THE new “chow” puppy certainly possessed a sense of humour. He was very
funny just now, and appeared to know it, and the more his efforts were
rewarded by laughter the more he strove to satisfy his audience. He
resembled a diminutive square black bear, his small tail curled so
tightly on his back that it appeared to be almost lifting his hind feet
off the ground, and his front legs seemed to be so set on his body that
he would of necessity tumble on his nose should he essay to travel
rapidly. His beady eyes, like animated boot buttons, seemed brimful of
merriment, and his final effort at carrying an old shoe in his mouth
across the compound had reduced Jack and Dorothy to a state of
helplessness from laughter. Hong, the gate-keeper, stood by enjoying the
scene and laughing inwardly. He possessed the trait common to most
Chinamen of being intensely amused without showing any outward sign, and
although possessed of an enormous appreciation of humour, he was seldom
seen to smile, and never known to laugh.
“What for you never laugh?” demanded Jack, turning suddenly on the burly
servant. “Isn’t that funny enough for you?” pointing to the puppy.
“It is funny, very funny indeed,” replied Hong, “but, Excellency, this
person has learned not to laugh and has learned it in a hard school.”
“Come, tell us about it,” orders the youngster; and the two children are
soon seated near Hong, Dorothy cuddling the new puppy and looking up in
the huge Chinaman’s face with big questioning eyes.
“It is hardly a story, Excellencies,” begins Hong, “but such as it is
this person will tell it. After the trial at Ten Li village I left the
Brethren of the Pear Orchard.”
“What’s that?” interrupts Jack.
“Brethren of the Pear Orchard, Excellency, for so we style play-actors
in our country. In addition to the money given me by the juggler, the
good people of Ten Li gave me quite a large sum, for I was still the
popular idol of a play-actor to them. So once more I started on my
travels, and on this occasion in good circumstance, having fine clothes,
a white mule to ride, a servant to carry my baggage, and money in my
pocket. Thus with a light heart I set out from Ten Li, trusting that
fortune would continue to smile on me, and give me employment before my
money should be exhausted. We journeyed some sixteen li that day, and
arrived near nightfall at a fairly big town. Here I engaged the
guest-room in the biggest inn and entertained royally. It was a most
pleasant evening that I spent, for a rich man has no lack of friends,
provided he spend his money freely.
“I awoke late next morning, and found to my dismay that my servant had
robbed me of all my money and had departed with the mule. The landlord
at once clamoured for payment, and the little money I still had
remaining by me and the fairly rich clothes in which I stood were just
sufficient to meet his demands, and left me sufficient to purchase a
blue cotton coat and trousers and bamboo hat. From a prosperous,
well-dressed individual I was in a few hours transformed into a
penniless out-of-work coolie. Pride, however, forbade my returning to my
friends in Ten Li, where I should only meet with ridicule, so having
burnt papers before the image of Lao Lang——”
“Lao Lang?” interrupts Jack.
“Yes, Excellency; he is the god of play-actors, and as I had followed
that calling for some time, I thought he might interfere on my behalf.”
“And did he?”
“Who knows? Perhaps he did. Anyway this person will endeavour to show
what further fortune befell him.
“After this pious exercise I started away from the town, taking a
direction the opposite to that by which I had entered the town from Ten
Li. Although a strong man, I still found it not altogether pleasant to
march all day without anything to eat, and I was greatly exhausted when,
near the hour of sunset, I came to the banks of a large river. This was
crossed by a ferry, consisting of a large flat-bottomed boat, dragged
from side to side by iron chains laid in the river-bed, and by this
means passengers, beasts, baggage, and merchandise were conveyed from
one side to the other. Having no money with which to pay my passage
across, I sat somewhat disconsolately on the bank and debated with
myself whether it were not better to at once end my miserable existence
by drowning. Near me crouched a huge gaunt man in tattered garments,
whose presence I had failed to notice, owing to my self-absorption,
until he addressed me. My melancholy train of thought was broken in upon
by his saying—
“‘Honourable stranger, it seems to me that you contemplate suicide. Many
people attempt to pass over to their ancestors in this river, but almost
invariably before drowning they wish to be saved, and it is then that I
come in—in other words, I save them from death, and moreover I will do
the same for you, for indeed I am sadly in need of funds. So, fair sir,
I beg of you to do the deed speedily, for night approaches.’
