PS 3505 
 
 0155 
 N3 
 1915 
 Copy 1 
 
 
 By i/ea.rv 
 \ C&rter 
 
 Cochrarv 
 
 "SLlSi 
 
Nancy's Mother 
 
 By 
 
 JEAN CARTER COCHRAN 
 
 Author ot 
 "The Rainbo-vr in the Rain." 
 " Her Carcassonne" and 
 " The Friendly Stars" 
 
 Copyrighted 1915 
 By Jean Carter Cochran 
 
 k 
 

 Recorder Press 
 Plainfieia, N. J. 
 
 'GU40(;289 
 
 JUN 12 1915 
 
To Nancy's Father 
 
 "The Little Cherubs whispered, 
 
 'What strange new soul is this 
 Who Cometh with a robe besmirched 
 
 Unto the place of Bliss?' 
 Then spake the Eldest Angel, 
 
 'The robe he wears is fair — 
 The groping fingers of the poor 
 
 Have held and blessed him there.' 
 
 "The Little Cherubs whispered, 
 
 'Who comes to be our guest 
 With dust upon his garment's hem 
 
 And stains upon his breast?' 
 Then spake the Eldest Angel, 
 
 'Most lovely is the stain — 
 The tears of those he comforted 
 
 Who may not weep again.' 
 
 * * * * 
 
 " 'The dust upon his garment's hem, 
 
 My lips shall bow to it; 
 The stains upon the breast of him 
 
 Are gems quite exquisite. 
 O little foolish Cherubs, 
 
 What truth is this ye miss? 
 There comes no saint to Paradise 
 
 Who does not come like this.' " 
 
 — Quoted. 
 
jur 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Jimmie, Tke Soldier! 
 
 ILLY is practicing scales; he goes 
 dum, dum, dum, until I am 
 most crazy — I wish he wasn't 
 such a conscienceful person, — I 
 think that's what you call it; I want him to 
 play with me and I suppose he will go on 
 this way for a whole half hour. 
 
 As for Jimmy, he is no good at all since 
 his head was hurt, and he had a patch put 
 on it; he keeps pretending he's a soldier all 
 day long, just because they said he was so 
 brave. He's in the compound now, march- 
 ing up and down, singing, 
 
 "When I grow up I'm going to be 
 A captain of the Infantry." 
 
 When I beg to join in, he says, "Girls can't 
 be soldiers; they can't even vote." I'd like 
 to know if little boys can, either, — why do 
 boys put on such airs?" 
 
 Dear little Gwen is fast asleep and my 
 mother Is going to a feast at the Tai Tai's 
 (official's wife). She said, "It is no place 
 for little girls," when I begged to go. It 
 seems too bad that all the really nice things 
 
like candy and Chinese Feasts are bad for 
 children, — it's not fair. 
 
 So you see there's not much for me to 
 amuse myself with, and I just think I'll tell 
 about the time Jimmy hurt his head. Ev- 
 erybody, — that is, my grandmothers, grand- 
 father, uncles, aunts and cousins, — seemed 
 to like it so much when I told them about be- 
 ing lost in the mountains. As usual, we had 
 to come to Kuling, among the mountains of 
 China, to spend our summer vacation. We 
 live in Hwai Yuan in the winter, and that is 
 where we do our missionary work — at least 
 my father and mother do, — and we children 
 help by being children. I must explain to 
 you again, for perhaps you have forgotten 
 there are four of us, Billy, Jimmy, Gwen- 
 nie and Nancy, only I really come first be- 
 cause I am Nancy and I am the oldest. Now 
 I must begin my story without any more ex- 
 plaining. 
 
 It was going to be a red-letter day in our 
 lives. I don't know exactly what that means, 
 but I'll put it down and ask my mother when 
 she comes home if that's right. Our Auntie 
 Jeanie was coming all the way from America 
 to teach us children and she was to reach 
 Kiu Kiang that day, — Kiu Kiang is the place 
 you get off the river steamer to come up the 
 mountain. My mother was wild with joy 
 at the mere idea of some one of her own 
 dear family coming so many, many miles, 
 and so were we all. She was going down to 
 meet Auntie Jeanie, 'cause we had lots of 
 
 8 
 
friends living all around who could keep an 
 eye on us children. 
 
 Well, instead of the day breaking fair and 
 bright as it always does in make-believe 
 stories, the rain came down "in sheets and 
 pillow cases," as funny Atintie Polly once 
 said. When it rains in the mountains of 
 China it always means what it says; the lit- 
 tle dried-up brooks become rivers of angry 
 waters quick as a wink, and the water pours 
 off the roof so one can hardly hear oneself 
 think. 
 
 It takes more than rain to disturb my 
 mother though; she just took one glance 
 out of the window, laughed and made a 
 funny remark and started to work. 
 
 We were up long before daylight so she 
 could get Gwennie's milk ready, see that 
 there was a good dinner on hand for Auntie 
 Jeanie, and get chair coolies. 
 
 It was no joke finding four chair coolies 
 who wanted to take that wet trip on such a 
 day; the Chinese hate water almost as badly 
 as chickens do. When Mother thought she 
 had four, two would suddenly disappear and 
 she would have to begin again. You might 
 have thought it was the whole twelve tribes 
 of Israel getting ready to cross the Red Sea 
 by the noise they made, instead of one dear, 
 sweet little Mother, with curly brown hair, 
 almost smothered in raincoats and veils, 
 starting for a lonely trip down the mountain. 
 Finally she got off while we children wildly 
 waved until she was whisked around the cor- 
 
ner; then we settled down to play, and of 
 course we fully meant to be as angelic as we 
 had promised. 
 
 In about half an hour, Aunt Margaret, 
 who had planned to go with mother, col- 
 lected four coolies, and again there was 
 scolding and scrambling among the coolies 
 and away she went. 
 
 We children had a fine time playing some 
 of our very nicest games, though inside we 
 were so excited we could hardly wait, and 
 the hands of the clocic did not seem to move 
 an inch. I really think It was the longest 
 day of my whole life. 
 
 Late in the afternoon our Jimmy boy, 
 who is a very adventurous (doesn't that 
 sound grown up!) boy, climbed on the rail- 
 ing of the piazza when no one was looking, 
 to catch rain drops. 
 
 Now the porch was very high, and his 
 foot slipped and he fell and hit his head 
 against a stone, and lay quite still and did 
 not move or speak. It was simply awful, 
 but one of our neighbors ran and picked him 
 up and carried him to the house; then they 
 sent for a doctor, who came straight off, and 
 there was a great deal of running back and 
 forth and all the grown people looked very 
 sober. In a little while they took him away 
 to the hospital, and Billy and I just felt ter- 
 ribly, for we did not know how much he 
 was hurt — and if he was going to die — and 
 our Mother away. You know when Mother's 
 away one feels as if one couldn't be sure of 
 
 10 
 
anything, and as if every place was empty. 
 So Billy and I just clung to each other and 
 cried; of course little Gwennie was too little 
 to realize anything. It seemed as if the 
 night got twice as dark as usual, and at every 
 noise outside we would start and think they 
 were coming; we listened so hard our ears 
 seemed to get sharper and we could hear 
 quite plainly sounds way up the valley. 
 
 In the meantime my mother had gotten to 
 the river without anything worse than a 
 dreadful wetting, but she was so happy at 
 the thought of seeing Auntie Jeanie she 
 never noticed that. She went down on the 
 Bund to watch the steamer come in, and way 
 off on the deck she recognized Auntie Jeanie 
 waving wild signals, and everybody was so 
 interested and excited they waved too, 
 though of course they did not know Mother 
 at all. Mother said she fairly wanted to 
 pull the boat in, she was so anxious to get 
 hold of her. 
 
 Finally the boat came in, amidst the 
 screaming, pushing, jumping and yelling of 
 excited Chinese coolies. My Daddy says 
 calmness and repose is unknown to Chinese 
 coolies unless you really want them to work, 
 — then they fall to sleep anywhere. Mother 
 and Auntie Jeanie came together in a series 
 of hugs and kisses, and a few tears, though 
 why they should cry at such a joyful occa- 
 sion passes me. Aunt Margaret stood be- 
 hind and waited her turn and it all began 
 again. Every one talked at once, asking 
 
 II 
 
questions and answering them without stop- 
 ping. My mother told me about it after- 
 wards; she tells things so funnily and so 
 clearly you just feel as if you had been there; 
 somebody said she was "a word artist," and 
 I guess they meant she makes things so plain 
 it is like a picture. 
 
 It took a long time, as you can imagine 
 after all I have told you about China, to get 
 started back up the mountains. They had 
 to get coolies for all Aunt Jeanie's luggage, 
 for everything is carried up on the backs of 
 men, — yes, trunks, too, and I can just see 
 you open your eyes at that, way off in Amer- 
 ica. 
 
 The night began to fall (doesn't that 
 sound like a real book?) before they got 
 more than half way, but they went right on. 
 When they got within half an hour or so of 
 home, a coolie stopped my mother's chair 
 and asked if she was Er Si Mu. She said 
 "yes" and they handed her two telegrams, 
 one to my Daddy, who was on business in 
 Shanghai, and one to Uncle Sam, who is a 
 Doctor and was at home in the Mission Sta- 
 tion. The telegram said that Jimmy was 
 badly hurt and to come. The coolies had 
 been told very clearly and sharply not to 
 stop anywhere, and not to show the telegram 
 to Er Si Mu; that is how they obeyed. 
 
 My mother knew in a minute that they 
 never would have sent for Uncle Sam, who 
 was ten-days' journey away, unless some- 
 thing dreadful had happened. If you have 
 
ever met my mother for one minute you 
 could see In her deep, soft, brown eyes the 
 great love she has for us children. 
 
