and Tatong, squatting on 
 their heels beside the water, scooped out each a 
 hollow place in the bed of the stream, so as to 
 make a kind of pool in which the clothes could 
 be dipped. After that they went regularly to 
 work at the washing. They first soaked the 
 clothes in the water, then they placed them on 
 the smooth stones, and forthwith proceeded with 
 the paddles to beat out the dirt. As they pad- 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 59 
 
 died away they kept time as though to a tune. 
 Indeed, Chansa was humming away at one in 
 her heart, though her lips scarcely made a sound. 
 As for Tatong, poor Tatong! her heart was too 
 heavy and too sad and her back too sore for her lips 
 to give vent to anything save to a moan of pain. 
 
 “Bap ! rap !” went the paddles, and now and 
 then each paddler changed her paddle from one 
 hand to the other without losing a stroke. If 
 you had been there you would have wondered 
 how she could have done it. 
 
 Soon Tatong felt that she could not make an- 
 other stroke, at least not until she had had some 
 ease of rest for her poor aching back. The pad- 
 dle slipped from her hand, and she fell with a 
 gasp of pain all in a heap upon the grass. 
 
 “Lazy thing !” cried Mrs. Hi. “Why do you 
 stop? Take up your paddle again and go on 
 with the beating.’’ 
 
 But Chansa interposed. 
 
 “Let her rest a while,” she plead. “I am 
 sure she has beaten all she can right now. See 
 how bad she looks. I will do double share,” and 
 seizing Tatong’s paddle as well as her own, she 
 began to beat with both hands as fast as ever 
 she could. 
 
 Tatong looked at her gratefully, then lay 
 down, her head resting against a stone. How 
 
60 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 beautiful was the sky ! of the deepest, brightest 
 blue, through which the sun shone as though it 
 had sifted little sparkling hits of gold all over 
 it. There were only tiny specks of cloud here 
 and there no bigger, it seemed, than a handful 
 of fleece when the shearer clips it. from the 
 sheep. On the hillsides the azaleas were in 
 bloom, and in and out among them flitted the 
 birds and the bees and the butterflies, the former 
 singing so it seemed they could not tell the flow- 
 ers loud enough how glad they were that there 
 was so much of color and beauty and sweetness 
 all around. 
 
 Tatong turned her eyes again to the sky. It 
 must he somewhere up there that God, the 
 Father, lived. There was no other place high 
 enough and bright enough and beautiful enough. 
 
 Ha-na-nim, she knew, lived above the earth. 
 Then if this God, the Father, were greater even 
 than Ila-na-nim, he must live beyond where 
 Ha-na-nim lived, away up where the sky was 
 brightest and deepest and bluest. When Tatong 
 had decided this in her mind again came the 
 overwhelming thought, If this God, the Father, 
 were so great, so powerful, then he could not he 
 her Father. Oh ! no, no ! A miserable little slave 
 and a girl like she v T as could never have such a 
 F ather. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 61 
 
 She began to sob in the wretchedness and bit- 
 terness of her heart. Then Mrs. Hi ordered her 
 back to work, and she had to still her sobs and 
 take up the paddle again. But all through the 
 dull “rap-rap-rap-rap !” of the paddle rang the 
 words, “Oh ! he is not my F atker ! It cannot 
 be !” Then would come the thought, “But did 
 not the kind stranger say that he was, and does 
 he not know ? Oh ! I must go and see him and 
 let him tell me more.” 
 
 In about two hours time they had finished the 
 clothes and had them spread out on the grass to 
 dry and whiten in the sun. They would let 
 them partly dry in this way. Then they would 
 be taken home for complete drying by being 
 hung on the clothes line above the house. 
 
 Mrs. Hi and Chansa started home before Ta- 
 tong. They left her with some of the thicker 
 pieces that had not yet dried sufficiently. Ta- 
 tong remained for an hour or more after they 
 left her, until the sun lacked but a short time of 
 setting. Then she arranged her clothes in a 
 bundle and started homeward. 
 
 As she was passing along one of the narrow 
 streets she almost ran against the same woman 
 and ox with whom she had had the previous en- 
 counter on the market day. This time, fortu- 
 nately, the woman was walking ahead and some 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 (12 
 
 paces in front of the ox, so there was no danger, 
 as there had heen before. But she ran so close 
 to the woman ere she saw her that they came in 
 rather sharp collision. 
 
 “You again !” exclaimed the woman. “Well, 
 it seems you never have any eyes in your head ! 
 First you try to get Mokpo to walk over you, 
 and now you run into me ! You must want to 
 he hurt. If so, let me say you’ll get your wish 
 before long. You’ll not find all so careful as 
 Mokpo and I. Where are you going, anyhow ?” 
 she asked rather abruptly. 
 
 “I am going home,” answered Tatong faintly, 
 for she was nearly out of breath with the walk 
 and the weight of the clothes together. 
 
 “A pretty big bundle that you have !” stop- 
 ping short to eye it. “You can’t carry it very 
 well, now can you ?” 
 
 “ISTo,” said Tatong, “I cannot. You see T 
 have heen very sick, and I am not well yet. 
 Then—.” 
 
 At the word she paused suddenly, while her 
 glance fell from the woman’s face to the ground. 
 
 “Then what ?” questioned the woman looking 
 at her closely. 
 
 “I do not know that I ought to tell you,” re- 
 plied Tatong, her voice so faint now the woman 
 had to bend her head to catch the words. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 63 
 
 “You can tell me,” she said, kindness as well 
 as persuasion in her tone. “Hakta never yet 
 told anything to get any one into trouble.” 
 
 “I have had a beating,” said Tatong in the 
 same low tones. 
 
 “I thought so,” declared Hakta. 
 
 “It was right on the sores of the other one,” 
 continued Tatong, her voice now breaking into a 
 sob, “and Oh ! my back does hurt so !” 
 
 “It’s a shame!” declared ISTakta warmly. 
 “Even Mokpo, beast as he is, wouldn’t hurt you, 
 no, not even a hair of your head. Had you done 
 anything to deserve it ?” 
 
 “It was because of the time I stayed out the 
 day I met you, the day of the market. Oh ! I 
 could not help it! First, there were the cruel 
 boys who did me so about the cash. Then a fune- 
 ral came, and I could not cross the street until it 
 had gone.” 
 
 “Your mistress beat you for that ? Then she 
 is a bad one, and I would not stay there if I 
 were you. I would run away. Why don’t 
 you ?” and again the woman put her face down 
 nearer to Tatong’ s as she asked the question. 
 
 “Oh ! there would be no place to go. Ho one 
 would have me. I am of so little good. Mrs. 
 Hi says so, and she must know.” 
 
 “Try it,” said Hakta. “There is the country. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 64 
 
 Plenty of people there who would like the help 
 of a slave like you, and would not beat her 
 either. There is the road out from the Great 
 South Gate, the one that strikes along the bed 
 of the river, and thence to the mountains be- 
 yond Chung ju. Have you ever travelled that 
 road ?” 
 
 “Ho,” said Tatong. 
 
 “But you know where the South Gate is ?” 
 
 “O yes, I know where the South Gate is.” 
 “Then almost any one outside the gate can put 
 you in the right road. You have hut to follow the 
 river till you come to the two shrines with the 
 miriolcs . 1 Hot far beyond these is a village, 
 where there are many orchards and chestnut and 
 mulberry trees. Just where the chestnuts are 
 thickest you turn and go up a hill — you can see 
 the path plainly — then down between two others, 
 and there, not far away, is the home of Hakta 
 and Mokpo. Who knows but that they may tell 
 you of some one who would be glad to have a lit- 
 tle slave and not heat her either ?” 
 
 “Oh !” said Tatong, and catching her breath 
 hard, “if I only could go, hut I cannot. They 
 would follow me and catch me and heat me all 
 the more.” 
 
 1 Stones rudely carved in grotesque resemblances of 
 human beings. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 65 
 
 “But how would they know which way you 
 went V’ 
 
 “'Mrs. ]STi would. Oh ! she would he sure to. 
 She can find things out so.” 
 
 They had withdrawn to one side of the narrow 
 street to talk. Tatong had put the heavy bundle 
 of clothes down protected by its outside wrap' 
 ping. Mokpo had advanced until he stood with 
 his head almost on a level with his mistress’ 
 shoulder. His eyes were half closed and he 
 seemed to be engaged in nothing more important 
 than in contentedly chewing his cud. But not 
 so. Mokpo was listening; I assure you that he 
 was. At the moment his mistress was giving 
 the little slave such close directions with refer- 
 ence to the turning at the chestnuts and the find- 
 ing of the home of Xakta and Mokpo, he had 
 gently swayed his head up and down as much 
 as to say, “Yes, sir.” 
 
 Mokpo was one of the most beautiful of Ko- 
 rean oxen, gentle, docile and intelligent. He 
 was large and stately. He showed it in his man- 
 ner as well as in his size. He thought nothing 
 of carrying three hundred to four hundred 
 pounds upon his hack. His color was a rich, 
 warm red, relieved here and there by a spot of 
 white. The gloss of his hair gave evidence of 
 care and attention as well as of good feeding. 
 
66 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 Like other Korean gentlemen, Hokpo’s suit re- 
 ceived regular attention in the way of scrub- 
 bing and smoothing. His large, soft eyes could 
 turn upon you with the greatest friendliness and 
 trust, but if you ever betrayed that trust, look 
 out ! They could flash then in a way you would 
 remember, and his great cushion of a foot come 
 down upon the ground in the most emphatic pro- 
 test. 
 
 ‘‘I must go now/’ said Tatong suddenly. ‘“Oh ! 
 I am afraid I have stayed too long ! But I do 
 thank you for all you have said to me.” 
 
 She stooped to get the bundle of clothes, and 
 tried to raise it as before. But, somehow, her 
 strength was not equal to it. Her hands slipped 
 away, and in the movement to recover herself, 
 she gave her shoulders such a twist as sent a 
 moan of pain to her lips. 
 
 “Why,” said the woman, “I don’t believe 
 you’ll be able to go on with the clothes. How 
 did you ever manage to get this far with them ?” 
 
 “Oh ! I hardly know,” murmured Tatong. “I 
 knew I had to.” 
 
 “How far is it to the home of Hr. Xi ?” Xakta 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 Tatong told her. 
 
 “Oh 1 that isn’t so far for Hokpo, but it is a 
 great distance for you. So, Hokpo will carry the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 67 
 
 clothes, while yon walk beside him and talk to 
 him. That is all the pay he will ask. Mokpo 
 likes to be talked to.” 
 
 Ere Tatong was hardly aware of her intention 
 she had reached out, taken hold of the clothes, 
 and, with one swing of her sturdy arms, had 
 sent them flying up to the great pack-saddle on 
 Mokpo’s back. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Home Life of the Little Slave. 
 
 O H,” said Tatong as she saw the clothes 
 deposited on Mokpo’s broad hack, “you 
 surely do not mean what you say ? You really 
 will not go with me to the house of Mr. Xi ?” 
 “Yes,” declared Xakta firmly, “I will go 
 with you to the house of Mr. Xi. You cannot 
 carry the clothes, so Mokpo will carry them. 
 His back is so much bigger than yours,” and she 
 laughed. “It is not sore either,” she added in 
 graver tones. 
 
 “But Oh ! what will they do with me if they see 
 you ?” cried Tatong. “They have told me never 
 to make acquaintances on the streets.” 
 
 “O ho!” said Xakta, “I know why that is. 
 They are afraid you will be told some things 
 they would rather you wouldn’t hear. But 
 come. I will promise not to go where they can 
 see me.” 
 
 “Oh ! I am afraid you will he late if you do 
 what you say you will,” said Tatong solicitously. 
 “Y our home is a long way. How can you reach 
 it to-night ?” 
 
 68 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 69 
 
 “I do not expect to reach it to-night. I am 
 going just outside the gate. There I will stop 
 until morning with one I know.” 
 
 “How mean they must be to you,” said Yakta 
 as they went along. “Do none of them care for 
 you ?” 
 
 “Yo,” said Tatong, “none of them do except 
 Chansa, the wife of Mr. Yin, and Kom. But 
 Chansa herself has a hard time, and Kom is 
 only a baby. Yes,” added Tatong suddenly, and 
 with such a change in her tone it made Yakta 
 turn quickly to look at her, “there is another who 
 cares, another who is sorry every time they heat 
 me, but I do not know where he is. I do not 
 know how to find him, so that I may tell him.” 
 “Did he go away and leave yon ? Then, if he 
 did, I do not think he cares,” said Yakta posi- 
 tively. 
 
 “Yo; he did not go away,” replied Tatong. 
 “He has never been with me. I have never seen 
 him. Oh ! I want so to find him now!” 
 
 “Why, how then conld he know, how could 
 he care, if he has never seen you, if he has 
 never been with you ?” 
 
 “Oh ! I cannot tell how it is, but there is one 
 who does know, and who will tell me soon. He 
 is so kind and so good. I saw him the very day 
 I saw you, the day I went to the market. The 
 
TO 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 One who cares is very great and powerful, even 
 more powerful than Ha-na-nim. They call him 
 God, the Father. Have you ever heard of 
 him ?” 
 
 “Ho,” said Hakta slowly, and looking very 
 much astonished, “I have not.” 
 
 “Oh ! think real hard. Perhaps you will re- 
 member that you have. They may have told you 
 about him and you have forgotten. You have 
 so much the better chance to hear than I have.” 
 But Hakta was sure she had never heard of 
 the One called God, the Father. It was a very 
 wonderful thing, and she wanted to know more. 
 
 “He cares for women and girls as well as he 
 does for hoys and men,” continued Tatong, “and 
 Oh ! he cares for me because he is my Father !” 
 This was the thought uppermost with her now, 
 and what a light it caused to glow upon her face ! 
 What a radiance there was in her heart! For- 
 gotten for the time was the hitter one that he so 
 great and so powerful could not he her Father. 
 
 “You, too, must go to the Marble Pagoda,” she 
 continued to Hakta, “you, too, must hear what 
 the kind stranger has to tell of God, the Father. 
 He is not only my Fathex*, hut he is the Father 
 of others. “Oh !” turning her face suddenly to 
 Hakta, “maybe he is your Father, too.” 
 
 “Ho,” said Hakta, “He could not he. Hakta’s 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 71 
 
 father is where the spirits are. He was very 
 hard and cruel. Hakta would not want to see 
 him again.” 
 
 Still more Tatong told Hakta about God, the 
 Father, and, ere they parted, she had won from 
 her the promise to go to the Marble Pagoda ; 
 that is, if she could. 
 
 Hakta was careful to do as she had told Ta- 
 tong she would. She did not go where anyone 
 within Mr. Hi’s house could see her. But she 
 went near enough for Tatong to have only a 
 short distance to stagger with the bundle of 
 clothes. 
 
 The little slave found that the mid-day meal, 
 opan, had long since been eaten. Mrs. Hi de- 
 clared there was nothing for her now. She had 
 been such a lazy poke she did not deserve it. 
 She ought to have been home with the clothes 
 more than an hour ago, when something would 
 have been given her. How she did not deserve 
 it. But Chansa had saved a portion of her own 
 rice, which shortly she smuggled to Tatong. 
 They Avere in the kitchen at the time, and Ta- 
 tong had just finished eating when Mr. Yin, the 
 husband of Chansa, came in. lie wanted some- 
 thing of her. He began his request by saying, 
 “Yabu That meant, “Look here!” and is the 
 way in which Korean husbands address their 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 72 
 
 wives. They never call them wife, nor give 
 them any title of respect or of endearment. Xot 
 even do they address them by their names, if 
 they have one. To outsiders, also, the woman is 
 not known by her name, but as the wife of Mr. 
 So-and-so. 
 
 The next day there was the ironing to do, 
 which Avas almost as hard as the washing. 
 
 “Where are the clubs ?” asked Mrs. Xi as 
 soon as the kitchen work for the morning Avas 
 over. 
 
 Xow, you must not think Mrs. Xi Avas going 
 to do anything very Avarlike. The clubs for 
 which Mrs. Xi called were the ironing clubs. 
 These were of Avood and about a foot and a half 
 in length. Instead of being flat, as were the pad- 
 dles Avith AA'hicli the clothes were beaten, they 
 Avere round, in shape A T ery much like our base- 
 ball bats. Soon it developed that Kom had had 
 them. By dint of much coaxing he was brought 
 to tell where they Avere. He had taken them out 
 to roll, so as to see Lavo leap after them. Here 
 AA’as more labor for Tatong, for the clubs AA-ere 
 very dirty and had to be cleaned. Kom shoAved 
 his contrition by offering to help her ; hut, as he 
 retarded the AA’ork more than anything else, she 
 was glad enough to dispense with his seiwices. 
 
 The “ironing tables” were noAv brought out. 
 
.A UN DRY WORK IN KOREA. 
 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 73 
 
 What funny ones they were ! They were not 
 really tables. They were only wooden or iron 
 rollers about six inches in diameter. Around 
 each of these an article to be ironed was wrap- 
 ped. Then Mrs. dST i and Tatong took up the 
 clubs. “Rat-ta-tat-tat !” they went, striking 
 against the garment on the iron cylinder. You 
 would have thought they meant to beat it 
 through and through. But not so, the strokes 
 fell with such evenness and dexterity the gar- 
 ment was not injured, but was given a beautiful 
 smoothness and gloss. Sometimes Mrs. Hi and 
 Tatong each beat alone upon the garment, using 
 two clubs; again both beat upon it, the four 
 clubs coming down one after the other with won- 
 derful precision and regularity. 
 
 While the ironing was at its height there was 
 a squeal from Kom, then another and another. 
 He was lying on the floor rolling and kicking. 
 He had eaten too much rice at the morning meal. 
 In fact, he had stuffed himself so that his bulg- 
 ing stomach was now giving him much pain. 
 
 “Get the paddle,” said Mrs. Hi to Chansa. 
 
 Chansa knew well what Mrs. Hi meant. 
 There was a small wooden paddle hanging on the 
 wall. It was very much like the washing pad- 
 dles, though not so large. This was Korn’s stom- 
 ach paddle, and had been often used before. But 
 
74 T along, the Little Slave. 
 
 as Chansa approached him he began to scream 
 louder and louder than ever. He wanted Ta- 
 tong, and none other would do. Mrs. Hi had at 
 last to send Tatong. She placed the squirming 
 Kom on his back across her lap, and began to 
 move the paddle hack and forth, gently at first, 
 across his stomach, with a movement quite like 
 that of kneading dough. This was done that 
 the food, which had collected in a great mass, 
 might be more evenly distributed. Korn’s cries 
 grew weaker and weaker and finally ceased. 
 
 The next thing was to send Kom off to sleep, 
 and this was not hard. Tatong laid aside the 
 paddle, and with her hand began to tap lightly 
 upon his stomach, her fingers coming down one 
 after the other with regular movement. Accom- 
 panying this she made a little humming sound 
 with her lips, saying the word over and over, 
 “To-tak! to-tak!” Korean babies have no crad- 
 les, and this is the way they are put to sleep by 
 the “ to-talc , to-tak ” a tapping and humming. 
 
 As soon as he had gone to sleep Tatong laid 
 Kom over on his mat, with the small block of 
 w T ood under his head. Even thus early does a 
 little Korean begin to get used to the hard way 
 of sleeping. 
 
 It was nearly time for the evening star to 
 come ere they finished the ironing. Then Mrs. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 75 
 
 Hi told Chansa to go and hull the rice. 
 This had to he done with a rough box as a mor- 
 tar and a stone rudely shaped into the form of a 
 pestle. It was hard work, even harder than the 
 ironing, and much slower. It took them until 
 dark to hull enough for the morning meal. 
 
 While they were pounding away Dong, the 
 son of Mr. Hi, a lad of fifteen, came out to 
 watch them and to twit Tatong with her awk- 
 wardness and slowness. 
 
 Had you seen him you would surely have 
 taken him for a girl. He wore a robe very much 
 like Chansa’s, and it was girdled about the 
 waist as hers was. His hair was divided in the 
 middle and hung in two plaits down his hack. He 
 wore no hat, for in Korea boys rarely wear a hat 
 until they are married. It is then, too, they do 
 their hair up in a knot on the top of their 
 heads. 
 
 “A tortoise could go faster,” he said jeeringly 
 to Tatong. “He could go to the east and go to 
 the west while you are turning round.” 
 
 Tatong said nothing. It was not customary 
 for a woman or girl in Korea to answer back, 
 even when thus rudely addressed. She must 
 keep her mouth shut even if worse things were 
 said. 
 
 But Dong did not long remain. He passed 
 
76 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 on to the next house, whither he was going in 
 search of his friend, Ping, who lived there. 
 
 That very evening Tatong heard more won- 
 derful things. Mr. Ko and the two other neigh- 
 bors came in. They were much excited over fur- 
 ther news about the doctrine that taught of God, 
 the Father. Jesus was the Son of God. God 
 had been very angry with the people in the 
 world, and so Jesus had come to die for them. 
 In this manner God’s anger had been taken 
 away. He would not now destroy as would 77 a- 
 na-nim; neither was he stern nor cruel. lie was 
 instead the tender and loving Father to all who 
 obeyed him. There were things he had said 
 that must be done. To whoever did them the 
 Father would make himself known and would 
 give to that one not only honor hut riches. This 
 was the part that excited Mr. Ivo and the others 
 so much. What were these things that God, the 
 Father, had said must he done? If they could 
 find out might they not, too, have of the honor 
 and the riches ? It Avas surely worth trying, and 
 they declared they Avere going to find out more 
 about it. It also greatly excited Tatong, Iioav 
 much her flushed face and loudly-heating heart 
 attested. Oil ! AAdiat were these things that God, the 
 Father, had said must be done, and that then he 
 AA'ould make himself knoAvn to those who did 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 77 
 
 them ? If only she knew, how quickly would she 
 do them ! She must find out. She must learn 
 how to win this loving Father to make himself 
 known to her. 
 
 Even while the men were talking in the next 
 apartment had news was brought. There had 
 been a battle, a heavy battle, and the Chinese 
 army had been badly beaten. Many hundreds 
 of men were said to be lost. There were moans 
 and groans in the front apartment, mingled with 
 the wails of Mrs. X i and her daughters, who had 
 heard all. Mr. Kim, one of the neighbors, has- 
 tened away to offer sacrifice before his ancestral 
 tablets. The gods were surely angry. They 
 must be appeased. Mr. Yin, too, declared it his 
 intention to follow Mr. Kim’s example. His 
 father, for all he knew, might be among the 
 slain. What kind of a son would he he if he did 
 not at once proceed to show all the grief and all 
 the respect he could ? 
 
 He had already prostrated himself, his head 
 upon the floor. How he would divest himself 
 of his clothing, and instead array himself in 
 sack-cloth from head to foot ; so, too, must Mr. 
 Hi’s other sons. Kice, fruit and other things 
 were brought ; even to the parings of nails and 
 wisps of hair. Then the rush lights were set to 
 burning, and, bearing them, the silent procession 
 
78 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 sought the tablets. Mr. Yin, who was at the 
 head, carried, in addition to his light, a small 
 wand of oak about two feet or two feet and a half 
 in length. This was to be used in driving out the 
 demon or had spirit, if it was decided that one 
 was anywhere near the tablets. 1 There was 
 also an empty bottle into which the demon was 
 to he driven. It was then to be tightly corked 
 and hurried away to the river into which it was 
 to be thrown. 
 
 They advanced to the tablets and presented 
 the offerings. Then Mr. Yin prostrated him- 
 self before that of his grandfather and grand- 
 mother, burning hits of yellow paper marked 
 with red ink, which were said to be of great 
 charm against bad spirits. When this was fin- 
 ished he beo-an to hunt for the evil spirit with 
 his stick, hoping to find it and drive it into the 
 bottle. But he could feel nothing he thought 
 was the evil spirit. The charms would not per- 
 mit him to overcome it. In despair he gave it 
 up, saying, 
 
 “In the morning we will send for a mutang.” 
 
 By this he meant a sorcerer, one who dealt in 
 magic. 
 
 1 The Koreans are great believers in evil spirits, or 
 demons. Their principal form of religious worship, if 
 they can be said to have any at all, is demon worship. 
 
T along, the Little Slave. 
 
 79 
 
 In the morning the mutang came. She was a 
 forbidding looking creature. Her face was all 
 wrinkled and drawn, and she had lost most of 
 her teeth. But she came in spotless white, and 
 she brought with her a drum and drummer. 
 The noise of the drum was to frighten the spirit 
 and to give her control of it. She had a wand 
 cut from a pine tree, and to it was fastened a 
 sheet of white paper. This she drew, or rather 
 waved, in a circle all around the tablets. Then 
 she tore from it a small portion, which she 
 rolled into a tube. This she placed in a bowl 
 and set on fire, muttering a kind of chant over 
 it as she did so. The other portion she soaked 
 in wine and threw up to a beam of the house, 
 where it lodged. A small handful of rice thrown 
 after it adhered to it, or that is, the most of the 
 grains did. All this time the drum was beating 
 loudly and the drummer stamping about the 
 room with all the violence he could command. 
 
 The mutang now demanded her money, say- 
 ing that she had gotten rid of the evil spirits, or 
 at least, she had placed them where they could 
 do no further harm. The one she had sent away 
 in the fire, and the other was lodged on the beam 
 with the paper, to which the rice adhered. It 
 could not come down again unless she gave it 
 permission. 
 
80 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 After the mutang went away there was more 
 worship in front of the tablets, and the offering 
 of mochi as well as rice and fruits. Mr. Yin 
 kept on his suit of sack-cloth, and throughout 
 the house mourning for Mr. Mi continued until 
 there came certain word that he was safe. In 
 order to give public expression to their joy at 
 this news, as well as to show further gratitude 
 to the ancestors for not being angry, Mr. Yin 
 ordered that a general tomb-cleaning must take 
 place. 
 
 In Korea the dead are buried in the most 
 beautiful places that can be found. A man who 
 has spent all his life in a mud hut may, when he 
 is dead, occupy a resting place on some com- 
 manding hill, with a lofty grassy mound raised 
 in his honor and a slab conspicuous for its size. 
 In the case of rich men considerable space is 
 given to the tomb, and no one must bury any- 
 where near to it. 
 
 Accordingly, on the next day every member 
 of the family, with the exception of Kom, who 
 was left with a neighbor, took his or her way 
 to the burial place of the ancestors. They car- 
 ried with them dippers, buckets and straw scrub- 
 bers, also food to put on the tombs when they 
 had been nicely cleaned. 
 
 Korean monuments are principally of stone 
 or of brick masonry. Sometimes the graves are 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 81 
 
 paved with granite slabs. Again the monument 
 is in shape like an obelisk, and at the top is 
 carved a human head, or now and then that of 
 a bird or animal. It is the belief that the soul 
 of one who has been gentle on earth is changed 
 into a bird, and, taking its abode at the top of 
 one of these monuments, there reposes peace- 
 fully- 
 
 After the tomb cleaning Mr Yin seemed to 
 think that all was now right again, so the house- 
 hold fell back into its usual way. 
 
 All this time Tatong had been longing and 
 hoping that some night after the bell for the 
 men had sotmded she would be sent into the 
 streets. Mrs. Hi had often done this, for there 
 were many errands on which the little slave had 
 to go. But, somehow, she had not been sent out 
 alone since the day of the market, when she had 
 met the kind stranger, and he had told her of 
 the Marble Pagoda and what he went there to 
 do. Oh ! if she could only go there one time ! if 
 she, too, could hear some of the things that were 
 taught. Once or twice she had felt almost like 
 stealing away without being sent. But that she 
 knew would not do. She could hardly start ere 
 she would be missed, so closely did Mrs. Hi keep 
 watch upon her. 
 
 But soon Tatong was to have her heart’s de- 
 sire. Oh ! the joy that came when she did ! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Kukdong. 
 
 A T HIRE o’clock every evening the great 
 bell that stands under its little pagoda- 
 like temple near the principal market place of 
 Korea is heavily pounded with its big beam. 
 This is what is called the men’s night bell, or 
 by some the “curfew hell.” When these deep 
 notes sound out they serve as a warning to all 
 men who are on the streets. They must imme- 
 diately seek the shelter of the houses and leave 
 the way clear for the women, many of whom 
 have not been out before in the twenty-four 
 hours. Should a man chance to he detained in 
 reaching his home, and in this way meet one or 
 more women, he must at once cover his .eyes by 
 means of a fan and pass them w y ith head bent 
 down. 
 
 Within a few minutes after the ringing of the 
 bell the women leave their houses and come out 
 into the streets. They can now dispense with the 
 ugly green coats with which they cover their 
 faces, and thus enjoy the fresh evening air. 
 When the moon is bright they need no other 
 82 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 83 
 
 light by which to see to make their way from 
 street to street; when it is not shining then 
 they carry lanterns in which rush lights burn. 
 Often the woman carries the lantern herself, 
 but those who have slaves go out attended by 
 them, and they bear the light. 
 
