Part 5

Gum Ching lived in America, but she had no way of knowing it, as she never saw any of the country, and was kept in her home all the time. As she was unfortunate enough to be a girl, she had never been permitted to go anywhere, except to play on the street in front of her father’s store. Sometimes, when playing thus, she had seen little American girls drive by in carriages with their mamas, and they seemed to be having so much fun that little Gum Ching would look very sad after they had passed, and would say to her brother Gum Lee: “I wish _I_ was a ’Melican little girl--they have heap good time.”

It was Christmas day, yet this had never meant any happiness for Gum Ching, for the Chinese save all their good times for the New Year. But it chanced that her little brother had been attending the Mission, and learning to read, and the little sister had heard him say that they were going to have a Christmas tree at the Mission that very night.

“What can a Christmas tree be?” said the little Chinese girl to herself; and her thoughts were busy with this all day, wondering what kind of a strange tree it was.

Oh, if she could only go! But how could she, when she had never been out of Chinatown, and there might be all sorts of ugly things waiting to catch her as she passed. She could see the Mission from their upstairs window, and she wondered vaguely if any of the little “‘Melican” girls who had passed in their carriages would be there. She said to herself: “Even if they should punish me when I get home I no care--because then I have something nice to think of, anyway.”

The darkness came at last, and Gum Ching had never been out in the dark. She never knew before that it was quite so black, but she had made up her mind to go, no matter what the consequences were.

Now Gum Ching did not have any mama, and it was very lonely for her at home, with no one but just her _ho chun_ and the little brother, who was always off playing with some boys. After she had eaten her supper, and had seen _ho chun_ light his long opium pipe, she knew then that he would lie down, and not awaken until the morning. So she slipped out and toddled on, in her small sandals, in the direction of the light which streamed from the windows of the mission.

She looked up at the sky, and was just saying: “I wondeh what those pletty spahkling things are up there; I likee have one;” when suddenly she heard a mighty roar, and right through the blackness of the night came a great demon of fire, snorting, puffing, and screaming, and coming right toward the poor little trembling Gum Ching. She feared to move, and so stood quite still until the big giant had passed, and vanished again into the darkness of the night.

It was only the train, but Gum Ching did not know. She was only a girl. Onward she started again, brave little soul, and soon she had reached the Mission. No one would ever know what a terrible undertaking it was for a little girl from China.

The door was open, and a soft radiance streamed out, and lit up the timid form of the little Gum Ching, as she stood on the step, in the dark and the cold.

She could hear a confused murmur of happy voices, and just as she was hesitating whether she would venture in or turn and fly back to her lonely home again, a kind hand clasped hers, and a woman’s tender voice said: “Why, come right in, dear.”

Gum Ching’s eyes filled with tears, for she had never before known the sweetness of a loving woman’s voice. She was led into the room, not even caring now if she was punished, for it was well worth it. Her sparkling oblique eyes almost danced out of her head at all this beauty. Everywhere were sparkles--sparkles--and they fairly dazzled her. It must be a dream, she thought. She looked before her, and--what was that great green tree towering toward the ceiling? It was--it must be--the Christmas tree! And did all those pretty things really grow on the tree? she could not understand it.

Her brother could not believe his eyes when he saw her there. She?--nothing but a girl?--what right had she to enjoy herself? But she was there, for all that, and her small brown and timid hand was held in a warm and loving clasp by one of the kind teachers, and she was made to feel that, after all, in the big lonely world there was some one who cared, and her little heart was full to overflowing, and she had to blink very hard to keep back the tears--tears of pure joy.

She was given many things from that beautiful tree, and, best of all, the teacher took her home; and _ho chun_ was good to her, and did not punish her at all, but promised--just think of it! promised--that she could go to the tree again next year.