 I guess it was almost like a knife in her 
 heart. She just turned to her coolies stand- 
 ing around her with their queer torches and 
 she made them run — over sticks and stones 
 and gullies they stumbled in the darkness, 
 up and down steps. She must have been 
 nearly shaken to bits, as one or another 
 would slip and nearly fall, but she urged and 
 pleaded with them to go faster, in a very 
 shaky voice. 
 
 When she reached the house she found it 
 dark, for we were at Aunt Margaret's, and 
 again she turned and hurried away to the 
 hospital. 
 
 Soon Auntie Jeanie came; how different it 
 was from what we had planned! We just 
 hugged and kissed her hard I can tell you, 
 it was next best to having Mother; and to 
 know she was with our Jimmy boy made ev- 
 erything look brighter and more solid, some- 
 how. Auntie Jeanie and we just clung to each 
 other until we fell asleep tired out with mis- 
 ery and gladness. 
 
 When mother arrived at the hospital, they 
 told her Jimmy was coming out of the ether 
 nicely, and that he must be kept from all 
 exciting things; she flew right to him and 
 took the nurse's place, but very quietly and 
 calmly. When he slowly opened his eyes 
 there was our blessed mother giving him a 
 glass of water as if she had never been 
 
 13 
 
away; that funny boy wanted to know why 
 she had her clothes on in the middle of the 
 night. 
 
 The first few days were the dangerous 
 ones. You see they had taken a piece of 
 bone right out of his head, and she staid 
 right close beside him for three or four 
 days without ever taking off her clothes, for 
 fear some sudden noise or jar might startle 
 him ; when the danger was all over she look- 
 ed down at her feet and saw she still had on 
 her rubbers she had put on that happy rainy 
 morning to go down the mountain. Now 
 that is just like my mother. Do you sup- 
 pose all mothers are like that? 
 
 14 
 
n 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 My Mother's Day 
 
 jE are all very busy this morning 
 thinking very hard, for we are 
 trying to write compositions. 
 Do you remember when you 
 were little boys and girls In school ; how your 
 heart used to sink on the mornings your 
 teacher would say in the tone she uses when 
 she thinks she is giving you a great treat, 
 "Now, children, we will write compositions 
 today, and you can choose your own sub- 
 jects"? 
 
 Billy Is leaning away over his desk, writ- 
 ing away for dear life, — that boy has really 
 too many ideas ! I know he's giving a long 
 account of how the trolleys run in San 
 Francisco, or what kind of food cows eat in 
 the winter and how they chew. I wonder 
 why boys always love such stupid things? 
 
 It's always dreadfully hard for me be- 
 cause I think of so many different subjects 
 and they all seem like the little blind paths in 
 the mountains that start out so beautifully 
 and lead to nowhere. 
 
 Oh! now I have a splendid idea, I just 
 guess I'll tell you about one of my mother's 
 
 15 
 
days, for I think she does more in one day 
 than most people do in a week. I am going 
 to describe last Saturday for I was with her 
 a great deal that day. 
 
 At half-past six the scramble began. It 
 seemed like getting up in the middle of the 
 night, it was so cold and dark. When there 
 arc two grown-up people and four children 
 to dress in half an hour it takes some en- 
 gineering, as Daddy says. Mother often 
 wishes people didn't have so many feet; for 
 with five people it means ten stockings and 
 ten shoes, and that's just a starter; when 
 your rooms are small, things seem to get 
 even more thoroughly lost. You know how 
 it is a sleeping-car berth, don't you? 
 Billy and I both felt so very happy we could 
 not help singing a duet, something like an 
 oratorio. Daddy called it — I don't know 
 what that is — but I sang, "Mr. Duck went 
 to walk with Mr. Turkey," very high, and 
 then Billie sang, "Mr. Duck went to walk 
 with Mr. Turkey," very low, but at the top 
 of his lungs and all the while he was pulling 
 on his stockings. People don't always like 
 our singing the way I wish they would; I 
 know once at home in America a cousin came 
 to see us, and we children were upstairs 
 singing; she turned to my aunt and said, 
 "Mary, what is that awful noise?" Aunt 
 Polly answered, "Oh, that's nothing, it's 
 only Billy and Nancy singing, 'Jesus Loves 
 Me,' in Chinese" ; we have been teased about 
 it ever since I 
 
 i6 
 
To go back to our stockings, Auntie Jeanie 
 complained the din was dreadful, but 
 Mother and the amah went calmly on but- 
 toning up dresses, brushing hair, and seeing 
 that we cleaned our teeth properly, as 
 though it had been "The silence of the 
 tomb." I don't know if Auntie Jeanie will 
 let that stand, she doesn't seem to like such 
 expressions, she says they spoil my style, 
 whatever that may mean, — if I make her 
 laugh she will leave it. 
 
 Through all the noise my mother was just 
 as sweet and not one bit cross, though I 
 know she had been awake since five with 
 Gwennie, and up with Jimmy in the night be- 
 cause he had an earache. 
 
 At a little after seven we were all dressed 
 and sitting at breakfast; Mother was pour- 
 ing out her coffee — she doesn't take much 
 else for breakfast — when the table boy came 
 in and said, "There's a poor woman outside 
 who wants to speak to Er Si Mu." So 
 Mother hurried out ; when she came back in 
 about ten minutes, she did not seem to notice 
 her coffee was cold, and drank it quickly as 
 though her mind was away off. I saw a lit- 
 tle tear trickling down her cheek, which she 
 brushed quickly away with her hand. She 
 told us this poor woman with a baby in her 
 arms was nearly frozen and perhaps starv- 
 ing: this is famine year for the Chinese, be- 
 cause the rain spoiled their harvest. Many 
 of the poorer people who are always hungry 
 even in good years, are starving now. 
 
 17 
 
We found afterwards my mother had 
 given the woman one of her own padded 
 garments. The Chinese women all love my 
 mother dearly, I think it's because she says 
 in her heart, "What if I was this poor, sad 
 woman, and my little Gwennie was this poor 
 starved little baby?" So she treats them 
 just as she would like to be treated herself. 
 
 When she talks to them you can see the 
 love shining out of her face; the tears in 
 her eyes tell them she is sorry for their 
 troubles, and of course they love her from 
 deep down in their hearts. No one in this 
 wide world has ever been so kind to them be- 
 fore. 
 
 After breakfast we had prayers and we all 
 like that 'cause we can sing a hymn very loud 
 indeed. Somehow I feel better after singing 
 loud. It was Jimmy's turn to choose and 
 he wanted, "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep," and 
 couldn't understand why we laughed. 
 
 Then came Gwennie's bath, and that's such 
 fun. She is too cunning for words, and 
 laughs and crows and kicks her little pink 
 toes. I truly believe my mother loves that 
 bath the best of the whole day for she can 
 take Gwennie's dear little soft body in her 
 arms and hug and cuddle it to her heart's 
 content. She wouldn't believe it, but she 
 always reminds me of the picture of Baby 
 Jesus and His Mother that hangs over 
 them ; she has the same sort of holy look on 
 her face. 
 
 i8 
 
When she was in the midst of dressing 
 Gwennie, funny old Loa Pong, the gate- 
 keeper, came in, and making his deep bow, he 
 handed mother a big red card and said the 
 l^ai Tai (official lady) was at the gate. 
 Mother gave me Gwennie and hurried into 
 her room to put on her best Chinese coat, 
 and give "a lick and a promise to her hair." 
 The Chinese do not like curly hair, and 
 asked Mother once why she didn't use a 
 comb. (Auntie Jeanie says "a lick and a 
 promise" is not very elegant, but I can leave 
 it if I want to.) 
 
 Then Loa Pong, the gate-keeper, in his 
 dirty, ragged padded coat and his little 
 moth-eaten pig tail, about as thick as my lit- 
 tlest finger, with very deep bows, showed the 
 Tai Tai in, and mother, with her best Chi- 
 nese manners, bowed and smiled and shook 
 her own hands telling the Tai Tai she was 
 doing her too much honor. 
 
 While I, with Gwennie half dressed in my 
 arms, and the bath tub at my feet, couldn't 
 help laughing behind her dear little back. 
 You see we had to bathe Gwennie In the par- 
 lor because that stove makes the warmest 
 fire. It all looked funny though, the stately 
 bows and polite remarks and lovely coats of 
 the ladies, and dirty, mussy Loa Pong with 
 such fine manners and such shabby clothes, 
 and the bath tub and everything. In America 
 we don't expect callers at nine o'clock In 
 the morning, but in China one never knows 
 when the Tai Tals will come. Mother says 
 
 19 
 
it's a great comfort to her to remember that 
 the ladies don't know that as a usual thing 
 foreigners don't take baths in their draw- 
 ing-rooms. 
 
 Well, of course the ladies had to be given 
 tea and sweet meats and smoke their little 
 pipes; they dropped the ashes on the floor 
 and made holes in the best rug, too. Mother 
 explained to me afterwards that as they 
 had no rugs on their own stone or mud floors 
 they couldn't realize the harm they did — I 
 think they should, though. Then they 
 wantecf to see the house because we had just 
 moved into a new apartment iri the boys' 
 school. They went into all our bedrooms, 
 with Mother always very patient and most 
 polite following after, and they asked lots of 
 foolish questions, and pulled out all the bu- 
 reau drawers and wanted to wind the bed- 
 room clock. 
 
 We thought they would never go, but at 
 last they were satisfied that we had not used 
 ground-up Chinese bones for tooth powder, 
 and that we had no real skeletons in our 
 closet as they had heard, and off they went. 
 That is really too quick a way of telling 
 how they left, for it took nearly half an hour 
 for them to say their last pretty speeches and 
 make their last good-by bows; in the end 
 they toddled off, each one held up by an 
 amah because their feet were so small. 
 