 The very next night Tatong’s heart fairly 
 bounded as Mrs. Ni told her to prepare to go 
 into the street after the bell sounded. Tatong 
 understood that she was to go alone, and thought 
 after thought began to surge through her mind. 
 Oh ! was she really to see the kind stranger 
 again? Was she to hear the beautiful things 
 he had to tell ? Was she to know about God, the 
 Father? Were all the matters over which she 
 had wondered, that had troubled her so, were 
 these at last to he made clear? Never mind 
 where Mrs. Ni sent her, or on what kind of an 
 errand she had to go, she would manage to steal 
 by the Marble Pagoda, if it were only for a lit- 
 tle while. 
 
 But alas ! all Tatong’s hopes were soon rudely 
 dispelled. Mrs. Ni herself was going, and she 
 only wanted Tatong to attend her. She ordered 
 her to get the lantern ready so that they could 
 start the moment the bell sounded. 
 
 The little slave obeyed, but with what a de- 
 jected heart! If Mrs. Ni went what chance 
 
84 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 would there be for her to get even a glimpse 
 inside the Marble Pagoda ? Oh ! now she would 
 have to give it up she felt sure. She could not 
 jet see the kind stranger and hear what he had 
 to say. Then another thought came. Perhaps 
 Mrs. Xi herself might go; perhaps she, too, 
 would like to hear what was told of One who 
 had so kind, so gentle a heart toward women. 
 But a dread came to Tatong following the 
 thought, the dread of telling Mrs. Xi. She. 
 knew her mistress so well, her quick temper, her 
 hard nature. Might she not, instead of deciding 
 to go, grow angry with Tatong and abuse her for 
 even having contemplated such a thing as a 
 visit to the Marble Pagoda ? At least, it so 
 seemed to the little slave, and rather than bring 
 about herself such a storm, she decided to keep 
 quiet. It might he that sometime when she felt 
 braver about it she would tell Mrs. Xi. Al- 
 though her mistress was so hard and so cruel, 
 Tatong felt that if there was any good and help- 
 ful thing heard at the Marble Pagoda she 
 ■wanted her to have part in it. So tender and 
 true and forgiving was the heart of our little 
 slave. 
 
 As they were crossing from one narrow street 
 to the other Tatong bent her eyes searchingly 
 through the shadows, for not very far away, she 
 
THE GREAT BELL AT SEOUL, KOREA. 
 
85 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 knew, was the Pagoda. It stood in rather a se- 
 cluded spot, and all about it were some tumbled 
 down huts, only a few of which were now in- 
 habited. The Pagoda had once been a very tine, 
 grand structure, thirteen stories in height, but 
 three of them had been taken off by the Japa- 
 nese during one of their invasions. It was more 
 than seven hundred years old, but was still well 
 preserved. Inside there were many beautiful 
 carvings, but the whole place had fallen into 
 such disuse it was rarely ever visited now. Ta- 
 tong had once seen children playing about it, 
 but she never remembered to have seen grown 
 people entering it or coming from it. There 
 were many who believed that evil spirits lived 
 there now, for this reason they would not go near 
 it. Yet the kind stranger had said to her that it 
 was there he went to tell to those who would 
 come the beautiful things of God, the Father. 
 If only she could go now to hear some of them 
 she would not fear the bad spirits. The bell 
 had rung, so the people must he there now listen- 
 ing to the stranger. 
 
 She strained her eyes through the dim light, 
 but the street on which she and Mrs. Ni were 
 now walking ran in such a way the Pagoda 
 could not be seen, because of its position beyond 
 the other buildings. 
 
S6 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 Mrs. Hi extended her walk until she came to 
 the great broad street that runs directly across 
 the city from east to west. This, together with 
 the other wide street branching off from it, and 
 which runs to the south gate, form the principal 
 places of promenade for the women, when the 
 men have gone away from it at night and traffic 
 has ceased. Could you stand where you could 
 look down upon these streets you would see mov- 
 ing along them at these promenade hours what 
 look like drifting masses of snow. It would be 
 the white garments of the women. 
 
 Mrs. Hi met many friends, with whom she 
 stopped to chat. In this way fully half the 
 women of Seoiil keep up their friendly relations, 
 for they are too truly slaves to the ironing cylin- 
 der and washing paddle to have much time for 
 house visiting. 
 
 As they were passing again in the vicinity of 
 the Marble Pagoda, Tatong' s heart gave a great 
 bound. It seemed to her it went right into her 
 throat. Some figures were moving away in a 
 little cluster from under the shadow of a house, 
 and among them Tatong felt sure that she saw 
 that of the kind stranger. In her joy and sur- 
 prise she was scarcely conscious of what she 
 did. She had turned to run toward them, when 
 the sharp voice of Mrs. Hi recalled her to herself. 
 
87 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Why have you turned in that way ? Why do 
 you not hold the lantern so that it will give me 
 light ?” 
 
 All hope had now to be given up of even 
 speaking to the kind stranger. Mrs. TSTi kept her 
 eye upon her until she had resumed her place 
 near to her and had again brought the lantern 
 forward in such a way that the rays fell across 
 the path in front. 
 
 Two days later great excitement went through- 
 out the city at the announcement that the king 
 would, on the morrow, go in great state to offer 
 sacrifice in one of the ancestral temples. This 
 passing of the king in magnificent procession, 
 which takes place usually only once or twice a 
 year, is knoAvn as the Kurdong. In former 
 years the people had not been permitted to look 
 upon it. Prior to the passing of the king they 
 had all been forced to retire within their houses, 
 with the exception of the head of the family, 
 who, crouched upon the threshold,- a broom in 
 his hand, kept his head bent down until it seemed 
 his nose must be touching the ground. 1ST o one 
 was allowed to even peep out upon the pro- 
 cession. Should one be found doing so severe 
 indeed was the punishment. Sometimes it meant 
 death. For the king is considered a sacred per- 
 son. Even those admitted to his presence have 
 
88 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 to go down on hands and knees while approach- 
 ing him. Bnt of late the king had grown more 
 gracious to his subjects with reference to the 
 Knrdong. He had issued a proclamation that 
 all men, women and children might now look 
 upon the procession, the higher class women 
 through the little openings called windows in 
 the front of the houses, the lower class from the 
 street. This gracious permission was doubt- 
 less given because of the troubles that had come 
 through threatened wars. The king wanted to 
 draw his subjects nearer to him. 
 
 The route of the procession was from the pal- 
 ace along the wide street leading to the south 
 gate. By daylight of the morning hundreds of 
 the slaves began sprinkling red earth through 
 the center of the street, while detachments of 
 men were set to guard it. For the king must 
 not pass over soil on which so low a thing as the 
 foot of one of his subjects had pressed. Along 
 the sides of the streets at regular intervals 
 torches ten feet in height had been placed. 
 These were to be lighted on the king’s return 
 from sacrificing, which Avould not be until night. 
 
 Early in the morning Mrs. Hi, her daughters 
 and daughter-in-law started for the house of a 
 friend which lay along the route. Tatong had 
 been told that she might take her chances in the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 89 
 
 street, but if she failed to be at home for the 
 cooking of opan , the mid-day meal, she knew 
 what she would receive. 
 
 Even at that hour in the morning the streets 
 were crowded. The men, the children, and the 
 poorer class women were hastening to get good 
 positions on the main thoroughfare. Here and 
 there through the crowds could be seen the 
 bright costumes of the hoy bridegrooms, who, by 
 special arrangement between parents, had been 
 allowed to assume man’s estate and take unto 
 themselves wives. The dress of these young 
 bridegrooms consisted of rose-pink, red, or blue 
 coats, and high yellow hats. 
 
 The crowds were strangely silent. The ex- 
 citement that would naturally be looked for on 
 such an occasion was lacking. The reason of 
 this was because they had been warned against 
 all noise and demonstration. It was a sacred 
 occasion, and as such they must regard it. 
 
 By eight o’clock the people w T ere packed in a 
 great mass on either side of the street. They 
 were kept from pressing too near the center by 
 men who constantly moved back and forth with 
 long wooden paddles in their hands, which they 
 brought down unmercifully upon the head or 
 shoulders or other part of the body of the one 
 who chanced to be out of line. Squadrons of 
 
90 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 cavalry were along the route, where they had 
 been stationed to preserve order. Many of them 
 had dismounted, so as to rest themselves from 
 the straight, disagreeable saddles, and were now 
 squatting on the ground smoking and chatting, 
 while the ponies either did the guard duty them- 
 selves or bit each other, kicking and squealing in 
 a shameful manner. 
 
 Suddenly a cannon was fired, then a bugle 
 sounded in a long, loud call. This was to an- 
 nounce that the procession had left the palace. 
 In a moment all was stir and confusion, the sol- 
 diers scrambled to get back to their ponies, the 
 crowds craning their necks and moving as near 
 as they could to the magic line of red down the 
 center of the street. 
 
 First came men hearing poles gaily decorated 
 and ornamented with brass rings, which they 
 tossed up and down, giving forth a sharp, me- 
 talic sound. Following them came the drum- 
 mers with their queer, howl-shaped drums hung 
 horizontally. They carried immense sticks, 
 which they moved to and fro in front of them 
 and up and doAvn about their heads ; hut only 
 now and then did they bring them down on the 
 drums, and only with a muffled sound. Behind 
 the drummers marched a squad of soldiers. 
 Such a strange uniform they had ! If you could 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 91 
 
 have seen it you would have wondered how they 
 ever moved about and did soldier duty in it. It 
 consisted of a loose black frock with wide sleeves, 
 belted about the waist with a leather girdle 
 adorned with a brass clasp, baggy trousers, pad- 
 ded socks, and straw shoes. The soldiers seemed 
 to be a kind of advance guard for the palace at- 
 tendants, hundreds of whom now moved past in 
 brown cloaks with glazed sleeves, blue under- 
 robes, and trousers tied near the ankles with 
 pink or red ribbon. They had stiff black hats 
 ornamented with bunches of ribbon and with the 
 feathers of the peafowl. Some were borne in 
 chairs, others were on ponies led by coolies. 
 These riders presented a comical sight perched 
 on saddles that were a foot or more above the 
 ponies’ backs. They stood erect in their stir- 
 rups, their feet not more than half way down 
 the ponies’ sides. Behind them came the high 
 officers in handsomely ornamented chairs, at- 
 tended by many servants, or on magnificently 
 caparisoned ponies, with banner men bearing 
 silk flags, each with the name and rank of the 
 official. These dignitaries wore robes of orange 
 or of mazarine blue silk and wide crimson trou- 
 sers fastened about the ankles with knots of 
 gaily-colored ribbon. Their black, liigh-crowned 
 hats were weighted down with ornamentation, 
 
92 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 having long crimson tassles behind and heavy 
 ostrich plumes falling in front. They were se- 
 cured to the head of the wearer hy throat latchets 
 of amber beads. 
 
 All at once the great hell began to sound forth. 
 This was the signal that the king was near. At 
 the same moment the cavalry that had been sent 
 to guard the streets began a singular maneuver. 
 This was to turn the tails of their ponies toward 
 the procession. Tor this was the way in which 
 they were required to receive the king. So, too, 
 the waiting masses must turn their backs, and 
 what they saw of the king and his grandeur 
 must he had through the side of the eye. 
 
 Preceding the king came the general of the 
 army. Such gorgeousness, such color, such dis- 
 play ! He was fairly loaded with decorations, 
 and so surrounded hy banners he looked like a 
 picture in a frame. His pony was not only led, 
 hut the general himself had to be held in the sad- 
 dle hy servants walking on either side, for he 
 was so weighted doAvn with clothing that he 
 could not sit steadily, hut swayed from side to 
 side. Hundreds of soldiers followed him, some 
 on foot, others riding. There were, too, many 
 banner men and another company of drummers 
 and fifers. These, unlike the first, were using 
 their instruments, and the noise they made was 
 simply deafening. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 93 
 
 The king was surrounded by his personal at- 
 tendants, who wore high peaked hats with pro- 
 jecting wings ornamented with rosettes and 
 streamers of ribbon. There were also standard 
 bearers carrying the royal flag, an immense af- 
 fair of yellow silk with a winged tiger in the 
 center. There were, too, soldiers, musicians, 
 and various runners. In front of the king’s 
 chair was borne a monstrous red silk umbrella. 
 Then came the royal chairs, each gorgeously 
 canopied with red silk. There were two chairs, 
 one being empty, the other containing the king. 
 It was deemed a stroke of safety to have two 
 chairs, as in the case of an assassin he would be 
 very apt to make his attack upon the first chair, 
 which was the empty one. The chair in which 
 the king sat was on a platform borne by forty 
 men. Over the chair was a canopy brilliantly 
 ornamented. This flashed in the sunlight, as did 
 the magnificent robes of the king. The king had 
 a fan with which to protect his face from any 
 ray of the sun that might find its way beneath 
 the canopy. Many hundreds of soldiers, ser- 
 vants and officials followed him, either walking 
 or riding. Like those that preceded him, the 
 costumes of the latter were gorgeous in the ex- 
 treme. There were, too, tiger hunters magnifi- 
 cently arrayed, and various bands of players and 
 
94 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 singers, each vying with the other in the display 
 that was made. 
 
 Tatong tried again and again to get a position 
 from which she conld catch even a glimpse of the 
 passing Knrdong. But in vain, for each- time 
 that she managed to secure a place of advantage 
 she was rudely jostled away, not only by the 
 men and boys, but by women. She had just 
 given up in despair, and was on the point of 
 turning to make her way from the street, when 
 a voice hailed her. At first she could not tell the 
 direction from whence it came. She looked all 
 about her. Who could have called her ? The 
 voice sounded again. It was plain now that it 
 came from above. She looked upward, then an 
 exclamation escaped her. It was ISTakta who 
 called her, and such a sight met Tatong’ s eyes 
 as she raised them ! For Wokpo’s broad back a 
 great saddle something like a platform had been 
 built. It was cushioned and enclosed, and above 
 it hung a canopy. It was just one of the finest 
 pavilions you ever saw! Within it sat Xakta, 
 old Kimri and another woman. 
 
 “Come, give me your hand,” said Hakta to 
 Tatong, “and climb up.” 
 
 Tatong looked at the old woman, and her 
 heart stood still. As much as she wanted to 
 climb to that glorious place the fear of old 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 95 
 
 Ivimri restrained her. Could she sit so near to 
 that evil face and piercing eye ? What might 
 not happen if she did ? But old Ivimri did not 
 seem to be noticing her. She was busy with the 
 crowds passing below. 
 
 Noting Tatong’ s hesitancy, Nakta seemed to 
 understand it. 
 
 “Do not be afraid of her” she said in low 
 tones. “Come ! she shall not hurt you.” 
 
 Thus assured, Tatong reached up her hands 
 and was drawn by Nakta, with the assistance of 
 the other woman, to that splendid place on Mok- 
 po’s back. Oh ! what a fine sight she had now of 
 every thing ! In her delight Tatong, for the mo- 
 ment, forgot old Kimri. She was suddenly re- 
 called to memory by the sharp words, “How did 
 you come here ?” 
 
 Turning her head Tatong saw old Kimri’s 
 eyes fastened upon her. 
 
 “Let her alone,” said Nakta to her mother. 
 “She is here because I have asked her.” 
 
 “But I wish to know whence she comes, and I 
 will know. Tell me,” she demanded, leaning to- 
 ward Tatong till her wicked old face almost 
 touched her, “from where did you come and 
 whose are you ?” 
 
 “I came from the house of Mr. Ni, and I am 
 the slave of his wife, as I have before told you,” 
 replied Tatong faintly. 
 
9G 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Oli ! yes, you did. Yow I remember. A slave ? 
 Well, that’s right ! A slave gets beaten, now 
 doesn’t she, and starved, too ? And there is 
 never enough to wear, is there?” glancing at Ta- 
 tong’s shabby attire. 
 
 “How long have you been there ?” she asked 
 abruptly. 
 
 “Since I was very little. I believe they said 
 it was five years that I was when I came.” 
 
 “Then you were always a slave?” 
 
 “Yes,” said Tatong. 
 
 “Where are those who should claim you by 
 blood ?” 
 
 “I do not know,” her eyes beginning to fill 
 with tears. 
 
 “Let her alone,” said Yakta, reaching out her 
 arm as though to shield Tatong. “You hurt her 
 with the questions.” 
 
 “No mother, no father,” said the old woman 
 with a repulsive grin. “Ha ! ha ! ha !” 
 
 Into Tatong’s face there came a sudden light. 
 Such warmth was there in the glow that it dis- 
 pelled even the tears as the sunlight drinks up 
 the dew. 
 
 “Yes,” she said in a voice that was tremulous 
 with feeling, “I have a Father. The kind 
 stranger said I have.” 
 
 “What !” exclaimed the old woman. “A 
 father ! Who told you ?” 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 97 
 
 Ere Tatong could reply there came an inter- 
 ruption. Some one had approached the pavilion. 
 As the old woman’s words rang out shrilly a deep 
 voice said, 
 
 “At last I have found you !” 
 
 Old Kimri turned her head, then her voice 
 was shriller than ever as she exclaimed, 
 
 “It is he ! It is he ! Get away ! Get away ! 
 Lead on the ox. We must not stay here !” 
 Tatong, too, looked over the side of the pa- 
 vilion, then a cry escaped her. But it was not a 
 cry of fear. It was instead one of joyful sur- 
 prise. He who had spoken and who stood now 
 close beside Mokpo was none other than the kind 
 stranger ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In the Marble Pagoda. 
 
 f HE old woman seemed beside herself with 
 
 the desire to get away. She called again 
 and again to the hov, who, standing below, held 
 Mokpo’s guiding chain. 
 
 “Idiot ! softhead ! why do you not start the 
 the ox as you are told ? Quick ! he must go as 
 fast as he can.” 
 
 “What is the matter ?” asked Yakta. 
 
 “Mind your own business ! only start the 
 boy off with the ox. You hear? You hear?” 
 “You must listen to me,” said the voice again. 
 “There are some things I must know, I will ask.” 
 “Go on ! go on !” said old Ivimri, but she was 
 speaking to the hoy below. 
 
 “I can’t,” he said. “There’s no way out. The 
 beast can’t go two steps.” 
 
 “Eind a way unless you want to be cast off to 
 starve the rest of your lazy life.” 
 
 “You cannot elude me now,” said the stranger 
 firmly. “You must answer my questions. I will 
 
 He drew nearer, and standing upon a sack of 
 
 know.” 
 
 98 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 99 
 
 straw that had been brought as food for Mokpo, 
 raised his face so that his eyes looked full into 
 those of old Kimri. But ere he could utter an- 
 other word she had stepped out of the pavilion 
 to the neck of Mokpo, thence letting herself to 
 the ground. So quickly was this done and so 
 deftly, despite her years, that it was over ere 
 either the stranger or anyone within the pavilion 
 had caught her intention. 
 
 “She must not escape me !” declared the 
 stranger in an agitated manner. “I must stop her.” 
 
 He stepped from the sack and passed as 
 quickly as he could to the other side of Mokpo, 
 the side on which old Kimri had descended. 
 But by this time she had disappeared in the 
 crowd as completely as though she had been 
 whisked away by some powerful hand. He fol- 
 lowed in the direction he believed she had taken 
 as fast as he could possibly make his way 
 through the dense crowd. But it took him min- 
 utes to gain even a little advance. 
 
 “What can be the matter with her ?” asked 
 Kakta anxiously as she leaned over the side of 
 the pavilion, straining her eyes in the direction 
 old Kimri had gone. “Why did she go away in 
 that manner ?” she continued. “I am sure the 
 man didn’t do or say anything out of the way. 
 He only wanted to ask some questions.” 
 
100 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Will she not get hurt in the crowd?” asked 
 the woman. 
 
 “Xo ; not she. She knows too well how to take 
 care of herself. But she will not stay long in 
 the crowd. There are places near, -to one of 
 which she will go. There we’ll find her when 
 it is so we can move about in search of her.” 
 
 The procession was coming now, and with this 
 eyes and thoughts were soon occupied. But in 
 the midst of all the noise and glare and splen- 
 dors of the Ivurdong, Tatong kept saying over 
 and over to herself, “Oh, if the kind stranger 
 had hut stayed ! If only he had spoken to me 
 again ! But he did not seem even to notice me. 
 He was too anxious to speak to old Kimri. Why 
 did she ran away in that manner ? She seemed 
 afraid of him. Poor old Kimri! if only she 
 knew wliat good things he had to tell !” 
 
 It was but two nights later when Mrs. Xi, to 
 Tatong’ s joy, sent her out on the streets alone. 
 Iler feet fairly flew along, her heart almost 
 bursting with the gladness that welled up so 
 tumultuously. At last, at last she could go to 
 the Marble Pagoda ! She could now hear the 
 sweet and beautiful things for which she had 
 hungered so long. 
 
 She hurried through with her errand, then 
 turned her steps in the direction of the Pagoda. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 101 
 
 As has been said, it lay in a portion of the city 
 in which not so many people lived as in the other 
 parts. Directly about the Pagoda itself no one 
 dwelt. It was surrounded by a cluster of unoc- 
 cupied huts that shut the lower stories almost 
 from view. There were people afraid to go 
 about the Marble Pagoda. They said it was 
 haunted ; that spirits and demons made it their 
 abode. Tatong had heard these stories, hut she 
 paid no heed to them now. The great desire of 
 her heart overshadowed all else, the desire to 
 know, to hear the things that were told within 
 the Marble Pagoda of God, the Father. 
 
 Tatong passed between two of the huts and 
 came out into the space in the center of which 
 the Pagoda towered. There was only a dim 
 light, that from the stars, for the moon had not 
 yet come up. By means of it Tatong saw plainly 
 the outlines of the Pagoda. At first she thought 
 no one was there, for she could catch no glimpse 
 of light within. Her heart sank. A feeling of 
 despair took possession of her. Was she after 
 all to be so bitterly disappointed ? But even as 
 she was turning away she caught the murmur of 
 voices. She drew nearer, then for the first .time 
 she saw a ray of light that made its way through 
 a small chink. Those who had the arranging of 
 the light had doubtless so placed it that it could 
 not be seen from the street. 
 
102 
 
 T atony, the Little Slave. 
 
 Timidly Tatong approached. Would the 
 kind stranger really be within ? Was his one of 
 the voices she heard ? She drew nearer the 
 structure. Now she could reach out her hand 
 and touch it. She was preparing to do so, with 
 the desire to find the means of entrance, when 
 a voice spoke to her out of the darkness. It 
 came so suddenly that Tatong started with 
 fright, uttered a cry, but, luckily, not a loud 
 one, and was on the point of springing away 
 when the next words arrested her. They were 
 gentle and kind. 
 
 “Is not this a friend who has come ?” 
 
 “Yes,” said Tatong faintly. 
 
 “A friend who seeks the truth ?” 
 
 “I come to find him who tells of One who is 
 God, the Father. I call him the kind stranger, 
 for I do not know his name. He has talked to 
 me, and he has told me to come here, where I 
 would hear many more things that are good and 
 beautiful.” 
 
 “It is all right. You may enter. He whom 
 you seek, Mr. Ho, is within, and with him also is 
 the white brother, he with the gentle face and 
 the heart that can feel so keenly the Avoes of an- 
 other. And the youthful one is there, too, with 
 the tongue that makes music. Enter and be 
 made glad.” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 103 
 
 So speaking the owner of the voice touched 
 what seemed to be a small spring. There was a 
 sharp click, then the slighter noise of a door 
 moving on its hinges, and an opening stood re- 
 vealed. It was not more than two feet broad by 
 about three in length. Tatong saw now for the 
 first time that he who had been speaking to her 
 was an old man. But she felt no fear of him, 
 as would have been usual in another place and 
 under other circumstances, he was so kind and 
 his voice so gentle. 
 
 “He is one of those whom the kind stranger 
 has made soft of heart and mild of head,” said 
 Tatong to herself, “through the beautiful things 
 he has told him.” 
 
 They had to stoop to enter. The first cham- 
 ber was unoccupied, though two candles in their 
 gauze frames were burning there. This was 
 only to light the entrance and to point the way 
 to the chamber beyond, within which Tatong 
 now plainly heard the noise of mingled voices. 
 
 The Pagoda was about twenty-five feet in 
 diameter. In each story there was a central 
 chamber, the outer space serving as a kind of 
 gallery running all around it. It was a portion 
 of this gallery that had seemed as a chamber 
 to Tatong when first entering it. 
 
 The old man approached the inner chamber 
 
104 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 and rapped. At once a door was opened from 
 within, a door of sufficient length to be entered 
 without stooping. As it rolled back Tatong’ s 
 heart gave a great bound at what was revealed. 
 For there within the apartment, which was 
 about twelve feet across by eight or nine in 
 height, were gathered at least a dozen women, 
 one or two men, and about a half dozen children, 
 some about Tatong’ s size, some even smaller. 
 The women with but three exceptions had their 
 faces uncovered, and these had partly relaxed 
 their hold upon the ugly green cloaks. But it 
 was not the sight of these women or of the men 
 and children that caused Tatong’s heart to 
 bound, but that of the kind stranger, who, seated 
 in their midst, was repeating to them what was 
 being read from a book by one beside him. This 
 other one was he with the white face, who, from 
 under the great mourning hat, had given her the 
 glimpse of himself as he had placed in her hand 
 the ardently coveted stick of candy. Was it not 
 strange that he, too, should he here ? 
 
 Tatong dropped upon her heels in the space 
 the old man pointed out. Then she raised her 
 head, and what jov came to her at that moment ! 
 For the kind stranger had looked up. ITe was 
 glancing directly at her. Ilis eyes lighted up; 
 a smile gathered upon his lips. lie had not only 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 105 
 
 seen, but he had recognized her ! What greater 
 joy could she desire ? He remembered her, Ta- 
 tong, the poor, wretched, little slave, about 
 whom few ever thought, and for whom certainly 
 no one cared. 
 
 But now he was looking away, and what was 
 this he was saying ? It was something the white 
 brother, as the old man had called him, had just 
 read from the book. 
 
 “iNot every one that saith unto me, Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, 
 but he that doetli the will of my Father which 
 is in heaven.” 
 
 Then one by one as they were told to her Ta- 
 tong’s thirsty heart drank in the many things, 
 the beautiful, precious things of him who is 
 God, the Father, and of Jesus, his Son, who had 
 come to earth to show us just how sweet and pure 
 a life could be that doetli the will of the Father. 
 
 “This Father is God,” continued Mr. Ko, 
 speaking now as he had the words from his 
 white brother, who had closed the book. “His 
 home is in the place called heaven ; far above the 
 deep blue sky, even beyond the twinkling stars 
 and the silver orb of the moon. He is great and 
 powerful as well as good. He made all things, 
 even the moon and the stars themselves, and the 
 sun, the great light of the day. lie made the 
 
106 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 flowers, the trees, the animals, the people in the 
 world, nay, he made the world itself, you, me, 
 every one. As he made all in the spirit of love, 
 so does he want us to bear that spirit in our 
 hearts, to live lives of gentleness and peace, to 
 be merciful, to deal justly with all; that is, to 
 think of another as of ourselves, and to walk so 
 we shall not be ashamed for his eye to rest upon 
 us at any time. This is what is meant by doing 
 the will of the F ather ; and he who so does will be 
 loved of the Father, and the Father will send 
 blessings upon him. Xot only this, but he will 
 be taken to live in that beautiful abode called 
 heaven, where God, the Father, dwells, and 
 where there is no night, hut always the light of a 
 day more glorious even than that the sun sends 
 forth.” 
 
 As the words were finished Tatong bowed her 
 head and sat silent, almost motionless, her heart 
 sore within her. For that which she had just 
 heard, which visibly gave so much joy to those 
 who sat about her, crushed from her own heart 
 all happiness, all hope. This Great One, God, 
 could never be her Father, 0 no! Again the 
 recognition of this had come, and with double 
 force. He was too great, too powerful. How 
 could it he ? Had not the kind stranger said he 
 was Lord of all, of heaven and of earth ? now 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 107 
 
 then could he give even a thought to a miserable 
 little slave like herself ? Oh, it could not he ! 
 
 But now again her attention was attracted. 
 Some one had asked a question. Earlier in the 
 evening the white brother had read of a wonder- 
 ful thing that had been done by Jesus, the Son 
 of the Father. He had raised a woman from the 
 dead, the daughter of a great ruler. Hot only 
 had she been brought to life again, but she re- 
 mained so ; that is, she lived for many years af- 
 terwards. 
 
 “Was not this a strange thing for him to do,” 
 asked one of the men, “to raise from the dead a 
 woman ? Why did he not raise a man ? For do 
 you not know what is said, ‘A woman is not 
 worth a cherry stone, but a man many cherry 
 trees V ” 
 
 “Jesus, the Heavenly One,” spoke Mr. Ko 
 gently, “makes no difference between man or 
 woman. Jle gives to each alike the privilege of 
 entering the mansions of heaven. He says to all, 
 ‘Come,’ and those who heed the call and obey it, 
 whether they are men or women, will receive the 
 reward he has promised, the entrance into the 
 Kingdom and a share in the glories of the 
 King. 
 
