CHAPTER XII.
THE LAST PEEP.
YBIL had made several friends amongst Cantonese ladies and children, and some very pleasant afternoons had she spent with them. The girls, she noticed, generally wore cotton tunics and trousers. One little girl, with whom she had spent a few hours, was in mourning, so she wore white, bound with blue. Sybil could not help thinking that this was very pretty mourning, but her brother's was still prettier, for his trousers were of pale blue silk tied round the ankles, and he wore white shoes. His cue was tied with blue. And there were such very pretty gardens belonging to the houses in which they lived, with rockeries, fish-ponds, and summer-houses almost large enough to live in.
One lady, whom Sybil visited, astonished her very much, because she had an only boy, who was very pale-looking and delicate, and she called him all sorts of names, and seemed to treat him so unkindly. When Sybil had been ill herself, her mother had always treated her with such extra love and care, and she fancied that all mothers behaved like this. Then the Chinese love their boys so much, that one would therefore have thought an only boy would be so very precious. The next time that she saw the lady she had given away her child to be adopted by some one else. Mrs. Graham heard the explanation to this unnatural conduct, and gave it to Sybil. The woman really loved her boy most fondly, and would have given anything she had to have him well, but she fancied that the gods were malicious towards him, and that if she pretended to them that she did not care for the child they would let him get well again. All that conduct was to deceive the gods.
Mr. Graham had several times dined out at Chinese houses, and sometimes his wife had accompanied him, but as Cantonese ladies never dine with their husbands in public, where her doing so was likely to give any offence, even though she were invited, she never went; but many Chinese very well understand that there are quite different laws for Europeans than there are for them, and these seemed to be glad to admit English ladies, with their husbands, to be guests at their houses.
When Mr. and Mrs. Graham went to one of these dinners, knives and forks were borrowed for them, and the other English visitors, in place of chop-sticks. A china spoon and a two-pronged fork were set before each person, and there were china wine-glasses. The table-napkins were of brown paper. Basins of fruit, from which all helped themselves as they liked, were in the middle of the table. There were a great many soups and other courses. Every now and then the host took something out of a basin with his chop-stick, and offered to put it into the mouths of his guests. Out of politeness they were bound to accept these gifts. There was not any beef, as no Chinaman eats beef. Music was played, and slaves fanned the people during dinner.
Once when Sybil visited some of her young Chinese friends, the tea was brought in to them in covered cups, and when they wanted more, tea-leaves were put into the cups and boiling water was poured upon them. She had learnt now to be able to drink tea without milk or sugar, but she could not like it.
A two months' stay at Canton brought the children to the end of four months and a half of their stay in China, and left but six weeks more before they were to return to England. It was the middle of March when the Grahams said "Good-bye" to their kind friends at the Yamen, and returned to Hong-Kong. Sybil could not bear to say this farewell, as it was the last but one, and she knew how very quickly six weeks would pass.
They had all enjoyed their stay in Canton very much, and often thought about the New Year's Day which had been kept, while they were there, with such grand rejoicings. At midnight, on the last day of the old year, a bell, never used except on this occasion, pealed forth, when, at the signal, people rushed into the streets in crowds to let off fireworks.
Every temple and every pagoda was lighted up, and people burnt incense before idols in their own homes. Some streets are lighted in Canton by lanterns, but, as a rule, the smaller streets are in darkness, with the exception of paper lanterns, which hang, every now and then, from before shops or private houses, and even these are put out by half-past nine o'clock. Paraffin lamps are now being introduced along Chinese city streets.
All New Year's night a great noise was to be heard, and in the morning friends dressed in their best to call upon, and salute, one another.
In the streets they were to be seen prostrating themselves upon the ground. Rich and poor alike had great rejoicings on New Year's Day, the rich often keeping up their holiday for ten days.
Latterly Mr. Graham had been several times backwards and forwards to Hong-Kong, where he had made his final arrangements.
The missionary, whose place he was about to fill, would, when he left the island, take with him to England, besides his own family, Sybil and Leonard Graham. Until they sailed, the Grahams would all stay with them at the Mission House, when it would be handed over to Mr. Graham.