 By the time the sedan chairs had jogged 
 round the (iorner, Mother had whisked off 
 her good coat, seen that the amah had but- 
 
 ao 
 
toned Gwennie's dress in the back and not 
 down the front, and gone to the store room 
 to give out the food and oil for the day. 
 The Chinese servants steal things so very 
 dreadfully everything has to be locked up 
 and then given out eachmorning. Mother has 
 to even watch them with her own eyes fill 
 the lamps, or they would take the kero- 
 sene. She also had to fix Gwennie's milk 
 and then help the men who brought the 
 wood for the winter weigh it, for fear they 
 would not bring enough, or would steal it, or 
 soak it in water to make it weigh more. 
 Then the women whom she is teaching to 
 read began to come, and she sat with them 
 for an hour. It is pretty hard work, I guess, 
 for they are old and stupid; English is hard 
 enough, I think, but it is knitting work com- 
 pared to ditch digging to Chinese, Daddy 
 says. Mother never gets cross though, and 
 she went over and over the same verse of 
 the hymn so they could learn it, and she ex- 
 plained it to them in easy words, and when 
 they got a little bit of an idea what it all 
 meant she was so happy. All the time they 
 had one or two babies and little children 
 with them who cried or wanted something 
 just when she tried to make things plain. 
 I guess she must get cross inside, but she 
 didn't show it to them, and they each one 
 told her some hard trouble they were having 
 and she comforted them so sweetly. 
 
 After she finished with the women, 
 she decided the parlor stove pipe needed 
 
 21 
 
cleaning, as the fire would not burn, and she 
 called the table boy and they went at It to- 
 gether, he was too stupid to do it alone. I 
 ran in there after my doll and there was 
 my mother with soot on her nose, cheeks and 
 hands doing most of the work herself, while 
 the boy watched her. 
 
 She told me to run and get washed up be- 
 cause as a great treat she was going to take 
 me over to Li Sao Tze to dinner, and she 
 would be ready in a twinkling. She always 
 says things in such a funny way even when 
 she is busy, it makes one laugh. 
 
 While we were getting ready, there was a 
 great smash in the living room, and we rush- 
 ed in to find that the boy in his clumsy way 
 had smashed the best lamp to smithereens — 
 that word is not in the dictionary but Mother 
 used it so it must be all right. It was 
 mother's wedding present, and, as mother 
 says, "It gave an air to the whole station," 
 so she reproved the boy, as he deserved. 
 
 At last we were ready, and off we started 
 in great glee, for Mother and I do not very 
 often get away together, she doesn't think 
 too much Chinese food good for me. Li 
 Sao Tze is one of the inquirers, that means 
 she is asking about Christianity; she is very 
 poor and ignorant and often comes to wash 
 windows or scrub floors. Mother didn't like 
 very well to go, knowing how hard a life she 
 had, but the ladies here helped her out a 
 lot, and she was so grateful, my mother saw 
 
It would hurt her pride if we did not accept, 
 so she decided we must. 
 
 We walked along the dirty crooked streets 
 so different from our blessed clean America ; 
 all the savage dogs and horrid black pigs 
 seemed to be out for an airing, too, and were 
 nosing around most uncomfortably. 
 
 iVs we passed along a woman here and 
 there would say how do you do to mother, 
 and ask her where she was going, which is 
 very polite in China. Soon the crowd began 
 to follow us, for they are not very well used 
 to seeing us foreigners on that side of town. 
 At last we came to Li Sao Tze's little hut. 
 I can't very well tell you how poor it was, 
 'cause I never saw anything quite like it at 
 home. It was built of straw and was just 
 about as high as a man. It was spotlessly 
 clean, for she had scrubbed it well, and the 
 only furniture was the table and stools we 
 sat on; and the bedding rolled up in a cor- 
 ner. The cooking was done at her neigh- 
 bor's. When the three of us and a neigh- 
 bor were in the room it was full. There was 
 a crowd of twenty curious people crowded 
 around the door staring hard at us, and 
 as there was no window, the air was very 
 bad. My Mother began to talk to the 
 crowd at once about "the way," for she never 
 misses a chance to tell those miserable, help- 
 less people about some one who loves them, 
 and will care for them; they listened for 
 awhile and then quietly went away. A crowd 
 is always exciting in China for one never 
 
 2.3 
 
knows whether they will stay good natured 
 or begin to throw stones, and little girls like 
 me get a little scared sometimes, but people 
 all seem to like and understand my mother 
 so well I am not afraid with her. Well, as 
 you can see, it was a pretty poor place, but 
 as mother said, "Li Sao Tze's manners 
 would have graced a duchess." She served 
 us as though it was the finest Yamen feast 
 instead of the coarse rice and vegetables she 
 could buy, and we had just a happy time. I 
 simply love to eat with chop sticks, and talk 
 Chinese, and I was very sorry when Mother 
 said we must leave. Li Sao Tze walked a 
 little way with us begging us to come again, 
 and she looked at my mother as if she was 
 her only friend, just the way a loving dog 
 looks at his master. 
 
 We had come to our own street when a 
 woman Mother knew came up to Mother and 
 said, "Oh, Er Si Mu, there is a poor little 
 baby out on the mountain, the people put it 
 there yesterday, and it has been crying all 
 night." Just think of that in the middle of 
 winter; I couldn't help thinking what if it 
 had been Gwennie? 
 
 Mother told me to go home, as we were 
 so near, and off she started, almost running. 
 The woman went with her and there, out 
 beside a big rock on the mountain, she found 
 the littlest kind of a baby. She had just one 
 dirty garment wrapped around her, and she 
 was, oh, so dirty and thin, and blue with the 
 cold. Mother did not wait a minute but 
 
 24 
 
snatched her up in her arms and hugged her 
 close to make her warm. Two or three 
 women followed her, and they were sur- 
 prised to see her so tender to a little strange 
 baby; they kept whispering, "By the way 
 she treats it, it might be her own." 
 
 I was standing by the door when she came 
 in, and heard her ask the amah to bring a 
 hot bath and the table boy to build a great 
 fire. She would not let us children in the 
 room until she had bathed the baby and 
 burned the old garment, for fear we might 
 catch something. We peeked in the door, 
 though, and as she washed the poor little 
 shivering thing, the tears ran down her face, 
 and she kept saying, "Oh, you poor little 
 baby, you poor little baby!" Mother spent 
 all the rest of the afternoon trying to bring 
 the frozen baby back to life, and by supper 
 time I could see she was dreadfully tired. 
 We all felt pretty solemn over our tea, for 
 we were so sorry for the baby whose father 
 and mother did not want her. Mother put 
 us to bed early and talked to us so sweetly 
 about the baby and how kind we must be to 
 her. 
 
 She was so tired at station meeting that 
 evening she fell right asleep in a talk about 
 some old salary or other; they all laughed 
 about it the next morning, but I don't won- 
 der she did, do you? 
 
 Late that night — after she had seen her 
 own little children were all right, she went 
 to the little motherless baby, making it warm 
 
 25 
 
and "comfy" and cuddled it, because It never 
 had been cuddled before. 
 
 The baby died yesterday and we children 
 cried very hard, it all seemed so sad, and we 
 wanted her as a playmate. I think it is a 
 very beautiful thing to have a mother who 
 is a mother to all little forlorn babies, be- 
 cause she loves her own babies so dearly. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 The Village on the Willow 
 Pattern Plate 
 
 Y mother has been away from us 
 children three whole days and it 
 has seemed very funny and, of 
 course, a little exciting. She is 
 back now though, and how we did kiss and 
 hug her; we just jumped up and down for 
 sheer joy and we talked so fast we couldn't 
 hear ourselves think. Very soon mother 
 had to say, "All good children should be in 
 bed," but it was a pretty long time before 
 we cuddled down and she blew out the can- 
 dle ; with several last kisses all around. 
 
 The next day I heard her tell the grown 
 people all about her trip, so I am going to 
 tell you as nearly as I can remember; it 
 won't be as good, for mother tells things 
 better than any one else in the world. 
 
 In the first place, — not, once upon a time, 
 — now is Chinese New Year. In China 
 that means Christmas, birthdays. New 
 Year's, Decoration Day and Fourth of July 
 all rolled into one. Sometimes they cele- 
 
brate for nearly three weeks; the mission- 
 aries get a little bit tired of it, for all regular 
 work has to stop; but, as mother remarked, 
 "Nothing can dampen the Chinaman's 
 ardor; he even wears his mourning with a 
 difference." 
 
 This year, as usual, every one was very 
 much excited, exactly the way we children 
 were on Christmas Eve. I could hear the 
 beggars not sneaking along as they gen- 
 erally do with their whining voices asking 
 for cash ; but instead, they stood quite boldly 
 at the door, chanting out clearly a poem 
 like this — my mother wrote it in English for 
 us, — 
 
 One voice sings — "May pearls enter your 
 
 front gate," 
 And a deeper voice responds, "Good." 
 First voice — "May rubies enter the back 
 
 gate." 
 Second voice — "Good." 
 First voice — "May rubies and pearls enter 
 your gates, — " 
 "Good." 
 "It is well asked." 
 
 "Good." 
 "It will be well accomplished." 
 
 "Good." 
 "If you give twenty biscuits you will still 
 have more." 
 "Good." 
 
 "At one place they sent them away and 
 they quickly changed their tone — 
 
 28 
 
"May a coffin enter your front gate." 
 
 "Good." 
 "May nothing but hay enter your back 
 gate." 
 "Good." 
 "May only coffins and hay enter your 
 back gates." 
 "Good." 
 
 Then they went away, saying dreadful 
 things we children couldn't understand. My 
 mother said she was glad she could not. 
 