 “But Jesus did also raise man from the dead,” 
 continued Mr. Ko. He reached for the book, 
 
108 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 and himself read the tender, touching story of 
 the calling from the dead of the widow’s son. 
 
 Again the men expressed their surprise. Jesus 
 had done this for a woman, he had brought the 
 young man hack to life because of his sorrow for 
 the mother who wept. 
 
 “As his heart always showed sorrow, tender- 
 ness for the weak, the helpless, the unfortunate 
 while on earth, so he loves and cares for them 
 now,” spoke Mr. Ivo, his eyes misty with feeling. 
 
 Tatong heard the words and her heart leaped. 
 It came up in her throat and stayed there, throb- 
 bing, throbbing, throbbing. Jesus, the Son of 
 the Father, cared for the weak, the helpless, the 
 unfortunate. Sorrow touched his heart. He 
 had stopped to look upon the woman in pity. 
 He had said, “Weep not.” Then he stretched 
 forth his hand, and lo, the grand, the beautiful 
 thing was done ! the son stood up, and the mother 
 wept no more. Oh ! how good, how gracious, how 
 loving was this Jesus ! Way be if he knew of her, 
 of her, poor, little, wretched slave Tatong, who 
 longed with all her heart to find a father, a 
 father who cared, who would be sorry for her, 
 who would pity her misery, and never let her be 
 starved nor beaten again — yes, maybe if he, this 
 Jesus with the kind and tender heart, knew of 
 all these things, he would sorrow with her, too, 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 109 
 
 he would tell God, the F ather, of her. Then his 
 heart, too, might be turned to her, the heart of 
 God, the Father, and he would take some of the 
 hardness and sorrow out of her life, even if he 
 did not think her fit to go to live with him in 
 his home above the sky. 
 
 But once more poor Tatong’s heart was to 
 have hope crushed from it. For Mr. Ko was 
 reading again. It was about the things that had 
 been done by this Jesus, whom he now called the 
 Saviour of men. Jesus had come to earth to 
 show' men the way to the Father. Then the 
 Father was very angry with them, for they had 
 not done as he desired them to do. lie had said 
 they must all die for their sin and disobedience. 
 But now such a great thing as Jesus did ! This 
 was why he had been called the Saviour. He had 
 himself died to save man from the wrath of the 
 Father. He had suffered a terrible death nailed 
 by his hands and feet to beams of wood called 
 a cross. They had even pierced his side with a 
 sharp and cruel spear to make sure that he was 
 dead. 
 
 Tatong could bear to hear no more. She 
 dropped her head to her hands and began to 
 weep in all the bitterness of sorrow and of de- 
 spair. If Jesus, the tender, the loving one were 
 dead, how could he help her as she desired ? He 
 
110 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 could not, that was certain. She must give up 
 all hope of that now. And Oh ! such a terrible, 
 such a cruel death as he had died ! Even the cut 
 of the canes through her flesh was as nothing to 
 those nails driven through his feet and his 
 hands. And to hang as he had done upon those 
 terrible beams of wood, with the cruel spear 
 wound in his side. Oh, the agony of it ! How 
 had he ever endured ? And to think that the 
 ones who had put him to death were some of the 
 very ones for whom he had died ! The tears 
 trickled through Tatong’ s fingers as she thus 
 wept and thought in bitterness and despair of 
 heart. 
 
 But what was this Mr. Ko was now saying? 
 Ere he had uttered many words of it Tatong 
 had raised her head and was listening eagerly. 
 
 “They took the body of Jesus down from the 
 cross. It was placed in a tomb cut in the rock. 
 A great stone was rolled against it, and those 
 who had crucified him came and sealed it up and 
 even set men to watch it, fearing lest those who 
 loved him should come and steal the body away. 
 For Jesus had said that on the third day he 
 would rise again from the dead. They did not 
 believe him. They thought his disciples, those 
 who followed him, would steal the body, and in 
 this way make the people believe that Jesus had 
 
Taiong, the Little Slave. Ill 
 
 himself risen from the dead. Wonderful to re- 
 late, Jesus did arise from the dead and of his 
 own power! For at dawn of the third day, 
 when those who loved him came to look upon 
 the spot where he lay and to bring sweet spices 
 to his tomb, they found the stone rolled away 
 and a shining angel of the Lord within, who 
 spoke to them, telling them that Jesus was no 
 longer among the dead, that he had arisen and 
 gone away, and that shortly they should see him. 
 And they did see him and he spoke to them and 
 comforted them, telling them again of the joys 
 of heaven that he was going to prepare for them. 
 Afterwards, in the midst of the clouds, with 
 many holy ones about him, he was caught up and 
 carried to the Father. There he sitteth to-day 
 on the right hand of him who is God, the F ather, 
 and he ever maketh plea for us in our weakness 
 and our sin.” 
 
 Once more Tatong’s heart was wildly athroh. 
 Jesus was not then dead ! He who had the power 
 to raise others had raised himself. Why, she 
 might have known he could if she had only thought 
 about it as she ought! Yes, Jesus was alive! 
 He had ascended to heaven, the home of the 
 Father. And what was that Mr. Ko had said 
 about his pleading with the Father for us ? Oh, 
 could it he true that he did ? If so, then here 
 
112 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 was the very way, the way for which her heart 
 had so long cried ont in its sore distress. Oh, 
 she must find ont more about Jesus, the Saviour ! 
 How good, how beautiful he was ! She must 
 ask how she could send him a message, how she 
 could let him know the sorrow of her heart, the 
 woe of her lot as a poor, despised slave, how she 
 longed for him to plead for her with God, the 
 F ather. 
 
 Something strange was happening now that 
 is very strange to Tatong. In the wonder that 
 possessed her as she looked upon it and listened 
 to it she forgot for the time the thoughts surg- 
 ing so tumultuously through her heart. 
 
 Mr. Ivo had stopped talking, so, too, had the 
 white brother. They had each taken up a book 
 again, hut not the ones they had had at first. 
 These hooks were smaller, and they were flat- 
 ter, too. 
 
 Mr. Ko turned and spoke to some one on the 
 other side of him, some one who until now had 
 been so in the shadow, so concealed behind the 
 others, that Tatong had not seen him. But now 
 as, in response to Mr. Ivo’s words, he came fully 
 into view an exclamation escaped Tatong. It 
 was the hoy with whom she had met on the 
 market day, the one who had been so kind, who 
 had so bravely rescued her scattered coins. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 113 
 
 Tatong’ s heart began to beat louder and still 
 louder. Would be see her, and, if he did, would 
 he recognize her ? How often she had wished 
 that she might meet him again, so that she might 
 say to him the words she ought to have said to 
 him at first ! Surely now she could say them 
 without her tongue being glued to the roof of 
 her mouth. If she could not, then she would 
 beg the kind stranger to speak to him for her. 
 On this she was resolved. He had been so good, 
 and she had not shown him how she thanked 
 him. 
 
 But what was this they were going to do ? 
 The youth drew nearer. He placed himself 
 between Mr. Ko and the white brother. Then 
 each opened a book, and such sweet, such beau- 
 tiful sounds as came forth, but not loud sounds. 
 Instead they were soft and low, and Tatong 
 knew that they were made thus that they might 
 not reach the ears of those who passed along the 
 streets. It was something that was done in 
 honor of him of whom they had just read. Ta- 
 tong caught this much from the whispered words 
 of two women who sat next to her. 
 
 How eager, how attentive was each one in the 
 little circle as the sweet sounds were given forth ! 
 The three women who had covered their faces 
 forgot to clutch the ugly green cloaks as tightly 
 
114 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 as they usually held them. Their fingers re- 
 laxed, the folds fell away, and with faces that 
 showed all the deep emotion that swayed them 
 they leaned forward drinking in every word. 
 
 Tatong had never heard anything so sweet, 
 so beautiful as this before. Her very heart 
 seemed to answer it, sound for sound, and when 
 it stopped she knew not whether to weep for the 
 very joy it had sent throbbing through her, or to 
 cry out and laugh in her happiness. 
 
 The white brother and the youth now ceased 
 singing, but Mr. Ko, having opened the book at 
 another place, was again speaking to them 
 through the sweet sounds. To Tatong’s joj 
 this was in the language she understood. It 
 was about this same great One of whom they 
 had heard, God, the Father. He was rich in 
 houses and lands, in silver and gold, yet all who 
 obeyed him was, with Jesus, the Saviour, the 
 child of this King. How happy Mr. Ko was ! 
 how his face shone as he declared again and 
 again that he, too, was the child of the King ! 
 The words stirred Tatong to the very core of her 
 heart. Oh ! if she could only ltnow that she, too, 
 was his child, that he was her Father. She must 
 know, she must find this out. She could go no 
 longer with all this doubt, this uncertainty. The 
 kind stranger had told her that God, the Father, 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 115 
 
 was her Father, too, but again and again she had 
 felt that it must be a mistake, since God was so 
 mighty a King, so rich and so powerful. How 
 could it he ? 
 
 Again the strange thing that was done struck 
 Tatong with wonder and awe. Each head was 
 bent reverently, the hands of several clasped as 
 in supplication, as, in a deep, low voice 
 trembling now and then with its weight of feel- 
 ing, the white brother talked — to them Tatong 
 thought at first — but soon she understood it was 
 to some one they could not see. At last, with a 
 thrill that caused her heart to beat almost wildly, 
 she realized that it was to God, the Father, this 
 great King of heaven and of earth. Was there 
 then really a way to talk to him ? And could he 
 hear ? Oh, joy ! joy ! if this were so, for now at 
 last she might reach him ! 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “They Cast Me Out to Die.” 
 
 HERE was now a murmur of voices all 
 
 about Tatong, for tbe services had closed, 
 aud the people had lingered to talk with each 
 other a while ere going home. It took hut a few 
 minutes for her to learn about the kind stranger, 
 or Mr. Ivo, as she would now call him ; for on 
 all sides she heard the busy, grateful tongues 
 speaking his name and that, too, of the white 
 brother, whom they sometimes mentioned as Mr. 
 Ross. He, the white brother, had been three 
 years in Seoiil, Mr. Ivo all his life. It was the 
 coming of the white brother and the learning 
 of the many beautiful things he had to tell that 
 had made Mr. Ivo so different from others of his 
 own people. But Mr. Ivo had not heard the 
 truths for the first time on the coming of the 
 white brother. There had been one other be- 
 fore Mr. Ross, who had told him the same things, 
 but though he had heard the truths and they had 
 seemed very wonderful to him, yet he had not 
 fully believed them until the coming of the 
 white brother. Then they had fastened thern- 
 
 116 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 117 
 
 selves upon his heart, his eyes had been opened, 
 and since then his greatest joy had been in go- 
 ing about telling the wonderful things to who- 
 soever would listen. He was not a poor man, 
 though he kept himself so by giving away all 
 his income except enough to meet the actual 
 wants of himself and the youth, Kit-ze, whom, 
 Tatong learned, with great surprise, was the son 
 of the kind stranger. Oh, then no wonder the 
 son had been so gentle and so kind with such 
 a father to lead him ! 
 
 Tatong learned, too, that there was a sorrow, 
 a deep sorrow in the life of Hr. Ko, and had 
 been for a long while. Ho one seemed to know 
 just what it was, as he had never spoken about it 
 himself, but the impression seemed to he that it 
 was about some one who was dead or whom he 
 had lost, and for whom he was hunting. There 
 were one or two who said that this sorrow had 
 been much greater since he had heard and be- 
 lieved the teachings of the white brother, thess 
 teachings which proclaimed love, justice and 
 mercy. 
 
 Tatong heard now for the first time why it 
 was the white brother went around under the 
 mourning hat. There were those who had 
 threatened his life because of the reports that 
 had gone abroad with reference to the babies 
 
118 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 that had been picked up and carried to the mis- 
 sion house, which Tatong learned was the name 
 of the white brother’s home, and was also the 
 place where Mr. Ko and Kit-ze lived. He had 
 picked up the poor little girl babies that had been 
 left by their parents to die, and had carried them 
 to this sweet home, where they could have kind- 
 ness and care. But there were those who hated 
 his teachings, and so they had done great mis- 
 chief by publishing it abroad that the “foreign 
 devils,” as they called Mr. Ross and his workers, 
 had taken the babies to kill them and make medi- 
 cine out of them to cure diseases that they pro- 
 fessed to treat. Since then there had been much 
 bitterness displayed against the missionary 
 when he showed himself in the streets, and also 
 against Mr. Ko, who was known to assist him. 
 More than once they had been attacked by a 
 small mob, and at one time the missionary had 
 received a bad wound. It had left a long scar 
 across his forehead. 
 
 The meetings were held in the Marble Pa- 
 goda, because there were some who could not go 
 to the mission house. It was too far away. 
 They could not remain from home long enough. 
 Others again declared that they were afraid to 
 go after all the threats that had been made. If 
 they were seen entering the house they would 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 119 
 
 never be allowed to go again. Further than this, 
 they might be violently attacked, even killed. 
 So the Marble Pagoda had been selected as the 
 place of meeting, and because of the excited 
 state of feeling among many who had declared 
 their enmity, they, the worshippers, were as se- 
 cret as possible. 
 
 Tatong had stood for some minutes listening 
 to the murmur of voices and learning all these 
 things. She knew no one among the small crowd 
 of men and women, nor did any of them at first 
 seem to notice her. They were too busy for a 
 while greeting each other and comparing expe- 
 riences since the last meeting. A lonely, hun- 
 gry feeling crept into Tatong’s heart and a mist 
 of tears veiled her eyes. Could it be that no one 
 would notice her? that no one would speak to 
 her ? They were so friendly with each other, so 
 glad to meet again, altogether different from 
 what the little slave had ever seen people before, 
 that it filled her with astonishment. But more 
 astonished was she to see the kind and friendly 
 way in which the men spoke to the women. 
 Truly the “Jesus Doctrine,” as they called it, 
 was a wonderful, wonderful thing to change peo- 
 ple so ! 
 
 The tears welled up into Tatong’s eyes and be- 
 gan to fall one by one upon her cheeks. For a 
 
120 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 time it seemed as though, not even the kind 
 stranger would greet her. He was kept very 
 busy returning greetings, for all wanted to speak 
 to him. They crowded around, some of them 
 clasping his hand. This was a very strange cus- 
 tom to Tatong, and as she saw it she wondered 
 more and more. 
 
 But at last he had turned and advanced until 
 he stood directly in front of Tatong. What a 
 sweet expression there was on his face ! how 
 warm the light in his eyes ! Her heart swelled 
 and swelled as she saw it. It seemed that it 
 would surely hurst with its weight of joy. Xever 
 in all her life had any one looked at her in this 
 way. There had been blows and harsh words 
 and angry looks, hut never such warmth, such 
 glow of kindness as this. It was surely that she 
 was dreaming, that she would awaken shortly 
 and find it all a cruel mistake. But no, he was 
 really there, he was standing before here, he was 
 looking down upon her face with eyes that 
 showed pity, sympathy, tenderness. His voice, 
 too, was speaking to her, and Oh ! what gentle- 
 ness, what kindness there was in it ! 
 
 “At last you have come, little friend,” he said. 
 
 “Yes, kind sir,” replied Tatong, her voice all 
 in a tremble with emotion. 
 
 “I was afraid it would he so you could not 
 
121 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 come. I have looked for you many times in the 
 little crowd.” 
 
 “My mistress did not send me on the street so 
 that I could come until to-night, though I 
 thought more than once she would do it, and my 
 heart was so full of joy. But each time before 
 this she came with me.” 
 
 “And is your mistress still unkind ?” he asked 
 gently. 
 
 “Oh, sir!” this was all that Tatong could lit- 
 ter at the moment, hut it was enough. He fully 
 understood it. Her emotion spoke more than 
 words could. 
 
 “Poor child ! But she surely did not beat you 
 the time you were at the market,” he continued. 
 “I have been anxious about that, anxious to know. 
 Tell me that the cash I was able to give you did 
 what I hoped they could.” 
 
 “O sir, it seemed that, despite your kindness, 
 all went bad for me. There was a funeral. I 
 had to wait until it crossed the street. Then 
 other things delayed me. My mistress would not 
 believe me. She was angry, and so she beat me 
 with the bamboos; she beat me upon the places 
 that were still sore from the last time. 0 sir, it 
 did hurt so !” 
 
 Mr. Ko shuddered. What a story this was for 
 his tender heart ! 
 
122 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Poor little one ! poor little one !” he ex- 
 claimed. “Can it be that yon must really en- 
 dure this ? Is there no one who could prevent 
 
 it r 
 
 “O sir, I think not. There is no one who 
 cares enough to do that.” 
 
 “Child, do not talk so ! There must he some 
 one, some one on whom you have a claim, some 
 one who has an interest in you.” 
 
 “Sir, in all the world there is no one who has 
 an interest, except,” correcting herself, “it is 
 Chansa and Kom ; but Chansa herself is badly 
 treated and Kom is so little.” 
 
 “But where are those from whom you were 
 taken by Mr. Hi ?” 
 
 “O sir, they did not care. The man found me 
 outside the wall in the ditch, where I had been 
 thrown to die. He sold me to Mr. Ki for money ; 
 that was all he wanted.” 
 
 “But will not Mr. Ki sell you again?” asked 
 Mr. Ivo suddenly. 
 
 “I do not know. He is not here now. He is 
 away in the war.” 
 
 “When is he coming home ? I know that 
 sometimes it is not hard for certain of the sol- 
 diers to get leave of absence, and he may be one 
 of them. Is he coming soon ?” 
 
 “I think I heard them say that it might be 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 123 
 
 shortly. I know Mrs. Mi had a message soon 
 after the battle, and Mr. Mi said he had had 
 enough of war.” 
 
 “Then he may come very soon. Let us hope 
 that he will. In the meantime, my child, endure 
 as best you can. It is hard, I know, but surely 
 a way out of all this trial and suffering may yet 
 be found. Be patient and brave of heart.” 
 
 “O sir, I do try. I have tried more than ever 
 since I have seen you, and you have been so 
 kind, since I have known that one could care.” 
 She raised her large dark eyes to him patheti- 
 cally. The look he saw within them was like a 
 stab to his heart. Oh, if he only had it in his 
 power to end right now the misery he knew she 
 endured ! If he could only send the sunshine 
 through her wretched lot ! How much a little 
 kindness, a few gently-spoken words had seemed 
 to her ! She treasured them as she would not 
 have done a gleaming store of silver poured out 
 at her feet. 
 
 “Have you never seen or heard anything of 
 those to whom you belong ?” asked Mr. Ko 
 somewhat suddenly of Tatong. 
 
 “I have never seen or heard anything: I do 
 not know who or where they are. O sir, why 
 should I want to know ?” 
 
 “Why, my child, it would seem your very 
 
124 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 loneliness and misery would give yon the desire 
 to know something of those to whom you are 
 hound by the ties of blood. They would be 
 something akin to you, something on which you 
 had a claim.” 
 
 ‘‘Sir, I would not seek to make the claim !” 
 declared Tatong, her eyes flashing. “I would 
 not care to know them. I would rather I never 
 looked upon them. For, O sir, did they not cast 
 me aAvay to die ? Did they not throw me where 
 the beasts coiild devour me ?” 
 
 “But it may not have been your own who did 
 this,” said Mr. Ivo gently. “Many dreadful 
 things have happened to girl babies that have 
 not come through their own families. Some- 
 times they have been stolen through jealousy 
 among the women, or through the desire to in- 
 flict torture upon another woman’s heart. I 
 knew of a case like that,” he added, his voice so 
 low now Tatong could just hear the words, while 
 his face had such a sad expression, his eyes a 
 far-away look. 
 
 “I do not think it was my mother who threw 
 me away,” said Tatong quickly. “Chansa says 
 that the mothers do not often themselves throw 
 their babies away, and then nearly every time it 
 is because they are made to do it. It is the 
 fathers and brothers, and maybe the old grand- 
 
125 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 mothers. O sir, I think it must have been one 
 of those who threw me away. But, O sir,” stop- 
 ping suddenly and looking at him with eyes wide 
 open in their questioning, “if my father is what 
 you say he is, how could he have done it ?' ’ 
 “Your father, my child ? I do not understand 
 you.” 
 
 “Oh ! do you not remember how you have said 
 that he is good and great, and has much power 
 to do many things ?” 
 
 “How could I have said that, Tatong, when I 
 do not know your father, have not the remotest 
 idea, in fact, as to who he is ?” 
 
 lie looked at her deeply perplexed. What 
 could, she mean ? 
 
 “O sir, have you not told me of One who 
 cared, of One who is God, my Father?” 
 
 The light of a sudden knowledge glowed in 
 His face, his eyes grew tenderer still with feel- 
 ing. 
 
 “Yes, Tatong, I have. There is One who cares 
 for you, One who is God, your Father. But he 
 is your Heavenly Father, while the other of 
 whom we have been speaking is your earthly 
 father.” 
 
 “O sir, have I two fathers ?” 
 
 “That depends, my Tatong, on whether your 
 earthly father is living. But of a certainty you 
 
126 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 have one Father, he who is in heaven. If you 
 love and serve him as he desires you to do, he 
 will never desert nor forsake you. Ilis heart is 
 tender and full of compassion. lie loves his 
 children as no earthly father loves.” 
 
 “O sir, O sir, is it really true that he is my 
 Father? He is so great, so full of power, how 
 could it he that he is the father of a poor little 
 slave like Tatong ?” 
 
 “My child, not only God is great, hut his 
 heart is great. He cares for and loves the poor 
 and the lonely as well as the rich and mighty. 
 It makes no difference to him that Tatong is a 
 poor little slave; he loves and cares for Tatong.” 
 
 “O sir, you make my heart almost cry out in 
 happiness. It is so full of joy it cannot keep 
 still. Oh ! tell me how I may get a message to this 
 Great One you assure me is my Father? How 
 may I send him word of the trouble and sorrow 
 of poor Tatong ? Oh ! kind sir, do you think he 
 would come and see ? do you think he would 
 leave his home long enough to come and look 
 just once upon the poor little wretched slave and 
 pity her and speak words that would tell her how 
 sorry he is ?” 
 
 “Tatong, the Great One, God, your Father, 
 of whom I have told you, has his home in heaven. 
 It is not according to his plan that he should 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 127 
 
 come and see Tatong; but Tatong may go to 
 him.” 
 
 Tatong pressed a step nearer. Her eyes were 
 glowing, her lips apart, while her breath came in 
 quick, short respirations. 
 
 “Tatong may go to him? Oh ! do you really 
 mean that ? Could this be ?” 
 
 “Yes, Tatong, this can be; it is God who has 
 so planned it. If you love and serve him here as 
 he tells you to do, he will take you to the beauti- 
 ful home in heaven, there to live with him.” 
 
 “When will he take me ? Oh ! when may I 
 go ?” 
 
 “Whenever it is his will, child. You must 
 first live out your life on earth, then God will 
 take you to heaven.” 
 
 “O sir, not until then ? not until then ? It is 
 so hard, so hitter, the life that is now, how can 
 I endure it?” 
 
 “You must endure it with what bravery you 
 can, my poor Tatong, remembering that God 
 sees you ; that he knows all about it ; that he 
 pities, though he does not come to tell you so. 
 In the degree that you are faithful and brave, 
 that you put your trust in him and do as he 
 would have you, so will he reward you when he 
 takes you to live with him in heaven.” 
 
 “Then tell me what it is he wishes me to do. 
 
128 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 0 sir, I will try with all my power to do it, 
 though it will be ever so hard to go on in the old 
 life with the harsh words and the blows, and 
 never any one to say a single kind thing except 
 poor Cliansa, who is herself abused, and little 
 Korn.” 
 
 “That I will, little friend ; I will tell you all 
 
 1 can tell, and the white brother will tell you 
 more. You must come here whenever you can. 
 Could it not he so that you could come to the 
 mission house, too ?” he asked suddenly. 
 
 “Where is that ?” asked Tatong. 
 
 lie told her. She did not know just where it 
 was, hut had an idea as to its direction. By 
 making inquiries she felt sure she could find it. 
 But now a great difficulty presented itself. If 
 she went to the mission house it must. he during 
 the day, for Mr. Ivo and the white brother were 
 at the Marble Pagoda at night. Could she ever 
 get the opportunity of going then ? She feared 
 not, and her heart sank. 
 
 Mr. Ivo sought to cheer her all that he could, 
 lie told her that sometimes she might he sent on 
 an errand in the neighborhood of the mission 
 house. Then she could stop, if it were only for 
 a Tittle while. There were ever so many sweet 
 and interesting things she woidd see and hear. 
 There were girls just like herself, some of whom 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 129 
 
 had been in lots as lonely and almost as hard as 
 her own. They, too, had had abuse and harsh 
 words. But now they were bright and happy, 
 and were learning so many things that it had 
 been said again and again women and girls could 
 never learn. There were, too, sweet-faced, gen- 
 tle-tongued women from the far-away land, 
 whence the white brother had come, one of them 
 his own wife. They loved these girls and cared 
 for them, and taught them, and would make of 
 them some day such women as it had never been 
 dreamed there could be in Korea. 
 
 As Tatong listened to these words and saw 
 with her mind’s eye the beautiful picture as it 
 was brought before her, her heart swelled and 
 the tears filled her eyes. Would it ever be that 
 she, too, could enter this lovely place and be 
 taught as these girls were taught? If poor Ta- 
 tong had ever learned a sentence of prayer, it 
 would have been uttered now. The cry of her 
 heart would have been, “O God, my Bather, 
 grant this to me !” 
 
 While Mr. Ko was talking Kitze had ap- 
 proached. Tie gave Tatong a look of recogni- 
 tion, then stood with a portion of his father’s 
 robe clasped affectionately in his hand. 
 
 As Mr. Ko ceased speaking Tatong raised her 
 head and glanced at Kitze. She tried to speak, 
 
130 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 but it seemed her tongue would not move. Ob ! 
 bow sbe wanted to speak ! bow much sbe longed 
 to tell tbis good, gentle boy of tbe gratitude that 
 was in ber heart for wliat be bad done ! 
 
 Mr. Ko noticed tbe expression on ber face. 
 He saw tliat sbe wanted to say something, but 
 could not. He reached out bis band and placed 
 it gently upon ber shoulder. 
 
 “What is it, Tatong, that you would tell us?” 
 “O sir, O sir, I want to speak and can’t ! Tbe 
 words will not come. Tbe one by your side ! It 
 is be — be who was so good to me, who picked up 
 tbe ‘cash’ when the bad boys bad scattered or 
 stolen it. I ought to have thanked him then, but 
 I did not. My heart was so full, and I could not 
 see for tbe tears. But now I must say it, I must 
 tell him what my heart lias felt all tbis time, if 
 only I can so be will understand. It was such a 
 great thing for him to do, and it did seem as 
 though I did not care. But, sir, I did, I did !” 
 “So it was you, Kitze,” said Mr. Ko, looking 
 upon bis young son with fondness beaming from 
 bis eye, “who rescued as much of tbe child’s 
 ‘cash’ as was spared to ber ?” 
 
 “It was a little thing after all, sir,” said Kitze 
 modestly. “Sbe is making it appear much 
 greater than it was. You need not say more to 
 me,” be added gently, and looking at Tatong. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 131 
 
 “I understand what it is you would tell me, 
 though I feared then you did not like what I had 
 done. It seemed to hurt you, and that made me 
 feel sad. I did not know it was because your 
 heart was so full you could not speak.” 
 
 “Well, Mr. Ko,” said a kind, blithe voice at 
 this moment, “are you talking to the little one 
 with a view of bringing her to the mission ?” 
 
 It was Mr. Ross who spoke. He had ad- 
 vanced and stood near them. All the others had 
 left the Pagoda bv this time with the exception 
 of two old women, who had lingered for some 
 words with him, and were just going out the 
 door. 
 
 “I wish with all my heart I coiild,” said Mr. 
 Ko in reply to the question. 
 
 “What is there to hinder ?” 
 
 “The poor child’s surroundings are such, the 
 difficulties in the way of her coming could not 
 he overcome.” 
 
 “Iler’s is a life of servitude ?” 
 
 “Yes, she is slave to the family of a Mr. Hi.” 
 “I thought it a ease of that kind.” Then he 
 added with a sigh, “The poor child’s appearance 
 touched my heart the first time I ever saw her.” 
 He seemed to forget that Tatong could hear 
 him. The words had evidently slipped from his 
 lips unawares. 
 
132 
 
 Tatoiig, the Little Slave. 
 
 She heard them plainly, and she cried quickly, 
 ‘*0 sir, as soon as I saw you to-night I remem- 
 bered it was you who had given me the candy !” 
 He turned and glanced straight into her 
 eyes. 
 