_HO CHIN’S FOURTH OF JULY_

Ho Chin was ten years old, and had never had a Fourth of July. Just think of it! Ho Chin was the son of the Chinese Consul, and his rank placed him so far above the ordinary Chinese boys that he was very much looked up to, and respected by them. Ho Chin did not live in one of the small, dark, opium-scented rooms in which the rest of the Chinese children lived, but in the elegant Consulate with its large rooms and marble stairway; but, after all, he was just a boy, and liked the things that boys liked. He attended a very select American school, and dressed in American style. In fact, nothing was too good for Ho Chin--the eldest son of a Consul. But you know, sometimes he almost wished he was a common boy, and could run and play, and have the perfect freedom of the street boy.

Now at school he had of late heard of nothing but the Fourth of July. “What is the Fourth of July?” he finally ventured to ask.

And Johnny Moore replied, only too glad to be the first one to divulge all its wonders, “Why, it’s--it’s--fire-crackers, you know, and flags and soldiers, and popcorn and peanuts, and--and--everything. It’s the best time of the year; say, it’s just bully! Didn’t you ever see one?”

“No,” gasped the delighted Ho Chin. “Oh, do you think my papa would let me?” And from that time on he could hardly study, his mind was so taken up with this new subject, and he acted so strangely at home that his mama, who was a beautiful Chinese lady and loved her handsome boy, was very much worried over the change in him. He would leave his tea and rice untasted, and rush from the table most unexpectedly. Why? Because he had heard a faint whistle outside, from some of his American boy friends, and he was eager to get out to them, to talk about the wonderful event which was coming so near.

The more he thought of it, the more he decided in his mind that he had better not tell his father about it, because if he told him and should be refused--if-- Oh, he could not bear the thought. He knew that his father had never allowed him alone on the Chinese streets, for wise fathers always accompany their children. For who could tell when the child of a wealthy and noted man might be kidnapped? And the timid little Chinese mother was never really happy when he was out of her sight.

So the time flew by. The Consul was called to a distant part of the state on official business, and when Ho Chin awoke in the gray dawn of the early morning his first thought was: “Well, I can’t tell papa when he is not here, and I know if I told mama she would not let me go. What will I do? I can’t miss it.

The boys will think I am a coward if I don’t go, and--I have some money of my own.”

So saying, he crept out of bed, and astonished the servants by his early demand for breakfast. He knew his dainty mama would not leave her apartments for some time, for it took so long for the maids to dress her hair, and manicure her finger-nails, and array her in her rich silks; so, avoiding the eyes of the servants, he crept stealthily down the long marble stairway, jingling the money in his pocket as he went, and out through the narrow streets, whistling merrily, in the perfect delight of freedom. He knew he was not doing right, but here he was, at the gate of Johnny’s house, and there was Johnny himself, just running out at the door, cap in hand. His face wore a look of delight as he saw the Chinese boy, and he yelled: “How’d you get here?”

“Oh, I just came; nobody knows it--and say! Let’s begin! I’ve got some money; let’s go to old Sing Chew, he’s got a whole store full of fire-crackers.”

Johnny’s mama, looking out of the window, remarked to her husband, “So they allowed him to come, after all. Well, I’m glad of that, for he seems such a dear little fellow.”

Ho Chin was as happy as it is possible for a boy to be, when he found himself in the wonderful store. Old Sing Chew was awfully busy, but not so busy that he could not see the son of the Consul, and hastened to attend to his wants.

“How is it that you come alone? I neveh see you come unless your _ho chun_ bling you,” he said.

The boy replied, “Oh, I am a big boy now, and I like to have a good time on the Fourth of July. This is my friend!--he goes with me.” And the old man believed him, and admired the beautiful command the boy had of the English language.

It seemed a wonderful thing to Johnny that any one boy could have so much money to spend. It seemed great wealth to him, because he had only twenty-five cents for his fire-crackers, but the young Ho was as generous as could be, and they left the store with all they could carry.

What a pleasure to be a boy on the streets, where all was noise and confusion and incessant popping of fire-crackers. One boy threw a bunch under a horse’s feet, and he ran away and frightened a lot of people. There were crowds of boys--boys everywhere, and a good many Chinese boys, but only those of the lower class. What would his papa think if he should meet him now, his hands and face all black with powder, and a wild and reckless air about him, which did not seem at all like the quiet little fellow his papa knew.