The other missionary had three children of his own, two daughters, twelve and ten years old, and a son of nine, but as they had been absent from Hong-Kong when the Grahams had been there before, the children had not yet made one another's acquaintance.
The eldest, Katie, now became Sybil's very useful interpreter, for as she had been born in China and lived there all her life, she could understand, and speak, many Chinese dialects.
Sybil now knew several Chinese words herself. "Che-fan," or "Have you eaten your rice?" was "How do you do?" though, as a rule, when people said "How do you do?" to her it was "Chin-chin mississi?"
When she went out visiting, questions such as the following were generally put to her, "What honourable name have you?" "What is the name of your beautiful dwelling?" and "What age have you?" Had she been grown up, this question would probably have been, "What is your venerable age?"
Leonard was often told to "catchee plenty chow-chow," which means "eat a very good dinner," but as somehow he generally seemed able to do this, he hardly needed the kind advice.
Mrs. Graham's amah amused Sybil very much. She had been a great traveller, having visited both England and America, and she liked England much the best. One day she said to Sybil: "Melicā no good countly. Welly bad chow-chow. Appool number one. My hab chow-chow sixty pieces before bleakfast. Any man no got dollar, all hab got paper. Number one foolo pidgin. No good countly. My no likee Melicā. My likee England side more better." This meant: "America is not a good country. It has very bad food, but first-rate apples. I ate sixty before breakfast. No one has any dollars there, all use paper money. Very foolish business. Not a good country. I do not like America. I like England better."
Some pleasure or another was always forthcoming for Sybil and Leonard, and the few last "Peep-shows" were very precious.
"SING-SONG."
One day, when they were out, they saw a "Sing-Song," as the performance was called. Under a canopy, in the open streets, children were acting and dancing. To do so, they had dressed up in very gorgeous costumes, their ornaments and head-dresses being grander, Leonard said, than anything he had ever seen before; and the little Chinese actors themselves seemed to be thoroughly at their ease, and quite at home, in their grand attire.
"Why did that policeman come after you to-day, father, and take down the name of the boat that we got into?" Leonard once asked, when he and his father had been out together, and were returning home.
"Policemen have done that several times, if you had only noticed," was the reply. "That was to guard us from pirates. They took the name of our boat, so that the owner could be held responsible if we did not return safely. The Chinese are dreadful pirates, and are generally on the look-out for opportunities to rob. Sometimes a band of them will take their passages in a ship, and when fairly out at sea will all rise in mutiny against the captain and his officers, and perhaps murder them, so as to be able to plunder as they choose."
"I should think the boat-policemen had plenty of work to do," Leonard then said.
"Father, do you remember well when you were just eleven?" the child then asked suddenly, going, as it seemed, right away from his present subject. "Did you ever want to be a sailor then? ever think for certain you would be one?"
"I do not remember ever having had that wish."
"Well, I have had it over and over again, and thought that there could not be anything better in the world than going about in ships, and seeing different places. I've wished to be a sailor for ever so many years; but, you know, I don't wish it now."
FISHERMEN AND FISHERWOMEN.
Mr. Graham smiled. I expect it was Leonard's "ever so many years" which made him do so.
"Don't you?" his father asked. "Then what do you want to be now?"
"Something, father, I'm not half good enough for," the boy answered, thoughtfully. "A missionary! Oh, father, I do so want to be a missionary now, and come to China, as you and grandfather have done! Shouldn't you like it too? I know mother would; and perhaps the Church Missionary Society would send me out if I asked them."
"I should like nothing better, my little son," was the missionary's reply.
A few minutes later Leonard was out of doors again, flying himself one of the "wonderful kites," which a Chinaman had made for, and given to, him, and his father was watching his little fellow with pleasure almost amounting to pride.
Was this his impulsive boy's own thought, he wondered, or had his sister suggested it to him.
Quite his own; but no doubt the quiet, gentle influence which Sybil exerted over her younger brother was very good for him.
"Do you think, Sybil, that the heathen Chinese could teach the Christian English anything?" Mr. Graham asked his daughter, as they sat and talked together the very last evening.
