Little Almond Blossoms 5

Little Almond Blossoms 5

THE MOON RABBIT_

 

[Illustration: _Little Priest_]

 

 

It was the eve of the Moon Festival. The homes and the people of

Chinatown were gay within and gay without, and the incense-laden air was

full of the holiday spirit. The Moon Festival with the Chinese is

something like the American Christmas, only it lasts longer, extending

into their New Year.

 

Kon Ying had not been very happy in her little life, for she had always

been made to feel that she was one too many in the home. She had three

sisters older than herself, and the Chinese do not like so many

daughters,--they would rather have sons; so when she arrived in the

small home, it was decided to call her Kon Ying, which means “enough

hawks.” After her had come a baby brother, who was petted and spoiled in

every way possible, because he was a boy. As he was the only son, the

parents soon resorted to a queer Chinese method. They shaved his head

and called him “little priest,” allowing him to be adopted by another

family. This was done to deceive the bad spirits, and make them think

they cared no more for their child than for a despised priest, and had

thought so little of him that they had even allowed another family to

adopt him.

 

Little Kon Ying had been left to herself a great deal, and so had

thought of many things. Perhaps

 

[Illustration: _She and one of her sisters were on the step in front of

their home_]

 

she had thought more of the Moon Rabbit than anything else, and wondered

in her childish way why it had never remembered her. She and one of her

sisters were on the step in front of their home talking about it, when

she saw her brother across the street, in front of the joss house. He

was richly dressed, and pretended he did not know her.

 

The streets were beautiful to-night, so, after much persuasion, _mo

chun_ had promised to take the children to see the shop windows. Soon

the mother appeared at the door, where in a little bowl punks were

always kept burning for the god, and in her high-pitched Chinese voice

told the children she was ready. Kon Ying was happy for once. She was

happy to-night, because she was strong and young, and the Chinese world

was beautiful. And, someway, she felt that the rabbit would really

remember her to-night.

 

On they went, one after another, in true Chinese fashion, but never

losing sight of the polished hair of _mo chun_ in front of them.

 

How gay it all was, and how bright! The great irregular rows of big

round lanterns looked like a lot of moons, and surely the rabbit’s own

moon could not be more beautiful. They could scarcely tear themselves

away from the bakeshop windows, which were full of cakes of all kinds.

Some were shaped like the moon, and some were made into tall Chinese

pagodas, a fish, a horse, or something of the kind. Some had on them the

picture of the white rabbit, who is always pounding out rice in the

moon. On others were painted beautiful gods and goddesses. _Mo chun_ was

telling them that when good little Chinese children were all asleep the

mysterious rabbit would come to the shops and purchase the pretty

things, to leave in the homes of the children.

 

Kon Ying was thinking as she pressed her cunning little nose up against

the cold glass: “I likee know if I been good enough this time. I help

_mo chun_--I play (pray) to joss heap plenty time; maybe the moon labbit

come--maybe, I no _sabe_” (understand). She only knew that she had done

her best, always; but perhaps the wonderful rabbit would not think so.

Never mind! she would pray once more to the ugly little old god at

home, before she went to sleep.

 

Soon they came to the toy shops. She felt as if she could stay forever,

for there were toys of all kinds, and no one would ever know how good

they seemed to a poor little Chinese girl who had never had any toys.

The only one she had ever possessed was an old broken doll she had once

found upon a trash heap, but she had treasured it as no doll was ever

before treasured, and had given it all the pent-up love in her little

starved heart. She had even named it “Kin Leen” (golden lily), and

pretended that it was a fine aristocratic lady, with “little feet.” She

had bound its feet with strips of cloth, and it was to this doll that

she had gone with all her troubles; but no one knew this. If her proud

brother had known he would have teased her unmercifully.

 

There were so many lovely pagodas in the window, and some of them were

several feet high. She would like one of these, but knew she might as

well long for the moon. There was something in the window which she

would rather have than a pagoda or anything else, and she longed for it

so intensely that a real prayer must have gone out from her little

innocent heart. It was a doll!--a Chinese doll, with big slanting eyes,

like Kon Ying’s own, and the most gorgeous dress of flowered silk.

 

Suddenly it dawned upon her what she would do when she got home. Instead

of praying to the god on the shelf she would pray to the moon rabbit,

and beg and beg of it to bring her a doll. If she could only have one of

those gorgeous creatures, with the tuft of black hair on its head, and

the wobbly feet and arms, and painted cheeks and lips, she would surely

never ask for anything else. There were other dolls in plenty, but none

so beautiful. They were only bits of wood, with eyes, nose, and mouth

painted on them. If she had not seen the big one she might have cared

for those, but now--she would never care for them; she had seen the

queen.