 “Why, how did you see my face well enough 
 for that ?” he asked. 
 
 “I had hut a glimpse, sir. It was enough. I 
 never could have forgotten you after that. Then, 
 sir,” she added, and hesitated. 
 
 “Go on,” he said kindly. 
 
 “You, sir, are the first one of your people I 
 have ever seeu ; that is, near by.” 
 
 “That is strange,” he said quickly. “There 
 are several of us here now.” 
 
 “Yes, sir ; so I have heard, but I have never 
 seen another except at a distance, and then he 
 was walking away.” 
 
 “I hope, little friend,” said Mr. Ross after a 
 pause, “that you enjoyed the candy.” 
 
 “O sir, I did not get to eat it. I am so sorry 
 to have to tell you. The old woman who is the 
 mother of Yakta, who has the great ox, Mokpo, 
 who came to the Kurdong with the pavilion on 
 him all hung with yellow — Oh ! she frightened 
 me so that market day, just after you had given 
 me the candy, that I let it fall into her lap and 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 133 
 
 ever I could. I was so afraid she would call to 
 me.” 
 
 “Why, she must be a dreadful creature to have 
 frightened you so ?” 
 
 “O six*, she is ! Her face is full of scowls. It 
 is terrible, and she has great fangs as the tigers 
 have. Do you not remember, sir,” turning to 
 Mr. Ko, “how she glared at yoxx the day of the 
 Kurdong when you came to the side of the pa- 
 vilion and — -” 
 
 “What !” cried Mr. Ivo, and so sharply it made 
 poor Tatong jump and caused both Mr. Ross 
 and Kitze to look at him in sudden surprise. 
 “What ! you were there ? You saw ? Then you 
 can tell me what I must know. Where does this 
 creature live ? Quick ! speak the words. Where 
 can I find her ?” 
 
 “O sir, I cannot tell. All I know is that it is 
 out the South Gate along the river, near to the 
 village where there are many chestnuts, and 
 there are miriolcs by the way.” 
 
 “O child, try to think ! Have you not heard 
 that which will enable you to give me the direc- 
 tions more clearly ?” 
 
 “There is nothing. I have tried to remember 
 more, but I cannot. It was Hakta who told me. 
 Maybe I will see her again, and she will say 
 the words to me once more. Then, sir, I will do 
 my best to remember better.” 
 
134 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “It is the old woman whom I have long 
 sought/’ he said, turning to Mr. Boss ; “she who 
 has made so much sorrow and bitterness for my 
 life.” 
 
 They were out of the Pagoda by this time and 
 standing for a few moments under the stars ere 
 they said good-night to Tatong. How strange 
 and sweet the words sounded in her ears ! She 
 had never heard them before. She had to be 
 told their meaning. How they lingered in her 
 heart ! What music they made in her ears ! 
 
 To his good-night Mr. Ko had added, “Be 
 brave, my child !” 
 
 “My child !” The term struck her with pecu- 
 liar force. More than once that evening he had 
 used it, and every time Tatong’s heart had 
 leaped in recognition with a strange, glad feel- 
 ing. Oh, if it could really he ! If there were in 
 the world such a father for her, and in heaven 
 One so great and powerful as God, the Father, 
 Oh ! she felt the happiness would be greater than 
 she could hear ! She would surely die with the 
 joy of it. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Wedding at Me. NTs. 
 
 IIE go-between had been again to the home 
 
 of Hr. Ni, and now the time for Euyu’s 
 wedding was set. At first they bad intended to 
 await the return of Mr. Ni, but of late a messen- 
 ger bad come from him to the effect that matters 
 regarding the army were in such an uncertain 
 state he did not know just when he could get his 
 leave of absence. lie directed that Fuyu’s wed- 
 ding come off as intended, and that Yin, his old- 
 est son, have charge of all the arrangements with 
 the same power to act as himself. This suited 
 Fuyu exactly, for she had been afraid that she 
 would have to wait the coming of her father, 
 never mind how r long a time it might be. Her 
 fear now was that her brother would not have 
 things carried out in the style her father would. 
 
 Fuyu, though but a child in years — she was 
 only fifteen — was a woman at heart. She looked 
 forward to this event as the greatest of her life. 
 There was nothing that could ever happen to 
 her that would give her more self-consequence or 
 
 135 
 
136 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 cause lier more elevation. According to Fuvu’s 
 way of reckoning it, every unmarried woman 
 who looked upon her would be overcome with 
 envy, for was it not considered the deepest dis- 
 grace for a woman to reach the age of eighteen, 
 even less, without being spoken in marriage ? 
 
 Poor, silly Fuyu! how soon would all things 
 become changed. How quickly would the roseate 
 hue, the glamour that now surrounded her, turn 
 to the chill, gray pall of ill-usuage and neglect, 
 woman’s well-nigh universal lot after marriage 
 in Korea, and even before. Mr. Kibi might he 
 better than many of his kind, doubtless was, but, 
 hedged about as he was by the harsh customs 
 and requirements, there was but little prospect 
 for anything but a hard lot for Fuyu. Even 
 her name would be a thing of the past. But she 
 did not give this a thought at present. Her 
 whole mind was concentrated on the prepara- 
 tions for the coming ceremony. 
 
 Two days before the wedding the marriage 
 contract was sent in. This came from the bride- 
 groom’s father. Mr. Yin received it. There 
 were certain provisions set forth as well as ques- 
 tions asked, to which answers must be given. 
 The same evening the contract came hack. It 
 was satisfactory. The necessary signatures had 
 all been affixed. By the same bearers Fuyu’s 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 137 
 
 prospective father-in-law sent the pieces of silk 
 from which her outer wedding garments were 
 to he made. Fuyu’s eyes danced when she saw 
 them. 
 
 “Get at once to work/’ she said roughly to 
 Tatong. “You must sew with all your might. 
 Mind now, if I catch you halting the first time 
 I’ll see to it that that mouth of yours gets noth- 
 ing to put in it till the last stitch is made.” 
 
 The others now gathered about, each taking 
 the portion of the garment she was to make. 
 But the bulk of the work was to fall upon poor 
 Tatong. She sewed until her back felt sore and 
 stiff and her fingers were pricked and aching. 
 She strained her eyes until she could see no 
 more, then Mrs. Hi ordered her to get out the 
 rush lights. 
 
 “You are a trifling thing,” declared Mrs. Hi. 
 “You have not sewed as you ought, or you would 
 have more done. How you will sew until I tell 
 you to stop, if it is through half the night.” 
 
 Poor Tatong! it was true her hands had not 
 moved with the swiftness they could have shown, 
 for her thoughts, instead of being on the cloth, 
 were far, far away, and now and then her needle 
 paused altogether. 
 
 It was a funny needle. It had an ear instead 
 of an eye, and Tatong’s thimble was of stiff 
 
138 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 paper instead of silver or other metal, such as 
 those to which you are used. 
 
 Tatong was thinking of the Marble Pagoda, 
 of Mr. Ko, the kind one, of the white brother, 
 and the gentle, manly Ivitze. How she longed to 
 see them ! How her heart cried ont to be with 
 them again ! What a sweet atmosphere sur- 
 rounded them ! an atmosphere entirely different 
 from any the poor little slave had ever known. 
 For that matter, it was different from anything 
 of which she had ever dreamed. 
 
 They, the gentle, kind ones, were doubtless on 
 their way to the Pagoda even now. How eager 
 and interested the crowd that would gather 
 about them ! Wliat happiness would glow on 
 their faces ! Oh, if she could only he one of 
 them! Why did not Mrs. Mi think of some- 
 thing for which to send her ? She felt almost 
 like proposing something herself. But, no, that 
 would not do, for Mrs. Mi was very alert. She 
 would he sure to suspect, and then there would 
 be more sharp, cruel words for Tatong. 
 
 Once again the desire came to Tatong to tell 
 Mrs. Mi of the gathering of the little circle of 
 earnest listeners in the Marble Pagoda. Per- 
 haps she, too, might go to hear. And what might 
 not be the effect of these beautiful things upon 
 even poor, harsli-hearted Mrs. Mi? But just as 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 139 
 
 Tatong, after a hard battle with herself, had 
 opened her lips to speak, there came that stern, 
 sharp command from her mistress and the order 
 to get out the rush lights. It effectually sealed 
 her lips. 
 
 By noon of the next day the garments were 
 finished. Then came the sacrificing ordered by 
 Mr. Yin before the ancestral tablets. Their an- 
 cestors, he declared, must he acquainted with the 
 event about to take place, else might they he 
 angry and show their displeasure in a disagree- 
 able way if they were neglected. It would never 
 do for any evil to happen. There must he plenty 
 of rice, fruit, and rnochi, and they must have 
 candles instead of the dim rush lights. They, 
 the respected dead, must not be insulted by be- 
 ing asked to take a look at the offerings by so 
 poor a light. This sacrifice took place shortly 
 after the coming of the evening star, even Kom 
 being required to do his part. 
 
 At last the day dawned, though it seemed to 
 Fuyu it never would, and, alas! poor Fuyu, on 
 this very day, even before the ceremony had be- 
 gun that pronounced her the wife of Mr. Kibi, 
 the sign of her servitude had been set upon her. 
 This was the sealing together of her eyelids by 
 means of a thick paste that did its part so well 
 not a ray of light found its way to her. She was 
 
140 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 tlien arrayed in her robes of silk, with red, the 
 emblem of rejoicing, the principal color through- 
 out. Her face was covered with powder, red 
 spots being painted on it here and there. Her 
 hair was divided into two parts, each of which 
 was rolled, one being placed upon the extreme 
 top of her head, the other near the back. 
 Through each Avas run a long metal hairpin fully 
 a foot in length. 
 
 Ivom, who had been on the watch, now ran in, 
 and, with much noise, informed them that Mr. 
 Ivibi Avas coming. He Avas on horseback, and 
 AA'itli him his father and several attendants. 
 Two of these Avalked before him, both attired in 
 red. One of them carried a large, white um- 
 brella, and the other a goose, AA’itli a red string 
 run through her bill . 1 
 
 The bridgroom Avas finely arrayed. He had 
 on a robe of light blue shot with red. Around 
 his Avaist was a girdle of deep crimson, fastened 
 AA’itli a large buckle of rhinoceros horn. His 
 hair AA’as at the top of his head in the usual mar- 
 riage knot, and OA’er it a little cap of black horse- 
 hair, through the meshes of which, Avlien the 
 outer hat was removed, it gleamed, for Mr. Ivibi 
 had given it a vigorous polishing with lainp- 
 
 1 The goose is regarded as the emblem of fidelity by 
 the Koreans. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 141 
 
 black. Ills outer bat, an immense affair, which 
 looked exactly like a flower pot turned down on a 
 table, was held securely by means of throat 
 latchet ribbons, with pads for the ears. 
 
 Behind Mr. Kibi came ten or twelve other at- 
 tendants, each bearing an unlighted lantern cov- 
 ered with red paper. Ilis father rode beside 
 him. lie, too, was arrayed in gay apparel, but 
 bis face was as solemn as that of a judge sitting 
 on the bench. 
 
 A platform had been arranged in the princi- 
 pal apartment. It was decked with streamers of 
 red, to which were fastened bits of tinsel and 
 paper of various colors. In front of this was a 
 table covered with a red cloth. 
 
 The go-between had charge of everything. 
 She was a fussy, noisy old woman, used to hav- 
 ing her own way, and bent on having it in spite 
 of everything. She and Fuyu came near a col- 
 lision several times. But now that Fuyu’s eyes 
 were sealed, she was not to speak a word, not 
 even after the ceremony, at least not for some 
 time. The longer she remained quiet the more 
 wisdom would it be decided she possessed. 
 
 As the house was reached Mr. Kibi took the 
 goose from the hands of the man and himself 
 bore it in, handing it to the go-between, who 
 stood ready to receive it. In the meantime the 
 
142 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 family and wedding guests had grouped them- 
 selves about the platform, the bridegroom and 
 his attendants standing as far apart as the size 
 of the room would permit. 
 
 Fuvu was now led in by two women, each of 
 whom held her hand. Preceding them came the 
 go-between hearing the goose. The bird was 
 restless and showed her displeasure. To quiet 
 her the old woman had fed her with moclii, alter- 
 nately passing portions to her own mouth. 
 
 As Fuyu appeared Mr. Kibi ascended the 
 platform, in the center of which a mat had been 
 placed, and on it a small table with rice, fruit, 
 tea and moclii. Fuyu was guided by the two 
 women to a position on this mat directly in front 
 of Mr. Kibi. The go-between, still hearing the 
 goose, placed herself 'at Mr. Ivibi’s right. Di- 
 rected by her attendants, Fuyu bowed twice to 
 Mr. Kibi, then twice to her future father-in-law, 
 who stood near. As she finished Mr. Kibi in 
 turn bowed four times to her. These hows were 
 very elaborate, and in order to give them, each 
 bent the body until the forehead was within only 
 a short space of the floor. The marriage cere- 
 mony was now at an end, for in Korea the bow- 
 ing forms very nearly all that there is of it. 
 
 The bride sank upon her knees beside the lit- 
 tle table, the groom doing likewise. Then the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 143 
 
 go-between poured out a cup of tea and handed 
 it to the groom. He merely touched it to his 
 lips and handed it back again, when it was con- 
 veyed to the bride. She, in turn, merely placed 
 her lips to the cup, after which it was returned 
 to the groom. This time he drank it. In like 
 manner the rice, fruit, and other articles of food 
 on the table were served and disposed of, the 
 groom eating, the bride making only a pretense 
 of so doing. In the meantime the red cord had 
 been slipped from the heak of the goose, and she, 
 too, had been allowed to partake of the rice and 
 mochi from the wedding table, the go-between 
 feeding her. 
 
 The bride and groom now arose, each proceed- 
 ing to separate apartments, the goose being 
 borne 'in front of the bride. Once within the 
 room, Fuyu could eat all she desired in private. 
 The departure of the newly-wedded pair was 
 the signal for the general feast to begin, and 
 the family and guests were soon seated around 
 the various small tables that had been provided. 
 In an astonishingly short space of time every- 
 thing in the shape of edibles had almost entirely 
 disappeared. 
 
 Having satisfied themselves, the guests de- 
 parted one by one. Mr. Kibi remained until 
 well into the afternoon, then he returned to his 
 
144 
 
 T along, the Little Slave. 
 
 father’s house, leaving the command for Fuyu to 
 follow. In about an hour from the time of his 
 departure she came out of her room all bundled 
 up, no portion of her face showing except her 
 eyes and a narrow strip of her forehead. This 
 seemed really a burlesque, since the poor thing’s 
 eyes were still sealed. Hot as yet had she looked 
 upon her husband’s face. Only as the go-be- 
 tween had described him had she an idea as to 
 his appearance. 
 
 It was now nearly dusk, so two women, with 
 Tatong, and a man hearing a couple of lanterns 
 were sent to attend her. Arriving at the house 
 of Mr. Kibi, she was presented to her mother-in- 
 law, and for the second time to her father-in-law, 
 making profound hows to each, her eyes still 
 sealed, the powder and red patches on her face. 
 This ceremony completed, her husband ordered 
 her hack to the home of her parents until it 
 should he his pleasure to come for her, which he 
 did later in the evening. It was then that her 
 eyes were unsealed. 
 
 Fuyu was now the wife of Mr. Kibi, not Mrs. 
 Kibi, as would have been said in our Christian 
 land. Hever again would she have a name of 
 her own, unless now and then her husband, as a 
 special favor, permitted her to he called by it to 
 serve some purpose. How she was to be re- 
 
STREET IN SEOUL, KOREA. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 145 
 
 gar (led, not as a human being, but as a slave, a 
 bearer of burdens, as were tbe donkeys and oxen 
 of tbe streets. Poor, weak, silly Fuyu! how 
 quickly would she awaken' from tbe glamor of 
 the dream by which she bad been possessed. 
 Even now was she realizing, though in a small 
 degree, what it meant to be a wife in Korea. 
 
 Tbe day following the wedding Tatong was 
 sent into tbe streets. Fuyu bad gone home with 
 Mr. Ivibi, but, in the baste of her departure, she 
 bad left something that Mrs. Xi declared she 
 must have without delay; so Tatong was dis- 
 patched to carry it. She went with all speed, 
 for she had determined that on her way back 
 she would look into the Marble Pagoda. Even 
 the sight of it, she felt, would be as the dew of 
 joy to her thirsty heart. Just to let her eyes 
 rest upon the spot where the kind and gentle 
 ones had stood, and where she had heard such 
 beautiful truths — oh, what happiness it would 
 be ! 
 
 As usual, the streets in the vicinity of the 
 Pagoda were somewhat deserted, though to-day, 
 in going thither, Tatong had met or overtaken 
 more people than at any previous time. Two of 
 the men she passed were talking excitedly. They 
 were so much taken up with what they were 
 saying that they had even stopped in the street 
 
146 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 to finish the discussion. Tatong heard one of 
 them say, 
 
 ‘‘It served him right. He had no business to 
 take up with that white-faced devil and follow 
 his teachings. I knew it would lead to evil. I 
 told him so, hut he would not believe me. In 
 future I guess he’ll pay attention to a kindly 
 warning.” 
 
 Tatong started and looked at the men closely. 
 Could it he that they were talking about the 
 white brother and Mr. Ko ? Whom else could it 
 be ? There was surely no one else who had 
 “teachings” to give, or whom they called “a 
 white devil.” Her heart was urging her to 
 speak to them, to find out what they meant, hut 
 her courage was not sufficient at the moment. 
 Just as she had summoned enough and was 
 about to open her lips one of the men looked 
 up and saw that she had stopped to listen. With 
 a scowl, which was shared bv the other, who had 
 also glanced up, he ordered her to he off about 
 her business. Tatong did not wa i t for a second 
 bidding. She was too frightened to remain after 
 that. 
 
 Xot until she had reached the Marble Pagoda 
 did she remember that it might he so that she 
 could not get within. Donbtless those who wor- 
 shipped there had some way of securing it. The 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 147 
 
 door would be fastened. Could slie open it ? 
 But to her joy she saw that it was ajar. With a 
 timid hand and a heart that beat so she could 
 hear every stroke of it, Tatong pressed open the 
 door, and, stooping, entered. 
 
 Though the sun was shining without, there 
 was only a gray light like twilight inside the 
 Pagoda, especially within the apartment where 
 the worshippers had assembled on that memor- 
 able night, not a single detail of which Could 
 ever escape the remembrance of Tatong. 
 
 She pushed open the door of this inner cham- 
 ber like some one entering a sacred place. It 
 was sacred to her, every particle of dust, every 
 wisp of straw that had collected upon its stone 
 flooring. She looked about it, her heart swell- 
 ing, her eyes filling with the tears that were soon 
 dropping one by one upon her cheeks. She sank 
 to a kneeling posture beside the fragment of 
 stone on which Mr. Ko had sat that night with 
 the little circle of rapt listeners clustered about 
 him. She threw her arms across it, and, bowing 
 her head until it rested upon them, sobbed out 
 the words : 
 
 “Oh ! if I could only live always with one so 
 kind, so gentle, so good !” 
 
 There was a stir beside her. Another head 
 that had been similiarly bowed was raised sud- 
 
148 T atony, the Little Slave. 
 
 denly to look at her. The room was occupied, 
 though she had not as jet discovered it. 
 
 ‘‘Poor girl !” said a voice full of sympathy, 
 “what is it that is the matter with you ?” 
 
 Tatong raised her head, and would have 
 sprung to her feet, hut a hand detained her. 
 
 “I have frightened you. I did not mean to. 
 Oh, I am so sorry ! Don’t go ; at least, not until 
 I have said something to you I want to say.” 
 The speaker was Kitze. A moment more and 
 she recognized him ; then she sank hack wil- 
 lingly, satisfied to remain, nay, doing so with 
 gladness. For if she could not see Mr. Ko or 
 the white brother, was not Ivitze the next best ? 
 Did he not know, too, some of the beautiful 
 things the others could tell ? Oh ! how many 
 questions she wanted to ask him ! And he was 
 not like other boys ; he would not treat her 
 roughly. She felt sure of that. lie would not 
 scowl at her and tell her to hold her tongue. lie 
 would answer her questions. He would tell her 
 as much as he could of the things she longed to 
 know. 
 
 As she turned to him she saw his face more 
 clearly, for he had drawn nearer, and she had 
 grown more used to the dim light. With a start 
 of surprise she noted that he, too, had been cry- 
 ing. The tears were still damp on his cheek. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 149 
 
 Such a strange thing as it was ! Tatong had 
 never seen a boy cry, at least, not a boy so large 
 as Kitze. Usually, their faces were taunting or 
 sullen and angry, never tender or moist with 
 tears. 
 
 “Why is it that the tears have come for you ?” 
 she asked him suddenly, her own dark eyes grow- 
 ing misty again as they rested upon his face. 
 
 “I cry for one who is dearer to me than all 
 others of earth/’ replied Kitze, “for him who is 
 my father. He has been hurt, badly hurt, and 
 it will take some time ere he is himself. He is 
 even now lying upon the bed at the home of the 
 white brother with the bandage about his head.” 
 
 Seeing the startled look in her eyes, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 “For declaring the precious truths of the 
 Jesus Doctrine to those who had gathered about 
 him to learn, he was stoned. One struck him 
 close to the temple and came near taking his 
 life. He must lie for days with his head in the 
 cloth. Oh, it is dreadful! I could not bear to 
 see it ; and so I have come here to weep. It 
 seems to me my heart will go out with the grief 
 of it.” 
 
 “Then it was too true what I heard the men 
 saying as I came along,” exclaimed Tatong, her 
 own tears falling. 
 
150 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “What did you hear ?” 
 
 ‘‘That evil had happened to one who would 
 teach what he had no business to. Oh ! I was 
 afraid from their words it was he whom I know 
 as the kind stranger, he who has been so kind to 
 a poor little wretched slave like me, for whom no 
 one else cared.” 
 
 “Yes, it was down by the South Gate. The 
 white brother had warned him not to he too 
 open. But his heart was so full of it, of that 
 which he had to tell, and those who wished to 
 know were so eager, so hungry for the words. 
 He felt that he must speak. But do not talk so 
 about yourself,” he added, turning his eyes en- 
 treatingly upon Tatong, “you are God's child, 
 and lie cares.” - 
 
 A sudden glow leaped to her face. 
 
 “Oh !” she cried, her voice almost beyond her 
 control, so deep was her emotion. “You, too, 
 know that ?” 
 
 “Know what?” he asked, not quite under- 
 standing her. 
 
 “That God, the Father, is my father.” 
 
 “Yes, I know it. Does it not make you happy 
 to feel that it is true ?” 
 
 “Oh, it does ! it does ! Yet it seems too great 
 to be true. How can it he true ? He, God, the 
 Father, is so powerful. He has done so many 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 151 
 
 mighty things. How can a poor, little slave 
 girl really be his child ?” 
 
 Still the old doubt, the old questioning. The 
 boy looked at her much disturbed. Although 
 the sweet, true light glowed with steady flame 
 within his heart, still it was not with a radiance 
 that shone very far as yet. There were many 
 things he did not understand; others that he 
 understood hut could not explain. Besides, he 
 usually depended upon the white brother and 
 his father to answer all perplexing questions 
 like these. But now, even as he hesitated, the 
 answer, as an inspiration, came to him. 
 
 “God loves all because he made all, even the 
 weakest and lowliest. He is like a parent to 
 whom all his children are dear, because they are 
 his.” 
 
 “ Not the girls ! Oh, not the girls !” said Tatong 
 sadly. “lie surely does not care for the girls.” 
 “Yes, the girls just the same as the hoys,” de- 
 clared Kitze. “Did you not hear my father and 
 the white brother say that God made no diifei’- 
 ence between men and women ? So does he not 
 either between hoys and girls. One is as dear 
 to him as the others, because he made each. He 
 is their Heavenly Parent ; they are his earthly 
 children — that is, if they obey him and do as lie 
 wishes them.” 
 
152 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 a 0h !” cried Tatong quickly, “will yon not tell 
 me what it is God, the Father, -wishes me to 
 do ?” 
 
 For a moment Kitze looked away from her. 
 He could not meet the intensity of the glow 
 within her eyes. And how could he answer that 
 question ? Oh ! if his father or the white brother 
 were only there ! But, though only a young sol- 
 dier of the Lord Jesus, Kitze -was nevertheless 
 a brave one. Lie quickly resolved to tell her in 
 as clear a way as he could. 
 
 “To do as God, the Father, -would have us 
 do,” said Kitze, “is to follow the Jesus Doc- 
 trine, to he a Christian.” 
 
 “To be a Christian?” repeated Tatong, look- 
 ing astonished, overcome with perplexity. 
 
 “Yes, to he like God’s Son, Jesus, the Christ, 
 the Saviour, -who was sent to earth to show us 
 how to live. He loved every body, he thought 
 of them before he did of himself. He spoke 
 nothing against any one, hut always found the 
 best in them he could. He -was tender and merci- 
 ful and just. He pitied even the little bird that 
 had no food. But greatest of all,” continued 
 Kitze, his voice falling to a tender cadence, “he 
 gave his life that others might be happy.” 
 
 “He loved every body.” Those words had 
 caught and held Tatong’s thoughts so that she 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 153 
 
 had not followed Kitze through the remainder 
 of the sentences. To do then as God, the Father, 
 would have you do, you must love everybody as 
 Jesus, his Son, had done. Could this be pos- 
 sible ? How could it be that one could love those 
 who gave that one only abuse and cruelty ? 
 Could she love Mrs. Hi now? Ho ; she felt sure 
 that she could not. The thought recalled Mrs. 
 Hi to her vividly, and then like a flash came the 
 remembrance that she had been gone a long 
 while, much longer than she intended. If she 
 did not speed her return, what might not be the 
 consequence ? 
 
 She sprang up with such haste that Ivitze 
 looked at her in surprise. 
 
 “I must go now,” she said. “I have stayed 
 longer than I ought. Oh ! I do thank you so 
 much for what you have told me ! and I will re- 
 member the words.” She paused, then added, 
 her voice showing that she was on the verge of 
 tears, “Tell him who is your father, the kind 
 stranger, so gentle and good, the great sorrow 
 my heart has for what has come to him.” 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Tiie Faithfulness of a Little Heart. . 
 
 A FEW days later a message, through a 
 trusted messenger, came from Mr. Xi to 
 his sons, by them to he given to his wife. He 
 did not like the way the war was then going. It 
 seemed to him the Japanese were destined to 
 have it all their own way. In a short while, it 
 Avas his belief, the Chinese army Avould he 
 obliged to give way to them. In the tAvo or 
 three battles that had already occurred the Chi- 
 nese forces had been badly routed. Therefore, 
 Mr. Xi did not propose to stay and face the con- 
 sequences that would come sooner or later. Xo; 
 lie had a plan, and in secret it Avas conveyed to 
 them hv his trusted friend, Mr. Yana. The plan 
 Avas this: He, Mr. Xi, would get the leaA'e that 
 had been promised him, hut, instead of coming 
 home, from Avhcnce he might aftenvards be 
 forced hack into the army, he Avould proceed to 
 Vladivostok, the Russian frontier, and there 
 aAvait their coming. They must leave Seoiil 
 Avithout delay, so as to make the journey ere the 
 state of the country became more disturbed than 
 it Avas at present. Their final destination Avas to 
 154 
 
T atony, the Little Slave. 
 
 155 
 
 be a small Russian town that had already a con- 
 siderable sprinkling of Korean settlers. In Mr. 
 Hi’s opinion, the war would take such a turn 
 that Korea would be anything but a desirable 
 country in which to live. Hence he wished to 
 be well out of it. Mr. Hi’s further instructions 
 were that they dispose of the household effects 
 as quietly as possible, and also of the slave, 
 Tatong. There was no use to be bothered with 
 her, especially as, in the place to which they 
 were going, she would not be needed. In the 
 event that they could not dispose of her quickly, 
 she was to he left behind. She could look out 
 for herself. 
 
 Though this message had come in secret, the 
 members of Mr. Hi’s family w r ere not secret in 
 discussing it, at least, among themselves. Thus 
 it was not long before poor Tatong had over- 
 heard much of that which was to be done. The 
 cruel thing contemplated with reference to her- 
 self pierced her heart. Hot that she felt any 
 sorrow at parting with the family of Mr. Hi, 
 with the exception of Chansa and Kom ; hut this 
 they had planned was so hard-hearted, so dread- 
 ful. To be sold as a beast was sold, to any one 
 who would buy, and in the event they would not, 
 to he cast out to starve, to die ! Oh, how could 
 they he so cruel ? 
 