"I am sure they could," she answered quickly; "many things. Filial love and obedience for one, respect and reverence for old age for another; and then, though they do believe such silly, superstitious things, there seems to be such a reality, so much earnestness, about the way some of them carry out their religion. They do not mind how early they get up and go out to keep a religious festival, and they seem to ask a sort of blessing, from their gods, on everything they do, and keep their fasts and feasts so very regularly; but I think their love for their parents beats everything. 'Boy' asked for a holiday yesterday, because it was his mother's birthday, and got up very early to do his work before he went." "Boy" was a kind of footman.
"Yes; parents' birthdays are kept up much more than are those of children. Sometimes on their birthdays they will sit under a crimson canopy, whilst their children kneel and perform the 'kow-tow' to them. The fifty-first birthday, and every ten years afterwards, is celebrated with great pomp, when religious ceremonies are often performed at the Temple of Longevity. I believe thirty Buddhist priests will then sometimes return thanks for three days.
"When a man is eighty-one, the fact is occasionally communicated to the Emperor, who may then allow money to be given for a monumental arch to be erected to the old man's honour.
"After parents are dead their birthdays are still celebrated in the ancestral hall, where their portraits hang."
"I suppose children give their parents beautiful presents on their birthdays?"
"When they begin to get old the best present that a child can, and does, make a parent, and one which he values more than anything else, is a coffin, because, you know, a Chinaman thinks that unless his body be buried properly his spirit cannot rest.
"The Chinese are strange contradictions," Mr. Graham went on. "Although they are very courageous in bearing torture, they are dreadful liars, and a great liar is generally a great coward. Then they are sober and industrious, but slaves to the opium drug; meek and gentle, but, at the same time, treacherous and cruel; most dutiful to their parents, but often very jealous of their neighbours; and then, perhaps strangest of all, is their love towards their children, but yet their readiness to put their girls to death."
Sybil was silent for several minutes. "Oh, father!" she then said, "isn't the time dreadfully near now? Fancy leaving you and dear mother! How can we?"
"You must go to your work, darling, and we must stay here to do ours. Is it not so?" Mr. Graham asked, in the dear, kind, soft voice that Sybil loved so much, and which she always called his "preachy voice." "But what shall give us comfort? what shall we think about when we are trying to do our several duties, though apart, I hope contentedly and well? That it is God who has called us to our several duties; it is His Almighty will which we have now and always to obey; but remember, not alone, not unaided, dear Sybil. Who will be our guide, stay, and comfort, when we are separated from one another?"
Sybil knew, but could not answer, because she was crying.
WOMAN OF POAH-BI.
"Your mother and I," Mr. Graham went on, "in commending our children to the Fatherly love and care of Him Who gave you to us, know that we place you in the safest keeping; and you yourselves have also both learnt, have you not, how to go to our Father and 'Supreme Ruler' in earnest prayer, whenever tempted to do what would displease Him? A missionary, you know, is one who is sent on a mission—to fulfil a duty. A missionary's children must not shrink from fulfilling, must not fail to fulfil, the mission on which they are sent, must they?"
Sybil looked comforted. She liked this last "Peep-show" very much, and kissed her father to show him that she did.
A few minutes later she said, "Do you know, father, I believe little Chu is really beginning to believe and understand properly, for the other day, when I was saying my prayers, she came and knelt down beside me, and she would never kneel to our God before, even when she saw the Christian woman at Poah-bi do so, with whom we stayed, and with whom she was such good friends. I shall often remember that woman and her dear little baby, which she tied to herself so funnily, because I liked them so very much.
"Poor little Chu!" Sybil then went on. "I shall be so glad to see her again when I come back to you, but I do not think she will like me to go away."
"Chu will have to be a great deal at school now. She has her work to do too, you know."
"How I shall think of you, father, and the Hong-Kong Mission on Intercession Day, when it comes round, shan't I?"
"Yes, Sybil; and not only on Intercession Day, but always in your prayers, you must remember to pray very fervently, both for Chinese and other unbelievers, and not only for me, but for all who are seeking their conversion."
"It seems a more real thing now to pray for," Sybil said.
"And to give thanks for too. Here in Hong-Kong we have great cause to be thankful."