 

She gasped out, in her shrill childish voice: “Oh, _mo chun_!

Why--why--won’t the moon labbit bling me doll?”

 

Before the mother could reply, a kind hand was laid upon the polished

head of the little girl, and a man’s kind voice said: “The moon labbit

_will_ bling you doll, and all the little sistehs too.”

 

Looking up, she saw that the voice came from the lips of a notorious

highbinder--a friend of her father’s.

 

The man had been to their home many times. She had liked him, for he

always had a kind word for children, and last New Year he had even

brought them some cunning little mandarin oranges, and a package of

Chinese candy. He was said to be a very bad man, but he loved children.

Speaking a few words of holiday greeting, he passed on into the shop,

while Kon Ying and her sisters still gazed at the contents of the

windows.

 

The big doll seemed to be saying: “I am yours, Kon Ying!--take me!”

while it held out its wobbly arms in entreaty. Its painted lips seemed

as if they might be forming pretty Chinese words of good wishes for the

Moon Festival.

 

Kon Ying’s little celestial heart longed for it with a terrible longing,

but the glass was between them, and so--her heart could only ache in

silence. It could not happen, anyway. When did anything nice ever happen

to her? She had always been in the way, and there were no toys to spare

for her--little “Enough Hawks.”

 

She was so absorbed in gazing at the doll that she did not see the

highbinder, away back in the shop. Her nose was pressed against the

glass, and her dirty little fingers had left ten marks, but she did not

know; she would not have cared if she had known. Suddenly, as she gazed,

something wonderful happened. A big blue arm reached into the window

from the shop, and slim fingers with long Chinese nails closed upon the

doll, lifting it out of the window, to disappear from the gaze of the

enraptured children. It seemed to blink its slanting eyes in farewell as

it departed.

 

The pale yellow ivory face of little Kon Ying appeared to grow even more

pale as she screamed out, in that little nasal voice of hers: “She

gone--the moon labbit no can get her now to bling to me. Heap bad

spirit catch ’em doll: I so solly--I _so_ solly.”

 

It seemed to her that when the doll had gone from her sight it had taken

with it the very heart out of her body, and she did not care to linger

now, so they passed on, to other sights and sounds.

 

On a flower-laden balcony some one was twanging on a _sam yun_ (banjo),

but even music had no charm for her now, because--the DOLL was gone. She

would never see it again; the bad spirits had taken it. Perhaps it was

because she had neglected to pray to the god lately. She had even dared,

when no one was looking, to make a horrible face at him, and tell him

she hated him. She did this because her little heart was so heavy; no

one seemed to care for her, and the god never made anything nice happen

to her, nor paid any attention to her little prayers. Never mind! she

would pray to the moon rabbit after this; perhaps it would hear her

prayer. After she had decided upon this course she was anxious to get

back to her home. The children were all getting tired now, and their

wooden sandals dragged heavily upon the narrow pavements.

 

“We go home now,” said _mo chun_; “Maybe moon labbit come to-night.”

 

At last they reached their home, and the tired children ascended the

stairway. Kon Ying set to work to offer her sacrifices, as she was tired

and wanted to go to bed. She had nothing to offer the moon rabbit except

her old broken doll; so she placed it on a table and burned her incense

sticks, and everybody thought she was praying to the god. But she was

not; she knew,--and the god knew. At last she laid her tired head on the

hard couch.

 

It seemed to her she had only been there a minute, when there came a

great glare of light and the sound of Chinese flutes. The lattice window

opened, and in marched a troop of tiny Chinamen, dressed in purple and

gold. Each one carried a stick of lighted incense for a torch, making

the room as bright as day.

 

They marched right up to where Kon Ying lay, and the most richly dressed

one said: “Kon Ying, our queen has prepared a banquet for you; will your

highness please to accept the invitation?”

 

Kon Ying was frightened at first, but something within her seemed to

speak the words: “I shall be pleased to obey the commands of your

queen;” and she made a curtsey to the royal messenger.

 

“Be prepared to go when the time comes!” he said, and vanished with his

company.

 

By and by there was another glare of lights, and the sound of music. The

lattice opened again, and there flitted in a crowd of the dearest little

Chinese ladies, all clad in pink silk blouses, with lavender trousers,

and pretty little golden sandals. They had so many diamonds in their

hair and ears that it almost put out little Kon Ying’s eyes. They each

carried a tiny Chinese lantern, which shed a soft light.

 

The most beautiful one now approached Kon Ying and said: “The queen has

sent you a royal robe; please put it on, and we will hasten to the

moon.”

 

Again the little girl gasped out: “Your highness’ commands shall be

obeyed;” and slipping from her couch she stood shivering upon the floor,

while the moon-maidens arrayed her in a robe of palest lavender.