156 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 That evening, soon after the stars had come 
 and her work for the time was over, Tatong sat 
 crouched against the mulberry tree that grew in 
 the little strip of ground between Mr. NTs house 
 and that next to it. Her head was bowed upon 
 her knees ; she was weeping bitterly. At her feet 
 crouched Kijun. He had come eagerly seek- 
 ing her notice, but, finding it not given, in de- 
 spair had lain down, then gone fast asleep. 
 What was she to do ? Again and again Tatong 
 asked this question, for on the morrow she knew 
 that the worst would come. She had heard 
 them say that all must be settled then, as on the 
 next day thereafter, as early as they could, they 
 would begin the journey. Yes, on the morrow 
 she was to be sold again as a slave, for a pur- 
 chaser had at length been found. It was an old 
 man, a dreadful creature, she heard them say. 
 He had other slaves, and they were cruelly 
 treated. 
 
 “She will at last get what she deserves !” de- 
 clared Mrs. Ni with a hard face. “I must say 
 I am glad of it. She certainly has been a trial 
 to me.” 
 
 Tatong could bear no more. She crept out 
 of the house and to the mulberry tree, there to 
 relieve her overcharged heart in a flood of tears. 
 Must this cruel thing be ? Did no one care ? 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 157 
 
 With a rush of remembrance came thoughts of 
 Mr. Ko, the kind, the gentle one, of the white 
 hrothei’, and of Ivitze. Why had not she turned 
 to them before? groping as she had been for 
 some ray of hope that promised help. TV ould 
 not they of all others be the ones to assist her 
 now ? If any hand were outstretched to succor, 
 would it not be one of these gentle ones ? 
 Vividly now she remembered the words, the 
 manner of Mr. Ko when speaking of the return 
 of Mr. Hi, and the probability of his disposing 
 of the little slave. Had not the very thing come 
 to pass about which Mr. Ko had enquired ? She 
 was for sale. Would he not buy ? The pos- 
 sibility that he might so overcame her that she 
 got up, trembling from head to foot. Oh ! what 
 joy it would be to belong to him ! She would 
 not mind being a slave then, for he would be so 
 kind, so gentle a master. Even servitude is not 
 hard to bear when love is ruler. 
 
 A sudden resolve came to her, so sudden, so 
 great, that she sank again to the ground over- 
 come by it. She would go in search of the place 
 where the white brother lived, where he, the 
 kind one, was even then suffering, it was true, 
 but he surely would receive her. Yes, she would 
 go at once. She would fly from the yard and 
 along the street as fast as her feet would bear 
 
158 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 her. But even as she was getting up to carry 
 into effect this resolve a hand was placed upon 
 her clothing; it tugged at her skirt, it pulled her 
 hack, while a thin, piping, hut authoritative 
 voice commanded her, 
 
 “ To-tak ! to-takf to-talc!” 
 
 It was Kom. He had come to he put to sleep, 
 for, in his estimation, always, loyal, no one 
 could do it in so satisfactory a manner as Ta- 
 tong. 
 
 Tatong’s first impulse was to push him away, 
 to say to him that she could not do as he wanted. 
 There was an angry feeling in her heart that he 
 should have come at this very moment, just as 
 she was on the point of getting safely away. 
 For, of course, now she would have to wait until 
 she got rid of him. Should she attempt to go 
 into the street while he stood there, he would be 
 sure to call after her. Then her departure would 
 be quickly discovered. The next moment she 
 was ashamed of her thoughts. Her heart, too, 
 reproached her. Though, in his way, he had 
 been tyrannical at times, yet Ivom, her baby 
 defender, had ever been loving and loyal. Many 
 times he had stood up for her against the highest 
 powers of the household. X o ; she could not 
 desert him now in this cold, harsh way. She 
 would stay and put him to sleep as he desired. 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 159 
 
 After that she would pick her chance and steal 
 forth into the streets. Mrs. Mi was not going 
 out to-night. She had heard her say so. There 
 were too many preparations to make. With a 
 sigh in her heart, hut a gentle word on her lips, 
 she took again the sitting posture against the old 
 mulberry tree and held out her hands to Ivom. 
 
 lie cuddled down against her, with an ex- 
 pression of deep satisfaction, and laid his sleepy 
 head upon her breast. In all the wide world 
 his was the only head that had ever so nestled 
 against her ; his hand the only one that had ever 
 lingered with loving pressure upon her face. As 
 she looked down upon him while he lay asleep 
 the tears began to well forth and to drop one by 
 one upon his head. Until now she had not real- 
 ized how hard it would be to leave him, what it 
 meant to give up even his baby love, the one 
 small crumb from the whole loaf of affection 
 that had been denied her. But, whether or not 
 she went, it meant separation from Ivom, and 
 she could not stay and face that cruel thing that 
 was to come on the morrow. 
 
 She got up directly and went with Ivom into 
 the house. He was sleeping so soundly that 
 the movement did not disturb him. She placed 
 him upon his mat, then stood looking at him. 
 Had she known what it was to kiss, her lips 
 
1G0 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 would have been pressed to his. But nothing 
 like this is in the life of Koreans, whether loved 
 or not. They know naught of kissing, of any 
 demonstrative way in which to show affection. 
 It is the eyes that must speak, the heart that 
 must feel, without the corresponding movement 
 of lips or hand. But, urged by some unaccount- 
 able impulse, Tatong stooped, and, clasping 
 Korn’s chubby little hand with its dirty, grimy 
 fingers, pressed it against her forehead, then to 
 her cheek. 
 
 Mrs. Xi and Chansa were in another part of 
 the room, but they did not notice her. Indeed, 
 they could not well have seen her had they 
 looked, as the corner in which she had placed 
 the sleeping Korn was in a dim light. 
 
 As she was going out Mrs. Xi called to her 
 sharply, 
 
 “Have you done all you were told to do for 
 the evening ?” 
 
 “Yes,” she replied. 
 
 “Well, go to the shop not far away and bring 
 some matches. Hurry now, or the bell will 
 ring, and it will he closed.” 
 
 Tatong almost exclaimed aloud in her surprise 
 and joy. Here was the very thing she wanted ! 
 
 She waited only long enough to get the “cash” 
 Mrs. Xi held out, then hurried from the room. 
 
161 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 Once outside, her feet fairly flew, but not in the 
 direction of the shop. In truth, it was in that 
 almost directly away from it. She was not sure 
 that she knew just how to go to reach the home 
 of the white brother. She had told Mr. Ivo when 
 he had given her the directions, that she thought 
 she might find it. She had intended to ask 
 many questions of those she met. 
 
 Tatong had gone hut a short distance when she 
 became aware that there were footsteps behind 
 her. She turned, her heart beginning to heat 
 fast in apprehension. Could it be that her inten- 
 tion had been divined and some one was follow- 
 ing her? It might be Mrs. Hi herself. At the 
 bare thought Tatong turned cold from head 
 to foot. 
 
 But she could see no one. She turned and 
 started on again, and again she heard the foot- 
 steps. Surely it was some one behind her. There 
 were deep shadows along the street at this point, 
 so she could not see very plainly. If some one 
 were following her, then she felt that one was 
 purposely trying to keep out of sight. This was 
 very strange, as, had it been Chansa or Mrs. Hi, 
 she surely would have revealed herself, especially 
 if she had come to summon the little slave back. 
 
 Tatong strained her eyes through the shadows. 
 Ah, now she felt sure she saw something moving. 
 
1G2 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 But how near tlie ground it was ! Just at this 
 moment the moon that had been partly behind a 
 cloud came out again. A great, broad ray of it 
 shone down between the huts. An exclamation 
 came from Tatong, then a little cry not so much 
 of astonishment as of dismay. 
 
 “Kijun! Kijun !” 
 
 Yes, the moon had plainly revealed the pur- 
 suer. It was Kijun ! 
 
 “Oh ! you naughty dog ! Did you not know 
 better than to come with me now ? What am I to 
 do about it ?” she continued, and glancing 
 around in despair. “You hear me, Kijun, I 
 know not what to do with you, for I cannot go 
 back. Ko. I cannot go back !” 
 
 Kijun seated himself upon his taggy little 
 haunches and looked at her complacently. 
 
 “0 Kijun, listen to me, Kijun ! I cannot go 
 back, but you must ; you, my dog, you must.” 
 
 “I will not,” said Kijun’s expression as plain 
 as plain could be. 
 
 In her despair Tatong caught him, though not 
 roughly, and turned his shaggy little body about. 
 
 “Now, Kijun,” she said persuasively, “go 
 home, my doggie, go home !” 
 
 Tor response Kijun whirled himself as reso- 
 lutely back again, and stood, his nose pointing 
 straight towards her, every defiant little tag in 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 1G3 
 
 his tousled coat declaring vigorously, “This is 
 the way I am going and no other.” 
 
 “Oh, Kijun, can’t I convince you that you 
 must not follow me ? For I am not going back 
 there any more,” indicating the direction they 
 had come, “no, never any more, you hear me, 
 Kijun ?” 
 
 Yes, Kijun heard, hut it did not suit him to 
 pay heed. Instead, his dog heart, as loyal as 
 any that ever heat under canine ribs, or human 
 ones, for that matter, elected to go with her and 
 no where else. Yes, wherever her footsteps were 
 turning this night, there Kijun’s would follow. 
 If they led to a place where there were good 
 things and pleasant things, straw for a bed and 
 ribs of beef to eat with rice cake, so much the 
 better ; if, on the other hand, it was to no pleas- 
 ant place and there were hard things, even dan- 
 gers to face, it was all right, he would still fol- 
 low. It was enough to know that he w T as with 
 her, and, since to be with her was the chief thing 
 he desired in life, there was therefore nothing 
 more to be considered. 
 
 He placed himself again upon his haunches, 
 and was once more looking at her, conceit, love, 
 loyalty, determination, each alternating in the 
 expression of his eyes. 
 
 She stooped down and caressed him, the very 
 
164 
 
 / 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 thing he had felt she would do ere the contest 
 ended. He moved his tail vigorously, both in 
 victory and in appreciation. 
 
 “Kijun, dear dog ! Ah, then you may come, 
 since it is that you will not go hack. Surely, 
 those who take me will take you, too. At least, 
 we will go on together so long as we can, Kijun.” 
 
 He got i;p, and now his small bedraggled 
 plume waved proudly, his little eyes gleamed 
 from between the tufts of wool. Then, turning, 
 he followed her with the soft pit-a-pat of cush- 
 ioned feet. And from that time until his sum- 
 mons to the land where I am sure all good dogs 
 go, especially the loyal ones, he never left her 
 again. 
 
 Tatong hurried onward. The bell had al- 
 ready sounded, and the street was beginning to 
 fill with women and girls. She had an idea as 
 to the direction in which the mission house lay, 
 hut not as to the exact locality. As has been 
 said, she hoped to find this through asking ques- 
 tions. But there was one thing on which Ta- 
 tong had not counted when taking the resolve to 
 make her search at night. She would be likely 
 to meet only women and girls, and they would be 
 the very poorest ones from whom to get informa- 
 tion of the kind desired. For they stayed shut 
 up within the houses so much they were not 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 165 
 
 likely to know anything - of that which she de- 
 sired, or, at least, very little of it. But maybe 
 she might come upon one of those who went to 
 the meetings at the Marble Pagoda. She knew 
 there were only a few of those, a mere drop in 
 the great sea of womankind then surging 
 through the streets of Seoul. But perhaps some- 
 where, at some turning, she would meet one of 
 these women. She felt sure she would know 
 them whenever she had a clear look into their 
 faces. 
 
 But not a person did she see that she knew, 
 man, woman, or child. The few of whom she 
 ventured to ask questions either gave her a sharp 
 answer, declaring they knew nothing about it, 
 or else only stared at her and passed on. 
 
 In despair she wandered from street to street. 
 She felt sure that she had understood Mr. Ko’s 
 directions well enough to at least get within the 
 neighborhood of the mission house, and, if poor 
 Tatong had only known it, she was once or twice 
 very close to it. But there was no good fairy to 
 whisper to her just where it stood, no help at 
 hand to guide her steps. 
 
 It was now very late. The nine o’clock bell, 
 the coming out hell, had rung more than two 
 hours ago, and most of the women and girls were 
 now turning their steps in the direction of home. 
 
166 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 Some had already gone. Poor Tatong wandered 
 on from street to street, not knowing what to do. 
 She conld not return to Mr. Ni’s. No, she 
 would rather drop down in the streets and die 
 than to do that. Better that she did die than to 
 go hack to that cruel place ; yea, that she en- 
 dured death many times, if that could he, than 
 that she went hack to become the slave of that 
 terrible old creature to whom they would sell 
 her on the morrow. 
 
 Foot for foot, Kijun, the faithful, followed 
 her. He never lost sight of her at any time. 
 If, in the press of the crowd, some one came be- 
 tween them, only for a moment did Kijun per- 
 mit such a state of affairs to exist. With a swift 
 rush and a determined set of the plume waving 
 out behind, he passed all intervening objects and 
 rejoined her. It was comfort to Tatong to know 
 that close beside her walked this loyal, four- 
 footed, little companion ; that in all that great 
 city she was not entirely alone ; that there was a 
 pair of eyes that kept watch with her ; four little 
 feet that would follow to the last step of the 
 journey, and a steadfast heart that would never 
 fail her. 
 
 Suddenly Tatong thought of the Marble Pa- 
 goda. Almost as an inspiration it came to her. 
 Yes, she would go there, and even if she could not 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 167 
 
 get in, she would crouch down close beside it and 
 there spend the night. She did not feel so very 
 much afraid, for were not the stars shining, and 
 did she not have Kijun ? What a warmth there 
 was in her heart as she thought of that ! 
 
 The streets were by this time almost deserted. 
 Only here and there could she see a small group 
 of women homeward hound. She came at last 
 to the street just off which the Warble Pagoda 
 stood. She felt sure that wherever she should 
 go she could never fail to find this place that, as 
 dark and gloomy as it looked, had become so 
 dear. There was no noise and no light. She 
 had known before she came that the meetings 
 were not being held now, for, had she not known 
 this, she would have come here at once instead 
 of going in search of the house of the white 
 brother. But Kitze had told her as she was 
 parting from him that day in the old building 
 that, on account of the accident to his father, 
 the meetings would have to stop for a while. 
 The white brother did not yet know the language 
 of the people well enough to hold them by him- 
 self. So she had come to the place, finding it, 
 as she expected, desolate and deserted. But 
 still, as lonely and gloomy as it was, she felt 
 that there was no place throughout that great 
 city, except the one for which she had been hunt- 
 
168 
 
 T atone], the Little Slave. 
 
 ing, where she -would rather spend the night. 
 The air was chill, but, luckily, not cold, and Ta- 
 tong had been careful enough to secure an extra 
 garment ere she came from the house. She 
 would wrap this about her and cuddle down with 
 Jxijun. They could surely keep each other 
 warm enough. 
 
 The thought came to her that she would try 
 the door anyhow. To her joy she found that she 
 could open it. iSTow there was no need to spend 
 the night outside. But all looked so gloomy 
 within that Tatong’s heart failed her, and she 
 could not go on to the inner chamber. She de- 
 cided that she would leave the door ajar and 
 cuddle down there near to it, where she could 
 still see the stars as they twinkled through the 
 opening. 
 
 Truly has it been said that “he is not alone 
 who is accompanied by his thoughts.” So many 
 thoughts came to travel with Tatong at this mo- 
 ment that they gave her no time to think of her 
 loneliness, of the dreariness of her surroundings. 
 She went back to the first time she had met the 
 kind stranger ; to the day on which his gentleness 
 and kindness, the unusual feeling he had shown, 
 had struck her with astonishment, then filled her 
 heart with a gratitude, a devotion no words could 
 express. She felt it there now, heating and surg- 
 
169 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 ing as though of its very force it must beat its 
 way out. She recalled his looks, his words, his 
 tones 5 all that he had told her that had made life 
 so different, that had sent a hope to dwell in her 
 heart that every now and then made things so 
 beautiful that for a time she forgot the dark- 
 ness, the sorrow of her surroundings. 
 
 She recalled the night in the little chamber 
 beyond. What beautiful things had been told 
 her then, and yet how sad, too, she had been ! 
 Oh ! what sorrow had come to her heart when it 
 seemed that Jesus, the kind, the gentle, the ten- 
 der One was dead ! lie who alone could speak 
 to God, the Father, for her, who could entreat 
 him to pity, to love the poor little slave. But 
 Jesus was not dead. Mr. Ko had assured her 
 he was not. He had done that wonderful thing 
 of bringing himself hack from the dead. He 
 was now in heaven with God, the I ather, and 
 Mr. Ko had promised that he would tell her how 
 she might send a message to this loving Jesus, 
 who would beg God, the Father, for her. But 
 suppose she never saw Mr. Ko again ? Jlie 
 thought was too dreadful to entertain for a mo- 
 ment. It was true that she had not succeeded 
 in finding him, and he was sick and might not 
 come to the Pagoda again in a long, long time. 
 What should she do ? "\\ ho was there to tell her 
 where she might find him ? 
 
170 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 As she gazed at the stars within, shining in 
 the great dark vault, a sudden resolution came 
 to her. In the morning early, as soon as the 
 gate was open, she would go out along the South 
 road, she would hunt for Yakta. Surely she re- 
 membered enough of what had been told her 
 about the way to find it by asking some ques- 
 tions. It would not he all women then she 
 would meet. There would he men, some of 
 whom would surely answer her. Besides, the 
 women would not he like the women of the city. 
 They would be country women, and they would 
 know. 
 
 Yes, Yakta was so strong and good, so kind of 
 heart though rough of manner. And Mokpo, the 
 big, the broad-hacked, what could not he do? 
 Surely Yakta and klokpo together could lead her 
 to the house of the white brother. She would 
 tell Yakta all that had been told her of how to 
 get to it. Yes, if any one could find it, it was 
 Yakta; Yakta, with Yokpo’s help. She would 
 go then to Yakta; she would start just as soon 
 as the first stroke of the morning bell said the 
 gate might he opened. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 On the South Road. 
 
 ATOHG had intended rising early the fol- 
 
 lowing morning. But, alas, for this resolu- 
 tion ! There is no telling how long she would have 
 slept had she not been awakened by Kijun’ s pull- 
 ing at her robe. The little dog had had his eyes 
 wide open for some time. For a half hour or 
 more he had sat patiently watching Tatong as 
 she .slept. Why did she not open her eyes and 
 look at him? Why was she sleeping so long? 
 W as there not something wrong ? Surely there 
 was. He had never, never known Tatong to 
 sleep so late before. She was always up and at 
 some task as soon as the gray light came creeping 
 over the hills. This had now happened some 
 time ago, and yet, here she was still asleep. And 
 in a strange place too! Kijun could endure it 
 no longer. He leaned nearer, caught her robe 
 between his teeth, and began to pull ; at first 
 gently, then harder, harder. 
 
 Tatong awakened with a start. At first she 
 could not realize where she was. Only Kijun 
 was familiar. Then it all came back to her in a 
 
 171 
 
172 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 rush of remembrance, the dreadful thing that 
 had threatened her, the stealing away from Mr. 
 Hi’s, the wandering in the streets, the night in 
 the Pagoda — yes, it all stood out clearly now in 
 her mind. But why had Kijun pulled her robe 
 in that way ? 
 
 “Kijun, good dog, what is it ?” she said. 
 
 For answer he sat upon his haunches, looked 
 at her wistfully and whined. 
 
 “Ah, now I see ! You want to go. Yes, Ki- 
 jun, you are wiser than I; for the morning has 
 come, and I did not know it. Oh ! we ought to 
 have been on our way to the gate ere this ! Good 
 Kijun, for waking me.” 
 
 Kijun let his front paws drop, and stood upon 
 his fox;r feet wagging his tail. If she praised 
 him that was enough. 
 
 “O Kijun !” she continued, “why didn’t you 
 do it sooner ? How much time I have wasted !” 
 
 Even as she spoke there came the deep, heavy 
 boom of the hell. 
 
 She started up with a sharp exclamation. 
 
 “Oh ! right now the gates are opening, and the 
 people will rush for them, and for hours now the 
 crowds may he so great we can not well get by 
 them. Come, Kijun, let us go, my dog; and we 
 must hurry as fast as foot will carry us.” 
 
 She gained her feet, brushed the straw from 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 173 
 
 her robe, and followed by Kijun, went hastily 
 away. 
 
 The narrow streets were beginning to fill. 
 From almost every hut there were forms start- 
 ing up, either to stand in the small space under 
 (he eaves and gape at the passers-by, or else to 
 join the throng in the streets. 
 
 As Tatong hastened on she suddenly became 
 aware of some very strange conduct on the part 
 of Kijun. The little dog, who had been a pace 
 or two ahead, now gave a whine and darted 
 back, trying to conceal himself between her feet, 
 almost upsetting her as he did so. 
 
 “What ails you, my dog ?” she asked, bending 
 over him. “It is something he has seen,” she 
 added. Then some impulse caused her to raise 
 her head and glance about her. As she did so 
 she came near uttering a cry as Ki jun had done. 
 For there, just across the street, not more than 
 five or six paces away, was Mr. Yin, the oldest 
 son of Mr. Ki, and with him Dong. They had 
 stopped to talk to one of the men in front of a 
 hut. As yet they had not seen her, but even as 
 her eyes fell upon them, Mr. Yin was turning 
 his head to glance across the street. 
 
 “Oh ! he will see me !” cried poor Tatong, 
 “and I shall be lost ! What shall I do ?” 
 
 It seemed that her knees could support her no 
 longer. In her fright she lost all control of 
 
174 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 them, and in a moment had dropped to the 
 ground. Fortunate it was, since the crowd that 
 quickly closed about her completely shut her 
 from view. One or two there were who gave 
 her a brutal kick in passing, ordering her to get 
 out of the way. Close beside her Kijun kept, 
 his body as fully buried in her robe as he could 
 get it. Ivijun, too, had the memory of only 
 harsh words and harsher blows from the two 
 across the street. 
 
 After a moment or so Tatong managed to drag 
 herself between two of the huts. When, later, 
 she raised herself cautiously and looked across 
 the street Mr. Yin and Dong had disappeared. 
 Oh ! how thankful she was that they had not dis- 
 covered her ! They were hunting her, she felt 
 sure, and so they were. Great would have been 
 their rage had they known how near they had 
 come to her and yet missed her. They went 
 home in rage enough anyhow, after hunting her 
 in vain for nearly all the morning. 
 
 Tatong hurried along, her heart beating loudly. 
 She did not know at what moment she might 
 again come upon her enemies. She kept as close 
 against the houses as she could, and always her 
 eyes were keenly watching. 
 
 It was as she had feared. Great crowds were 
 at the gate. How they jostled one another and 
 
175 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 what a noise they made ! There were all sorts 
 and conditions of people, the rich, the poor, the 
 sick, the well ; men, women and children. There 
 were boys in their short girdled coats, with their 
 hair parted in the middle and hanging down 
 their backs; married men with theirs drawn 
 into a topknot, surmounted by a skull-cap of 
 horse hair, and attired in long, full coats, with 
 great straw hats and padded socks. Soldiers, 
 magistrates, drummers, servants, police officers 
 and peddlers, all jostled each other in the hurry 
 to get by. 
 
 Tatong made two or three brave attempts to 
 pass the gate, but failed. Tears filled her eyes 
 and her heart began to throb with despair. Oh ! 
 what if she did not get by until Mr. Yin and 
 Dong came to find her \ They would surely look 
 for her at the gates ; that is, if they thought she 
 had run away. 
 
 “Oh ! I must try again !” said Tatong, “even 
 if I get hurt.” 
 
 She watched her opportunity, made a spring 
 forward, and would doubtless have passed 
 through of herself, after some struggling, had it 
 not been for a vicious pony that at that moment 
 swerved from his course and plunged directly 
 toward her. Warning cries came from the rider 
 and from those around, yet so intent was she on 
 
176 
 
 Tatoncj, the Little Slave. 
 
 making her escape, Tatong did not heed. But 
 Kijun did, and quick as a flask of light he sprang 
 toward the pony, leaped up, and seized him by 
 the nose. The pony gaye a squeal of pain and 
 reared back, almost unseating his rider and 
 trampling upon those who were near. But it 
 gave Tatong the opening she desired, and she 
 sprang away, Kijun at her heels. The little dog 
 was none too soon, for there were those who, 
 urged by the pony’s rider, had reached out to 
 strike him down. 
 
 Once out the gate and safely away from the 
 direct track of the passing throng, Tatong fell 
 down all in a heap and drew Kijun to her robe. 
 
 “Oh ! you good, braye dog !” she said, “but how 
 could you liaye done it, Kijun ? There were 
 those ready to kill you could they liaye caught 
 you.” 
 
 Kijun gazed at her with a look which said 
 plainly : 
 
 “But they didn’t do it, mistress, and so that 
 ends it.” 
 
 The scene without the gate was almost as 
 bustling as that within, for various of the ped- 
 dlers had erected temporary booths, and were 
 loudly calling attention to their wares, which 
 consisted of hits of silk fabric, gauzes, girdle 
 cords, straw shoes, bamboo hats, cotton goods, 
 
TRANSPORTATION IN KOREA. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 1 77 
 
 combs, glass beads, pipes, etc. Various custo- 
 mers were pausing to buy, some with servants 
 bearing great strings of “cash,” others having 
 only a scant supply strung on a twisted wisp of 
 straw clasped within their own hands. 
 
 Tatong looked at the many tempting things, 
 but it was not to covet any of them or to sigh be- 
 cause she could not buy them. The little slave 
 was thinking more of the kind ones she sought, 
 of the gentle words she was longing to hear, of 
 the welcome that would surely be given when 
 once she had found Xakta, and by her had been 
 led to the house where the kind stranger and the 
 white brother had said there were peace and joy 
 and happiness for all who came. Oh ! of how 
 much more value were these than anything she 
 now saw ! To the hungry heart and starving soul 
 of the little slave the wealth of all these booths 
 combined was nothing beside the warm glance, 
 the tender clasp, the precious words that would 
 be hers if only she could find this sweet place 
 where those who knew and loved God, the 
 Father, dwelt. It seemed to her that there 
 would be no more that earth could give when 
 once she had reached it. 
 
 The rose pink of the ascending sun had long 
 since died away, and there was now the full gol- 
 den light against the sky of bright, steely blue. 
 
178 
 
 Tatong, the Little Stave. 
 
 Tatong had never realized before liow beautiful 
 the sky could he. She had seldom seen it except 
 within the city walls, and there it was obscured 
 by the smoke which it seemed to her was nearly 
 always ascending. Strange thoughts stirred 
 within her heart as she went along. Up there 
 she knew God, the Father, dwelt; yes, far be- 
 yond this bine sky, in a place many more times 
 as beautiful. Oh ! if she might only see it ! if 
 she might really go to him as the kind ones had 
 said she could and would if she tried to do what 
 he would have her do. Were they not to tell her, 
 these kind, true ones, how to love and serve him 
 here so that she might go to him when he was 
 ready for her to come ? Those were the very 
 words of the promise. What music of expec- 
 tancy they now awakened ! 
 
 To the right the river glistened in the sun. 
 On it were several rafts and junks, the most of 
 them laden with salt. Along the river lay the 
 valleys, and above them towered the stately hills, 
 flecked here and there with the rich coloring of 
 the azaleas. Butterflies and dragon-flies flitted 
 through the air, numerous ducks and geese hov- 
 ered along the edge of the river, now alighting 
 and skimming the waves for a few moments, 
 then dipping wings to fly away. Small flocks of 
 cranes waded in and out the shallow places 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 179 
 
 hunting for such fish as they could reach and 
 seize. Just where the sun’s rays fell upon him, 
 lighting up his brilliant plumage, a magnificent 
 flamingo stood with head poised ready to seize 
 an unwary frog. 
 
 Suddenly a bird sprang upward from a rice 
 field, and began soaring with light, graceful 
 wing higher and higher toward the sky of blue, 
 pouring out its song as it went. So loud, so joy- 
 ous was this song it seemed as though it must 
 burst the tiny throat of the singer. 
 
 “Oh !” exclaimed Tatong, “he is going straight 
 up there ! He is going beyond the blue. Oh, 
 he is ! he is ! Oh,” stopping suddenly and clasp- 
 ing her hands together, “I feel it ! I know it ! 
 He is going straight to where God, the Father, 
 
 is. That is why he sings so. His heart is full 
 of the joy of it, and he wants everybody to know 
 
 it. ” 
 
 She stood watching him eagerly, wistfully, all 
 her longing heart glowing within her eyes, till 
 the bird became a mere speck and she could fol- 
 low him no more. 
 
 She had now passed through much of the 
 crowd, but she still met travellers. Korea is a 
 great country for travelling. The people are 
 constantly moving about for one reason or an- 
 other, visiting the tombs of ancestors, buying, 
 
ISO 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 selling, making social calls, and tlie like. Some 
 stared at her, others passed her by without a 
 word ; one or two frightened her by stopping her 
 to ask her business. She almost broke down as 
 she replied. What if they should take her back 
 to Mr. ISTi’s. Of each of these she had asked the 
 same question, could they tell her where Xakta 
 lived; Xakta who owned the great ox, Mokpo ? 
 Either silence or jeers had been the reply she 
 had so far received. 
 