 The next morning we were eating break- 
 fast when the callers began to come. They 
 were the servants looking very strange and 
 uncomfortable, all dressed up in their best. 
 I should like to say "glad rags," though I 
 suppose a little girl writing a story should 
 be careful. The table boy's clothes really 
 were that, for he was a famine-sufferer and 
 Daddy took him in, "to save his family, not 
 as a table ornament," as he laughingly told 
 some one who spoke about his rough man- 
 ners and untidy ways. The servants came 
 to thank Daddy and Mother for their "over- 
 whelmingly generous" New Year's gift — 
 that's the Chinese way of saying thank you. 
 They had each received twenty-five cents I 
 
 Soon the teachers came in silks and they 
 were just terribly polite, with their deep 
 bows, and so stiff about drinking the tea ; be- 
 ing careful to do it exactly as their fathers 
 and grandfathers did unto the third and 
 fourth generation, as we learned in the com- 
 
 39 
 
mandments; only their tea drinking goes 
 back thousands of years — I can hardly imag- 
 ine such a thing. 
 
 After them came the school girls, that 
 was more fun for us children, though they 
 had on their company manners, too; 
 however, I succeeded in making my best 
 friend giggle nervously. They were almost 
 as gay as Uncle Bois's flower garden, with 
 their new coats and gay hats and butterfly 
 shoes. They had hardly gone before the 
 women of the church came shyly in. The 
 rich ladies don't call for six days. Billy 
 whispered to me, "They don't do a thing 
 to sweetmeats, do they?" Poor old hungry 
 things, they ate all they could, and more than 
 you or I possibly could, and then put the rest 
 in handkerchiefs, which they brought in or- 
 der to carry home what they didn't eat. It 
 took them a good while to say good-by, 
 these women always cling to my mother as 
 though they did not want to leave their best 
 friend. 
 
 In the afternoon we all went over to the 
 girls' school, even busy Mother, and played 
 games. It is such fun to teach the girls our 
 nice American games ! They love them and 
 are very bright about learning hide-and- 
 seek, tag, hunt the thimble and others. You 
 would be surprised to hear how they laugh 
 and how quickly those with bound feet can 
 get over the ground. 
 
 All that day Father and Mother were 
 planning her trip to the country. It had taken 
 
 30 
 
weeks of coaxing from Daddy to get her to 
 consent to leave us children for three whole 
 days, and I hardly believe they would ever 
 have gotten her off but her love for the Chi- 
 nese women drew her. The village is just 
 one of those country places Father visits on 
 his trips, but only one foreign lady had ever 
 been there. A good many of the men be- 
 lieve in "the doctrine," but the wives don't 
 like it and treat their Christian husbands 
 badly. 
 
 I suppose you wonder why my mother 
 hated to leave us for three little days. In 
 the first place. Auntie Jeanie was not with 
 us, and I think you will understand when I 
 explain the other reason. I have never writ- 
 ten anything about my little brother Harry, 
 who went to be with Jesus when I was a tiny 
 baby — Mother tells us about his wee darling 
 ways, and how he was always so good and 
 gentle that everybody loved him. He was 
 just learning to talk and had such pretty 
 curly hair, like Mother's, and a sweet smile 
 with dimples. I think that when he left us 
 something in my Mother's heart died too, 
 and that she has never been quite as happy 
 since; when she talks of him there is such a 
 longing look in her eyes. She told me once 
 she never knew how our Father in Heaven 
 loves his children, until she found how deep 
 down into her whole heart, like the clinging 
 roots of a flower, her love for Harry went. 
 Harry was so brave and patient when he was 
 ill, doing exactly as he was told, and my 
 
 31 
 
mother used to pray that she would take the 
 trouble from her loving Father, as patiently 
 as Harry took the medicine and treatment 
 from his parents' hands. Chinese names 
 have some beautiful meanings; Hwai Yuan, 
 where we live, means, "the place that those 
 who are far away love," and An Hui, our 
 Province, means, "comfort." I always love 
 to think that when Harry left us, Mother 
 held me up in her arms and said, "This is my 
 little An Hui." Whenever Mother leaves 
 us I am sure she thinks of Harry and how 
 something might happen to us while she is 
 away, for in China many dreadful things 
 can happen very quickly. 
 
 It seems to me it has taken me almost 
 forever to begin to tell about their trip, but 
 now I am really off. On that eventful day 
 — how well that sounds — the chairmen turn- 
 ed up bright and early. In China if we ex- 
 pect the coolies early, they come late: if you 
 expect them late, they come early! I think 
 it makes life more exciting not to have things 
 go as they should. 
 
 The party was made up mostly of ladies; 
 there was Aunt Agnes — she's a doctor; Aunt 
 Margaret — she's a nurse; Ren Ku Niang — 
 she's a Chinese teacher; and my mother — 
 she's just a mother; all in sedan chairs. 
 
 Sometimes you must wonder how I have 
 so many aunts and uncles here in China, but 
 most of them are just make-believe, because 
 our real aunts and uncles are so far away — 
 Uncle Sam, Aunt Margaret and Auntie 
 
 32 
 
Jeanle are the only really truly uncle and 
 aunts. 
 
 The chairmen started off with the usual 
 grunt and grumble walking along over the 
 deep snow which lay all over the ground. 
 It was pretty cold as they crept along 
 through the country, and they passed lots of 
 little villages with their thatched roofs and 
 groves of willows exactly like the picture on 
 the willow pattern plate. 
 
 The coolies would stop at each of these 
 villages to rest and drink bowls of hot tea, 
 and the people, all dressed in their best for 
 New Years, would crowd around the chairs 
 and make funny remarks about the strange 
 foreigners. For some peculiar reason, per- 
 haps because she wore glasses, they always 
 thought my mother was very old. You 
 know, really, my mother looks very young. 
 "This is the old one," they would say, "she 
 must be eighty or ninety years old," and one 
 woman told her she knew Daddy, he had 
 ridden through there on his bicycle once, and 
 his disposition was very lively. She asked if 
 my mother was his mother. It may be be- 
 cause that is the biggest compliment a Chi- 
 nese can give, to think one very old. At 
 noon Uncle Ed came on his mule to meet 
 them. A mule is not a romantic animal to 
 put in my story; he is no prancing steed of 
 chivalry, such as my fairy books tell us 
 about; poor old Billy Bryan, no one would 
 ever think of calling him that! Uncle Ed 
 did not ride up to their rescue with spear in 
 
 .33 
 
rest; but my mother was just as glad to see 
 him as though he had; for you see she could 
 hand over the management of the quarreling 
 Chinese coolies to him, and that was a great 
 relief. 
 
 The snow had turned to slush and mud. 
 Three or four of the men had forgotten to 
 bring extra straw sandals. The mud caked 
 in the old ones, and they grumbled and slip- 
 ped and said they would not carry them an- 
 other step without more shoes, and of course 
 way out in the country was no place to buy 
 shoes. 
 
 Uncle Ed had to ride from one to another, 
 and cheer and scold them on. The ladies 
 ate their lunch riding along so as not to stop 
 at all, and drank hot tea from thermos bot- 
 tles, which seemed strange in that part of 
 old China, where people had not changed 
 for so many hundred years. 
 
 The afternoon came on, and the sun be- 
 gan to set; when he, their best friend, disap- 
 peared, it grew pitchy black and bitterly cold, 
 but at last they heard a wild barking of 
 dogs and saw some lights ahead, and heard 
 friendly voices, so they knew that they had 
 reached their village. The outside of the 
 chapel was quite dark, but the inside was 
 brightly lighted, and they were delighted to 
 hobble in, for they were so stiff with the cold 
 and long ride they could hardly stand. They 
 soon had a table set with bread and butter 
 and hot tea; it was set on a table which was 
 used for a pulpit the next day. If ever you 
 
 34 
 
come to China you will be surprised how 
 many uses one article of furniture can 
 have. I was born here, so I am never sur- 
 prised at all. 
 
 The coolies brought in the bedding, and 
 Uncle Ed helped the ladies to put up their 
 little folding beds, and my, how glad they 
 were to snuggle under the warm blankets 
 and go to sleep. 
 
 Before they were up in the morning the 
 people were thumping at the door, and try- 
 ing to peep through the cracks, so that they 
 had to hurry their dressing, and finally they 
 were led by their kind host, with half the 
 village following, to his house for break- 
 fast. 
 
 Mother said it was a strange meal to a 
 foreigner, but interesting, because everything 
 they gave them came right from the farm. 
 The brothers of the fat slices of pork they 
 ate, were nosing about the door; at the 
 same time, her elbow hit the basket from 
 which the boiled rice had been taken; 
 the little salt fish had some years back 
 been caught in the puddle outside the 
 door, and the turnips, cabbage and garlic 
 could be easily traced to the muddy fields. 
 The kindness and politeness of their cor- 
 dial hosts made it a feast to be long remem- 
 bered. Before they finished the little chapel 
 was packed and people were fighting to get 
 in. The mud was so deep between the 
 house and the chapel mother's rubbers came 
 off twenty times, and at last an old lady lent 
 
 35 
 
her her crooked stick and another clutched 
 her elbow and pulled her out of the mud. 
 
