Mrs. Spring Fragrance
from prison, was for his little nephew and niece, and great indeed was
his alarm and grief upon learning that the two tender scions of the
house of Chan had been banished to a lonely forest by a haunted river,
which forest and river were said to be inhabited by wild and cruel
beings. Moreover, since the sailors who had taken them there, and who
were the only persons who knew where the forest was situated, had been
drowned in a swift rushing rapid upon their return journey, it seemed
almost impossible to trace the little ones, and Chan Ah Sin the Ninth
was about giving up in despair, when the fairy bird, fish, and
butterfly, who had aroused the peasants, also aroused the uncle by
appearing to him and telling him where the forest of banishment lay and
how to reach it.
“Yes,” said Chan Ah Sin the Ninth, when his friend ceased speaking, “but
they did not tell me that I should find my niece and nephew so tenderly
cared for. Heaven alone knows why you have been so good to my beloved
children.”
He bowed low to the tiger, leopard, and all the living things around
him.
“Most excellent and honorable Chan Ah Sin the Ninth,” replied the Tiger,
prostrating himself, “we have had the pleasure and privilege of being
good to these little ones, because many years ago in the beautiful land
of China, your honorable ancestor, Chan Ah Sin the First, was good and
kind to our forefathers.”
Then arising upon his hind legs, he turned to Ming and Mai and tenderly
touching them with his paws, said:
“Honorable little ones, your banishment is over, and those who roam the
Forest of the Freed, and dwell in the depths of the Pool of Happy Life,
will behold no more the light of your eyes. May heaven bless you and
preserve you to be as good and noble ancestors to your descendants as
your ancestor, Chan Ah Sin the First, was to you.”
THE STORY OF A LITTLE CHINESE
SEABIRD
A little Chinese seabird sat in the grass which grew on a rocky island.
The little Chinese seabird was very sad. Her wing was broken and all her
brothers and sisters had flown away, leaving her alone. Why, oh why, had
she broken her wing? Why, oh why, were brothers and sisters so?
The little Chinese seabird looked over the sea. How very beautiful its
life and movement! The sea was the only consolation the little Chinese
seabird had. It was always lovely and loving to the little Chinese
seabird. No matter how often the white-fringed waves spent themselves
for her delight, there were always more to follow. Changeably unchanged,
they never deserted her nor her island home. Not so with her brothers
and sisters. When she could fly with them, circle in the air, float upon
the water, dive for little fish, and be happy and gay—then indeed she
was one of them and they loved her. But since she had broken her wing,
it was different. The little Chinese seabird shook her little head
mournfully.
But what was that which the waves were bearing towards her island? The
little Chinese seabird gave a quick glance, then put her little head
under the wing that was not broken.
Now, what the little Chinese seabird had seen was a boat. Within the
boat were three boys—and these boys were coming to the island to hunt
for birds’ eggs. The little Chinese seabird knew this, and her bright,
wild little eyes glistened like jewels, and she shivered and shuddered
as she spread herself as close to the ground as she could.
The boys beached the boat and were soon scrambling over the island,
gathering all the eggs that they could find. Sometimes they passed so
near to the little Chinese seabird that she thought she must surely be
trampled upon, and she set her little beak tight and close so that she
might make no sound, should so painful an accident occur. Once, however,
when the tip of a boy’s queue dangled against her head and tickled it,
the little Chinese seabird forgot entirely her prudent resolve to suffer
in silence, and recklessly peeked at the dangling queue. Fortunately for
her, the mother who had braided the queue of the boy had neglected to
tie properly the bright red cord at the end thereof. Therefore when the
little Chinese seabird pecked at the braid, the effect of the peck was
not to cause pain to the boy and make him turn around, as might
otherwise have been the case, but to pull out of his queue the bright
red cord. This, the little Chinese seabird held in her beak for quite a
long time. She enjoyed glancing down at its bright red color, and was
afraid to let it fall in case the boys might hear.
Meanwhile, the boys, having gathered all the eggs they could find,
plotted together against the little Chinese seabird and against her
brothers and sisters, and the little seabird, holding the red cord in
her beak, listened with interest. For many hours after the boys had left
the island, the little Chinese seabird sat meditating over what she had
heard. So deeply did she meditate that she forgot all about the pain of
her broken wing.
Towards evening her brothers and sisters came home and settled over the
island like a wide-spreading mantle of wings.
For some time the little Chinese seabird remained perfectly still and
quiet. She kept saying to herself, “Why should I care? Why should I
care?” But as she did care, she suddenly let fall the bright red cord
and opened and closed her beak several times.
“What is all that noise?” inquired the eldest seabird.
“Dear brother,” returned the little Chinese seabird, “I hope I have not
disturbed you; but is not this a very lovely night? See how radiant the
moon.”
“Go to sleep! Go to sleep!”
“Did you have an enjoyable flight today, brother?”
“Tiresome little bird, go to sleep, go to sleep.”
It was the little Chinese seabird’s eldest sister that last spoke.
“Oh, sister, is that you?” replied the little Chinese seabird. “I could
see you last of the flock as you departed from our island, and I did so
admire the satin white of your under-wings and tail.”
