Did you ever see a China-man? I used to know one. His head was quite shaved, except a long braid, which hung down below his waist behind. I suppose it wasn't all his own hair; but that's none of my business. He had as much right to tie on a false tail, if he liked, as the gentlemen in Broadway have to wear false whiskers, and false moustaches.
Perched on the top of his head was a little skull-cap, just about big enough to fit your little baby brother. On his feet were wooden shoes, curled up at the toes like the end of an Indian canoe. He also wore blue and white stockings, and a blue Canton-crape wrapper.
Min-Yung (that was his name) had not been a great while in the United States. He was coaxed away from China, with many others of his countrymen, by some Americans, who imagined that they could make money by exhibiting them over here, in their different Chinese dresses, and making them play tricks, like so many monkeys. When they got them here, they found "it didn't pay"; that is, people didn't care to give money to go to see them. So they ran off, and left the poor Chinese, without a cent, to take care of themselves in a strange country. Was not that very mean?
Poor Min-Yung had pawned one of his dresses after another to pay for things he needed, till they were all gone, and he looked quite worn out and miserable. He couldn't speak but a word or two of our language, and I couldn't speak Chinese; but I saw that he was sick and unhappy. So I shook hands with him, and pointed to his forehead, and looked as pitiful as I knew how; and then he nodded his head, and pulled up his sleeve, that I might feel his pulse, and leaned his head on one side, to show me how forlorn and weary he felt.
I thought that, perhaps, he might be faint, and need something to eat, or drink; so I said "Tea?" for I knew that a China-man would be sure to understand that word.
You should have seen what a horrid grimace he made, and how he lifted up both his hands, as if to wave off an imaginary cup of tea! I always thought that the tea sent over to this country from China was a miserable humbug; so poor Min-Yung's horror at being asked to drink a cup of it, quite upset me, and I laughed immoderately. Min-Yung laughed, too; and understood by the way I shook my fore-finger at him, just as well as if I had said, "You know very well, my dear Min-Yung, that your countrymen make us swallow and pay for any sort of a mess which they choose to baptize by the name of 'tea.'"
However, Min-Yung ate some nice jelly, without being poisoned, and pocketed some money which was given him by a gentleman present, and then he dropped on one knee very gracefully, and kissed first the gentleman's hand, and then mine; and his little huckleberry eyes twinkled, as much as to say, "You see, I'm very grateful."
With good, careful nursing, Min-Yung got better. I think it made him almost well to speak kindly to him, for he had a good, affectionate heart. When he got quite well and strong, he wanted to "be my servant." I liked Min-Yung, but I had nothing for him to do; beside, I like to be my own servant. It would make me as nervous as a cat in a china closet, to have anybody always standing behind my chair. So, the gentleman who gave him the money, said he was going to California soon, and would like to have Min-Yung go with him, to wait upon him. Wasn't that kind?