 

“Our queen heard your prayer, and has sent us to carry you to her

kingdom,” they said; and spreading out the wide Chinese sleeves of her

gown until they looked just like wings, they told her to come, and away

through the window she flew with them.

 

She felt as light as a feather, and could not resist the pleasure of

making one real ugly face at the god as she passed. There stood on the

street in front of the house a row of the dearest little sedan chairs,

all glittering with gold, and carried by huge white rabbits. Before she

could say a word they had opened the door for her, and placing her

inside, flew away,--away from the squatty little god and the smell of

incense, away from the great shining lanterns of the dragon, and the

narrow, crooked streets, and into air that was so pure it seemed like a

delicious nectar.

 

Kon Ying leaned from the window of her sedan chair and gazed at all the

wondrous beauty of the sky. As they passed through the milky way some

tiny star-fairies handed her a jewelled glass of the richest milk. She

was very glad, for it seemed a long time since her supper of rice and

tea. She was far away from the lights of the city now, and surrounded by

the dazzling radiance of the stars. One very large star seemed to be the

queen, and all the little stars bowed down before it, chanting the sweetest melody.

Little Almond Blossoms 4

Little Almond Blossoms 4

They knew they could not find Santa Claus in Chinatown, so the first

thing to do was to get out of the Chinese section, and into one of the

great thoroughfares of the city. On they went, past the joss house,

where they had once been with their mother to burn pretty candles before

the joss, and they looked up with childish admiration at the big round

lanterns which hung on the balcony, and tried to read the Chinese

letters at the door. Sometime, perhaps when the moon festival came, or

the Chinese New Year, it might be that _mo chun_ would take them again,

if she had money enough to buy any more pretty candles. The good joss

liked pretty candles.

 

There were many lovely things to be seen in Chinatown, but to-night they

were going somewhere else. It did not occur to them that they might get

lost, or that their dear mother might be uneasy. They were too much

excited over what the story-teller had told them to worry over anything,

so they toddled on, their hearts full of expectation. They had no idea

what Christmas would be like when they should find it, or whether it

would be alive, but they could wait. How very queer it seemed when they

had left the narrow crooked streets of Chinatown, with its smell of

incense and its balconies and lanterns, and found themselves on a great

wide street full of people, so full of people that the heart of the

motherly little Ah Chee almost failed her, and she clasped her arm

protectingly around the body of her fat baby brother, and whispered

words of encouragement in his little brown ear.

 

Many people, in the hurry of their Christmas shopping, gave a passing

thought of wonder that the two little Chinese children should be in the

dense crowd alone, but thought perhaps their parents were following

them; and so, with a smile at the dimpled tea-rose face and sparkling

eyes of the Chinese maiden they passed on, to the brightness and good

cheer of their own comfortable homes. There were so many street cars,

with bells clanging, carriages dashing past, and so much noise and

confusion that they were both frightened. Even the brave little heart

of Ah Chee beat violently under the padded warmth of her dark blue

blouse, and for a moment she almost feared they would not find Santa

Claus. But just then a voice said something, and a big policeman picked

her up, and smiled at her, saying: “Where are you going, little one?

Where is mamma?”

 

The timid little voice of Ah Chee replied, “_Mo chun_, she at home; can

you tell me,” she eagerly questioned, “where Sanny Claw is?”

 

“Why, yes, to be sure; he is in there.”

 

In there,--could it be possible they were so near the wonderful being

and had not known it?

 

They saw a very large store, with great crowds of people, big and

little, jostling each other in their efforts to

 

[Illustration: “_Where are you going, little one?_”]

 

get in. So all these people were hunting Santa Claus. Ah Chee in her

childish eagerness slipped, and would have fallen, had she not been

caught in some one’s arms. The arms belonged to a richly dressed lady,

who looked down with indifference at the pathetic picture of the two

little children, and was about to draw her skirts aside and pass on,

when the little Christ-child must have put a thought into her worldly

heart, for she turned and looked again into the wistful little faces.

 

They must have seen some sympathy in her face, for Ah Chee said

hesitatingly, “Oh, if you please, we likee see Sanny Claw; could you

show us?”

 

For a moment she hesitated. What would her aristocratic friends think

if they saw her taking two dirty Chinese children into the elegant shop?

 

“Why didn’t your father bring you?” she said.

 

“My fatheh--he die; we no got fatheh.”

 

Something in the pleading little face, and the quiver in the little red

mouths, and the despair in the great oblique eyes must have touched the

woman’s heart beneath all its worldly coating. With sudden decision she

grasped the two little trembling hands, and throwing all her old false

pride to the Christmas winds, stepped boldly into the shop, where all

was elegance and warmth and light and beauty.