"What a dear old lady that was who was baptized on Sunday! but what was the Christian name she chose? I could not hear it."
"Mong-Oi, which means 'desiring the love' (of Jesus)."
"That was a beautiful name, wasn't it? And there were a number of communicants for here too. How many native communicants are there in Hong-Kong?"
"Between sixty and seventy; and what is so comforting is that the communicants seem to be really devout, and to realise what being a communicant means for, and requires of, them, and it is no easy matter at all for natives of China to embrace Christianity. Sometimes they have to leave all their relations, and suffer much persecution in consequence."
"When was the Hong-Kong mission begun?" Sybil asked.
"In 1862."
Although the results were far from what the zealous missionaries would fain have seen them, Mr. Graham was right in saying that the Mission from the Church of England to Hong-Kong had cause to take hope and be thankful.
Several men and women were now under instruction both for baptism and confirmation. The mission schools for boys numbered more than 190, and for girls more than thirty, and here the children were religiously as well as secularly instructed.
There were, although only two European missionaries and one native clergyman, twenty-three native Christian teachers, and 183 native Christians. The Mission comprised, besides St. Stephen's Church and the agencies around it in the island of Hong-Kong, many out-stations in the province of Quangtung occupied by native agents.
The Prayer Book, and, still better, the Holy Bible, translated into their own tongue, were now circulated among the people, some of whom were really learning to love and value them; and not only were the services for the Christians well attended, but every evening the heathen were to be seen in numbers going to hear sermons that were to be preached for them.
Well, then, might Mr. Graham go forth to his new work with hope.
"How much you will have to do, father," Sybil said, "if you go to the Medical Missionary Institution so often, and do all your other work besides! But the people seem to be very grateful to you. 'Boy' said yesterday that you were 'a hundred man good,' and I know what that means: 'The best of men.'"
Mr. Graham smiled.
"I like, and it is good for us all," he said, "to have plenty to do; and one work, you know, may help on the other."
"I expect mother will help you a very great deal too."
"She is sure to do that." Sybil knew she was.
All day long the child had spent beside her much-loved mother; now, for another hour, she sat on and talked with her father, receiving good, kind counsel, when Leonard, who had been closeted with his mother, listening to her dear words of best advice, came in, with eyes swollen from crying, and then the four sat together till it was long past bed-time; but what of that? To-morrow, on board ship, there would be nothing to keep them up late, when they could make up for to-night, and go early to bed.
To-morrow came, as happy and sad to-morrows all alike will come; when the mother gave her children their last kisses, the father their last kisses and benedictions, and Sybil and Leonard Graham started on their homeward voyage to England, leaving their parents very grateful for having such good, kind friends to whose care on board ship to entrust them.
Both children were to return at once to their former schools, and spend their holidays together at Mrs. Graham's brother's house, who was also the rector of a country parish, and where she knew they would very soon feel quite at home.
Sybil and Leonard Graham, the children of brave parents, were brave children themselves, and as they had promised not to grieve more then they could help, they at once did battle with their tears, and before long were talking really cheerfully with their friends.
"Who knows," Sybil said once to Leonard, when she and her brother found themselves alone, "but what they might come over for a small holiday-trip in two or three years' time? and if not, I believe when I go out you are to go with me for another 'Peep-show' holiday, and to see them!"
"Of course I ought to go whenever I can," Leonard answered, "as I'm going to be a missionary out there myself."
Sybil had said "them" because she could not yet say, without crying, those two dear, sacred words, father and mother, which stand alone in the vocabulary of every language, and have no peers.
Mrs. Graham herself was then alone, shedding bitter tears, which she had stifled until her children left her, but which she could keep back no longer.
Yet, though her mother's loving heart was very sad and sore, she would not weep long, but would, to the very best of her ability, go forth at once to help her husband—who could not but feel sad now too—in the good work in which she had encouraged him to embark, counting all the costs beforehand.
And Sybil, who had said "I like my father to be a missionary very much," would not unsay the words now, though it took both her parents so far away from her and Leonard. Oh no! since she had seen the great need that there was for missionaries to China, she liked, even better than before, her father "to be a missionary!"