 There were so many women present Uncle 
 Ed gave the chapel up to them and they filled 
 it. They were all so eager in telling each 
 other how anxious they were to hear all 
 about "the Doctrine" the ladies could hardly 
 be heard. The Chinese women, until they 
 have been taught, have no idea how to 
 behave in a foreigner's church. A few 
 weeks ago in our own beautiful church in 
 Hwai Yuan, Mother and Aunt Margaret 
 were trying to keep fifty or sixty women 
 quiet through the service, when, just before 
 the benediction, an old lady popped up, and 
 shrieked at the top of her lungs to her son 
 who was away in the other side of the church, 
 "Come on home, it's time for dinner. I'm 
 going now." Mother tried to pull her 
 down by the coat tails when she saw what 
 was going to happen, but of course it was 
 just too late. You can see if this happens 
 in the city church, where the foreigners have 
 been some time, how lively it might be in a 
 green country chapel. They sang hymns, 
 and by that means made the women listen, 
 and then explained what the hymns meant. 
 Reu Ku Niang talked, and so did Mother, 
 till they became too hoarse and tired to even 
 croak; then they told them Dr. Agnes would 
 see any who were ill, in the corner of the 
 chapel. Mother said they had such funny 
 diseases. One woman was empty, all the 
 time, and she pointed from her mouth to her 
 
 .16 
 
shoes; another woman was dry, particularly 
 in the throat, and lots of other strange 
 things. 
 
 Finally, they were told they must go 
 to dinner, which was exactly like breakfast 
 only Aunt Agnes had a donkey at her elbow. 
 The afternoon service was the same as the 
 morning and Aunt Agnes again looked af- 
 ter the poor sick ones. The supper, mother 
 said, was exactly as remarkable as the din- 
 ner and breakfast. After supper the neigh- 
 bors came in and asked if they couldn't sing 
 hymns together, and the foreigners and Chi- 
 nese sat for an hour or two singing. I am 
 a little girl and not very wise, but it does 
 seem lovely to me that though our ways and 
 our languages are so different, we have the 
 same loving Father in Heaven, so we can't 
 be so different, after all. 
 
 When the singing was over the women 
 still gathered for more medicine. Aunt 
 Agnes treated them all, one after another, 
 and then put up her chest. But still another 
 woman had a sickness, when she awoke in 
 the morning her arm was often numb. 
 Couldn't she have something? Poor Aunt 
 Agnes was dreadfully tired, so Mother said, 
 "Let me give her something." She took an 
 old biscuit box and put the rest of their alco- 
 hol in it, and told her to rub it on when she 
 felt the trouble in her arm. So finally the 
 ladies were allowed to go to sleep. The 
 next morning the ride home was much easier 
 because the snow was dry, and I guess from 
 
 37 
 
what my mother said, her heart just ran 
 ahead of the chairs all the way, she was so 
 eager to reach us children. 
 
 Now I have told you the trip as nearly 
 as I could remember it as Mother told us. I 
 must tell you one thing that, of course, she 
 would not tell, but I know it must have hap- 
 pened, — it always happens everywhere. 
 That is how she won the love of those 
 women, and how they clung to her. I don't 
 believe they will have any more trouble with 
 the heathen women in that village since they 
 have seen my mother. I must tell you one 
 more story about a woman here, and then I 
 will stop, for this seems awfully long. 
 
 One day my mother had been talking to a 
 poor old woman about the way to Jesus and 
 about Heaven; how the door stood open to 
 all who would enter. The poor old woman 
 suddenly clasped my mother's hand and said, 
 "Er Si Mu, I do not know about Heaven, 
 but I know you, and I want to be with you 
 and go where you go." 
 
 38 
 
u 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Tkrough the Magic Gates 
 of a Yamen 
 
 ESTERDAY was a most remark- 
 able day; when I tell you about 
 it I guess you'll think so too. 
 If you were my English friends 
 you would exclaim, "Only fancy," and would 
 not guess at all. 
 
 It was St. Valentine's Day. Of course 
 the Chinese never heard of such a person 
 and it was impossible to buy a single valen- 
 tine. My mother had saved up all last year's 
 valentines; they were a pretty ragged set, 
 and we tried to play they were bright and 
 new, but as some one said, "It was a most 
 awful stretch to the imagination," mine 
 nearly cracked in doing it. I had to 
 pretend I had a fairy in my heart to last me 
 all the year, to keep from crying. I think 
 my mother is perfectly fine in making games 
 out of nothing. I remember once she gave 
 Billy a badge, when he was a very little boy, 
 for not crying one whimper all day, and he 
 wore it around as proud as a peacock. 
 
 39 
 
Yesterday she thought of such splendid 
 new fairy games to make the day seem dif- 
 ferent. After awhile she was called away 
 and Jimmy, who is never quiet, chose that 
 time to throw a ball through the nursery 
 window and then stuck his head through af- 
 ter it, to see how much damage he had done 
 on the side where the ball struck. You will 
 laugh at that, but it isn't as funny as it 
 sounds, for it is still Chinese New Year, 
 which means nothing to you, but here in 
 China it will be ten days before we can find 
 a man who will mend it. As the weather is 
 very cold, I suppose we will have to take the 
 fresh-air cure. 
 
 When we had quieted down a little after 
 Jimmy's mishap, Mother came in, her hand 
 just full of American mail, and loads of — 
 I wonder if you could guess what? — valen- 
 tines! Our dear grandmother, who never 
 forgets any holiday, had sent them. We 
 just shouted and chortled in our joy. 
 Mother divided them up, and then she gave 
 each two or three, and we went out in turn, 
 but quite secretly, and when no one was look- 
 ing came back, and knocked on the front 
 door, and when we heard footsteps coming 
 we ran away, leaving a valentine marlced 
 plainly for each of the others on the door 
 step. It was such fun, and we played at it 
 until nearly dinner time. Then came an- 
 other lovely surprise. Mother took me 
 aside and told me because it was Valentine's 
 Day she was going to take me to a feast at 
 
 40 
 
the Yamen. I danced right up and down 
 when I heard that good news, for I dearly 
 love to go with Mother, but somehow she 
 hardly ever takes me there. We had to be- 
 gin to dress right off, for there was no tell- 
 ing when the feast would begin. The po- 
 lite way in China is for the lady of the feast 
 to send a Yamen runner to her guests every 
 hour or two to say the feast is ready, and 
 when she sends about the third time then 
 you go. Mother says she has to give up 
 almost the whole day to a feast, and I 
 don't think she enjoys giving so much 
 time, but she likes to be friendly with the 
 women. Mother put on her best lavender 
 Chinese coat, with some pretty flowers in her 
 soft brown hair, and she did look so sweet. 
 If you asked me what flower I thought of 
 when I thought of my mother I should say 
 violets; she loves them so, and always wears 
 violet or lavender or lilac when she can. 
 My aunties in America laugh and say that 
 no matter what color she expects to buy 
 when she goes shopping for a gown — she 
 always comes back with some shade of vio- 
 let. 
 
 I wore my very best white dress that came 
 for Christmas, and I had my hair curled and 
 felt so stiff and starched. I thought they 
 never would send the servant the last time. 
 I was dreadfully hungry; besides, Billy and 
 Jimmy were playing a fascinating game of 
 making mud marbles in the back yard and 
 
 41 
 
i was crazy to join them, but of course I 
 couldn't in my best dress. 
 
 At last we started. I was in the same 
 sedan chair with mother. The chair looked 
 very gay with its bright tassels and curtains; 
 and as we were carried through the streets 
 all the neighbors ran out of their courts and 
 peered in at the little windows to see who 
 was riding in such state; they would turn to 
 each other and say, "The foreign ladies are 
 going to the Yamen today," and then they 
 would scream it to some neighbor in a back 
 court who could not come out to see for her- 
 self; so altogether we made quite a stir. 
 I really couldn't help feeling important. 
 
 Very soon we came to the great gates of 
 the Yamen and our bearers put our chairs 
 down, and we sent our large red calling card 
 in to the Tai Tai to tell of our 
 arrival. While we waited the usual 
 Chinese crowd gathered around our chair, 
 and again the men leaned way over and 
 looked into the chair to see who we 
 were and what we had on. After wait- 
 ing, it seemed to me a very long time, 
 the gates were thrown open and we were 
 carried through the men's court to the gates 
 before the women's part of the Yamen. 
 These gates too were thrown wide — doesn't 
 that sound like Cinderella? — and we were 
 carried up the open court to the steps In 
 front of the guest-room. I always love the 
 way we go Into the Yamen, It seems exactly 
 the same as the fairy stories and Arabian 
 
 42 
 
Nights, with all the form and the swinging 
 back of doors and bowing menials. If only 
 the menials weren't so ragged and dirty, and 
 the Yamen so bare and dusty. When I try 
 to pretend that the houses are tiled with 
 gold and the rooms are decked in fine 
 tapestry instead of cobwebs I have to shut 
 my eyes to do it. Now I must hurry, for 
 all this time I have been talking the Tai Tai 
 had been standing waiting for us to descend 
 from our gilded chariots — our moth-eaten 
 sedan chairs, truly; our flunkies — the chair 
 coolies — stood aside while the Tai Tai's 
 rmah hurried out to help us alight and walk 
 to where the head Tai Tai stood bowing and 
 smiling and firmly shaking her own hands. 
 You must remember it was very necessary 
 for us to have the amah help us walk, for 
 even my feet were supposed to be bound and, 
 of course, that makes it very hard for us to 
 move. Finally we reached the bowing man- 
 dariness and Mother took her glasses off her 
 nose in order to be very polite, and bowed 
 and I bowed and we all murmured under our 
 breath that she was doing us too much 
 honor. At last it seemed to strike our host- 
 ess that it was time to lead us in. She had 
 on a beautiful embroidered coat and I heard 
 one of the foreign ladies murmur in English 
 behind me, "What a gorgeous evening 
 coat!" 
 