“I explained that I was indeed an unhappy person, and at that very
moment had contemplated suicide, being absolutely devoid of even a
single ‘cash.’ At this he altered his tone, and said that if I were
without money then I had his full permission to drown, for that nothing
put him in a worse temper than to save people who were unable to requite
him for his services. I liked the fellow for his honesty, and begged him
to explain further. He then told me that his profession was one of
life-saver, that people frequently fell into the water at the ferry,
that he was always at hand to pull them out, and that by the gratitude
of those he thus saved he made a living, but that unfortunately of late
travellers were few; for days no one had tried to cross the ferry, and
that should trade continue to be in its present stagnant state he would
surely starve. His tale excited my sympathy. Here was a fellow-creature
in as sad a case as myself, and for some time I sat by him in silence,
idly gazing at the muddy stream, and seeing the blue-clothed people
returning by the stone-paved path at the river’s side from their day’s
work in the fields. Suddenly an idea seized me. I jumped up.
“‘Wait,’ said I to the sad man by the ferry, ‘and you shall yet earn
some money by nightfall.’ With which I ran in apparent great haste up
the causeway by the river bank. I kept on at my topmost speed, and
people made way for me on the narrow pathway, but singling out the
better class of wayfarer, I apparently by accident charged into them and
hurled them into the stream. On I kept, in spite of the cries and
execrations behind me. My large bulk and strength forced all to go into
the water whom I deemed worthy of being rescued, and so I continued
until quite exhausted and the darkness was almost complete. I must have
pushed some eight or ten people into the river by the time I stopped,
and then, wishing to rejoin my new friend, I too jumped in, and was
rapidly carried, with little effort, towards the ferry. As I drew near
the spot, swimming just to keep afloat, I heard wild shouts from the
bank, and almost at once I felt myself seized by the collar, my head was
thrust under the water, I received several severe kicks in the back, and
when quite exhausted and almost drowned I was dragged ashore, and found
that the person who had ill-used me so severely was none other than my
friend the life-saver. His annoyance at finding that it was me he had
saved soon gave way to feelings of gratitude for the services I had
rendered by supplying him with material on which to exercise his
professional skill. Of the seven people he had saved all had some money
with them, and the few who had escaped him and had drowned he trusted
possessed nothing of value. So, greatly cheered, we two retired to the
village and dined together in the inn, and over a bottle of samshu that
night we formed a compact to be partners in saving life.
“Being a stranger in the neighbourhood, it was for a few days easy for
me to push people off the tow-path, and we did a good trade, but soon
people became careful and suspicious and would not walk singly near the
river-side. My partner was a man of hasty temper, and his manner became
more and more disagreeable towards me as trade became worse. It became
daily more and more difficult to earn a living, and one night, my
partner having made some disparaging remarks about the zeal with which I
carried out my part of our agreement, I determined to make a desperate
effort the next day to supply him with subjects on which to practise his
professional skill. Warily I trudged near the tow-path, but only the
most indigent dared to use it. I went further afield, but could meet no
one who was unaccompanied. At last, desperate and hungry, late in the
afternoon, I struck away from the river bank towards the foothills. Some
mile and a half from the river I found a woodcutter. He fled from me,
but I rushed on and pounced upon him. A sharp struggle ensued, no one
was by to help him, and his cries passed unheeded. My strength soon
overpowered him, and I carried him screaming and shouting to the
deserted river bank, and with a supreme effort hurled him into the muddy
current. Then, thoroughly exhausted, I wearily made my way back to the
ferry. On arriving there I found my partner in the most evil temper I
had ever seen him in; in fact, he was in such a towering rage with me
that he could scarcely speak. He had saved the man, but it appeared he
was an indigent second cousin of my partner, and so far from being able
to reward he had signified his intention of remaining with and living on
his rescuer, arguing that the person who had prolonged such an unhappy
life as his had incurred the responsibility of keeping that life going,
and that henceforth, if he died of starvation, then his death would lie
at the door of his rescuer. I think some unreasonably offensive remarks
were hurled at me on this occasion, both by the rescuer and the rescued,
so I left their company and that night slept unfed and uncovered in the
fields.”
“But what’s all that got to do with your never laughing?” says Jack.
“And I don’t believe that story,” adds Dorothy. “You wouldn’t drown the
puppies the other day, so I’m certain you never pushed people into a
river.”