Finally the great parade approached. He had only seen Chinese parades, with the great green dragon, and it had always frightened him; but there was no dragon in this parade. There were soldiers,--oh, so many hundreds of them!--with their bright uniforms glittering in the sun, and their spirited horses prancing and keeping time to the music of the many bands. Many of the horses became scared at the noise, and Ho Chin, being a boy, thought it great fun to see them stand on their hind legs and prance, and act as if they would run over everybody. He did not feel afraid, and he liked to hear the big drums; they sounded beautiful to him, almost as beautiful as the Chinese “tom-toms.” There were so many fine things about that parade that little Ho did not realize until after it had passed that he was hungry. He mentioned the fact to Johnny, and, strange to say, Johnny was hungry too. They were a long distance from home; what should they do?

“If I had any money left we could go into a restaurant and have our dinner,” said the wary Johnny.

“Oh, could we?” said Ho. “Well, we will go then, for I have plenty of money.”

Johnny did not need any urging, you may be sure, and many people in the restaurant were amused to see the two little friends seated at the table with their fire-crackers on a chair beside them. Still more amused was the waiter, who brought them such a mixture as he had never before served for lunch. It was dreadful! but it did not seem so to the two hungry boys, who, with mouths full, were so interested in talking that they did not even see the waiter. Little Ho Chin paid the bill with a kingly air, and they strutted out to pop their crackers for the rest of the day. They were having a fine time,--but what of the little Chinese mother?

When her toilet was completed she inquired for her boy, as she knew he was to have a holiday to-day, and was told that he had breakfasted earlier than he had ever done before, and they had not seen him since. They supposed he had gone to her apartments. She had the whole house searched, and was frightened almost to death. She burned her incense before the god, and murmured: “Oh, good joss! protect my boy, and bring him to me.”

At that moment her boy had just blown off his coat-tail with a bunch of fire-crackers, and it was lucky that he had not been blown to pieces. The mother could only wait till the day wore on, as her husband was not there to advise her, and Chinese women are so helpless.

After this day of delight the dark night fell, and not until then was the little Ho reminded that his mother would be worried, and he must go home. His fire-crackers were all gone, he was tired, and so covered with powder and dirt that one would never have recognized him as the elegantly dressed little boy who had left home in the early morning. “But,” he reflected, “I have had the finest time of my life; I will never forget it.”

It must be admitted, though, that his conscience hurt him very badly as he wended his way home. He wondered if his father could have come home unexpectedly. There was no way out of it; he must go and face it. He almost felt as if he would like to run away to some place where there were no fathers and mothers, and where it was always the Fourth of July all the year round.

He entered the great iron door, and had reached the top of the marble stairway, his heart beating with fear. He almost wished now he had not gone. The silence was so intense that he could almost hear his heart beat--he feared the worst. But now he heard a rustle of silken garments, and there came through the portieres--his mother!

With wide-open black eyes he gazed at her. Oh, what would she do? what would she say?--he stood trembling and speechless; and she?--Why, she was just a mother, after all, and with one great sob she took him in her arms and showered kisses on his handsome but very dirty face. He could feel her tender heart beating through the silken blouse, and she clasped him closer as she murmured: “The good joss has brought him back to me--my brave and beautiful little Ho.”

And he whispered, “Mother--forgive me! but it was all so lovely, and--I just _love_ the Fourth of July!”

And she, being a mother, forgave him.

_THE LITTLE FISHER-MAIDEN_

Lo Luen was the little daughter of a poor Chinese fisherman, and lived in the Chinatown of Monterey, California. She was born in this beautiful country, and did not know anything about China, except what she had heard her parents say. But this country was good enough for her, she thought, with its endless skies of blue overhead, and the big noisy ocean dashing its white spray up on the silver sands right in front of the little hut she called home.