 There were two or three Chinese ladies 
 in the guest-room, to whom my mother had 
 to begin the same old polite remarks, while 
 
 43 
 
the other foreign ladies did the same. Then 
 all the foreign ladies gave back their invita- 
 tions to the feast, with more bows and po- 
 liteness. After this came the great cere- 
 mony of getting seated. My mother was 
 the guest of honor and must talce the high- 
 est place. My mother knew this was the 
 case, and the Tai Tai knew that my mother 
 knew that this was the polite thing to do, and 
 all the Chinese ladies and the foreign ladies 
 knew the custom; yet they had to protest and 
 beg and beseech and refuse and resist and 
 the like — as my Latin rules put it — until they 
 were all tired out. In the end my 
 mother sank exhausted where she had 
 known she was to be all the time, the rest 
 of the guests followed and we were soon all 
 seated and glad of the hot tea to freshen up 
 our tired manners. I had a chance to peep 
 around while the others were talking, and I 
 must confess that one needed an unusually 
 strong magical wand to turn this room into 
 a fairy palace. The floors were rough 
 stone, later we found in the bedrooms there 
 were bare boards; there were no ceilings but 
 thatched roofs, the one window in each room 
 had one small pane of glass, the rest were 
 pasted up with paper. In the inner room 
 to which we were invited after we had fin- 
 ished with the tea, were several trunks piled 
 up in a corner; and in another was a large 
 carved bedstead with curtains of light blue 
 calico — the whole place really needed Alad- 
 din very badly indeed. Yet the ladies' gowns 
 
 44 
 
were most beautiful, all satin and em- 
 broidery. 
 
 While we were still in the first room, "sip- 
 ping our Bohea" like "Prince Finnikin and 
 his Mamma," my mother started the polite 
 conversation. She turned to the first Tai 
 Tai and asked to know "her most honorable 
 name." It seemed her "very unworthy 
 
 name" was "Wang" ; then she turned to the 
 next lady, her name also was "Wang," and 
 still another was called "Wang" too. You 
 can see by this there are plenty of Wangs in 
 China. 
 
 Then the amah, after trying a water pipe, 
 handed it to Mother. All the Chinese ladies 
 were smoking, but of course Mother refused, 
 as did the rest of the foreigners. So the 
 Tai Tai whispered to the amah and away 
 she ran and brought back a plate on which 
 were laid a box of matches and some of the 
 very largest cigars I ever saw. They re- 
 fused, without a smile, but I had to think 
 of something very sad to keep from laughing 
 right out loud, but I think it showed how 
 truly polite they were. 
 
 Then my mother tried to make more con- 
 versation; she remembered she had heard 
 one of the brothers had been married lately, 
 so she said in her politest manner, "May I 
 ask which of you ladies is the bride?" They 
 all looked at each other. "What does she 
 say?" they asked. She tried again. Still 
 they looked blank. At a last attempt one 
 of the amahs understood and translated to 
 
 45 
 
the ladies. We saw in a minute, from their 
 surprise, it was a break and one of the ladies 
 answered, "She is not here." When they 
 took us into the other room we knew why 
 they had been so surprised, for there in one 
 corner stood the bride bowing very low. 
 
 You must remember that going from one 
 room to another was not as simple as it 
 sounds, for each time we had to go through 
 the same polite ceremonies as we did when 
 we were first seated, and as each lady had an 
 amah or two to support her swaying foot- 
 steps, it was a complicated affair. The 
 bride was very gay in her scarlet coat and 
 skirt, her face powdered white, her eye- 
 brows and hair blackened, with red cheeks 
 and lips, and so many queer rings and brace- 
 lets; but I don't think she looked really 
 pretty. Again we had to drink tea with the 
 bride, and ask more polite questions, at least 
 the Chinese call them polite; their ideas are 
 different from ours, but they are the most 
 polite people in the world. 
 
 We all sipped tea as noisily as possible 
 so that our hostesses should understand we 
 considered it delicious. Then once again 
 the chief Tai Tai asked us to go into another 
 room. It was the first room we had seen, 
 but while we were away admiring the little 
 bride a great change had been wrought. 
 
 The table had been moved into the mid- 
 dle of the room and at each place was a pair 
 of ivory and silver chop sticks. Along the 
 middle of the table were laid little plates, 
 
 46 
 
each having a pile of Chinese dainties; tur- 
 nips cut into pretty shapes, slices of pear, 
 pomegranate, buried eggs, cold fat ham, 
 dates, bits of orange, and many other things. 
 Near the seat of honor stood a man with a 
 little metal bowl on a tray; the great Tai 
 Tai, steadying herself by the back of the 
 chairs, made her way around the table until 
 she came near the highest seat, then she took 
 the bowl of wine from the tray and, holding 
 it in both hands, made a pretty bow to my 
 mother, and asked her to be seated. She 
 did this to the foreign ladies, in turn, then 
 the Chinese ladies slipped Into their places 
 and the feast began. 
 
 It would take me nearly all winter, I be- 
 lieve, if I told you all we had to eat, and 
 you probably would never go to a Chinese 
 feast if I did, and then you would miss lots 
 of fun and many good things. 
 
 We had course after course, some like the 
 "little girl with the little curl," very good, 
 — others horrid. Everything was either 
 very oily or very sweet, and all boiling hot. 
 
 My mother says she can eat the shark's 
 fins with a smile, worry down the black sea 
 slugs and the buried eggs, but the worst of 
 all is to think up conversation through the 
 many unending courses. Chinese ladles are 
 not allowed to go outside their houses ex- 
 cept In sedan chairs; they can not read, and 
 they spend their days sewing, quarreling, and 
 smoking. My hair was the subject for two 
 or three courses, — how beautiful It was, and 
 
 47 
 
what a lovely skin I had, and my eyes were 
 as blue as the sky , and I spoke Chinese bet- 
 ter than the ladies did themselves. I saw 
 my mother look very uneasy and try and 
 talk about American children and how they 
 were taught to obey. I knew she didn't like 
 me to hear all the compliments, that's one 
 reason she so seldom takes me to the Yamen 
 — but of course I had sense enough to know 
 they did not really mean it, and were only 
 being polite. Towards the end of the feast 
 they began to talk about the famine that was 
 growing very bad around us, and one of the 
 ladies said that two or three prisoners died 
 of hunger every day. The prison was un- 
 der the same roof as the Yamen, and my 
 mother said, when she heard that, the feast 
 fairly choked her, and she felt she must get 
 away. You see, the government gives each 
 prisoner a certain number of cash for food. 
 It would be enough to keep the prisoners 
 alive, but the officials put most of the money 
 into their own pockets. Well, at last, the 
 servant passed around a tin basin full of 
 warm water with a greyish rag floating in it, 
 each guest being supposed to bury their face 
 in the rag to remove all traces of the meal. 
 I noticed the foreign ladies touched it pretty 
 gingerly, and that marked the end of the 
 feast. 
 
 As usually, Mother was surrounded by the 
 ladies who were loath to let her go, and 
 begged her eagerly to come again, — they 
 seemed to feel she had something they need- 
 
 48 
 
ed though thy couldn't tell at all what It 
 was. 
 
 As we climbed into our sedan chairs the 
 moon poured over the court, the darkness 
 hid all the dirt and barrenness, and the 
 moonlight made the big carved gates look so 
 splendid, I did not have to pretend at all. 
 It is strange to me how my mother interests 
 all the Chinese, rich and poor. While I 
 have been writing this story about the feast, 
 1 heard her talking to one of the poor 
 women who has come in from the country to 
 study about the Doctrine. Mother says she 
 would get on much faster, but the poor old 
 soul is very deaf. Mother fairly roared 
 into her ears the story of the Prodigal Son. 
 When she had finished the woman turned 
 to her niece, who was standing by, and said, 
 with a placid smile, "I can't understand her, 
 you know I'm a little deaf," and the niece ex- 
 plained to my mother, "You'll have to talk 
 as though you were quarreling with her." 
 Just the same, the old lady seems to have 
 gathered a good deal more from my 
 mother's teaching than a great many 
 brighter Christians in America, for she loves 
 to go to church, and says, "I can't hear the 
 prayers, and the sermon, and I can't sing 
 the hymns — but I can sit awhile before the 
 Lord." 
 
 49 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 The Exciting Voyage of 
 a Houseboat 
 
 ILLY, Jimmy and I feel a good 
 deal like cannibals or graveyards 
 this afternoon. I suppose you 
 wonder why, so I will hurry to 
 tell you. 
 
 When we came back from our summer 
 vacation. Tain Si Fu, our cook, gave us six 
 pigeons; three to us children for pets, and 
 three to Daddy and Mother for the table; 
 but they were all put in one small pigeon 
 house. We children grew very fond of 
 them, feeding them faithfully with corn and 
 other things until they were as plump 
 as partridges. At last today Mother 
 felt we must eat the three that Tain Si Fu 
 had given her and Daddy, or he would be 
 hurt. Of course we all hated to lose our 
 pets and when I came to the table and saw 
 them looking so different from the proud 
 pigeons that used to strut about the yard and 
 stick out their breasts in such a conceited 
 way, and who used to fly down so quickly 
 when we brought them their dinner, I 
 
 .SI 
 
didn't know whether to laugh or to cry — 
 still we all wanted to taste. Jimmy took 
 the first bite very doubtfully, smacked his 
 lips, and said, with a sad, sweet smile, "How 
 comfy does other pigeons are, in dere little 
 house when dey sit down, now dese ones 
 are gone." 
 
 That comforted us so much and the pig- 
 eons were so delicious we all ate a great 
 deal, but after dinner when I went out and 
 saw only three pigeons it made me feel very 
 solemn, and I decided to write a story this 
 afternoon, and perhaps I would forget about 
 being a cannibal. 
 
 Hwai Yuan I like, and Kuling I like, but 
 it's awful on the plains between except at 
 Mrs. Molland's house, that seems like a kind 
 of place to cuddle down in. 
 
