When I was a boy in China

by Yan Phou Lee

There are not many games in which boys and girls play together. If they do play together it is only while they are children, under ten or twelve. Growing-up girls will have nothing whatever to do with boys, though Chinese boys and girls are very sociable, each with friends of their own sex.

CHAPTER V.
GIRLS OF MY ACQUAINTANCE.

I still continually find false ideas in America concerning Chinese customs, manners, and institutions. Small blame to the people at large, who have no means of learning the truth except through newspapers or accounts of travellers who do not understand what they see in passing through our country. From the time of Sir John Mandeville, travellers (with a few noble exceptions) have vied with each other in relating the most wonderful stories about our ancient empire. Accordingly, what I tell in this series of articles about Chinese customs, manners and institutions may often contradict general belief.

There is far less of truth told about the “fair section” of the Chinese people than of the sterner sex, because far less is known. What I myself propose to tell is chiefly derived from daily observation of the female members of my family and those of my kindred. Very distant relatives are recognized in China; a man prides himself upon the large number of his connections as well as upon the influence his family exert in the community on account of wealth or position. A “poor relation” there is treated with much more consideration and affection than in this country. Generosity towards that class of unfortunates is so common, and its practice is so strenuously insisted upon, in the moral code of the Chinese, that it almost ceases to be an individual virtue—it is a national virtue.

Of the numerous cousins, aunts and other fair relatives that fell to my earthly lot several lived in the same house with us, under the superintendence of my grandmother, as I have before said; there were two aunts who were then too young to marry, two aunts by marriage, and three young cousins in the house. Then on the same street dwelt about thirty or forty families, all related to us by blood, whose female members it was my privilege, as a relative and as a youngster, to see often. I assure you they comprised among them girls of all sorts of tempers and characters. The gentle, refined and modest stood side by side with the rough, uncultured and forward. There were good-looking ones, and there were homely ones.

Let me add that these girls had not been “killed during their infancy.” I am indignant that there should be a popular belief in America that Chinese girls at their birth are generally put to death because they are not wanted by their parents. Nothing can be further from the truth. In a country like China, where women do not appear in public life, it must follow that sons are more to be desired, for the very good reasons that family honor and glory depend on them and ancestral worship necessitates either the birth or adoption of sons to perpetuate it. I venture to say that in proportion to population and distribution of wealth that infanticide is as rare in China as it is in this country. Extremely poor people, finding it hard to keep even themselves alive, often prefer to “make way” with their babies rather than see them slowly starve to death. With them, girl-babies are more often sacrificed because boys are readily adopted by rich and childless persons, while the female infants rarely can be thus provided for. But let it be understood that there are established in every good-sized town infant hospitals in which these waifs are kept and brought up with care by means of funds furnished by good people. The same ceremonies of christening are observed with girl babies, and though relatives may growl, they nevertheless bring the customary presents of cloth, jewelry and pigs’ feet.

In spite of the restraint all Chinese children are subject to, we little boys and girls used to have good times together. Among the boys were two brothers of mine and a whole troop of cousins of whom five were about my age. We used to play cat’s-cradle, puss-in-the-corner, jack-straws and jack-stones, the girls (all the way from four to eight years of age) taking as much interest in the games as we did. Of course at any time when the gentlemen of the family were present, we used to sit as quiet as mice and as demure as monks and nuns.

In those games which depend on dexterity and activity, we boys were winners; but when it came to games demanding skill, patience, quick wit and delicacy of touch, we were distanced by the girls.

Many a quarrel did we have as points of dispute came up; and often one of our set would not speak to another, or would even cut the whole of us for days together on account of some unfair play. Those little tiffs seemed to be of momentous importance then. But the boy whose heart swells with indignation at that which offends his sense of justice is likely to grow up a true man after all.

But our chief amusement and delight was to hear stories; especially those about fairies and ghosts. Oh! the blood-curdling stories that we were privileged to hear. They were enough to set anybody’s teeth a-chattering and to stand his hair on end. They were always told in a low, sepulchral tone of voice, and the lamps were turned down, which very much heightened the artistic effect. We were also entertained with healthful anecdotes, such as scraps of history or biographical sketches of China’s great men and famous women. But when we coaxed “real hard,” we could generally get some one to tell us stories of goblins, imps that haunted the forests, spectres that dwelt in old coffins, and witches and fairies that were good to those who pleased them. After listening to a glowing account of their antics and deeds, good or mischievous, it was useless to attempt making me go to bed alone or without a light. Even when some one accompanied me with a light, I never felt safe until I had covered my head with the bedclothes. That superstitious dread haunts me yet, especially when walking alone in the dark. I think it is impossible that I shall ever outgrow it.