 As she walked on, her head down, her thoughts 
 busy, her heart sore from the rebuffs she had re- 
 ceived, she was suddenly aroused by a great 
 noise in the path before her. She looked to see 
 coming toward her, and not far away, a small 
 herd of oxen laden with fire-wood, and urged 
 along by the noisy shouts of their drivers. Ta- 
 tong’s heart almost stood still. Oh ! suppose that 
 Mokpo was among them ? But the next moment 
 she felt that this could not be. Mokpo would 
 never he driven like this, neither would Xakta 
 let him be. Xo, indeed, blows and shouts were 
 not for Mokpo. They might he for a poor slave 
 like herself, hut not for great, splendid Mokpo. 
 Oh ! no. 
 
 The oxen came on slowly, despite the cries and 
 proddings of the boys who drove them. Tatong 
 stood aside to let them pass. All the time her 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 181 
 
 eyes were watching them closely, though she had 
 fully decided Mokpo could not he among them. 
 Yet, as these boys drove oxen, too, they might 
 know Xakta. She would at least venture to ask 
 them. They only hooted at her in reply, and 
 more than one switched at her with his bamboo 
 cane. This treatment Kijun at once resented. 
 He sprang bravely to snap at the legs of the 
 foremost offender. He would surely have been 
 badly hurt had not Tatong succeeded in getting 
 him away. 
 
 The sun had now grown very hot. Tatong 
 was glad when the path lay where there was 
 shade. Xow and then she crossed a small stream, 
 its limpid waters gurgling along over the stones 
 to join the river. On the banks beautiful lilies 
 grew and many smaller yet vivid wild flowers. 
 But Tatong did not stop to gather any. They 
 would only wilt before the day was over, she knew, 
 and she could not bear to break them from the 
 stem only to die in this way. But she bent down 
 more than once and pressed her face against 
 them, murmuring words that she felt sure they 
 understood. 
 
 She came at length to a place where men were 
 beating down hemp, so as to prepare the sack- 
 cloth with which Korean mourners clothe them- 
 selves. At the bottom of a pit they had placed 
 
182 
 
 Taiong, the Little Slave. 
 
 some large stones, which were being heated by 
 means of a rough oven on the outside. The 
 hemp was pressed down in bundles on these 
 stones, and all among it large stakes were driven. 
 Then piles of coarse grass were laid over the 
 hemp, and earth over the grass. After this the 
 beating took place, between the stakes, and just 
 as hard as the men could lay it on. When they 
 were through they would pull up the stakes and 
 poiir water into the holes. This water, falling- 
 on the hot stones, would produce a dense steam, 
 which would cause the fibres of the hemp to fall 
 apart. In this way the threads for making the 
 sack-cloth were obtained. 
 
 As Tatong came opposite the men were en- 
 gaged in pounding away at the mass of straw, 
 hemp, and earth. She paused to speak to them,, 
 lost her courage, started on, then paused again. 
 One of the men noted it. lie called out to her, 
 hut not unkindly, 
 
 “Is there anything you want, girl ?” 
 
 “Yes,” she replied, gaining her courage again, 
 “will you not tell me where Hakta lives, Hakta 
 who drives the great ox, Mokpo, with the piles 
 of brushwood on him ? She comes along this 
 road to market, Oh ! so often !” 
 
 “Idiot !” said the other man, now looking up 
 to give her a surly glance. “What do you sup- 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 183 
 
 pose we know of a woman and an ox who take 
 this road to market when there are hundreds 
 who go by every day ?” 
 
 “What sort of woman is she, and what’s the 
 color of the ox ?” asked the first man again, leav- 
 ing his work to come nearer Tatong. 
 
 The little slave told him as clearly as she 
 could. 
 
 “Why,” he cried suddenly, “I do believe that 
 is old Kimri’s daughter !” 
 
 “Oh ! yes, yes !” exclaimed Tatong, excitedly, 
 “that is it ! That is the old one’s name !” 
 
 “Well, if you are going there,” the man ad- 
 vised kindly, “you had better not. The old one 
 is a terror. She’ll soon drive the life out of a 
 young thing like you.” 
 
 “But it is to Hakta I am going,” replied Ta- 
 tong. “O Nakta is good and kind ! I know it. I 
 am sure of it.” 
 
 “That may be ; hut the old one rules every- 
 thing. Still, if you want to go on, I’ll give you 
 the way as best I can.” 
 
 He then proceeded to tell her, but there were 
 so many things to remember that her heart com- 
 menced to beat with the fear that she would 
 never keep them all. When the man had fin- 
 ished she took leave of him, after letting him see 
 her gratitude for his kindness. 
 
184 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 Hunger now begun to pinch Tatong, for she 
 had eaten nothing since the evening before. 
 She felt sure that Kijun, too, was hungry, for 
 the poor dog was moving with lagging steps 
 while he gazed wistfully about. 
 
 “There is nothing here for us to eat, Kijun, 
 poor dog!” she said, “but maybe after a while 
 we’ll come to some pines where we can find 
 nuts.” 
 
 Sure enough, in a half hour or so they came to 
 a cluster of the pines that produced the eatable 
 nuts. But others had been before them. After 
 close search only a few could be found. Of these 
 Tatong offered a generous share to Kijun. But 
 the little dog, hungry as he was, did not care 
 much for them. He would far rather have 
 found some of the shell-fish that stuck to the 
 rocks along the streams, for which he had several 
 times that morning sought industriously, hut in 
 vain. 
 
 Kot far ahead of them there Avas a village. 
 It stood on the slopes, and the straw roofs of the 
 huts were almost hidden by the little orchards 
 that surrounded them. Tatong made up her 
 mind that she would apply here for food, hut 
 on approaching tAvo or three of the premises, 
 she saAv only rough, surly-looking men. These 
 so frightened her that she went on Avithout 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 185 
 
 speaking. The path led up an incline, then 
 down again into a valley, where, under a small 
 clump of trees, she saw some travellers making 
 merry over their meal. They had kindled a fire, 
 and, from the appearance of everything, seemed 
 to he having quite a feast. Tatong caught the 
 odor of a stew of beef, and it made her hunger 
 keener than ever. 
 
 The little slave approached and stood regard- 
 ing them wistfully. There were three men, one 
 old, two young ones, and two women. One 
 woman was quite old. She was even older than 
 the man. But she didn’t seem to have old ways. 
 Instead she was making most of the merriment 
 for the party. Her eyes at once lighted upon 
 Tatong. She called out to her loudly, 
 
 “Is it some of our meal you want ? Well, 
 come along then and get it. No one must go by 
 this camp hungry.” 
 
 All the others now raised their heads to gaze 
 at Tatong. She was afraid of the men, though 
 they did not look unkind. They only regarded 
 her curiously. However, the two women glanced 
 at her so encouragingly she went to them with- 
 out further hesitation. 
 
 The old woman made a place for Tatong next 
 to herself. Then she handed her a small bowl, 
 
 saying : 
 
18G 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Come, here is the hot rice water. Drink it. 
 Then you shall have a rib of beef and some of 
 the stew.” 
 
 Tatong accepted the bowl eagerly. How good 
 it was! But there was* surely nothing to com- 
 pare with the rib of beef and generous portion of 
 the stew they gave her later. As she was smack- 
 ing her lips over it she heard a whine close be- 
 side her. Glancing down there was Kijun. 
 The poor dog was so hungry he was unable 
 longer to restrain himself. He was now sitting 
 upon his haunches and begging for food with all 
 the force of eyes and of pleading voice. 
 
 Tatong took the rib from her lips to tear off 
 a portion of the meat, but the old woman, see- 
 ing the movement, restrained her. 
 
 “He shall have some, too,” she said. “What 
 a smart dog he seems to be !” 
 
 As she spoke she selected a bone with yet 
 plenty of shreds on it, and gave it to Kijun. 
 
 He at once thanked her by barking and frisk- 
 ing, then set to work as industriously as the 
 others. 
 
 When she had eaten Tatong rose to go. They 
 had asked her many questions, for curiosity is 
 one of the ruling traits of the Korean character, 
 but, somehow, she had managed not to tell them 
 of the principal things that concerned her. They 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 187 
 
 knew she was going to find Nakta, hut as to the 
 whereabouts of that personage none of the party 
 could tell Tatong, as not one of them had ever 
 heard of her. 
 
 As Tatong was about to turn away the old 
 woman fixed her twinkling little eyes upon Ki- 
 jun. 
 
 “He’s such a smart one,” she «aid, “I think 
 I’d like to have him. Of course you wouldn’t 
 mind giving him to me now after the way we’ve 
 treated you ?” and she raised her eyes to Ta- 
 tong’s. 
 
 The question was such a surprise that Tatong 
 could hardly believe she had heard it. What ! 
 give up Kijun, her faithful Kijun, who had fol- 
 lowed her through everything, who had even 
 saved her life ? How could she do it ? Surely 
 the old woman wouldn’t ask that of her, even 
 though she had given her the meal. But she 
 was asking it nevertheless, for she had again re- 
 peated the question to Tatong. 
 
 “It will be hard to give him to you,” the little 
 slave replied. “lie is so good and faithful, and 
 Oil ! he is all I have !” 
 
 Her voice quivered, and she dropped her head 
 that they might not see the tears that were com- 
 ing. 
 
 “Well, then, I suppose I must take him my- 
 
188 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 self/’ said the old woman, and, without further 
 words, she picked up a basket that was near and 
 quickly dropped it over Kijun. Then, with a 
 loud laugh, she pressed her elbow over it and 
 held it firmly. 
 
 Kijun began to hark vigorously in protest. 
 They should understand that he was no willing 
 prisoner. 
 
 Tatong turned away slowly. The tears were 
 falling now, and her feelings with reference to 
 Kijun had so overcome her that she could find 
 no words in which to speak. IIow was she ever 
 to go on without Kijun ? What a dreadfully lonely 
 way it would he ! But suppose the little dog had 
 never come ; she would have had to do it then. 
 So she tried to he as brave as possible and fight 
 back the tears. 
 
 The old woman had not only taken the dog, 
 but was now laughing boisterously aboixt it. 
 Even as poor Tatong, her heart throbbing with 
 sorrow, was turning away she began to plague 
 her with words about Kijun. 
 
 “Oh ! see how he is dancing about, trying his 
 best to get loose, but, of course, he can’t. I have 
 got him too tight for that. So, you see, you’ll 
 have to go on without him.” 
 
 Tatong did not turn to glance back. She 
 could not. It would be all the harder to see 
 
189 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 Kijun struggling to get to her. She walked on 
 for several paces. More and more she missed 
 him. How was she to go on without hearing his 
 soft feet pattering behind, or without seeing his 
 faithful little form pressing nearer to hers or 
 running ahead in the road ? 
 
 All at once she heard a loud hail from the old 
 woman. She was calling to her to stop. Ta- 
 tong turned around. Could she believe her own 
 eyes? Yes, the old woman had really released 
 her hold upon the basket. She was standing up 
 clapping her hands and wagging her head, while 
 there, speeding toward Tatong as fast as his 
 short legs would carry him, was Kijun, the faith- 
 ful ! He had struggled until he had gotten out, 
 and was now fleeing to rejoin her, was Tatong’s 
 first thought. But the next moment she saw 
 that the old woman was encouraging the dog to 
 his highest speed. 
 
 “Take him ! take him !” she cried to Tatong, 
 “and let your face clear up again. I only did it 
 to see how much I could plague you. There ! go 
 with your dog, and welcome !” 
 
 Tatong sank to her knees to greet Kijun, her 
 heart beating with gladness. Then she arose to 
 go on again. How cheerful would he the way 
 now ! But Oh ! how could the old woman have 
 teased her so ? Yet she had given her food, and 
 
190 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 so that remembrance made a warm glow in Ta- 
 tong’s heart. It was better to remember the 
 good of any one than the bad. If only all of us 
 could keep that rule ! 
 
 The path grew steep again. She was now 
 climbing a roughly wooded hill. There were 
 many stones, too, all along the way. As Tatong 
 gained the summit an exclamation escaped her. 
 She had come at length to the mirioks , to those 
 about which Nakta had told her; yes, the very 
 ones. She felt sure of it. She had passed others 
 on the way, but they were not the ones, she 
 knew. They were neither so large as ISTakta had 
 said, nor were there enough of them. But these 
 were large, and how many there were ! Tatong 
 conld not see them all at first, they stretched 
 away so on every side. In the center were two 
 immense mirioTcs — stones that had been taken 
 from the river, where they had been washed into 
 the semblance of human figures by the action of 
 the water. All around nnder the trees there 
 were heaps of stones, which had been placed 
 there as sacred to various demons. Enclosing 
 the mirioks and the piles of stones were tall 
 posts painted red, black and yellow, their tops 
 cut into grotesque faces. Stretched from post to 
 post were thick ropes of straw, with pendant 
 tassels of the same material or streamers of rags. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 191 
 
 These were to prevent the coming in of the evil 
 spirits. From the branches of the trees were 
 hanging worn-out straw shoes, fragments of 
 grass clothing, gnarled roots, etc., all placed 
 there for the same purpose, the frightening away 
 of wicked spirits. 
 
 As Tatong paused to look at the mirioks a 
 great yellow dog rushed up to her barking furi- 
 ously. In an instant Kijun had valiantly sprung 
 forward to give battle. Seeing this smaller hut 
 determined opponent, the larger dog turned tail 
 and fled, Kijun after him. Tatong, alarmed for 
 the safety of her faithful friend, should the big 
 dog decide to turn nose again toward him, set 
 off in chase, not so much as to help Kijun in 
 the encounter as to coax him to return. 
 
 Over the rocks they flew, around one hill and 
 then another, till finally the big dog disappeared 
 behind a ledge and Kijun threw himself down 
 beside it, panting from exhaustion. 
 
 “Kijun, brave dog,” said Tatong, coming up 
 to him, “don’t try any more to chase him. It 
 will do no good. His legs are too long for yours. 
 I know you would have made him remember 
 could you have caught him, so that’s enough, 
 isn’t it, my good dog ?” 
 
 Yes, evidently the praise was enough for Ki- 
 jun. He showed his delight at it in as demon- 
 
1U2 T along, the Little Slave. 
 
 strative a way as his exhausted condition would 
 allow. 
 
 The light was beginning to fade from under 
 the trees, for the sun had gone down. Soon the 
 twilight would come, then the darkness of the 
 night. 
 
 Tatong started up in alarm. 
 
 “0 Kijun, we must go on as fast as we can, 
 my dog, for if we have not found Nakta when 
 the dark comes, what shall we do ?” 
 
 Kijun, too, seemed to realize the situation, 
 for, at the words, he sprang up and started as 
 briskly ahead as his tired feet would permit. 
 
 Tatong tried to find her way hack to the 
 mirioks , so as to go on in the direction she 
 thought was right. But iu vain, for, though she 
 wandered about for some time, first one way, 
 then another, she did not come again to the 
 mirioks. She sank down on a small pile of 
 stones trying to decide what to do. Tears were 
 in her eyes and her heart was heating loudly. 
 She was surely lost. What should she do ? The 
 night was coming on, and there were wild beasts 
 in the woods, she feared. Just then some sounds 
 came to her. They were those of stirring life in 
 the valley below. 
 
 “It must he a village,” she cried quickly. 
 
 She sprang to her feet and began to descend 
 
FATHERING STRAW IN KOREA. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 193 
 
 toward the direction whence the noises came. 
 As she expected, there was a village nestled in 
 the valley. A part of it was perched along the 
 side of the hill. Ah ! now she would have shelter 
 for the night and doubtless food. In the morn- 
 ing she could go on again searching for Xakta. 
 
 At the first three or four huts she approached 
 she saw only men. At length she came to a 
 dwelling that stood rather apart from the rest. 
 It was neater, too, and better in every way than 
 any she had yet seen. It had latticed doors and 
 a new roof of straw. There were also palings 
 of bamboo enclosing it, and within several fruit 
 trees and a garden patch. Tatong could also 
 hear some pigs squealing in a pen. 
 
 An old woman was standing by the palings 
 looking out upon the road. Tatong approached 
 her. Although the night was falling, darkness 
 had not yet come. There was a soft, gray light 
 whereby nearer objects could be seen with some 
 distinctiveness. 
 
 “I am lost,” said Tatong, coming up beside 
 her. “Will you not let me have shelter for the 
 night ? In the morning I will go on again.” 
 
 The old woman started and gave her a close 
 look. 
 
 “Do I not know you ? Your voice is familiar 
 and your face. Where have I seen it ?” 
 
194 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “You have never seen me before, I suppose, 
 madam. I have come from Seoiil.” 
 
 “But I have lived in Seoiil,” replied the old 
 woman quickly. “Your face ! I am sure I have 
 seen it,” looking intently at Tatong. “I may he 
 able to tell directly. But come in. Of course 
 you can stay all night. You can’t go on in the 
 dark, especially if you are lost. Besides, we 
 never turn any one away who comes needing 
 shelter.” 
 
 “And may my dog come, too, madam ? He 
 is as tired and troubled as I am.” 
 
 The old woman glanced down at Kijun. He 
 looked very gentle and inoffensive. He was, too, 
 so tired. 
 
 “O yes, the little beast may come in. He’ll 
 surely do no damage. But leave him in the 
 yard. He’ll find a bed of straw at the corner of 
 the house.” 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “The Jesus Doctrine.” 
 
 HE old woman led the way into the hut. 
 
 She went straight through the front apart- 
 ment. It was small, but very clean, so clean 
 that Tatong, even in her trouble, noticed it. It 
 had mats spread on the floor, and something that 
 was quite new to Tatong, pillows of straw in- 
 stead of the ones of wood, to which she had been 
 used. There was a table or two, and on them 
 were some flowers. The walls were covered with 
 glazed paper, and there were also small windows 
 of this material. 
 
 Two men were sitting in this apartment, an old 
 and a young man. They had already set aflame 
 a couple of rush lights, and by means of them 
 were twisting into .shape plaits of straw with 
 which to make hats. Their fingers were busy, so, 
 too, were their tongues. It seemed to Tatong 
 that she heard them say something that sounded 
 like “Jesus Doctrine.” Her heart gave a hound. 
 Could it really be ? But she could hear no more, 
 since just then they stopped to glance at her and 
 the old woman. 
 
 195 
 
19G 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 To Tatong’s surprise, when the old woman 
 spoke to the men, they answered her pleasantly. 
 Then they looked curiously at Tatong. 
 
 “It is one who has been lost, and who has en- 
 treated to stay for the night,” said the old 
 woman in explanation. 
 
 They did not question further, hut turned 
 again to their work. 
 
 The old woman passed straight on into the 
 kitchen. The fires were lit, and the evening 
 meal was already in course of preparation. 
 The light was dim, hut it was sufficient for Ta- 
 tong to see a woman’s form bending over the 
 little charcoal furnace on which the cooking was 
 done. She turned around on their entrance, and 
 if she felt any surprise at seeing two enter in- 
 stead of one, she did not show it. She doubtless 
 thought it some one from a neighboring hut who 
 had come on an errand, or maybe to visit. 
 
 ‘‘Here is one who has been lost, and who comes 
 entreating of us shelter for the night,” said the 
 old woman, advancing. 
 
 Just at that moment a ray of light shot up- 
 ward from an opening in the furnace, revealing 
 Tatong sufficiently for the woman near hv to 
 have a very good view of her. 
 
 “Why, she is little more than a child !” said 
 this second woman quickly. 
 
T atone], the Little Slave. 
 
 197 
 
 The voice, more than the words, gave a strange 
 feeling to Tatong. It was as though her heart 
 had stopped, then gone on again. What could it 
 mean ? There was little in the words, nothing 
 beyond what they expressed. But the voice, how 
 soft, how gentle it was ! Xo other woman’s voice 
 had ever sounded so to Tatong. Usually they 
 were harsh and unpleasant. Chansa and Xakta, 
 it is true, had spoken kindly, and so, too, had 
 the old woman who now stood beside her. But 
 none of the voices had sounded like this one 
 whose words had just fallen upon her ears, so 
 clear, so sweet, and with such tender feeling. 
 
 Tatong almost held her breath, hoping she 
 would speak again. In a moment more she did. 
 
 “Poor child ! are you really lost ? You look 
 young to be wandering about so.” 
 
 The kindness, the pity in the voice ! They al- 
 most overcame Tatong. She felt like throwing 
 herself at the feet of this gentle one, and there 
 sobbing out all her trouble. Surely, one who 
 could speak thus could he trusted with all. But 
 the presence of the old woman restrained her, 
 and so, instead of following what her heart 
 prompted, she said : 
 
 “I do not know if I am really lost. I have 
 come seeking one who is called Xakta by those 
 who can thus speak to her, and she may live in 
 
198 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 this very village, though, so far, I have not 
 found her. She has a great ox named Mokpo. 
 Oh ! he is so beautiful and so good ! He goes to 
 the city with her, carrying the burdens for her 
 on his back. Sometimes ISTakta and the others 
 ride thereon in a pavilion hung with yellow cur- 
 tains. Oh ! it is grand ! She took me up there 
 once and I saw the Kurdong. My heart stands 
 still now to think if it. It was not long ago,” 
 she added. 
 
 “Why, I believe I have seen that very one,’” 
 said the old woman quickly. “How and then 
 she passes here, though I think she lives in a vil- 
 lage further away over the hills. Is she very 
 tall, taller than women usually are ?” she asked, 
 turning to Tatong. 
 
 “Oh ! yes,” said the little slave quickly. 
 
 “And does she wear a handkerchief of red 
 and yellow about her head ?” 
 
 “Yes, yes,” responded Tatong eagerly. 
 
 “What color did you say the ox was ?” 
 
 Tatong had not said as yet, but now she began 
 and gave a description of Mokpo which must 
 have made it quite clear to any one. 
 
 “It is the same, I feel sure,” continued the 
 old woman. 
 
 “Oh ! do you know where to find her ?” asked 
 Tatong. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 199 
 
 “I do not; but she may pass here any time. 
 Maybe to-morrow.” 
 
 “But it may be days. Ob ! what shall I do 
 before I find her ?” 
 
 Then the voice that bad the way of going 
 straight to Tatong’s heart as though it were 
 something alive that could nestle right up 
 against it, and make the sweetest feeling she 
 had ever known, spoke again : 
 
 “Child, if it is in trouble yoii are about a 
 place to stay until then, you may remain here 
 and welcome.” 
 
 “Yes,” added the old woman kindly, “you 
 may. I meant to tell you that from the first. 
 She but speaks as my own tongue would, had it 
 first said the words.” 
 
 “You are good ! Oh ! how good !” cried Tatong, 
 and now unable longer to control herself, sank 
 upon her feet before them. 
 
 “Never mind to thank us so,” said the younger 
 woman gently, and, stooping, raised her to a sit- 
 ting posture. Then she took a place beside her, 
 the old woman, too, advanced to the other side, 
 and dropped upon her heels. 
 
 “But, suppose before I find Nakta, they find 
 me?” continued Tatong, overcome by fresh 
 thoughts of her trouble, as well as by this gen- 
 tleness and kindness that had so conquered her 
 
200 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 heart it could no longer remain closed against 
 them. 
 
 “Oh, child,” said the younger woman quickly, 
 and with a tone of reproach that cut Tatong to 
 the heart, “have you run away V’ 
 
 Tatong could keep hack nothing now. She 
 must tell all. After the tone of that voice she 
 could no longer be silent. Surely when that 
 gentle one knew just what she had suffered, I10W 
 hard had been her lot, when she had been told 
 of the cruel thing that had been planned against 
 her, and to escape from which she had fled, she 
 could not, she would not, say that she, Tatong, 
 had done wrong to come away. 
 
 She raised her eyes and glanced at the kind 
 face bending near her. For the first time she 
 saw it clearly. The face, too, as the voice had 
 done, gave her a strange, an indescribable feeling. 
 She had never seen a face that looked like this 
 one, so gentle, so calm, so sad. It was, too, a 
 face not so dark as those to which she had been 
 used, and the hair, instead of being of that stiff- 
 ness and blackness so common in the hair of the 
 women with whom Tatong had daily mingled, 
 was nearer the color of her own, but with a gloss 
 and softness Tatong’ s did not possess. She could 
 not see clearly the color of the eyes, the light was 
 not quite strong enough for that, but they were 
 
201 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 now looking at her with a sad, reproachful look 
 beneath the calm, smooth brow, against which 
 the bands of hair were tidily arranged. 
 
 “O madam,” said Tatong, her voice almost 
 ready to break with sobs, “I had to run away. 
 They were so hard, so cruel. They beat me with 
 the bamboos. Sometimes it was on the sores 
 that were still there from the other beatings. 
 And they did not wish me to have what I needed 
 to eat, and often I had to carry burdens that 
 nearly bent my hack. They were going away, 
 and so they meant to sell me. It was to one who 
 was even harder and more cruel. I could not 
 stand the thought of it, and so I ran away. Oh ! 
 tell me you do not blame me, that yoii will not 
 give me up to them. O ! I beseech you not to let 
 them have me if they come.” 
 
 She held out her clasped hands as she en- 
 treated them, first to the young woman, and then 
 to the old one. Her attitude was such it must 
 have touched even a hard heart, and certainly 
 neither of these women possessed that. 
 
 “So you are a slave,” said the older woman, 
 hut not harshly. Then she added with much 
 feeling in her voice, “Poor thing !” 
 
 “Yes, poor child,” the other voice added, the 
 voice Tatong’ s heart had almost stopped its heat- 
 ing to hear ; “it was terrible for you ! I do not 
 
202 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 see liow you stood it as you did. You were rigLt 
 to leave them. You ought to have done it be- 
 fore.” 
 
 “But, madam, suppose they find me ! "What 
 shall I do?” cried Tatong again. 
 
 Sure enough, what should she do ? Under the 
 law, she was still the slave of Mr. dSTi. During 
 his absence everything relating to her was con- 
 trolled by Mr. Yin. He wanted so much money 
 for her, and he would certainly have it could he 
 lay his hands upon her. Was he not even then 
 searching for her ? Had she not seen him her- 
 self ? What a narrow escape she had had from 
 him ! A little more, and he would have seen and 
 caught her. Might he not ask questions and yet 
 trace her out ? It never occurred to Tatong that 
 so great was the desire of the Xis to get away 
 from Seoiil that they would at the appointed 
 time, or very near to it, leave without her rather 
 than run the risk of delaying their journey in 
 the hope of coming up with her. 
 
 “Oh! I must find Hakta!” declared Tatong, 
 parti}’ arising in her excitement, “and she will 
 take me to the kind stranger. She will surely 
 find him for me, she and Mokpo. Oh ! he is so 
 good, so good! He will buy me himself. I feel 
 that he will. I will entreat him. I will promise 
 to he the best slave master ever had.” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 203 
 
 “Let us not excite her further,” said the 
 younger woman in a low tone to the older one. 
 “The poor thing is almost beside herself now. 
 Take her out and give her something to do while 
 1 finish with the meal. It will be better for 
 her.” 
 
 The old woman arose. She looked at Tatong, 
 speaking blithely, 
 
 “Come, let us go feed the pigs. I have heard 
 them calling for their swill all the time we have 
 been talking. Your arms look strong enough to 
 carry it.” 
 
 “Oh! they are,” said Tatong, getting up 
 quickly. “Give it to me,” eagerly. 
 
 The old woman looked at the younger one. 
 Her expression said plainly, “Your medicine is 
 very good.” 
 
 While they were in the yard Tatong learned 
 several things from the old woman, for she was 
 very talkative. Her name Avas Won-sa, and that 
 of the younger A\ T oman, her daughter, Amnok. 
 The older of the tAvo men in the front apartment 
 was the husband of Won-sa, and the other her 
 son. They had lived in the country about tAvelve 
 years. Prior to that time their home had been 
 in the great city. There Amnok had met Avith 
 some great trouble ; Won-sa did not say what it 
 AA r as, but it Avas of such a nature Amnok could 
 
204 
 
 Tatong , the Little Slave. 
 
 not forget it. It had made her sad ever since. 
 The tears filled her eyes many times as she 
 thought of it. 
 
 Mr. San, Won-sa’s husband, had been well-to- 
 do when they had lived in the city and Won-sa 
 and Amnok had gone with the women of the 
 very best class outside the wives of the nobles 
 themselves. But a friend in whom he trusted 
 had proved dishonest, and so Mr. San had lost 
 nearly all he had. Only enough was saved to 
 start again in this little home in the country. 
 He and his son had worked hard, and while they 
 could not live as they once had, still they had not 
 known actual want. They even saved some 
 money each year. 
 