It was true. Hong, as a Buddhist, had scruples about the taking of life,
and had recently failed to do away with certain blind puppies that were
considered superfluous in the Consular household. If it were possible
for a Chinaman to look disconcerted, then Hong would have looked it at
that moment, with the eyes of both children fixed on him. His love for
talking to them and engaging their attention had led him into spinning
an endless yarn, but now he was brought up suddenly with a round turn.
“It is true, high-born one, this miserable individual had forgotten; but
wait, and soon, Excellencies, you shall learn how this despicable
individual was taught not to laugh. It being necessary for me to live
somehow, I tried to earn a few cash by reciting passages from my plays
at any small village where I could gather together an audience. I found
that my fine declamations of heroic parts met with but little favour;
but when I repeated some of the ancient jests of our comedian I met with
some slighter success. It so happened that one day, starving and
miserable, I stood on the cement threshing-floor before the inn of a
small village, reciting the funniest jests I could remember, in a
melancholy voice, to a dull and unappreciative audience of rustics,
when, unnoticed by me, a high official, accompanied by his retinue, had
ridden up to the outskirts of the crowd. It appeared that he listened to
my merry jibes, and at the same time carefully scrutinised my miserable
and utterly woe-begone appearance, and when I had finished my recital
and collected what I could from my audience he entered the inn and
summoned me to his presence by one of his servants. On entering the
great man’s presence in the guest-room of the inn, he informed me that
it was his pleasure to take me into his service, that I was to attach
myself to his train, and that my duties would be made plain to me later
on. Being in sorry straits I was willing to accept any fate, and so
journeyed with his retinue to Foh Lin, of which town and district I
found my new master to be magistrate. Arrived at his Yamen, I was given
a room to myself and a generous meal, of which I stood greatly in need;
after which I felt once more a man, my old confidence in myself
returned, and when later a servant entered and burst into uncontrollable
laughter, I felt ready to join in his merriment could I but learn the
cause of it.
“‘Come,’ I said, ‘speak! Why this outward seeming of internal
merriment?’
“After several ineffectual attempts to explain, he managed in the
intervals of laughter to tell me that to laugh was the greatest
privilege imaginable in that Yamen. He then further explained that the
magistrate was a man who had never experienced any of the emotions
common to ordinary mortals, that he was the most amusing person himself;
he knew no fear, no sorrow, no pain, and had never been known to laugh.
The sound of merriment was most objectionable to him, and was invariably
visited with the most rigorous punishments in the case of anyone who so
far forgot himself as to laugh in his magisterial presence. That he had
singled me out as fitted for his service because I could apparently tell
funny stories and at the same time preserve a countenance like a
well-worn boot.
“I also learned from the fellow that my new master was in every way most
excruciatingly funny himself, that his retainers suffered agonies daily
from suppressed amusement at his humorous remarks, and that to smile at
them was a grave offence, but to laugh was a crime punishable by death.
His latest jest had been to build a superb summer-house in his grounds,
and when completed he had taken his mother-in-law to see it. When asked
her opinion of the structure she had, womanlike, offered criticisms and
suggested improvements. The magistrate feigned to agree with her, and
flattered her into making a suggestion as to how the building might be
rendered perfect. She thereupon suggested some sculpture or figurehead
in the centre of the roof as a fitting rounding-off of the structure.
The magistrate concurred in her opinion with enthusiasm, and suggested
her own head as a suitable finish-off of the concern. In vain his
mother-in-law protested that she possessed insufficient beauty for such
an honour, and suggested her daughter’s head—his wife’s—as being
eminently more suitable. He carefully argued the matter out with her,
and so wittily withal that she shook with uncontrollable merriment till
the moment the executioner’s sword curtailed her giggles.
“In spite of these stories I slept well, and felt ready to meet my new
master the next morning with a befittingly lugubrious exterior.