It was a very poor place, and they were very poor people, but Lo Luen did not know this, because it was all she had ever known, so it did not disturb her simple celestial mind in the least. Then she could not get lonely, for there was her small brother, Lo Duck, who was the cunningest, chubbiest little boy that she had ever seen.

_Mo chun_ was very busy always, in the little hut, as she was a cigarette-maker, and worked at this all the time she was not doing the cooking, and making the simple garments for the family.

The father dearly loved his children, and often called Lo Luen his little fisher-maiden. This was because she was such a help to him in his fishing. She and little Lo Duck would sit out on the ground in front of their home for hours at a time, putting bait on the hooks; and this was a great help, for it saved so much time.

He would cut up a great deal of fish into small bits, and put it in a box by the children, and they would fasten it on to the hundreds of hooks on the lines, and then the big round baskets would be all ready for _ho chun_ to cast the lines into the ocean, and draw out the beautiful fish. Lo Luen was very proud when she saw the fine fish in the boat every day, for she almost felt as if she herself had caught them, since she had put the bait on the hooks. One day she had been working so hard that her father looked at her, as she sat there in the sun with her sleeves rolled up, working away as if her life depended upon it, and he said to her: “Lo Luen, how you likee go out in big boat with _ho chun_?”

“Oh!” she shouted, as she clapped her little brown hands, “I likee velly much; I likee catch big fish to bling _mo chun_.”

“All light,” said her father. “We no takee _hai tong_ (baby); he stay with _mo chun_, he too little.”

Lo Duck objected to this; he wanted to go too, but he would only be in the way, and then his mother would be worried if he went, so he was taken into the house, screaming vigorously. The timid mother felt rather afraid to trust her little daughter out on the great noisy ocean, whose waves came dashing upon the rocks with a boom like thunder; but the father said she was a big girl now, and it was time she learned something of the sea. So, while he fitted up the boat and got the nets into it, _mo chun_ was dressing the little girl in her warmest blouse, all heavily padded, and then got out a very thick silk hood, fastening it securely on her head, and last of all, she took from the padded _mumboo_ (tea-pot holder) a pot of boiling tea, and gave it to Lo Luen.

“_Maskee-maskee_, my _samen jai_” (never mind, my little boy), she said to the baby brother, “maybe you go next time.”

_Mo chun_ and the baby boy went with them as far as the boat, and Lo Luen jumped in gaily, and they were off. The water was smooth to-day, and everything would surely be well, thought the mother. She went in and placed a little bowl of steaming rice before the joss, so that he would protect her little girl from the wrath of the mighty ocean, and lighted the punks before him, so that the incense filled the little room.

Meanwhile, the little fishing boat went dancing over the blue waves, as light as an egg-shell, and the little Chinese girl was happy.

They kept near the shore at first, and when they passed the Del Monte hotel she saw hundreds of little American children running on the beach. She loved to watch them, as they ran with bare feet, kicking up the white sand. Some of them were jumping rope with long strands of kelp; some were hunting shells and bits of sea-moss; some were running into the foamy surf, filling their bright tin pails with water, and then hurrying from the big waves they would run back to pour the water into some little place in the sand, where they were building all sorts of wonderful things.

Some of the little girls had the most wonderful dolls in their arms,--or at least they seemed wonderful to a little girl who had no doll, except just the hard kelp balls which she had dressed up and used for dolls, as she did not like to ask for one, for fear it would cost too much.

They left the shore now, and went farther out, where the ocean was deep and the waves were rough. The cool salt spray dashed in her face, and her long queue hung over the side of the boat and dipped into the water. _Ho chun_ told her to take it in, or a big fish might come along and pull her in. Oh, what fun it was to see him cast in the net, and pull out so many big fish! but she was a little afraid of them, they were so squirmy and floppy. She cuddled up in one end of the boat, so they could not jump on her, but _ho chun_ fixed a plank in front of her, so she was not afraid.