 The pigs were fed, two fine, fat fellows, who 
 squealed lustily when they caught a whiff of the 
 swill that was being brought, then Tatong and 
 Won-sa returned to the kitchen. The meal was 
 now ready, and the men had come in to partake 
 of it. Greatly to Tatong’ s surprise, Won-sa and 
 Amnok ate at their own little table at the same 
 time with Mr. San and his son, and what gave 
 Tatong still more astonishment, they talked with 
 each other during the time. Surely there was 
 something that had come to these people that 
 made them so different from any she had ever 
 seen. What it was Tatong was soon to know, 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 205 
 
 and Oh ! what joy filled her as the knowledge 
 came ! 
 
 When the work in the kitchen was finished 
 Won-sa and her daughter went forward to the 
 front apartment, where the men seemed to he 
 awaiting them. Tatong could hardly believe her 
 ears when she was told she might follow. What 
 could it mean ? The women going to the front 
 apartment, there to sit in company with the 
 men ! Had there ever been anything like it be- 
 fore ? Surely she was dreaming, and would 
 awaken soon to find it all a fancy, a delusion. 
 But no, there it was taking place before her eyes, 
 and she was certainly awake. 
 
 Tatong took her place in a corner, for, even 
 with the encouragement that was given her, she 
 could not sit ont in the circle of light with the 
 others. So she drew back within the corner, but 
 was listening intently. There was nothing that 
 would escape her. 
 
 They talked first about a market that was soon 
 to be held at one of the neighboring villages. 
 Some merchants from the interior were ex- 
 pected, and there would doubtless be good sale 
 for the hats Mr. San and his son had been for 
 some time making. It seemed they wanted a 
 part of the money for a particular purpose. 
 Whatever this purpose was, it was something 
 
20G 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 that lay close to their hearts. They talked about 
 it until their eyes shone and their lips trembled. 
 It had to do with some one who came now and 
 then to see them, hut who had not been in some 
 time. It was one they reverenced more than any 
 other they knew, for, Oh ! he had done so much 
 for them, had told them so many things to make 
 them better and happier. Since his coming, 
 even the earth had seemed different, the very 
 flowers put on a neAv appearance, while the birds 
 sang as they never had before. 
 
 lie was coming back again before a great 
 while, this one they reverenced, he who had told 
 them the beautiful things. He was coming back 
 to see if he could not have a place where he could 
 go regularly to talk to those who wanted to hear 
 more of what he had to tell. So he had asked 
 those who had listened to his teachings and who 
 believed what he had told them, and even those 
 who were interested, but who did not yet believe, 
 to get together all the money they could against 
 the time of his returning, so that the place might 
 he built. It was for this purpose Mr. San and 
 his son were to lay aside the money they earned. 
 Won-sa and Amnok, too, had a share to contri- 
 bute, something more than a mite, which they 
 had earned in various ways. 
 
 “I am so glad we have it to give,” said Won- 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 207 
 
 sa. “I wish it were more. But we will not stop 
 until we have the place where the Jesus Doc- 
 trine can be taught.” 
 
 “The Jesus Doctrine!” At sound of the 
 words Tatong sprang to her feet, so great was 
 her excitement. She uttered a cry that attracted 
 the others. Then, as they glanced toward her, 
 she exclaimed : 
 
 “The Jesus Doctrine! Oh! do you know 
 about the Jesus Doctrine?” 
 
 They were now as much astonished by her ex- 
 cited repeating of the words as she had been 
 w r hen Won-sa had spoken. What did they mean 
 to the little slave that she should show such emo- 
 tion at mention of them ? 
 
 It was Amnok who spoke to her, her voice low 
 and full of feeling. 
 
 “Yes, child, we have heard of the Jesus Doc- 
 trine, the beautiful, wonderful Jesus Doctrine. 
 What is there in our knowing that moves you 
 so ?” 
 
 “O madam, I did not know that I would find 
 any one out here who believed in that. It seems 
 too good to be true !” 
 
 “Then, child, you, too, have heard it ?” 
 
 Amnok leaned nearer. Her large gray eyes, 
 misty with the feeling that surged at her heart, 
 were fastened eagerly, expectantly upon Tatong. 
 
20S 
 
 Taiong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Yes, madam, but only a little, Oli ! so little, 
 nothing like I long to hear, as I hope to hear, 
 if only I can find the kind one for whom I am 
 looking. It is to search for him that I came to 
 get Yakta and Mokpo to help me.” 
 
 “Where did you learn of the Jesus Doctrine ?” 
 asked Mr. San, now looking at her intently. 
 
 “It was first told me by one I met on the 
 streets, or, that is, it was about God, the Father, 
 who sent Jesus to teach this doctrine. O sir,” 
 she broke off suddenly, and looking at Mr. San, 
 all her heart speaking through her eyes, “do you 
 know of God, the F atlier ?” 
 
 “I know of him who is called God,” said Mr. 
 San, speaking slowly and feelingly. “lie is the 
 Great One who lives in the sky, who will reward 
 us if we do well and punish us if Ave do evil. Is 
 not that the same that you, too, have heard of 
 him ?” 
 
 “It is the same, but be who taught me, the 
 kind, the gentle one, told me that God Avas the 
 Father — O sir, that be AA r as my Father.” 
 
 “That is doubtless so,” said Mr. San, “since 
 the one aaIio came teaching told us that be, this 
 Great One, God, had made all, not only the 
 world, but those AA’ho are in it. If he has made 
 us, then he must be the Father.” 
 
 “Oh ! it is such happiness to think of him as 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 201 ) 
 
 my Father! to think that I have a father! But 
 when I remember how great he is, and. how 
 grand is the home in which he lives, I fear that 
 it cannot he true, that a wretched little slave like 
 me could not have such a Father. O sir, I do 
 so Avant to feel that there is one who cares for me, 
 who is not willing that I should suffer so, who 
 may some day send for me to go where he is." 
 
 She had partly arisen. She was bending to- 
 ward them, her face now within the circle of 
 light. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were 
 burning, her hands were clasped and out- 
 stretched. Her whole posture betokened sor- 
 row, despair, entreaty. It touched the hearts 
 of those about her, even those of Mr. San and 
 his son, for, taught as they had been by the 
 sweet “Jesus Doctrine,” much that had been 
 hard and unyielding had become soft and gen- 
 tle. God, they had been told, would only be mer- 
 ciful to them as they were merciful to others. 
 So it had inclined their hearts to such feelings 
 as they had never known before. They could 
 feel pity for such despair, such sorrow as they 
 saw in the child before them. 
 
 “This God whom you call the Father can do 
 many great and wonderful things,” said Mr. 
 San, speaking slowly. “If the one who knew 
 positively of him told you, then it must be true. 
 
210 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 He who came here teaching us said that God 
 was great, hut he is also pitiful; that he is not 
 willing that any should perish. That must 
 mean, too, that he is not willing any should suf- 
 fer.” 
 
 “It is strange you should think thus of a 
 father. Child, as you must know, as you surely 
 have seen, fathers, as a general thing, that is, 
 the fathers whose hearts are not touched by the 
 sweet Jesus Doctrine, care nothing for their 
 little girls.” ? 
 
 It was Amnok who spoke. She had raised her 
 eyes again to Tatong’ s face, and Oh! how sad 
 was her own ! 
 
 “I know it, madam, I know it ! But I have 
 heard that somewhere there are fathers who 
 care for their little girls. It must he that it is 
 in that country from which they have brought 
 the Jesus Doctrine. I am sure now that it 
 is. Oh ! I have thought that somewhere there 
 might be a father like that for me.” 
 
 “And never a mother ? Oh ! child, have you 
 never thought that' you might have a mother too ?” 
 
 Amnok’s voice had sunk almost to a whisper, 
 but she was leaning so near to Tatong that every 
 word was heard by the little slave distinctly. 
 The child could see also her parted lips, across 
 which there was a deep line of crimson, while 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 211 
 
 her eyes had so intense a glow Tatong could al- 
 most feel it npon her face. 
 
 The words struck the little slave strangely. 
 A mother ? No ; she had never thought of that 
 before. The idea heretofore entertained by her 
 was of one who had power, the means of saving 
 her from her wretched lot. Women had nothing 
 of that kind. All the authority, the right of dic- 
 tating, of saying what must be done, and what 
 must not, came from the other side. So thus 
 every hope of rescue, of change from the miser- 
 able lot to a happier one, was based upon the 
 strength, the power of a father. But now Am- 
 nok’s words stirred a new, a strange chord in 
 her heart. The more she looked at Amnok the 
 more perceptibly did that chord vibrate. A 
 mother ! What would it mean to have a mother ? 
 Oh ! if it were one like Mrs. Ni and some of the 
 other harsh women with whom Tatong 7 s life had 
 been cast — Oh ! she felt that she would rather not. 
 But if it were some one like Amnok now — Ta- 
 tong’s heart almost stopped beating, tears came 
 and veiled her eyes so that Amnok’s face shone 
 only through a mist. The little slave could not 
 tell why the tears came. It seemed so odd they 
 should, for she felt no sorrow. It was anything 
 else. It was something that filled her heart so it 
 was almost ready to come out of her body. The 
 
212 
 
 Tritong, the Little Slave. 
 
 others about her must surely hear it beating, 
 heating to get out. 
 
 Tatong pressed nearer, nearer still. She 
 placed her fingers softly upon Anmok’s garment. 
 Oh ! if she could only put them upon Amnok her- 
 self ! She must. She could not keep from do- 
 ing it. The impulse was too great. She could 
 not control it. But just as the little yellow 
 hand had lifted itself to follow the promptings 
 of the heart, Amnok’s own fell upon it with a 
 pressure that sent the warm blood tingling 
 throughout Tatong’s body. Xever in all her life 
 had she felt like that. 
 
 “Where was it you told me you had heard the 
 Jesus Doctrine ?” 
 
 It was Mr. San’s voice that spoke, and he was 
 looking at Tatong. 
 
 She answered him at once, but her voice 
 trembled. X ot yet had she control over herself. 
 
 “I first heard of God, the Father, from one I 
 met on the street, and who was kind — Oh ! so 
 kind ! Then he told me of a place where I could 
 go to hear more. It was the Marble Pagoda. Do 
 you not know where it is ? It is the one that has 
 had a part taken off, the one where many people 
 say there are demons and spirits. But those who 
 went to hear the kind one and the white brother 
 never seemed afraid. There were so many beau- 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 213 
 
 tiful things that were told it kept them from 
 thinking about the evil ones. But they had to 
 be very secret, for those who hated the Jesus 
 Doctrine had threatened to do many wicked 
 things.” 
 
 “I had heard that there were places where 
 one could go to hear the Jesus Doctrine taught,” 
 said Ur. San, “but I did not know where they 
 were. Xow it rejoices me to hear of one. I must 
 go soon, for my soul is hungry for more of that 
 on which it has already fed.” 
 
 “But O sir, there is no longer teaching in the 
 Marble Pagoda,” said Tatong suddenly, her eyes 
 growing misty, her face sad. “There was some- 
 thing had, Oh ! so had, that happened. The kind 
 stranger was hurt. He was struck on the head 
 with stones for telling of the Jesus Doctrine to 
 some in the streets who had asked him. He has 
 not been able to come again to the Marble Pa- 
 goda, and now the teaching must stop, for with- 
 out him the white brother can not make things 
 clear to the people.” 
 
 “Too bad ! too had !” said Mr. San, and the ex- 
 pression of his face showed how keen was his 
 disappointment. 
 
 “We shall have to wait now until the teaching 
 one returns,” said Won-sa, and she, too, sighed. 
 
 “That will be a long time from what he said,” 
 
214 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 added Amnok. “Oh ! if we could only find an- 
 other place where we could go and hear more ! 
 more of the sweet Jesus Doctrine.” 
 
 “There is a place/’ said Tatong, her eyes 
 glowing, her voice ringing out. “Oh, yes, there 
 surely is ! It is where the kind stranger is now 
 sick, where the white brother lives. It is to find 
 that place I have now come to look for ISTakta; 
 for, Oh ! I am certain, she will know what to do 
 and how to go. If she does not she will find out, 
 for she is hig and strong, and can do many 
 things. Mokpo, too, will help her. lie can go 
 many, many miles, and never tire.” 
 
 “Then we must find Hakta,” said Won-sa, 
 “for we, too, must go to this place where the 
 J esus Doctrine is taught. Oh ! yes, we must ! 
 We cannot wait longer. It has been too long 
 now. The little we have heard makes our hearts 
 cry out to hear more.” 
 
 “There is no doctrine man has ever taught 
 that is like the Jesus Doctrine,” said Mr. San, 
 and now he was speaking to his son. “There is 
 nothing of terror in it; no teaching of evil 
 things. One has only to obey it to have things 
 clear for this world, and clearer still for the one 
 to which he is gone to await us. Heretofore 
 those who taught us anything held before us the 
 terrors of demons and of the soul haunted, even 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 215 
 
 to its tomb ; or we were told of the forms taken 
 by man at bis death according to his behavior in 
 this world, the form of sheep, horse, donkey, 
 cow, and even of the wild animal. What hope, 
 what happiness for the future lay in such an ex- 
 istence as that ? To go on forever in this way, 
 passing from animal to animal, with only the 
 animal instinct and nature.” 
 
 “Terrible ! terrible !” replied Mr. Chon. 
 “ITow could we ever have believed in such a 
 thing ?” 
 
 “Because we knew no better, but we do now. 
 Be'cause darkness covered our hearts, but now 
 the light has shone in, thanks to the one who 
 came teaching. We know now that the soul 
 came from God, and to him it must go back 
 again ; must go back either to dwell with him, 
 or to be sent to eternal punishment.” 
 
 “And it is God who helps us escape this pun- 
 ishment, if only Ave believe in him and obey 
 him,” said Mr. Chon. 
 
 “Yes, that is it. If only we knew all that Ave 
 have to do and how we must do it. There is 
 much yet that is dark ; so little, after all, that Ave 
 have heard.” 
 
 “It is the grace of him who is called Jesus, the 
 Saviour, that helps us on the heavenly road,” 
 said Amnok, her voice tremulous Avith emotion. 
 
216 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Again and again the one who came to teach 
 told ns that. But not yet have we learned to 
 speak to him as we ought. It is so hard to under- 
 stand just where he is and how it is he hears 
 when we do not see him. We must go and leaim 
 more.” 
 
 “That we must,” said Won-sa, “the very first 
 opportunity we have. As soon as the child finds 
 Xakta and she learns the way, then we, too, must 
 ask her and go.” 
 
 A half hour later Amnok and Tatong were 
 standing at the door that looked out into the 
 yard at the side. The moonlight was clear and 
 beautiful. Where it sifted down through the 
 leaves of the trees it made a carpet-like patch- 
 work of shimmering light and shadow. Every 
 object in the yard was distinct. The whole earth 
 was covered with the loveliness, the glorious, sil- 
 very light. 
 
 “How beautiful it is rip there !” said Tatong, 
 pointing to the moon as it rode like a great globe 
 of light through the deep, dark vault of the sky, 
 seeming to chase before it the silvery stretches 
 of cloud. 
 
 “But it is more beautiful beyond,” said Am- 
 nok softly. “Oh ! child, there is no describing 
 how lovely is that place called heaven. lie who 
 came to teach tried to tell us, but even he could 
 not find the words.” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 217 
 
 ‘‘The place where God, the Father, lives?” 
 asked Tatong quickly. 
 
 “The same. It is the home, too, of Jesus, the 
 gentle, the pitying One, who came to die for us.” 
 “Oh !” cried Tatong, “Oh !” and clasping her 
 hands against her breast, “I have heard of that ! 
 They killed him, but he came from the grave. 
 He had the power to do that and many things 
 besides. He has gone again to live with the 
 Father, and he it is who talks to the Father for 
 us. Oh ! madam,” breaking off suddenly, “do 
 you not know, will yon not tell me, how we are 
 to let him know when we want him to speak to 
 God, the Father, for us ?” 
 
 Amnok’s eyes met Tatong’s. Those of the 
 little slave were burning with excitement, her 
 lips were parted, her fingers locking and inter- 
 locking so deeply was she excited . 
 
 “How readily would I do that, if only I 
 could,” said Amnok sadly ; “but, alas, I know 
 not as yet myself. But I have heard him who 
 came to teach say that we are to talk to him, the 
 One who is the Saviour, just as we would to one 
 who is near us ; that he will hear, though we can- 
 not see him. But it seems so strange to be doing 
 this way, and when no word, no sound, comes 
 back again it makes the heart despair. He does 
 .not answer me,” continued Amnok more sadly 
 
218 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 than ever, “because I have not yet learned how 
 to talk to him. I feel s\ire it is this. Oh ! if only 
 I did know how ! Bnt I will go and find out. 
 Yes, as soon as you have found the one called 
 Xakta. I will beg her to show me the way. Oh! 
 I must know !” 
 
 “Then you will tell me, will you not ?” asked 
 Tatong wistfully. 
 
 “You may find out before I do,” said Amnok, 
 “but if you do not, then I will tell you ; yes, that 
 I will. Oh! it is so beautiful, this Jesus Doc- 
 trine,” she continued, “and all about it is so won- 
 derful to know. But the most wonderful of all 
 is that he cares for women ; that he has said that 
 they, too, may learn the doctrine and receive the 
 reward for well-doing just the same as men. 
 Ought not every woman to love that doctrine ? 
 Ought not every woman to do all in her power to 
 learn it ? I will ! I will ! There is nothing 
 that shall keep me from going to learn more as 
 soon as I find the way.” 
 
 Then she seemed to come back to her surround- 
 ings. She laid her hand gently upon Tatong. 
 The little slave felt its touch under her clothing. 
 The flesh grew warm there, her heart began to 
 beat faster, then faster. 
 
 “It is chill here,” said Amnok, “let us go in.” 
 
 She turned aside into the kitchen for a mo- 
 
Tatoncj, the Little Slave. 
 
 219 
 
 ment or so, but she told Tatong to go straight on 
 into the apartment where she and Won-sa slept. 
 The old woman was already there. She was pre- 
 paring to lay herself down upon her straw mat. 
 She looked up as Tatong entered. The light was 
 not very bright in the room, hut it was suffi- 
 ciently so to show objects with much degree of 
 distinctness. The old woman glanced straight at 
 Tatong. 
 
 “I see you have come at last to bed, Amnok. 
 What have you done with the girl ?” 
 
 “It is not Amnok,” said Tatong. “It is I, the 
 slave.” 
 
 As she spoke she came nearer. Her face was 
 now in the circle of light. 
 
 The old woman uttered an exclamation, then 
 she murmured, 
 
 “The face troubles me ! Yes, it troubles me ! 
 What can it mean ?” 
 
 Even after she had placed her head upon the 
 straw pillow and was almost asleep she kept mut- 
 tering, 
 
 “It is like — well, what is it like ? I must 
 know. I must remember. I will. I will ask 
 questions.” 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Lsr the Shelter of the Beautiful Place. 
 
 ARLY tlie next morning, as Tatong had 
 
 gone into the yard to carry some scraps 
 for Kijun, Won-sa and Amnok, who were en- 
 gaged in domestic duty near at hand, heard a 
 sudden, glad cry from her. The next moment 
 she ran in, her manner excited, her eyes shining, 
 while she gasped forth the words, 
 
 “Xakta ! Yes, Xakta and Mokpo ! Come and 
 
 The old woman and her daughter went quickly 
 without, then turned toward the direction indi- 
 cated by Tatong. Yes, there was a great ox 
 coming slowly down the hill, a wonderful pavil- 
 ion on his back, and in the pavilion a woman, 
 whose head was hound by a gay handkerchief of 
 red and yellow. 
 
 “Xakta !” said Tatong again. “It is Xakta !” 
 
 Then she went toward the palings, passed out 
 through the opening, and stood in the road. 
 
 The big ox came on slowly. Xeither he nor 
 his mistress seemed to he in a hurry. Xakta’ s 
 face, which had been held upward a few mo- 
 
 see. 
 
 220 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 221 
 
 ments ago, was now bent down toward some- 
 thing with which she was occupied. Thus she 
 did not see Tatong until she was almost opposite 
 the opening. When she did so, an exclamation 
 escaped her. She spoke to the ox, and he stopped 
 almost instantly. 
 
 “The little slave!” exclaimed Hakta. “IIow 
 did you come here, young one ?” 
 
 “I came to hunt you,” said Tatong at once, and 
 drawing near to Mokpo’s glossy side, “but Oh ! 
 it was such a long way I thought I never would 
 find you ! I got lost and wandered about. Even 
 Kijun could not help me ; so in the dark we came 
 here. Oh ! they have been so good !” indicating 
 Won-sa and Amnok, who had now drawn near. 
 
 Eakta looked at them and spoke. 
 
 “They let me stay,” continued Tatong, “or I 
 should have had to go on, on in the darkness, and 
 there might have been wild beasts to tear me.” 
 
 “Biit I told you the way,” said Hakta. “Do 
 you not remember ? It was very clear, I 
 thought.” 
 
 “I could not get it all. There was so much. 
 It was the chestnut trees on the hill that 
 troubled me. I could not find them.” 
 
 “They are only a little further on,” said 
 Hakta, “but down toward the other side of the 
 hill. That is why you could not find them. You 
 
222 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 took tlie wrong turning. Had you gone the 
 other way, you would have found Hakta and 
 Mokpo. It is but an hour’s journey from here. 
 Hakta but seldom comes this road,” she added. 
 “The other is the nearer and the better. But 
 to-day there was a woman on the way I wanted 
 to see.” She stopped, then, changing her tone, 
 asked, “Idas it been even worse with you, poor 
 thing, that you have felt obliged to come as 
 ISTakta advised ?” 
 
 “Yes,” replied Tatong, her voice quivering, 
 “they were going to sell me, and to one who was 
 even more cruel than they. I could not bear it, 
 so in the night I slipped away. They came near 
 finding me again, for the next morning, as I 
 was coming from the Marble Pagoda, where I 
 had stayed that night, I saw the two sons of Mr. 
 Xi. They were on the street and looking for 
 me. How frightened I was ! I crept between 
 the huts and stayed there until they had 
 gone.” 
 
 “And you have really come to hunt for Xakta, 
 for Xakta and Mokpo ?” asked the woman again, 
 her eyes fixed with a pleased expression on Ta- 
 tong. “You have come because you felt you 
 could trust them ?” 
 
 “Oh ! yes,” said Tatong, “I can ! I know I can !” 
 
 “You never shall have cause to regret that!” 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 223 
 
 declared ISTakta, her eyes shining. Then she bent 
 toward Tatong. 
 
 “Bnt I am going away from home to-day. 
 What shall we do about that ? Can you not stay 
 here till ISTakta and Mokpo come back? She is 
 yonder,” nodding her head in the direction of 
 the hill along which she had come. “She might 
 not do right unless ISTakta were there.” 
 
 Tatong knew very well whom ISTakta meant. 
 It was the old woman with whom she had al- 
 ready had the encounters that had filled her 
 with such terror. Ho; she could not go on to 
 Hakta’s home and be with old Kimri. She felt 
 ready to cry, but ISTakta continued. 
 
 “I am going to the city, but I shall be hack in 
 two days more.” 
 
 “Oh!” cried Tatong, “oh!” and swayed her 
 body back and forth in her excitement, “that is 
 the very thing that I want ! It was to hunt the 
 kind one that I had come to seek you ; to beg 
 you to help me. Don’t you remember I told you 
 about him, how good he was, of the many beauti- 
 ful things he said? It was he who told me of 
 God, the Bather. I want to find him. I want 
 to hear more that he has to say. I tried my- 
 self, but could not. I wandered about in the 
 darkness. I asked many, but no one knew. And 
 he has been hurt, too ! That is why I long the 
 
224 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 more to find him, that I may tell him how sorry 
 I am. How conld they have hurt him when he is 
 so good and kind. Oh !” reaching her arms up to 
 Hakta, “if you will only take me to the place 
 where the kind one is, to the place where there is 
 always talk of God, the Father, and the Tender 
 One, his Son, who came to die !” 
 
 Tatong, in her excitement, spoke rapidly, hut 
 even if she had caught all the words Xakta 
 would not have fully understood. It was true 
 that she had more than once recalled the con- 
 versation with Tatong on that evening when 
 they walked toward the dwelling of Mr. Xi, 
 Mokpo hearing the burden of clothes. It was all 
 so strange what the little slave had told, what 
 she had then heard for the first time, of the 
 Wonderful One, who was called God, the 
 Father. He was not only kind, hut he was 
 mighty, for he had made both heaven and earth. 
 One thing Xakta remembered more distinctly 
 than aught else, and that was that God, the 
 Father, cared for women as well as men. She 
 had thought again and again of what a joyful 
 thing that Avas. If only it could he true. But 
 now she looked in perplexity from Tatong to 
 Won-sa and Amnok, and from them hack to Ta- 
 tong again. 
 
 The gentle Amnok drew near. She raised her 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 225 
 
 sweet face to that of Mokpo’s mistress, and be- 
 gan to speak in the most musical voice Hakta 
 had ever heard. 
 
 “The poor child is much excited. Her heart 
 is so full of what she would say it runs like a 
 stream from her lips. There is one in the city 
 she would find if she could. He has been so good 
 to her. She calls him the kind stranger. He has 
 not only been good, but he has told her of so 
 much that is beautiful; for one thing, of God, 
 the F ather, of whom we also have heard,” added 
 Amnok with reverent voice, “and of Jesus, his 
 Son, whose sweet doctrine is one all peace and 
 love.” 
 
 “You, too, know of God, the Father!” ex- 
 claimed Nakta, her eyes glowing. “Can it then 
 be really true ? I have thought perhaps,” nod- 
 ding toward Tatong, “that she was only dream- 
 ing. It seemed too wonderful to believe that one 
 so good and great could care for so low a thing as 
 woman.” 
 
 “lie does care,” replied Amnok, her eyes 
 growing misty. “That is the most beautiful 
 part, that he should care. He has said that he is 
 not willing that any should perish, not even 
 women.” 
 
 “He cares as much for me with my old and 
 wrinkled face,” declared Won-sa with deep feel- 
 
226 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 ing as she, too, drew near, “as he does for you 
 two with your younger and fresher ones, or even 
 for that sweet child there. When we first heard 
 it, like you, we thought it too good to he true ; 
 hut now we know that it is. We can no longer 
 doubt it, for one has come teaching us who has 
 shown us that it is true ; and he has read to us 
 many messages from a hook that is written in 
 the very words of this Great One, who is the 
 One God of heaven and of earth.” 
 
 “Oh ! will you not take me to find this good 
 one, the kind stranger?” entreated Tatong again 
 of ISTakta. “You are big and strong, and you 
 know so much. Mokpo, too, is smart, and he is 
 so ready to go where you say. lie and you to- 
 gether could find the place. I am sure that you 
 could.” 
 
 “She means the place in the city where the 
 -Tesus Doctrine is taught,” said Amnok again. 
 “We did not know that there was one, hut she 
 says that there is. Oh ! how happy we have been 
 to hear it, for, since he who came teaching went 
 away, our hearts have been starved for more of 
 the sweet and precious things on which they have 
 fed. If we, too, could but find this place and 
 hear again the beautiful things that fill us with 
 such joy !” 
 
 “Oh ! if we only could !” said Won-sa. “There 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 227 
 
 would be nothing too hard after such happi- 
 ness.” 
 
 Nakta glanced quickly at Amnok, then at 
 Won-sa. A look of sudden resolution came over 
 her face, there was more light in her eyes than 
 had yet been. 
 
 “If you care so much as that, you shall go,” 
 she declared. “Yes, both of you. See ! there is 
 room here for four, and Mokpo is not only the 
 strongest, hut the most patient of beasts. He will 
 carry all safely, never fear. We will search un- 
 til we have found this place, this wonderful 
 place, to call even the name of which seems to 
 make each one of you so happy. We will never 
 stop asking until we have found the way. Yes,” 
 she concluded, looking from one to the other, 
 “not only the little slave shall go, hut you and 
 you.” 
 
 “Do you really mean it ?” asked Won-sa, her 
 withered old face beaming with joy. 
 
 “I do.” 
 
 “And now ?” 
 
 “Yes, now.” 
 
 “Well, come in then. There is some prepara- 
 tion that must he made, and I must leave word 
 for my husband and son. They are gone for 
 straw. IIow glad they, too, will be, for when we 
 have found the way we can show it to them.” 
 
228 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 On the road to the city Xakta told them that 
 when she had left home that morning she had 
 been bound partly on a secret mission, hence 
 she had really slipped away without letting any- 
 one know. However, the errand could now 
 wait. 
 
 Tatong understood her if the others did not. 
 It was old Kimri she wished to elude. Later 
 Xakta told her that if they stayed the day over 
 in the city as they expected, that her mother 
 would very likely come seeking her. She had 
 her own mode of conveyance, and knew how to 
 take care of herself. 
 
 “Oh ! will she not do something dreadful ?” 
 asked Tatong. Even at this distance from old 
 Kimri she felt the fear of her return. 
 
 “She will only let her eyes blaze,” replied 
 Xakta, “and litter cries and make threats. But 
 that cannot be helped, and this must he done.” 
 