Everything passed off well at the first interview, the extreme thinness
of my face and my general starved condition making a picture
sufficiently unmirthful in the magistrate’s eyes; but as my condition
under good living improved, so I found my powers as an actor more and
more taxed to maintain my gravity in my master’s presence. I would lie
awake all night screaming with laughter, hoping thereby to relieve my
feelings of the strain caused by the previous day’s gravity. My master
never seemed at a loss for a witty remark or humorous suggestion, and
these were always delivered with a Buddha-like impassivity that rendered
them the more ridiculous. One after another of his servants I saw
degraded for levity, until I stood first in his favour; however, I knew
the strain would prove too great for me, my face used to feel like
scorched parchment, my eyes burnt like hot cinders, and often I feared
to choke, and tears would stream down my face from the enormous efforts
I made not to offend. I also became very popular with the other
servants, frequently saving them from disgrace by stepping forward and
drawing the master’s attention upon myself and from any unlucky one
whose merriment had got the better of his prudence. At last I snapped
under the strain, having been made weak and nervous by many sleepless
nights of laughter. On the day of my downfall the magistrate was in an
exceptionally happy vein. He had dispensed justice for five hours, never
repeating a jest, and never failing to send a criminal to the potter’s
field who did not leave the court convulsed with merriment. It came
suddenly on me without warning, falling like a fit of madness, the
restraint of months running riot, my pent-up emotions suddenly gave vent
to themselves in peals of maniacal laughter. I rolled from side to side,
now screaming like a parrot, again whooping like a child with the cough,
hiccuping like any drunkard, squealing like an unbroken mule—every sound
in the animal kingdom I seemed to reproduce as I rolled on the ground
with streaming eyes before the horrified magistrate. He alone remained
calm in the face of my shocking exhibition. Having dwelt upon the
disappointment I had been to him he condemned me to death, pointing out
that my ingratitude was the greater seeing how I had been advanced by
his kindness, and having made a few quotations from the precepts of
Confucius, which latter he rendered in rhyme, interlarded with some
excruciatingly funny puns, he dismissed me, a limp, chuckling mass, from
his presence. I now felt certain that I should end my days by a felon’s
death, but the relief was so great that I passed the night in the
greatest hilarity, enjoying the company of my friends, and entertaining
them with a colossal farewell feast. Merrily the wine bowl passed, until
the hour for the execution arrived, when I was led in the best of
spirits to the potter’s field, and prepared to look my last on this
beautiful world.
“Soldiers were drawn up in a hollow square, the executioner stood
stripped to the waist in the centre, and a little in advance of the
troops sat the melancholy magistrate on a milk-white pony. The world
never looked brighter, as the early morning sun shone on the bright
uniforms, glittering weapons, and gaudy banners of the soldiery. As a
special mark of favour I was allowed to be unbound, and advancing to the
centre of the square, I politely saluted the magistrate and thanked him
for all his past kindness. He, however, replied with some apt jest,
which again aroused my mirth. Now, thought I, I will have my fling. My
wits were peculiarly sharpened, and I turned to the executioner and
twitted him on his solemn demeanour. The fellow answered me to the best
of his dull intellect, but as I made my preparations in a leisurely
manner I soon had him hopelessly trembling from a mixture of laughter
and fear at offending the great man. Even the soldiers began to snigger
at my repartee and the executioner’s obvious distress, when suddenly a
change came over me. Why should I die? What evil had I done? A feeling
of huge wrath sprang up in me against this unfeeling wretch who never
smiled. With the madness engendered by this reaction of feeling, I
dashed at the now helpless executioner, wrenched the sword from his
grasp, and with a yell of a madman rushed towards the crowd. The
soldiers, cowards to a man, drew back before my onslaught. Blinded with
fury I bounded towards the hated tao-tai, seated calm as ever on his
pony. The sword was raised to strike, and in another moment I should
have killed the callous fiend, when something in his face arrested my
arm in mid-air. Could it be? Yes it was. He smiled, the smile broadened,
and the melancholy magistrate of Foh Lin broke into peals of merriment.
I stared like a fool, and let the sword drop, the situation was unique.
I felt almost sorry for what I had done, shocked, it seemed to me, that
my idol too had been shattered.
“When at last he spoke I listened with bowed head. He, bending a look
almost of kindness upon me, addressed me thus—
“‘Brother, all my life I have never felt any of the emotions common to
men until now, and now I have felt fear. Undoubtedly you have just held
my life in your hands. This, the first emotion of my life, felt so
strange that I laughed at the idea. I thank you for it, but you must
leave me. Should I ever again wish to laugh you might be unable to
afford me that pleasure. So it were better for us both that we parted.
Fare you well, brother.’
“Thus, Excellencies, I learned the secret of gravity.”
“Is that all true, Hong?”
“High-born, I would have you ponder this saying of the philosopher—‘A
bad liar is a better companion than a deaf mute.’”
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