It was her turn now, and so the father produced a stout little fishing pole and tackle, and she tried her luck at fishing in the big ocean. Soon she felt a strong tug at her line,--so strong that it almost pulled her in. She tugged away, though, till she almost fell out of the boat, but it was too big for her; she could not manage it without the help of _ho chun_.

“_Maskee!_” he said, and took hold of the pole. She still kept her small hands on it, though, so she could say that she caught it. Pretty soon there came up out of the water a big, big salmon, all gold and sparkling in the sunlight. She just squealed with delight, and her father said: “Heap good girl; catchee velly big fish.”

They were so interested in the work and were having such fine luck that they did not realize how late it was getting. Lo Luen was enjoying it so, that her father could not bear to stop her pleasure.

The darkness fell upon the waters now, and the sea moaned sadly. The waves grew rougher, and the air colder. It was not pretty when the sun was not shining on it.

“The wateh too black now; I no likee; I want see _mo chun_,” falteringly said the little one.

They could see the dim outlines of great ships with their lights sending long, narrow rays across the dark of the ocean. They looked like stars, and made one feel as if they were not alone on the vast waters.

“We go home now--see _mo chun_; get nice hot _tea_,” said the father, in a kind tone, as he clasped the little figure closely to him, and started to row home. Of course Lo Luen did not really feel afraid, with her father so near, and said: “I no ’flaid; but I likee go fast. I cold and hungly--that’s all.”

Her father smiled in the dark as he murmured consolingly, “Yes--that’s all.”

Lo Luen was thinking, as she crouched there, nestled up against _ho chun_, “How pletty those dolls were; I be so happy if I had one--just one, foh my velly own.”

The moonbeams lit up the water in a silvery path, and as Lo Luen looked at this path and thought how very beautiful it was, she noticed something floating in the light and bounding up and down on the waves. It looked like a big lump of seaweed.

“What is that, _ho chun_?” she said, with childish curiosity.

“Oh, I think just a piece of wood or a bunch of kelp; you likee get it, little girl?”

“Yes, we see what it is,” she said.

It seemed determined to get away from them, for almost every time they were near enough to touch it a big wave would come, and take it away in the dark, and it would be lost to sight for a while. But soon the light revealed it right within reach. _Ho chun_ put out his hand and grasped it, and putting it on the fish said: “We see when we get home,” and rowed away as fast as he could.

At home the little mother was getting very uneasy. What could keep them so long? “_Cheung kan ye lok_” (it is getting very late), she said. Oh, why had she ever let her go? To think of her _pao chu_ (precious pearl) being out on the big ocean at night. She imagined all sorts of horrible things, and blamed herself. Perhaps she had not set enough food before the joss, nor burned enough incense. She had the tea all nice and hot, and knew if nothing had happened they would be very hungry when they reached home. So she lighted more punks before the god, and had already sung the baby’s little Chinese song:

“My little baby--little boy blue-- Is as sweet as sugar and cinnamon too; Isn’t this precious darling of ours Sweeter than dates and cinnamon flowers?”

He now lay asleep on his couch, and she was all alone.

After what seemed an age to her she heard the sound of a boat being dragged upon the sand, and ran to the door of the hut, and stood there looking out upon the beach. “Lo Luen! Lo Luen!” she called out in the darkness, “_Yap loi le!_” (come in!) and there was a rush of sandalled feet, and in just a moment two cold brown hands were clasped in her warm ones, and a dear little cold nose was pressed against her face. “Lo Luen, precious pearl, you have come back, and the joss is good,” she said.

After the fish were put away _ho chun_ came in, and everything was peace and happiness again. The warm room seemed more welcome than ever before, for they were benumbed with cold, and oh, so hungry! _Mo chun_, with all gentleness and love, soon had them seated, with bowls of steaming rice before them, and fried fish, and other good things which she had prepared in their absence.

After supper Lo Luen happened to think of the mysterious bundle of seaweed, and _ho chun_ went out and brought it in. It was very wet, and smelled of the sea.