 It lacked only a short time of the closing of 
 the gates when they reached the wall of the 
 city. Though Mokpo was stout and willing, the 
 load had been heavy, and his mistress had stop- 
 ped him several times to rest him. 
 
 On entering the city they spent an hour or 
 more going from one narrow street to another, 
 and asking such questions as they thought safe. 
 At length, discouraged because they had met 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 229 
 
 with no better success, they decided to spend the 
 night with a friend of Hakta, and early on the 
 following morning renew the search. Surely 
 some one could then be found who could direct 
 them to that precious place which every heart, 
 even Hakta’s, was now longing to find. 
 
 They had not more than started out on the 
 following morning, when a quick exclamation 
 from Tatong attracted the others. 
 
 “It is he ! it is he !” she cried. “Look ! 
 Look !” 
 
 They followed the direction indicated. A 
 youth was coming along the street at quick pace, 
 his head well up, his hat pushed back. Lie was 
 now very near them and they could see his face 
 plainly. It was a fine face, bright and prepos- 
 sessing. He carried himself, too, with ease and 
 grace, while his dress, somewhat different from 
 that of other youths about him, was spotlessly 
 clean and well made. 
 
 “It is he !” said Tatong again, “the son of the 
 kind one. Oh! call to him,” she entreated of 
 Hakta. “My tongue is so weak because of what 
 I see, he will not hear me.” 
 
 ISTakta hesitated. 
 
 “But will not he ? — ” she began. 
 
 “Oh ! he is not like the others,” Tatong assured 
 her. “He will not mind. Call to him. Do not 
 
230 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 let liim go ! He knows the way to the beautiful 
 place. He will show us. Oh ! to think that after 
 all we are to find it ! the place where the kind 
 one is, where all the beautiful things are told !” 
 
 Kitze was by this time very nearly opposite 
 to them. As the street was narrow, he could al- 
 most have reached out and touched Mokpo’s 
 great, glossy side. But he was going on without 
 noticing, when Hakta’s call arrested him. He 
 turned quickly, and was much surprised when 
 he saw her beckoning to him. He approached, 
 and, standing almost beside Mokpo, looked up 
 at them, his face full of enquiry as well as sur- 
 prise. Ere Hakta could speak he had recog- 
 nized Tatong, and was giving her a smile of 
 greeting. Her tongue was unlocked now. The 
 sight of his face, so kind, so gentle, brought back 
 the past to her in such vivid manner that it gave 
 her the words with which to speak as well as the 
 voice. 
 
 “The place where the kind one is and the 
 white brother, which is your home, too ! Will 
 you not tell us where it is ? Oh ! we so long to 
 go to it, that we my hear all the beautiful things 
 that are told there. I tried to find it once my- 
 self. I wandered about in the night, hut no one 
 could tell me. Then Hakta and Mokpo and the 
 others came to help me. But they, too, have 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 231 
 
 looked in vain until now you are here, and I 
 know will lead us to it. Oh ! how happy we 
 shall be when we have found it !” 
 
 “If it is to the mission house you want to go, 
 of course I will show you the way,” said Kitze. 
 “It isn’t very far from here, only across five or 
 six streets. Just keep me in sight,” he added 
 to Xakta, “for I am going there now.” 
 
 He started off briskly, while Mokpo, with long, 
 stately strides kept well abreast of him. 
 
 As Xakta turned to address a remark to Am- 
 nok she noticed that her face was very pale. 
 She was trembling, too, and her eyes were burn- 
 ing with an unusual brightness. At this moment 
 they were fixed closely upon the form of Kitze 
 as he moved along the street. Xakta had to 
 speak to her twice ere she got her attention. 
 “Are you sick?” Kakta asked kindly. 
 
 “Xo,” said Amnok, “I am not sick. Why do 
 you ask ?” Then ere she had given Xakta time 
 to reply, she added, “The bov ! Did you notice 
 his face ? How nobly it speaks ! Whose son did 
 you say he was ? Does he really live at the place 
 where the Jesus Doctrine is taught?” 
 
 Although Amnok had spoken to Xakta, she 
 was nevertheless looking at Tatong. 
 
 “He is the son of the kind stranger,” replied 
 Tatong, “of him who has so many beautiful 
 
232 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 tilings to tell. There is another name by which 
 they call him, but I do not know it now.” 
 
 Again and again Amnok’s eyes followed the 
 yonth walking with such erect form and grace- 
 fully poised head along the streets. Once she 
 turned and said in a low voice to AVon-sa : 
 
 “The face troubles me. The lad is a stranger, 
 and never before has it filled my eyes, yet it 
 seems to have been in my heart. It is there now. 
 I shut my eyes, hut I still see it. AVliat does it 
 mean ?” 
 
 “Somewhere you have doubtless seen him,” 
 said AVon-sa, “hut have forgotten it. Maybe it 
 was about the market places.” 
 
 “Ho,” said Amnok, “it was not. You know 
 I have not been to the markets in several years, 
 not even to the city since — .” 
 
 She could not finish. The words seemed stick- 
 ing in her throat. Her heart began to beat vio- 
 lently. She dropped her head, her eyes being 
 suffused with tears. 
 
 “Don’t think of it now, poor Amnok !” said 
 AVon-sa, her own voice husky ; “think rather of 
 the beautiful place to which we are going, of 
 the precious things we are to hear. The boy has 
 said it is not far. AVe shall soon be there.” 
 
 They came shortly to the mission house. 
 There was not only one building, but three 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 233 
 
 within one enclosure. Everything was neat and 
 clean, the little plot of ground in front beauti- 
 fully kept. All presented such contrast to the 
 filth and squalor they had but recently left be- 
 hind them. 
 
 The houses had roofs of tiling. The mud 
 walls had been covered with a cement that had 
 been smoothly pressed and whitened. . Door and 
 windows were of neat bamboo frame work. 
 There was even a tiny pane or two of glass fitted 
 into the latter. 
 
 Kitze led them into a front apartment. It 
 seemed to be the regular reception room of the 
 mission, for quite a crowd was already gathered 
 there. The apartment was long and well lighted, 
 for the windows were thrown wide open, and 
 through them the sunlight came in ; that is, as 
 much of it as could find its way down between 
 the roofs of the houses. The ceiling was higher 
 than that of the average Korean dwelling, while 
 neat, fresh paper covered the inner walls. Hung 
 all about were beautiful scrolls with illuminated 
 lettering, pressed flowers and ferns in rustic 
 framings, groups of photographs, and one or two 
 large pictures of Bible subjects. There were 
 also some jars in which freshly-cut flowers had 
 been placed. 
 
 Tatong thought she had never seen anything 
 
234 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 more beautiful. She held her breath. Could it 
 he that she was really awake ? Oh ! maybe she 
 had fallen asleep, and this was only a dream of 
 that sweet place which she had many times be- 
 fore seen only in that way ! But no, it was all 
 real, for there were Hakta, Amnok and Won-sa 
 sitting beside her, and all around were the stir 
 and the murmur of voices from the waiting 
 crowd. 
 
 Neither the kind stranger nor the white 
 brother had come in yet. It was for them the 
 crowd waited. Every morning of the week days 
 at this hour the eager, expectant ones gathered, 
 some come to enquire for the first time concern- 
 ing the “Jesus Doctrine,” and others, having re- 
 ceived part knowledge, longing for more. There 
 were those, too, who, “filled with the story,” were 
 beginning to tell it to others. 
 
 All around was heard the murmur of voices 
 of men, women and children, and all were talk- 
 ing of the same subject, of the precious “Jesus 
 Doctrine,” so sweet and wonderful in every- 
 thing that it taught. 
 
 The ease and freedom with which the men 
 and women held conversation with each other 
 struck Kakta with astonishment. She had never 
 seen anything like it before. And the men 
 seemed to treat the women not only with pa- 
 
Tatong , the Little Slave. 235 
 
 tience, but with consideration, some times even 
 stopping what they were saying themselves to 
 listen to them. 
 
 Directly Mr. Ross came in. His appearance 
 was greeted with a little outburst of delight. 
 Many arose to receive him. He passed a greet- 
 ing to all, said many kind and pleasant things 
 to individuals, then calling to him a young man, 
 who had recently graduated at the Government 
 School, and who had acted as his assistant since 
 Mr. Ko had been ill, began the usual plan of 
 teaching and of religious service. First he 
 asked questions, then commented upon the an- 
 swers. After this was done he opened his Testa- 
 ment and read, the young man conveying to 
 them the meaning. Once, twice, three times 
 he stopped and closed the hook, but each time 
 they besought him to go on. 
 
 “Don’t stop ! Read more ! read more !” one 
 voice after another begged. 
 
 lie closed the book, then uttered words, words 
 of earnest entreaty to him whose ear was in- 
 clined to hear, to God, the Father, while all 
 about him the earnest, reverent faces were 
 grouped. There was scarce one who did not un- 
 derstand what he was doing, even Hakta had a 
 conception of it, for, as he had begun, Tatong 
 had leaned over to press her hand, while she 
 whispered excitedly : 
 
236 
 
 T 'atong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “Oh ! he is talking to God, the Father.” 
 
 The devotions ended, a sweet, clear voice be- 
 gan a hymn with organ accompaniment. So 
 busily had Tatong and her friends been watch- 
 ing and listening to Mr. Ross, hanging upon his 
 every word, that they had not noticed when his 
 wife came in and took her place at the instru- 
 ment. Xow, as she began to sing, they started, 
 almost with fright, and turned quickly to see 
 whence the sounds came. ISTever had they heard 
 anything like this ! and the player herself, so 
 frail and white, called forth their astonishment, 
 then admiration. And how had she gotten those 
 sweet spirits into the box ? and what were the 
 sounds they were making ? What were they try- 
 ing to say ? Tatong knew about the singing, for 
 she had heard it before, so she tried to explain 
 to Xakta. Amnok and Won-sa, too, understood 
 the singing, for it was not new to them either. 
 The missionary who had gone out among the 
 hills teaching and borne to them the gospel story 
 had siing for them. 
 
 Clear and tender the notes rang out from the 
 singer at the organ : 
 
 “ I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 ‘Come unto me and rest; 
 
 Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 
 Thy head upon my breast.’ ” 
 
237 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 After the singing there was nearly an hour 
 spent in hearing testimonies and the reports of 
 those who had gone seeking souls. 
 
 One man arose, his face working with the 
 emotion that swayed him, his eyes moist. He 
 wanted to testify as to the precious power of the 
 “Jesus Doctrine.” In his village the cholera 
 had raged. All around them the victims had 
 fallen. The little band of Christians had got- 
 ten together and prayed, and the ravages of the 
 dread disease had grown less and less, then 
 ceased. He had come to praise and to give 
 thanks. 
 
 A blind woman spoke with trembling yet fer- 
 vent voice. For many years her eyes had been 
 sealed. All that she had had to look forward to 
 ere the entrance of the “Jesus Doctrine” into 
 her heart was the wandering after death in 
 awful darkness with the demons and other ter- 
 rible spirits she could not see howling all about 
 her and seeking ever to torment her. But now 
 she knew that in the home of him w T ho had sent 
 the doctrine, the light would come again. She 
 would see ! Yes, praise to the blessed Jesus One, 
 she would see ! 
 
 A small party of young men had come to re- 
 ceive further instruction, then to scatter, each to 
 his own village, to tell many eager, waiting ones 
 
238 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 what they had heard. Oh ! how many there 
 were anxious to hear, waiting for the entrance 
 of the precious words that gave light ! Every- 
 where they went carrying the joyous tidings there 
 were those who begged for more, always more. 
 
 One gave testimony who had suffered cruelly 
 for the doctrine’s sake. He had been perse- 
 cuted, driven from place to place, spit upon, 
 beaten, and once left for dead. But his wounds 
 had healed now, and he was ready, nay, anxious 
 to go back again. “I want to tell even my ene- 
 mies,” he said, “of the peace that is in the 'doc- 
 trine.’ I want them to share with me.” 
 
 For one and all the missionary had words of 
 helpfulness or of commendation. He told them 
 of his gladness of heart that so many had stood 
 steadfast in the faith. He encouraged them to 
 still more zealous effort, and finally dismissed 
 them by invoking on them the blessing of the 
 God they had gathered to serve. 
 
 Hakta, Amnok, Won-sa and Tatong had lis- 
 tened from beginning to end with varied emo- 
 tions struggling in the heart of each. To Hakta 
 it was all so new, strange, indescribable, yet it 
 left a peace, a gladness, an enkindling of hope in 
 her heart it had never known before. Oh ! she 
 must learn more ! She must come again to this 
 beautiful place, where there were only kind 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 239 
 
 ways and gentle faces, and such words spoken as 
 it made the very blood tingle to hear. 
 
 To Amnok and Won-sa it all sounded as the 
 same sweet old story, yet a story of which they 
 could never tire. How it rejoiced them to hear 
 it again ! But the recitals of those who had suf- 
 fered for the gospel’s sake reached a depth in 
 their hearts never stirred before. How strong as 
 well as tender this “Jesus Doctrine” could make 
 one who believed in it ! 
 
 They lingered after the others had gone away. 
 It was for Tatong’s sake they remained now. 
 They knew the errand on which the little slave 
 had come. How full her heart was of it ! How 
 she longed to see the one whom she believed of 
 all others woidd rescue her. Tatong had at last 
 talked freely to Amnok and Won-sa. She had 
 told them all. Both had expressed the deepest 
 pity for her ; but with Amnolc’s pity there had 
 been mingled something else, a tenderness, a 
 yearning she could not describe. If they had 
 not been so poor, how gladly would she have 
 paid the money for the little slave and kept her 
 for all her own. It hurt her that she could not, 
 that another must do it. She tried to persuade 
 Tatong to go back and live with them as long as 
 she cared to, months, years, if she woidd. They 
 were poor, hut there was enough for her, and in 
 
24:0 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 return she could do them many helpful ser- 
 vices. But as much as Tatong felt herself drawn 
 to Amnok, as deep as was the feeling that made 
 her heart throb at sound of her voice or touch 
 of her hand, there was ever the fear that if she 
 went back Mr. Xi or his sons would sometime 
 come to claim her, and if there was no money to 
 pay for her, would they not still do the cruel 
 thing they had planned { Xo; she must see the 
 kind one ; she must ask him to have pity on her, 
 to help her, for Oh ! he surely would ! Had he 
 not said such words to her as made her feel he 
 would do it ? Was it not for this she had had 
 the courage to come hack to the city, though fear- 
 ing at any moment the Xi's might discover 
 her ? 
 
 Ivitze had told Air. Boss that Tatong had come 
 specially to see his father ; so, when the services 
 were over, the missionary went at once to the 
 little group composed of Amnok, AVon-sa, Xakta 
 and Tatong. He not only showed them how 
 glad he was that they had come, hut he brought 
 his wife, too, to greet them. 
 
 He told Tatong that the kind one was now 
 getting well of his wounds. He had been sit- 
 ting up for some days, hut he was not strong 
 enough as yet to again take part in the teach- 
 ing, so this was why he had not been in the 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. '2,4:1 
 
 room. She might go now to see him if she 
 wished. Her friends would wait for her. 
 
 Mr. Ivo was sitting by one of the windows. 
 There was a book on his knee. As Tatong came 
 near she saw that it was one like that from which 
 the white brother had read. His face still 
 showed traces of the suffering through which he 
 had been, and there was a small bandage across 
 one of the wounds that had not healed. 
 
 He looked up as Tatong approached and 
 smiled. He even called her by her name. The 
 blood rushed in a great wave of joy through her 
 veins. He had not forgotten her ! 
 
 “How are you, little one ?” he asked, as she 
 raised her eyes, timid, yet shining to his. 
 
 “O sir, I am very well, but I am in much 
 trouble, and I have come to you. Oh ! pity me 
 if it is wrong.” 
 
 “It is not wrong, my child, when one is in 
 trouble to go to another who can help. What is 
 the trouble ? Do not fear to tell me.” 
 
 “Those with whom I lived, who have been so 
 hard to me, are going away, and, as they do not 
 care to take me, they have made the plan to sell 
 me, and O sir, it is to one who is even more 
 cruel, one old and dreadful.” 
 
 She began to sob now. The woes through 
 which she had gone, the peril that threatened, 
 all had come back so vividly. 
 
242 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 He reached out his hand and laid it soothingly 
 upon her shoulder. 
 
 ‘‘Don’t cry, poor little one ! We will do all 
 we can. I and the white brother. You will stay 
 here, and when they come — well, they shall not 
 take you. Let that promise stop your tears. 
 You may go now and tell your friends ; but, 
 wait, I will go with you.” 
 
 At last, at last she was to be free ! and made 
 so by the kind one ! Oh ! the joy of it ! Would 
 not her heart quite beat itself away if it kept on 
 as it was going? But in the midst of it there 
 came the thought of Amnok, of Amnok, the 
 sweet, the gentle, the kind. She was not to go 
 back with Amnok. Perhaps she would never see 
 her again. Tatong put her hand to her throat. 
 There was such a strange feeling there. 
 
 Mr. Ross, as soon as he had gnided Tatong to 
 Mr. Ko, had returned to the front apartment, 
 and was now earnestly engaged, with the young 
 man’s help, in conversation with Amnok, Won-sa 
 and ISTakta. 
 
 Mr. Ivo approached slowly, beside him Ta- 
 tong, happy beyond words to describe when she 
 remembered what he had promised her, but sad, 
 too, as she thought of Amnok. How was she to 
 part from Amnok ? 
 
 They reached the door leading into the front 
 apartment. Mr. Ko passed in first. 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 243 
 
 ‘‘The poor child is in sore straits,” he began, 
 speaking to Mr. Ross, “and I have promised 
 her—.” 
 
 But here he stopped, the words died upon his 
 lips, a pallor overspread his face ; he threw his 
 hand out quickly to lean against the door fram- 
 ing for support. 
 
 At the first sight of him Amnok had arisen, 
 a cry broke from her, but now she stood motion- 
 less as though transfixed. The only sound was 
 from her breathing, which came quick and hard. 
 
 “It is she !” cried Mr. Ko. “Oh, Amnok !” 
 
 Then he stretched out his hands to her, but she 
 still stood without movement. It was doubtless 
 that she had not the power to move. 
 
 “I do not wonder that you come not. Oh ! 
 Amnok, I was hard, cruel, but all is changed 
 now.” He dropped his head for a moment upon 
 his breast, then he raised it, and fastened his 
 eyes upon Mr. Ross, while he said, 
 
 “Standing there is the wife, the lost one of 
 whom I have told you. Oh ! plead with her for 
 me !” 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 A stonished, touched, Mr. Ross drew 
 
 near. He had heard the sad story of Mr. 
 Ko’s ]ife, and from Mr. Ivo himself, how he had 
 been parted from the wife he deeply loved, a 
 young woman of rare gifts of manner and of 
 character, parted through misrepresentations, 
 the plotting of another. This was an old woman, 
 a friend of Amnok’s mother. She came often 
 to the house. She showed him proofs of what 
 she stated, or, at least, so he thought them then 
 in his pride and anger. She got others, too, to 
 tell him things about Amnok. She loved him, 
 her husband, no more. She had declared it again 
 and again, and she had often said she wished 
 that she could be free. Afterwards, when he 
 learned how she had been wronged, that she was 
 innocent, his grief was hitter, and he resolved to 
 atone to the fullest. But it was too late. Amnok 
 had gone away with her father and mother, and, 
 though he had searched for her faithfully ever 
 since, he had never found her until to-day. 
 Greater had grown the desire to find her, deeper 
 and deeper his repentance for the past, after the 
 teachings of the “Jesus Doctrine” had entered 
 244 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 245 
 
 his heart. How more than ever he realized how 
 cruel he had been. He had taken their child 
 away, their oldest born, a bright boy of two and 
 a half years, who had more than ever wrapped 
 himself about the mother’s heart since the 
 strange disappearance of the other child, a little 
 girl of five or six months, who had never been 
 found. 
 
 Yes, at last he had found Amnok, his w r ife, 
 his lost one, she who had been so cruelly 
 wronged. He loved her more than ever. Oh ! 
 how it pierced his heart that she could not for- 
 give him, that she would not come to him ! 
 But he did not blame her. 
 
 Mr. Ross approached Amnok. He saw with 
 keener eye than did the husband, so unstrung 
 through the suddenness of the shock and by his 
 grief. 
 
 Amnok did not move, she did not speak be- 
 cause she coidd not. Joy at sight of him, all the 
 events of the past rushing over her in a great 
 wave of remembrance had completely over- 
 whelmed her. She longed to go to him, but she 
 could not. Her lips were burning to speak his 
 name, but they would not open. 
 
 Mr. Ross placed his hand upon hers ; he com- 
 pelled her to look at him, gentleness, persuasion 
 were in his voice. 
 
246 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 “He is pleading with you,” he said, pointing 
 to Mr. Ko. “His heart is all broken over the 
 past. Will you not go to him ?” 
 
 Though she could not understand the words, 
 yet Amnok caught the meaning. But it was the 
 touch more than anything else that aroused her. 
 It seemed to be just what she needed to awaken 
 her from the lethargy. Consciousness, move- 
 ment returned. She pressed forward and threw 
 herself at her husband’s feet, murmuring his 
 name. 
 
 He stooped, raised her, and pressed her to his 
 heart, while his tears fell fast upon her head. 
 
 Varied had been the emotions with which the 
 others had looked upon the scene: Hakta with 
 astonishment, Won-sa at first in indignation at 
 sight of her faithless son-in-law, then with re- 
 lief, happiness when she saw how it was going 
 to end; hut to Tatong the most acute joy came. 
 Oh ! now she would not have to leave Amnok ! 
 She belonged to the kind one, and he would not 
 let her go. And had he not promised to keep 
 her, too, the poor little slave ? 
 
 Mr. Ko still remained standing with his arm 
 about his wife. It seemed he could never let 
 her go. At that moment there was a noise with- 
 out. The old man who kept the gate seemed to 
 be remonstrating with some one. Suddenly 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 247 
 
 there came an exclamation of rage, then words 
 of defiance, that caused the others to look around 
 and Kakta to start quickly to the door. But ere 
 she reached it a form appeared in the opening, 
 and the next moment old Kimri stood before 
 them. 
 
 “O yes!” she cried to Kakta, “O yes! you 
 thought to get away from me, hut I have found 
 you. I met one who saw you, and he showed 
 me the way. I want to know now why you have 
 come here and what place this is. You thought 
 to keep it from me, but you haven’t. Speak, I 
 tell you !” 
 
 Ere ISTakta could reply Kimri’ s eyes, sweep- 
 ing the room with their hawk-like gaze, had 
 fastened upon Mr. Ko and Amnok. Astonish- 
 ment, dismay, hate, each showed itself upon her 
 repulsive face. 
 
 “Together !” she said, “together !” and flew at 
 Amnok as though she would tear her away from 
 the arms that were about her. 
 
 Mr. Boss caught her. 
 
 “You must do no violence,” he said, making 
 gestures to her as he spoke. “Why are you so 
 angry ? and why do you wish to hurt an- 
 other ?” 
 
 “It is she,” spoke up Mr. Ko. “It is the one 
 who injured us. Listen to me, Kimri. I have 
 
248 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 long since found out that all you told me was 
 false ; that your heart was wickedness, black- 
 ness itself. I have been restored to the loved 
 one of whom you deprived me. You can do us 
 no further hurt. I forgive you, though the God, 
 whom I have learned to serve, knows how hard 
 it is. Go in peace, poor wretched sinner.” 
 
 “Xo, I can’t hurt you further,” almost 
 screamed old Kimri, “neither one of you now 
 that you are together, for you will watch like the 
 hawk and she like the tigress whose young are 
 threatened. But ha ! how I have made her suffer 
 in the past ! Even more than you, for men’s 
 hearts are not like women’s. There isn’t so 
 much of them with which to feel. It was her 
 face that did it. I wanted to know that one of 
 her kind could suffer the same as Kimri. I 
 made here suffer, too, in another way. I took 
 away the brat with face like hers. I threw it 
 where the wild beasts could devour it. Think of 
 their feeding on such fine flesh as that ! But 
 they didn’t,” she continued, now almost sav- 
 agely. “One came who took her away. I have 
 since learned all about it. He kept her for his 
 slave; he sold her to another for the same pur- 
 pose. Ha ! think of the child of the fine Amnok, 
 Amnok of the lady-like ways and beautiful face, 
 being brought up as a slave ! And no slave could 
 
Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 249 
 
 have had a harder time, beaten, starved as she 
 has been by the family of the weaver, Mr. Ki.” 
 
 From the way she caught herself and tried to 
 go on with something else it was evident that 
 Kimri had not intended to utter the name. But 
 she had, and more than one pair of ears had 
 heard it. 
 
 With a little cry Tatong sprang forward, her 
 eyes burning, her hands extended toward Mr. Ko 
 and Amnok. Then, seemingly overcome by the 
 thought of what she had intended to do, stopped, 
 trembling. 
 
 For the first time old Kimri saw her, for until 
 now she had been partly shut from view behind 
 Nakta. 
 
 “Little beast !” she cried, and started toward 
 her, her hideous old face working with hatred. 
 
 But Won-sa interfered. She came between 
 Tatong and the advancing Kimri and extended 
 her hand threateningly. 
 
 “Keep away !” she said. “You have worked 
 trouble enough already.” Then to Amnok, “I 
 see it plainly. Kow I know why the face 
 troubled me. It was like yours. Once I took 
 her for you. Amnok, your longdost child is be- 
 fore you.” 
 
 “My child ?” questioned Amnok, then seemed 
 about to faint, but her husband’s arm still sup- 
 
250 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 ported her. “Oh, can it be ? Yes, I see that it 
 is. I can no longer doubt. Even before I knew 
 the truth my heart was strangely moved to her.” 
 
 Quickly were Amnok’s arms around Tatong, 
 and their sobs mingled, while over them stood 
 Mr. Ivo ready, too, to take his long-lost child to 
 his heart as soon as her mother released her. 
 The others stood by with misty eyes. As to old 
 Kimri, with a cry of rage she disappeared, and 
 none of them, not even Xakta, ever saw her 
 again. Bnt as her mother had given her away 
 when a helpless child because of the rage she 
 felt for the way her husband had abandoned 
 her, and had only gone hack to her when Xakta 
 had married and had a home, there could be lit- 
 tle real affection or regret on Xakta’s part. 
 
 At last the little slave had found not only her 
 earthly father, but also her mother, and Oh ! the 
 joy of it ! Xever again would there be blows 
 and hunger and cruelty, but instead love and 
 happiness and the shelter of the beautiful place, 
 where always she could hear of the other Father 
 who loved her with even greater love, and whose 
 hand had prepared such joys in the home above 
 as earthly eye had not seen or earthly heart 
 tasted. 
 
 There was still another child to be welcomed 
 to Amnok’s heart, Ivitze the manly, wdio, al- 
 
251 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 though, it was in Korea, was not ashamed to 
 have her arms about him, but instead was filled 
 with gladness as he laid his head against her. 
 
 Won-sa, accompanied by Kakta, hastened 
 home to carry the glad news. Soon in a neat 
 dwelling not far from the mission house Am- 
 nok’s mother, father, and brother were estab- 
 lished. Xow they could come daily to hear the 
 sweet teachings of the “Jesus Doctrine.” Their 
 hearts desired no more. In time Xakta came, 
 too, to live close by the mission house, for she 
 had so persuaded her husband. It was not long 
 before Mr. Ross took them both into the church 
 earnest, humble believers. 
 
 I am sure my story would be incomplete did 
 I bring it to a close without again mentioning 
 Kijun, the brave, the faithful. Of course, he 
 had to come to the mission home with Tatong 
 and the others, and, of course, he remained a 
 welcomed and privileged inmate. Should you 
 go there to-day you would see frequently to- 
 gether — either in the mission compound or mov- 
 ing along the street, bound on some errand — 
 two four-footed companions, a little gray and 
 black shaggy dog and a stately ox. They are 
 Kijun and Mokpo, for, in her gratitude for the 
 blessings the sweet “Jesus Doctrine” brought to 
 her, Nakta had given the latter as a four-footed 
 
252 
 
 Tatong, the Little Slave. 
 
 servant to the mission, and a faithful, valued 
 one he made, always cheerfully doing what he 
 was called on to do. 
 
 Those who come to the mission house now 
 do not have to do so with caution and with fear, 
 for seldom is it that they meet with opposition or 
 with persecution ; neither are those who go 
 abroad to proclaim the “doctrine” forbidden to 
 do so within the Avails, as Avas once the case. The 
 king himself has issued the decree, “The mis- 
 sionaries shall not be molested.” Thus does the 
 SAveet, glad “doctrine” spread. Thus does the 
 day break through the once dark night of Korea. 
 

Ill 
 
 iffiiiilfii Theoi ° <5c ' 31 Str 
 
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 1 
 
 1012 01- 
 
 Date 
 
 21 2661 
 
 • 
 
 Due 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 30 /