 

To her it was an old story. She had long since lost the spirit of

Christmas, and the old legend of Santa Claus brought no ecstasy to her,

for there were no children at her home to hang up their stockings. The

little Chinese children were all eyes now, and forgot their poverty and

the bleak darkness of their home as they looked for the first time at

all this sparkling beauty. At last they found him--the “‘Melican Sanny

Claw!” To the lady it was nothing,--such an old, old story,--but to the

two little Chinese children it was the perfect and blissful realization

of a dream, the one beautiful event in two little barren lives. And

now--they actually stood face to face with Santa Claus. Little Ah Gong

was glad to see that he was not spitting fire, like the Chinese dragon,

and felt quite reassured.

 

Santa was standing by a sparkling tree all covered with pretty candles,

such as they had burned for the joss, and on top of the tree was a great

shining star.

 

“What is that?” said Ah Gong, pointing with his chubby forefinger to the

star.

 

“That? It is the star of Bethlehem,” said the pretty lady, with a queer

catch in her voice, while for the first time in her life she realized a

little of the true meaning of the star.

 

They did not understand, and clung closer to each other as they neared

the wonderful Santa Claus. He must have come from a very cold country,

for he was dressed all in fur, from head to foot, and had rosy cheeks

and long white whiskers.

 

“See,” whispered the little girl to her brother, “it is the heap good

’Melican Santa; do you see him?”

 

“Yes--yes--I see him; I no ’flaid now,” he said, edging closer to him.

 

The beautiful lady was whispering to Santa Claus--actually whispering.

What a brave lady she must be, and they wondered vaguely what she could

have to say to him. And, wonder of wonders! Santa came right up to them,

and putting out his big warm hand, clasped the trembling little cold

hands of the two children, and said: “What do you want me to bring you?”

 

Was there ever anything so wonderful? That he should notice them, and

speak to them? Their eyes almost danced out of their heads at this

unexpected question. It had never occurred to their innocent little

hearts that he would bring them anything, because they were only

Chinese, and the Chinese did not believe in Santa Claus; they only

believed in the Moon Rabbit.

 

As he spoke, visions of wonderful things flitted through their

minds,--things they dared not name. The lady said to Ah Chee: “Tell him,

dear; he would like to give you something.”

 

Before the child thought, she had spoken the words: “Could you--oh,

_could_ you--bling me--a--doll?”

 

“A doll? Why, yes; of course you shall have a doll,” he said, as the

lady looked at him in a meaning way. And then all the boy in little Ah

Gong’s repressed nature broke forth, and he hurriedly gasped: “A

knife--I likee knife.”

 

The lady smiled at Santa again, and he said: “And what else, my little

man?”

 

“I likee led (red) wagon--”

 

“No--no--” whispered the timid sister, “that too muchee--Santa no likee

give so muchee.”

 

Some more mysterious whispering went on, and Santa produced from his fur

pocket a little book and pencil, and wrote down a great many things. Ah

Chee did not know what he could be writing--perhaps a letter to his wife

at the North Pole, but she did not care; she only knew she was going to

get what she had longed for all her little lonely life,--a doll,--and

her motherly heart warmed and thrilled at the happy thought.

 

“And what would your mamma like?” he was saying now.

 

“Oh,--my _mo chun_; let me see,--I think she likee wahm (warm) _shom_

(blouse) and--that’s all light; you must not give too muchee; you so

good--you _so_ good,” she sobbed.

 

Her little starved soul was running over with the joy of Christmas--the

new joy, which she had never before tasted.

 

“You shall not be forgotten, neither shall your mother. Good-by, and

merry Christmas!” he said; and then, after showing the excited children

all the beautiful toys in the shop, the lady went out with them once

more into the crowded streets.

 

The air was full of Christmas cheer, and every one was smiling and

happy, as they hurried along with their arms full of mysterious packages

and called out Christmas greetings to each other.

 

“Do you know where you live, children?” the lady now said.

 

Fortunately Ah Chee remembered the number and place of their home, so

the lady put them into a carriage and seated herself beside them. They

waited in the carriage awhile, till a man came out of the shop and

placed many bundles of various shapes and sizes in with them. It was so

dark they could not see them, but at last, after rattling over the

cobblestones for a time, they saw that they had entered Chinatown, and

once again the odor of the incense greeted them.

 

Soon the carriage stopped right in front of their door, and they could

see the pale face of _mo chun_ peeping from the lattice.

 

The lady told the driver to wait, while she went with the children up

the dark stairway. _Mo chun_ was never so surprised in her life as she

was when the excited children rushed in, pulling the lady after them.