“Mine is whiter,” chirped the youngest of all the birds.
“Go to sleep, go to sleep!” snapped the eldest brother.
“What did you have to eat today?” inquired the second brother of the
little Chinese seabird.
“I had a very tasty worm porridge, dear brother,” replied the little
Chinese seabird. “I scooped it out of the ground beside me, because you
know I dared not move any distance for fear of making worse my broken
wing.”
“Your broken wing? Ah, yes, your broken wing!” murmured the second
brother.
“Ah, yes, your broken wing!” faintly echoed the others.
Then they all, except the very youngest one, put their heads under their
own wings, for they all, except the very youngest one, felt a little bit
ashamed of themselves.
But the little Chinese seabird did not wish her brothers and sisters to
feel ashamed of themselves. It embarrassed her, so she lifted up her
little voice again, and said:
“But I enjoyed the day exceedingly. The sea was never so lovely nor the
sky either. When I was tired of watching the waves chase each other, I
could look up and watch the clouds. They sailed over the blue sky so
soft and white.”
“There’s no fun in just watching things,” said the youngest of all the
birds: “we went right up into the clouds and then deep down into the
waves. How we splashed and dived and swam! When I fluttered my wings
after a bath in silver spray, it seemed as if a shower of jewels dropped
therefrom.”
“How lovely!” exclaimed the little Chinese seabird. Then she remembered
that if her brothers and sisters were to have just as good a time the
next day, she must tell them a story—a true one.
So she did.
After she had finished speaking, there was a great fluttering of wings,
and all her brothers and sisters rose in the air above her, ready for
flight.
“To think,” they chattered to one another, “that if we had remained an
hour longer, those wicked boys would have come with lighted torches and
caught us and dashed us to death against stones.”
“Yes, and dressed us and salted us!”
“And dressed us and salted us!”
“And dried us!”
“And dried us!”
“And eaten us!”
“And eaten us!”
“How rude!”
“How inconsiderate!”
“How altogether uncalled for!”
“Are you quite sure?” inquired the eldest brother of the little Chinese
seabird.
“See,” she replied, “here is the red cord from the queue of one of the
boys. I picked it out as his braid dangled against my head!”
The brothers and sisters looked at one another.
“How near they must have come to her!” exclaimed the eldest sister.
“They might have trampled her to death in a very unbecoming manner!”
remarked the second.
“They will be sure to do it tonight when they search with torchlight,”
was the opinion of the second brother.
And the eldest brother looked sharply down upon the little Chinese
seabird, and said:
“If you had not told us what these rude boys intended doing, you would
not have had to die alone.”
“I prefer to die alone!” proudly replied the little Chinese seabird. “It
will be much pleasanter to die in quiet than with wailing screams in my
ears.”
“Hear her, oh, hear her!” exclaimed the second sister.
But the eldest sister, she with the satin-white under-wings and
spreading tail, descended to the ground, and began pulling up some tough
grass. “Come,” she cried to the other birds, “let us make a strong nest
for our broken-winged little sister—a nest in which we can bear away to
safety one who tonight has saved our lives without thought of her own.”
“We will, with pleasure,” answered the other birds.
Whereupon they fluttered down and helped to build the most wonderful
nest that ever was built, weaving in and out of it the bright red cord,
which the little Chinese seabird had plucked out of the boy’s queue.
This made the nest strong enough to bear the weight of the little
Chinese seabird, and when it was finished they dragged it beside her and
tenderly pushed her in. Then they clutched its sides with their beaks,
flapped their wings, and in a moment were soaring together far up in the
sky, the little Chinese seabird with the broken wing happy as she could
be in the midst of them.
WHAT ABOUT THE CAT?
“What about the cat?” asked the little princess of her eldest maid.
“It is sitting on the sunny side of the garden wall, watching the
butterflies. It meowed for three of the prettiest to fall into its
mouth, and would you believe it, that is just what happened. A green, a
blue, a pink shaded with gold, all went down pussy’s red throat.”
The princess smiled. “What about the cat?” she questioned her second
maid.
“She is seated in your honorable father’s chair of state, and your
honorable father’s first body-slave is scratching her back with your
father’s own back-scratcher, made of the purest gold and ivory.”
The princess laughed outright. She pattered gracefully into another
room. There she saw the youngest daughter of her foster-mother.
“What about the cat?” she asked for the third time.
“The cat! Oh, she has gone to Shinku’s duck farm. The ducks love her so
that when they see her, they swim to shore and embrace her with their
wings. Four of them combined to make a raft and she got upon their backs
and went down-stream with them. They met some of the ducklings on the
way and she patted them to death with her paws. How the big ducks
quacked!”
“That is a good story,” quoth the princess.
She went into the garden and, seeing one of the gardeners, said: “What
about the cat?”
“It is frisking somewhere under the cherry tree, but you would not know
it if you saw it,” replied the gardener.
“Why?” asked the princess.
“Because, Your Highness, I gave it a strong worm porridge for its
dinner, and as soon as it ate it, its white fur coat became a glossy