 Every summer we go to the mountains 
 because it is too hot for children and ladies 
 in Hwai Yuan, but it means such a trip. 
 Sometimes three or four weeks when we go 
 by houseboat; ten days or more if we go by 
 sedan chair, and that is dreadfully hard trav- 
 eling, putting up at night in the stuffy, dirty 
 Chinese inns and being carried all day long 
 on the shoulders of quarreling coolies. 
 When we reach home we are just worn out. 
 Mother hates the houseboat even worse, 
 though it is much easier, because it was on 
 the first houseboat trip that our little Harry 
 was taken so ill, and she always is afraid 
 what may happen. Soon we hope to have 
 a railroad and then it will be fine taking 
 
 52 
 
only a day or two; It will make us feel so 
 civilized. 
 
 This fall there were so many people and 
 such a crowd of boxes we had to go by 
 houseboat. It took three boats to carry us 
 all. When I tell you there were three hun- 
 dred boxes, I think you will be surprised. 
 Among the things were a piano, a church or- 
 gan, coal, a pulpit, and eighteen beds; all 
 our winter stores, potatoes, and groceries; 
 all Auntie Jeanie's things from home, a violin 
 and housekeeping utensils for some of the 
 others, and a lot of things I can't remember. 
 
 I wish I could draw you a picture of a 
 houseboat. You probably would think it a 
 great lark to travel on one the first trip, even 
 to the living on fricassee chicken for three or 
 four weeks running; but to do it twice a year 
 grows very tiresome. In the bow of the 
 boat is the front deck, of course, under 
 which the boatmen sleep. They put down 
 the planks every night, and why they aren't 
 smothered before morning we have never 
 been able to discover; for not a sign of a win- 
 dow do they have, and all the air the three or 
 four men get sifts through the cracks. They 
 always bob up serenely next day, so I don't 
 believe we need as much air as the doctors 
 say we do. 
 
 Behind the deck comes a little room where 
 they do the cooking; you have to walk 
 through this to get to the living-room, din- 
 ing-room, dressing-room, sleeping-room, all 
 combined. Again behind that Is another 
 
 S3 
 
room, and beyond that again are quarters 
 for the boatman's family. 
 
 On this trip there were Aunt Peggie, Aunt 
 Agnes and Auntie Jeanie, beside Daddy, 
 Mother and we four children. You will 
 understand if I quote the poem we learned in 
 the Reader, "We were crowded in the 
 cabin." We had beds on every spot and 
 box where a bed could be put, and some 
 places where they couldn't. In the day time 
 the bedding had to be folded and put away 
 so we could use the spots and boxes as 
 chairs. As Mother complained, "It made 
 getting dressed and the room ready for 
 breakfast, very complicated." 
 
 I must hasten to explain that our trip was 
 up the Grand Canal, on which the current 
 was terribly swift on account of the floods, 
 through the lakes, and up the Hwai River. 
 The first part of the way we were tugged 
 by a launch, the rest of the way we sailed 
 when we had a following wind, which we 
 seldom had, and were towed when the wind 
 failed or was ahead. That, as you can eas- 
 ily imagine, was slow work, but in China time 
 and tide wait for everybody. 
 
 Well, it took Daddy even longer to get 
 the boats loaded than I have taken to de- 
 scribe it, and In the meantime we stayed 
 with friends at Yang Chow. At length, 
 however, every box, piece of coal and po- 
 tato were on board, the boat tied to the 
 launch, and they steamed along the canal to 
 pick us up at Yang Chow. 
 
We started off gay and happy as you 
 please, amid the usual Chinese din of yells 
 and jeers, firecrackers and cackling hens, 
 while we stood and waved good-bye until 
 our friends disappeared behind a bend in 
 the river. 
 
 It took a good many hours to get our 
 bags and bundles stowed away, for the boat 
 had been pressed down and running over 
 before, and with all the added people and 
 bedding it was as good as a puzzle picture to 
 get things "put and stay put," as some one 
 wisely remarked. 
 
 We children went out on deck to be out 
 of the way and watch the chickens, for in 
 China one carries all the chickens one ex- 
 pects to eat, in coops, along with one. The 
 idea is to feed them up in the hope they will 
 grow fat and tender, but as far as I can 
 remember, it was always a vain hope. 
 
 We watched the shores with the mud vil- 
 lages, and the dirty pigs, dogs and ragged 
 children, and the barges full of country peo- 
 ple and all their worldly belongings that 
 were fleeing south away from the famine. 
 All the world seemed under water except 
 the banks of the canal and a few farm- 
 houses here and there that stood above the 
 flood mark. Then we grew tired and be- 
 gan to watch the boat people. The man 
 who owns the boat always lives on it with 
 his whole family; it may be a large one, 
 in fact, it always is. We children enjoy 
 
 55 
 
watching them cook their food, and burn 
 their incense, though my mother hates to 
 have us hear them swear and quarrel. 
 
 Once when we were on a boat the man 
 who owned it was ill, and he thought he was 
 going to die, so he took his coffin along with 
 him. He thought it would be "inconveni- 
 ent" to die on the boat, so he asked us to 
 wait over a day and see what happened. 
 
 That evening his old aunt walked around 
 the boat calling in the most weird voice for 
 his soul to come back ; it made my back bone 
 creep. Then one of the sons went out into 
 the fields and he was supposed to be the 
 soul, and he called in a still more frighten- 
 ing voice, "Coming, coming." It just made 
 me shiver and hold my mother's hand. T 
 wonder how the sick man felt; however, 
 he wasn't so very ill and we went on the 
 next day. 
 
 By the time we had grown tired of watch- 
 ing the sailors and the old father of them 
 all burning his joss sticks before their eve- 
 ning offering of rice, Mother called us in to 
 supper. We perched on boxes and chairs and 
 beds, at all sorts of angles, and ate our first 
 wings and drumsticks of the daily chicken 
 amid shouts of laughter. Auntie Jeanie, 
 Mother and Daddy can always see the funny 
 side of the most uncomfortable happenings, 
 so they often turn mishaps that other people 
 would talk about with long faces for days, 
 into picnic parties. 
 
 It took a very long time to settle into bed 
 
 56 
 
that night, though we started right after 
 supper, for there seemed not a single place to 
 put anything, and in the dim light of candles 
 and lanterns, things slipped behind loose 
 boards, or between boxes into the most un- 
 likely places. 
 
 Billy and I couldn't help thinking what 
 fun it would be if the organ, piano and vio- 
 lin should begin to play in the middle of the 
 night, but we all drew the line at having the 
 pulpit begin to preach. However, we had 
 a very different kind of music! As one by 
 one we dropped to sleep, the last thing we 
 heard was the rushing of the water on our 
 bows, and the distant barking of dogs on 
 the bank, as we swung swiftly along, towed 
 by the launch. 
 
 Suddenly, about two o'clock there was a 
 crash, and we started up in bed, at the 
 frightened yells of the boat people. There 
 was running over our heads, calls to and 
 from the distant launch, our boat gave a 
 shake and tremble, and it seemed as if we 
 must go over. We had struck a rock, and 
 the launch threw off the tow rope. Our 
 boat stood still a minute and then was car- 
 ried away by the terribly swift current. The 
 Grand Canal is not the quiet, peaceful, gen- 
 tle water the canals in America are. It is 
 quite wide in places, and after the high rains 
 the water flows as fast as a river. We were 
 all terribly surprised and frightened, but, 
 as usual, Daddie and Mother quieted our 
 fears. Daddy told us to dress quickly, and 
 
 57 
 
Mother, very calm, though her voice shook a 
 little when she spoke, found our lost stock- 
 ings and shoes, and helped us bundle up 
 warm. You can imagine the hubbub, all 
 those people having to find their things in 
 the dim light in those crowded cabins. The 
 sailors had to come in, and found two feet 
 of water under the floor, and it looked 
 pretty serious. In a good deal shorter time 
 than you would think possible, we were 
 dressed and ready for the worst or best, 
 for we did not know at what moment we 
 would sink. The water looked awfully cold 
 and cruel, and the night was so very dark; 
 the only comfort was the lights of the launch 
 in the distance, and the touch of my dear 
 mother's hand. 
 
 When things seemed very bad indeed the 
 sailors, who had by this time gotten their 
 poles and oars out, gave a shout, and by 
 much poling, rowing and yelling, pushed us 
 up on the bank. 
 
 Then, of course, they had to stop the 
 hole in our hold, and finally, after a long 
 time, they patched it up so a tug could tow 
 us to the next city, where it could be prop- 
 erly mended. You can easily understand 
 without much explaining that we could not 
 exactly call that a peaceful night's sleep. 
 The next morning, after they had pulled 
 their courage together, the family started In 
 to see what damage had been done by the 
 water in the hold. As the grown people 
 said, "It didn't exactly help the burning 
 
 58 
 
powers of the coal, and the flavor of pota- 
 ties to have them soaked, but it was still 
 harder on the books, the linen, and the vio- 
 lin." However, the organ and the piano 
 were untouched and only the violin case 
 damaged. We spread the books and linen 
 out to dry so that they would not mildew, 
 and the outside of the boat looked like "rag 
 fair" — whatever that may be; but no one 
 cares for looks in the middle of China, 
 where whatever a foreigner does is consid- 
 ered half crazy any way. 
 
 You are probably saying that this acci- 
 dent on the houseboat was a very unusual 
 thing, and if I wasn't so anxious to go and 
 play I would tell you some more about our 
 different trips, then perhaps you would un- 
 derstand why my mother dreaded them so. 
 How they are almost always dangerous on 
 account of river pirates; how sometimes the 
 boats have been filled with rats so that they 
 ran over us at night; how we have to drink 
 the canal water into which everything is 
 thrown. That is why dear little Harry 
 didn't have any chance when he was ill. 
 Then there is always danger from riots at 
 unfriendly villages where the boats tie up 
 at night; and last but not least, we have to 
 go through the locks where there is always 
 great danger of the rotten Chinese ropes 
 breaking and the boat being upset in the 
 swift rapids. People have been drowned 
 there before now. 
 