She had begun to be frightened, and was just going down to the shop to

see what was the matter, when they arrived, breathless and happy. She

was very much embarrassed to have the rich and beautiful lady come into

her poor little home, but almost as much excited and pleased over the

gifts as the children, and to see the purse of gold that Santa had

brought her. She had not dreamed there was such kindness in the whole

big world, or such plenty and happiness.

 

It was enough to cure any amount of heartaches to note the rapture in

the eyes of Ah Chee as she hugged the wonderful doll to her motherly

little heart, and to see the boyish delight with which Ah Gong displayed

his knife and red wagon. There were many other gifts, yet they had never

even thought there were such things in the world. _Mo chun_ did not know

how to thank the kind lady, who had, with one gift from her jewelled

hands, lifted her and her children from poverty to comfort. She could

only make her a cup of delicious Chinese tea, and thank her in her

pretty little Chinese way; but in her heart she thanked her, and the

beautiful lady understood, and for the first time in her life realized the true meaning of Christmas.

Little Almond Blossoms 3

Little Almond Blossoms 3

Mo chun_ noticed the boys carrying on a great deal of private

conversation, and she wondered what it could be; so that night, after

Sing Lee had burned his punks before the god, and had eaten his bowl of

rice with chopsticks, she said to him: “What for you allee time whisper?

You no eat--you no sleep; tell me! what you think?”

 

_Mo chun_ was such a dear little brown mother, and he loved her so, that

when she looked at him with her slanting velvet eyes, and asked him to

tell her, he just had to, that was all. He was not afraid of her, for

Chinese mothers do not punish their children, and anyway--the secret was

too good to keep, so why not tell her? She never laughed at him like _ho

chun_. So he crept close up against the warmth of her silken blouse--he

could feel her tender mother heart beating beneath it--and he gazed at

the polished hair and the pretty mouth as he talked.

 

“_Mo chun_--I likee be like big man--like _ho chun_. I get boys

togeddeh; we be highbinders, allee samee _ho chun_.

 

“_Ho chun_ velly fine man; he kill heap of people; I likee do that, but,

_mo chun_, my beautiful blossom, I no likee _ho chun_ to kill Chong

Sing; he heap good--he bling me candy.”

 

“What you mean, little boy? How you _sabe_ (know) _ho chun_ kill Chong

Sing? Speak!--tell me!”

 

“Oh, _mo chun_ of mine, I no sleep at night; I no can help--I hear _ho

chun_ say Chong Sing must die. I velly solly; he heap good man--I

likee.”

 

_Mo chun_ was sorry too, for she knew him to be a good man, but she

knew there was no use to say anything. If they had decided upon his

death there was nothing to be said.

 

The next day Sing Lee set forth with his little band of highbinders to

find some one to kill. _Mo chun_ had said: “You must not really kill

them, you _sabe_, just pletend kill.”

 

Suddenly, as they marched on, a bright thought struck little Sing Lee.

“Suppose I tell Chong Sing?--he live near--I know the way, and--he was

kind to me.”

 

He then confided his secret to his trusty men, and they marched on,

through the narrow streets, till they came to the home of the good Chong

Sing--the man who was to be killed.

 

It was dark and gloomy where Chong Sing lived, and his two little

children, trudging homeward through the narrow alley-way, arrived at

the door just before the little highbinders. Sing Lee could see their

_ho chun_ as he greeted them, and they clasped their little arms about

his neck, while he gazed at them with love in his eyes--and yet--he must

die.

 

Sing Lee’s mind was made up. He marched boldly to the door, and stood

under the big Chinese letters which meant happiness to all who should

enter there, and he could even smell the incense ever kept burning for

the god,--the god who had given no warning to Chong Sing. With a soft

sound of sandalled feet the doomed man appeared at the door. His face

was beaming with good nature. He carried his little girl in his arms,

and by his side stood his son, a manly little fellow.

 

With his heart throbbing as if it would burst, Sing Lee advanced in

front of his men, saying, “I am Sing Lee! You were kind to me once;

these are my men--highbinders--” (at this Chong Sing smiled in a very

amused way, but the smile was changed to something else when the boy

went on) “I no forget you; I velly lonely--you bling me candy; you say

good word to me, and now--I pay you back.

 

“No one know I come to tell you; the Hip Sing Tongs they say you must

die. They say you tell seclets to white devil: I no know, I no care, but

you good man; I likee save you. I want you to go ’way, acloss the water.

You go quick!--I velly solly--good-by.”

 

The little highbinder did not kill any one that day; he was thinking of

a pale, set face, and two little brown arms clasped about a father’s

neck. Never mind! he would kill some one next week, or “to-mollow.” Some

one who was bad--who did not bring candy.

 

There was great surprise among the Hip Sing Tongs when their victim was

not to be found. Such a thing had never happened before, and they could

account for it in no way.

