CHAPTER XII.
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN AMERICA.
After a stormy voyage of one week, with the usual accompaniment of seasickness, we landed at Yokohama, in the Country of the Rising Sun. For Japan means “sun-origin.” The Japanese claim to be descendants of the sun, instead of being an off-shoot of the Chinese race.
During the four days on shore we young Chinese saw many strange things; the most remarkable being the steam-engine. We were told that those iron rails running parallel for a long distance were the “fire-car road.” I was wondering how a car could run on them, and driven by fire, too, as I understood it, when a locomotive whizzed by, screeching and ringing its bell. That was the first iron-horse we had ever seen, and it made a profound impression on us. We made a number of other remarkable and agreeable discoveries. We were delighted to learn that the Japanese studied the same books as we and worshiped our Confucius, and that we could converse with them in writing, pretty much as deaf and dumb people do. We learned that the way they lived and dressed was like that in vogue in the time of Confucius. Their mode of dressing the hair and their custom of sitting on mats laid on the floor is identical with ancient Chinese usage.
When our brief stay came to an end, we went aboard the steamer City of Peking, which reached San Francisco in nineteen days. Our journey across the Pacific was made in the halcyon weather. The ocean was as gentle as a lamb for the most part, although at times it acted in such a way as to suggest a raging lion.
San Francisco in 1873 was the paradise of the self-exiled Chinese. We boys who came to study under the auspices of the Chinese government and under the protection of the American eagle, were objects of some attention from the press. Many of its representatives came to interview us.
The city impressed my young imagination with its lofty buildings—their solidity and elegance. The depot with its trains running in and out was a great attraction. But the “modern conveniences” of gas and running water and electric bells and elevators were what excited wonder and stimulated investigation.
Nothing occurred on our Eastward journey to mar the enjoyment of our first ride on the steam-cars—excepting a train robbery, a consequent smash-up of the engine, and the murder of the engineer. We were quietly looking out of the windows and gazing at the seemingly interminable prairies when the train suddenly bounded backward, then rushed forward a few feet, and, then meeting some resistance, started back again. Then all was confusion and terror. Pistol-shots could be made out above the cries of frightened passengers. Women shrieked and babies cried. Our party, teachers and pupils, jumped from our seats in dismay and looked out through the windows for more light on the subject. What we saw was enough to make our hair stand on end. Two ruffianly men held a revolver in each hand and seemed to be taking aim at us from the short distance of forty feet or thereabouts. Our teachers told us to crouch down for our lives. We obeyed with trembling and fear. Doubtless many prayers were most fervently offered to the gods of China at the time. Our teachers certainly prayed as they had never done before. One of them was overheard calling upon all the gods of the Chinese Pantheon to come and save him. In half an hour the agony and suspense were over. A brakeman rushed through with a lamp in his hand. He told us that the train had been robbed of its gold bricks, by five men, three of whom, dressed like Indians, rifled the baggage car while the others held the passengers at bay; that the engine was hopelessly wrecked, the engineer killed; that the robbers had escaped on horseback with their booty; and that men had been sent to the nearest telegraph station to “wire” for another engine and a supply of workmen. One phase of American civilization was thus indelibly fixed upon our minds.
We reached Springfield, Mass., in due time, where we were distributed among some of the best families in New England. As liberal provision having been made for our care by the Chinese government, there was no difficulty in finding nice people to undertake our “bringing-up,” although I now know that a philanthropic spirit must have inspired all who assumed the responsibility of our training and education. We were assigned two by two; and it was my good fortune to be put into the hands of a most motherly lady in Springfield. She came after us in a hack. As I was pointed out to her, she put her arms around me and kissed me. This made the rest of the boys laugh, and perhaps I got rather red in the face; however, I would say nothing to show my embarrassment. But that was the first kiss I ever had had since my infancy.
Our first appearance in an American household must have been a funny occurrence to its members. We were dressed in our full Chinese costume, consisting of cue, satin shoes, skull-cap, silk gown, loose jacket and white linen blouse. We were both thirteen years of age, but smaller than American boys at eleven.
Sunday came. After lunch, the lady and her son came up to our room to tell us to get ready to go to Sabbath-school with them. We knew very little English at the time. The simplest Anglo-Saxon words were still but slightly known to us. We caught the word “school” only. We supposed that at last our ordeal in an American school was at hand. We each took a cloth-wrapper and began to tie up a pile of books with it, à la Chinoise, when our guardians, returning, made us understand by signs and otherwise that no books were needed.