 59 
 
I think my mother Is very brave to go 
 through all these dangers twice a year for 
 us children, for, of course, she Is never 
 frightened about herself. She never thinks 
 of herself at all. I really think she is one 
 of the bravest people In the world. Why, 
 when Uncle Sam's house burned down, the 
 women and children were sent to Aunt 
 Rose's house for safety, but my mother 
 stayed behind and directed the Chinese 
 coolies where to throw the buckets of 
 water. The firemen took their orders, with- 
 out a protest, from a despised foreign 
 woman, though I don't believe any one, in 
 their heart of hearts, ever despised my 
 mother. 
 
 Well, of course you can guess from my 
 writing this that our last houseboat jour- 
 ney ended in safety. You could never un- 
 derstand, unless you had taken the journey, 
 with an organ, a violin, a pulpit, eighteen 
 beds, fricassee chickens, beside women and 
 children, how perfectly delighted we were 
 when we sailed around the last curve of the 
 Hwai River, and old W^est Mountain came 
 Into view. It looked awfully pretty that 
 bright October morning, with the queer 
 Chinese sails on the winding river, with East 
 land West mountains at the back iof the 
 picture and at the foot, our hospital and 
 church spire In the dear little town of Hwai 
 Yuan. 
 
 When I saw the Chinese women coming 
 forward to greet my mother and welcome 
 
 60 
 
her home, I knew she felt It was worth the 
 hard trip, and that she was so glad she had 
 the joy of being a foreign missionary. 
 
 6i 
 
s 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "In That Beautiful Lfind" 
 
 July, 1914 
 
 I ERE we are again in dear old 
 Kuling. We are the same chil- 
 dren, Nanq^, Billy, Jimmy and 
 Baby Gwen, only we are quite a 
 good deal bigger ; the bungalow is the same, 
 and the little bridge across our brook, and 
 the mountains with their queer Chinese 
 shapes; and our good, kind friends are as 
 lovely as ever. None of these things or 
 people have changed at all, yet it seems so 
 different, so strange and queer and very 
 empty. Often in my play I stop and listen, 
 thinking I hear a voice calling, "Nancy, 
 Nancy dear," and suddenly I remember that 
 that can not be, for her voice never calls 
 me now. I turn again and try to play, but 
 the play spirit is gone away, for I no longer 
 have a loving Mother into whose ear I can 
 whisper all about the make-believe games, 
 one who knows what I mean without the 
 long explaining that most grown-up people 
 need. 
 
 You see, it came about in this way. Af- 
 ter the terrible famine in China, all the mis- 
 
 63 
 
sionarles were worn out — Uncle Sam and 
 Uncle Bois were ill with fever and no one 
 thought they would ever get well. My 
 Daddy helped to nurse them and when they 
 began to be better, he grew worse and worse 
 until the doctors got together and sent us 
 home to Aimerica. My mother was just 
 wonderful, she took care of Daddie and was 
 so bright and cheery even when she was wor- 
 ried half to death about him. 
 
 When we reached home Daddy went to 
 one grandmother's and we children to the 
 other's, while mother went back and forth 
 between. That was pretty hard, because 
 when she was in one place she was wonder- 
 ing what was happening in the other, but she 
 never told how she felt except once, when 
 she said to a friend that when she was go- 
 ing to the children she "just wanted to get 
 out and push the train." How we would 
 watch for her coming up the long hill from 
 the railroad station, and rush to the door 
 to be the first to kiss her, and little Gwen 
 would dance around shouting, "Muddie," 
 "Muddie," and Mother would exclaim over 
 and over again, "Oh, you precious children, 
 you precious children." 
 
 Then began a joyful time, for Daddy got 
 better, and we could be all together in the 
 mountains; those were the happiest days we 
 ever had anywhere. Mother was so bright 
 and funny, and dear and good, her mind was 
 so relieved about Daddy she could scarcely 
 keep from laughing all the time, her soft 
 
 64 
 
eyes had such a loving light in them, and 
 when she made a joke she just twinkled all 
 over. 
 
 We came back to Pen-y-Craig in the fall, 
 and suddenly they said our precious mother 
 was ill, so we must keep very still. We 
 simply stole around the house, and tried to 
 be just as quiet as good children could be, 
 talking in whispers. One or two days we 
 spent with friends, and we did not realize 
 then, she was very ill ; but oh I so soon they 
 told us our darling Mother had gone to be 
 with Jesus. It must be very beautiful there, 
 still I can't help feeling she must have hated 
 to leave her little children and dear Daddy. 
 
 The day she was put to rest was very 
 rainy, but as they carried her softly out and 
 laid her gently down in a bed of beautiful 
 purple and white asters, the setting sun sud- 
 denly filled the valleys and covered the 
 mountains, and in the end, touched her rest- 
 ing-place with a glorious golden light. Then 
 our minister repeated the words, "The pil- 
 grim they laid in a large upper chamber, 
 whose window opened toward the rising sun, 
 the name of the chamber was peace, where 
 she slept till break of day." I like to think 
 of her sleeping on that hilltop with the moun- 
 tains she loved around her, and her dear 
 home nestled below her. She seems the 
 guardian angel of it and the whole town; 
 and not alone of them but of distant China 
 too; for in the tall tower of our beautiful 
 church above "the city that those who are 
 
 65 
 
far away love," my mother's friends have 
 placed a clock and bell, that when the bell 
 chimes out the hours foreigners and Chinese 
 alike may think tenderly of one who loved 
 them all so dearly and spent her life for 
 them. 
 
 On the happy Sunday morning when the bell 
 rings over the town and echoes back from 
 the hills, calling us to service, I whisper in my 
 heart, "My mother is still calling us as she 
 used to do, to leave our work and come to 
 pray to Him who gladly died for us." But 
 most of all I love to think of her watching 
 near to us children when we play, and when 
 we are tired and going to bed, I can almost 
 feel her soft hand smoothing my hair and 
 pressing gently on my eyelids to make me 
 go to sleep — always if I am naughty I see 
 her dear brown eyes looking at me sadly. 
 
 It is very hard for a little girl to under- 
 stand exactly why God wanted her when we 
 needed her so very badly, but this thought 
 often comforts me. You know how my 
 mother loved the poor stupid Chinese women 
 and how many she helped and taught to love 
 Jesus. Now our Heavenly Father knew they 
 were stupid and poor : He realized that when 
 they came to Heaven they would be lonely, 
 frightened, and strange, it would be so dif- 
 ferent in that beautiful place from their dirty 
 straw huts, and muddy courtyards and 
 streets. I think He has taken my mother, 
 whom they trusted so deeply, to greet them 
 and make Heaven homelike to them, for 
 
 66 
 
surely they never could feel clumsy nor 
 homesick nor shy after they had seen her. 
 
 I can just see her stand at that beautiful 
 gate, with Harry, and Cousin Tommy at her 
 side waiting patiently as she always used to 
 do to welcome those timid Chinese women. 
 She would run forward, her hands out- 
 stretched and her face all shining with love 
 and joy, eager to show them how much more 
 beautiful this new country was than they 
 ever could have dreamed; and at last they 
 will understand what she had meant when 
 she told them in poor famine-stricken China 
 that they should never be hungry any more 
 nor thirsty, nor sick, and best of all, she will 
 lead them to the King in all His wonderful 
 beauty — and to the loving Shepherd who 
 had come to earth to seek them when they 
 were lost. 
 
 Can you see why that country does not 
 seem very far off or strange to us children, 
 with our precious mother there? 
 
 67 
 
The Song of the Women 
 
 How shall she know the worship we would 
 do her! 
 The walls are high, and she is very far. 
 
 How shall the women's message reach unto 
 her 
 Above the tumult of the packed bazaar? 
 
 Free wind of March against the lattice 
 blowing, 
 
 Bear thou our thanks, lest she depart un- 
 knowing. 
 
 Go forth across the fields we may not roam 
 in; 
 Go forth beyond the trees that rim the 
 city, 
 
 To whatsoe'er fair place she hath her home 
 in, 
 Who dowered us with wealth of love and 
 pity; 
 
 Out of our shadow pass and seek her, sing- 
 ing, 
 
 "I have no gifts but love alone for bring- 
 mg. 
 
 Say that we be a feeble folk who greet her, 
 But old in grief, and very wise in tears; 
 
 Say that we, being desolate, entreat her 
 That she forget us not in after years; 
 
 For we have seen the light, and it were 
 grievous 
 
 To dim that dawning if our lady leave us. 
 
 69 
 
By life that ebbed with none to stanch the 
 falling, 
 By love's sad harvest garnered in the 
 spring, 
 
 When love in ignorance wept unavailing 
 O'er young buds dead before their blos- 
 soming ; 
 
 By all the gray owl watched, the pale moon 
 viewed. 
 
 In past grim years, declare our gratitude ! 
 
 ♦ ♦ * ♦ 
 
 Go forth, O wind, our message on thy wings. 
 And they shall hear thee pass and bid 
 
 thee speed, — 
 In reed-roofed hut, or white-walled home of 
 
 kings, — 
 Who have been helpen by her in their 
 
 need. 
 All spring shall give thee fragrance, and the 
 
 wheat 
 Shall be a tasselled floor cloth to thy feet. 
 
 Haste, for our hearts are with thee ; take no 
 rest, 
 Loud-voiced ambassador, from sea to sea. 
 Proclaim the bhssing, manifold, confest, 
 Of those in darkness, by her hand set 
 free; 
 1 hen very softly to her presence move, 
 And whisper, "Lady, lo, they know and 
 love I" 
 
 RuDYARD Kipling. 
 Selected. 
 
 70 
 
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