 

Of course they did not think to ask the little mother or the embryo

highbinder. And while they were wondering and searching, away over

across the blue sea were the Chinese father and mother, and brown, happy

children--safe.

 

 

 

 

_HOW AH CHEE FOUND SANTA CLAUS_

 

 

It was Christmas Eve. In the big Chinatown of San Francisco little Ah

Chee and her brother Ah Gong were eagerly drinking in the words of the

old Chinese story-teller as he sat on the streets and told stories for

any one who cared to listen and to give him a few pennies. It was

getting late, and the sea wind blew roughly through the narrow streets,

and made the dear little Chinese noses so cold; but then Ah Chee did not

mind, for the old man had been telling them the most wonderful

tale,--something about Christmas--the ’Melican Clismas--and he had said

something about it being a little Baby’s birthday, and that almost

everybody in the world celebrated it. She pondered over it, in her vague

little Chinese way, and thought it very queer that they should make such

an ado about just a baby.

 

The old man did not understand it very well himself, but he remembered

that when he used to be cook for an American family once, a long time

ago, the children had hung up their stockings on this particular night,

and had some kind of a tree with beautiful things on it. They called it

a Christmas tree, he remembered, and how pleased he had been when there

were found to be some packages for him on that same tree. They had told

him then that Santa Claus had put them there, and he could never forget

the thrill of surprise and pleasure he felt at the thought that this

mysterious Santa Claus, whoever he might be, should have remembered him

when he had never even seen him.

 

And now the story was finished, and the old man went on down the street,

and entered a shop where he would smoke opium and forget all about

Christmas. But little Ah Chee did not forget. She sat scraping her

little sandals against the pavement, thinking it all over. Her _mo chun_

was upstairs in the poor little rooms, sewing by the dim light which

struggled through the lattice, and wishing that she were not so poor,

for she had to work very hard, and often they did not have enough to

eat. The rice was almost gone now, and there were only a few leaves of

_chah_ (tea) left.

 

A Chinese mother loves her children very dearly, and always tries to

gratify their every wish; so it made her feel badly to think she could

not give them embroidered _shoms_ (blouses), and sandals, instead of the

plain dark ones they always had to wear. The children had had their rice

early to-night, and had gone out in the street to play “hawk catching

young chickens,” they said.

 

She did not know the story-teller had been there, but she would not have

objected if she had known, for he was a kind old man, and if she could

have spared the time from her sewing she also would have listened; for

a Chinese woman is like a child in many things. She had heard some one

say this was the American Christmas, but to her all days were

alike,--just work, that was all.

 

Meanwhile Ah Chee was filled with a curious longing to run away from the

picturesque Chinatown, just for a little while, to see if she could not

find out something more about this wonderful Santa Claus. She would give

anything in the world to see him, only--she had nothing to give. All the

trinkets the poor little child owned were a mud pagoda and a bit of

painted wood she called a doll.

 

Once during the Chinese New Year her dear _mo chun_ had taken them for a

walk outside of Chinatown, and she had seen the wonderful shop-windows

of the Americans. How different they were from the Chinese! She had also

seen some beautiful things that her mother had said were dolls. She had

never forgotten it, and had even dreamed of holding one of these

wonderful things in her arms. But it could only be a dream,--no such

happiness was for her,--for it was all they could do to get enough rice

to eat, without buying American dolls.

 

“Ah Gong!” she cried, fired with a sudden and bold resolution, “Ah Gong!

you likee take a walk with sisteh?”

 

Ah Gong was at that moment busily engaged in eating a dried herring,

which the kind-hearted owner of the shop next door had given him; but

that fact did not in the least interfere with his desire to see new

sights. His sparkling Chinese eyes fairly danced out of his head at the

mere prospect.

 

“Yes, I likee,” he replied, with his mouth full of herring. “What foh

you takee walk? Where you go?”

 

She took hold of the end of his queue, and pulling him toward her,

whispered in his ear the magic words: “We go see Clismas! we catch ’em

Sanny Claw.”

 

This announcement was almost too much for Ah Gong, and his little

celestial brain could not take in so much happiness all at once, so he

stared at her a moment until he had swallowed the bite of herring, and

then gasped out: “But Ah Gong ’flaid Sanny Claw spit fieh (fire) on us;

allee samee heap big dlagon.”

 

Ah Chee had to giggle at this, with her ever-ready Chinese giggle, but

putting her long sateen sleeve round him in a protecting manner she

answered him in the kindest tone: “Oh, no! ’Melican Sanny Claw heap good

man--allee samee joss; we go find him; come along!”

 

So they started in the growing darkness, with the sweet faith of a child

in their hearts. They knew not where to go, nor which way to turn, but

only had the one thought--just to find the ’Melican Clismas. When they

had disappeared, the shopkeeper believed they had gone home for the

night, and gave them no more thought; the tired mother upstairs supposed

that they were in the shop, as they often went in there and played until

late, because it was bright, and the man was kind to them.

Little Almond Blossoms 2

Little Almond Blossoms 2

While they were sitting at the table the dragons brought them each a big

basket of fireworks. Now a Chinese child is even more fond of fireworks

than an American child, and so they all kicked up their little sandals

with delight, and after each one had been given a lighted Chinese punk,

they began to pop them, and oh, what fun it was! There was a delightful

noise, with so much popping, and the odor of the punks was most pleasant

to their little Chinese noses. It really seemed as if the more they

popped, the more they had left in their baskets.

 

Finally, the big King of the dragons said he must take them home now, or

he would not be back in time for the parade, and it would never do to

disappoint the people. So each one was allowed to keep his basket, and

they squirmed away again, until at last they entered the narrow streets

of Chinatown, with its rows of dragon lanterns, and its odor of incense

everywhere. Once more Chung Goy climbed the narrow steps, and crept into

the arms of _ho chun_, who had not noticed his absence, and he arrived

just in time, for just then there was a great noise of “tom-toms,” and

crowds shouting.

 

The streets were aglare with a strange red light, and looking down he

saw the familiar form of the King Dragon, which was spitting fire from

its eyes and mouth; but this time little Chung Goy did not feel afraid,

for he knew--he knew.

 

 

 

 

_TWO LITTLE CHINESE SISTERS_

 

 

One day during the Chinese New Year, when the sea breezes blew softly

through the narrow, blossom-lined streets of Chinatown, and swayed the

great red dragon lanterns to and fro, Poon Chew and her little sister,

Poon Yet, decided that they would take a walk through the streets, and

have a look at all the beautiful things displayed in the windows. Their

_mo chun_ had dressed them up in their very best silken robes,--robes

she had made for this very week,--and they made a pretty picture as they

started out under their gay umbrella. Their blouses were of pink silk,

and their trousers of pale lavender. They wore gay head-dresses, and

were indeed beautiful to look upon. They would never have started out

alone if the little _mo chun_ had not been so busy making the great New

Year cake, which was to be served with tea to her guests of the New

Year.

 

“Let’s go see Sai Gee,” said Poon Chew.

 

“All light,” replied the little sister.

 

Sai Gee, a little-footed playmate of theirs, lived just a few doors from

them, and they had no difficulty in finding her home. Sai Gee was also

dressed up in her gayest attire, but her feet were too small to find

much enjoyment in running around with the children whose feet were of

the ordinary size. But she could

 

[Illustration: _She brought forth from the flute the most wonderful

sounds_]

 

entertain them, anyway, for Sai Gee could play the flute.

 

It was really wonderful. She sat upon a stool, over which an embroidered

robe had been thrown, and played to them. Her hair was done in a coil

back of her right ear, and her little brown face was sweet and wistful

as she brought forth from the flute the most wonderful sounds. Sai Gee’s

father was very wealthy, and so the little one had everything that money

could buy. Poon Chew made up her mind right then that she would ask her

father to buy her a flute. Then Sai Gee brought forth some tiny cakes,

made of powdered nuts, and some tea, and preserved watermelon; and for

each of the little sisters a big slice of New Year’s cake.

 

“My! but we have good time. I likee make New Yeah call, like _mo

chun_--we go now; good-by,” said Poon Chew.

 

“Let’s look in window,” the big sister said; and of course the little

one, having perfect confidence in Poon Chew, gladly followed, the soft

little hand clasped in that of the sister. Oh, the wonderful things they

saw! The streets looked like a garden, with the rows of almond blossoms

and China lilies, and on every balcony swung in rows the immense dragon

lanterns.

 

They stopped awhile--they thought it only a few minutes--to watch some

boys playing a New Year’s game, and then passed on by the stores, where

the smell of the good things made them very hungry.

 

“Oh, how nice the loast pohk (roast pork) smell! I velly hungly,--we go

home pletty soon,” said the older sister.

 

“Yes, we go home pletty soon,” echoed Poon Yet.

 

The little feet were growing tired, for they had never before been on

the streets alone, and they wanted to get all the pleasure they could

out of it. How they did wish they had brought some money, as they looked

longingly at the great heaps of candied cocoanut and ginger on the

street-stands. Their eyes must have said so, for just as they were

gazing at the dainties with longing eyes a richly-dressed Chinaman came

by, and the first thing they knew he was saying: “You likee candy, _ne

jai_?” (little girl).

 

It startled them at first, but when they looked up and saw what a kind

face the man had, they did not feel afraid, but replied: “Yes--we velly

hungly--we no bling money; we catch ’em plenty money at home.”

 

The man laughed good-naturedly, and having bought them a large package

of candy, started on. After they had eaten some of it they noticed the

growing darkness. Could it be possible that night was coming on? They

had not thought of that; it had seemed so bright when they started, and

it did not seem as if they could have been gone long.

 

Meanwhile, what of the little brown mother at home?

 

When she finished her cake she called her children. She had made a

little cake just for them, and she wanted them to come and eat it.

 

“Poon Chew! Poon Yet!” she called; but no sound came back through the

silence.

 

“Little one--_ne jai_, come to _mo chun_!” No reply.

 

With wildly beating heart she rushed through the tiny rooms and out to

the narrow pavement. She hailed a passing policeman, and in faltering

Chinese told him that her little ones were lost, described the pretty

clothes they wore, and all the while her heart was wrung with a nameless

fear. What would life be without the soft little arms about her

neck?--the patter of the little sandalled feet?--the sound of the shrill

little voices at play?

 

This policeman told others, and they were all searching for the two

children, who were out making New Year’s calls.

 

And it grew darker. Poon Chew trembled, as she realized that they were

lost. She did not know which way to turn. Some men were lighting the big

dragon lanterns on the balcony opposite, so it was really night.

 

“Oh, little sister, we are lost! I forget; I no ’member the way home.

What will we do?” she moaned. She had no idea what direction her home

was in, and her eyes were filled with tears; but now through the tears

she saw some one approaching. It was--oh, joy! the old nurse Suey,

leading the richly dressed little Sai Chong, brother of Sai Gee.

 

She was greatly surprised when she saw the children so far from home,

 

[Illustration: _It was the old nurse, Suey_]

 

and they clung to her neck, weeping and laughing by turns. “Take us

home--take us home;” they cried. They had walked so far and were so

tired that she got a Chinaman who was standing by to take them all home

in his wagon. When they arrived, they found the little _mo chun_ in the

greatest distress. She was very much astonished as she saw them all

tumble out of the covered wagon, and they all cried and laughed, and

never did the little mother receive so many kisses; and four little

brown arms clasped her neck all at once, and the little sisters were so

very sorry to have been so naughty that they said:

 

“_Mo chun_, beautiful cherry blossom--we neveh, neveh make New Yeah

calls again without you.”

 

 

 

 

_THE LITTLE HIGHBINDER_

 

 

It was the one desire of little Sing Lee to be a highbinder. It must be

a fine thing, for his father was one, and so it must be good. It was

true he did not have a very definite idea of just what it meant to be

one, but he knew this: his father belonged to the Hip Sing Tongs, an

order of highbinders in San Francisco, and they were men who kept their

promises. At night as he lay on his hard bamboo couch, with the fumes of

opium thick around him, he could hear _ho chun_ talking in a low tone to

a crowd of men, who were all of the same order of highbinders as his

father. “There is Chong Sing,” they were saying; “he has told some of

our secrets to a white devil, and he must die; the joss frowns upon

him.”

 

This sounded very discouraging for Chong Sing, and little Sing Lee felt

sorry for a moment, for he remembered that one day this same Chong Sing

had spoken kindly, and had given him a three-cornered package of

_lichee_ (nuts) and candy. He could even yet taste the delicious strips

of candied cocoanut, and the dainty citron. Chong Sing had said he would

bring him some more another time, and now--he was to die. If he died,

perhaps no one else would bring candy or speak a kind word.

 

Little Sing Lee lay trembling in his bed as they planned the murder of

his friend. What could he do? He was only a little boy, and--he had

thought to be a highbinder when he was a big man like _ho chun_; and if

he was going to be one, he must conquer all tenderness of heart,--and

yet, this man had been kind to him, and it might be that he had little

boys of his own at home.

 

“If I was a highbinder,” he said to himself, “I no kill nice men who

bling children candy; I kill bad men.”

 

Next day he confided his thoughts to _mo chun_, but she replied: “No!

no! my little boy. No use--Hip Sing Tongs heap big--heap stlong

(strong). They no care if Chong Sing give _lichee_; they kill him,

allee samee.” But little Sing Lee did not forget. He still thought,

however, that it must be a fine thing to be a highbinder, if only one

just killed the bad men--men who did not give candy to lonely little

children and speak kind words to them. So that very day he went around

through Chinatown and organized a society of highbinders among his boy

friends.

 

He succeeded in getting four other boys to join, and they all took their

oaths very solemnly. Now that they were really highbinders they must

begin to kill somebody. Not ever having killed anybody, they did not know how to go about it, or on whom to begin.