The eldest, Katie, now became Sybil's very useful interpreter, for as she had been born in China and lived there all her life, she could understand, and speak, many Chinese dialects.

Sybil now knew several Chinese words herself. "Che-fan," or "Have you eaten your rice?" was "How do you do?" though, as a rule, when people said "How do you do?" to her it was "Chin-chin mississi?"

When she went out visiting, questions such as the following were generally put to her, "What honourable name have you?" "What is the name of your beautiful dwelling?" and "What age have you?" Had she been grown up, this question would probably have been, "What is your venerable age?"

Leonard was often told to "catchee plenty chow-chow," which means "eat a very good dinner," but as somehow he generally seemed able to do this, he hardly needed the kind advice.

Mrs. Graham's amah amused Sybil very much. She had been a great traveller, having visited both England and America, and she liked England much the best. One day she said to Sybil: "Melica no good countly. Welly bad chow-chow. Appool number one. My hab chow-chow sixty pieces before bleakfast. Any man no got dollar, all hab got paper.

Number one foolo pidgin. No good countly. My no likee Melica. My likee England side more better." This meant: "America is not a good country.

It has very bad food, but first-rate apples. I ate sixty before breakfast. No one has any dollars there, all use paper money. Very foolish business. Not a good country. I do not like America. I like England better."

Some pleasure or another was always forthcoming for Sybil and Leonard, and the few last "Peep-shows" were very precious.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SING-SONG."]

One day, when they were out, they saw a "Sing-Song," as the performance was called. Under a canopy, in the open streets, children were acting and dancing. To do so, they had dressed up in very gorgeous costumes, their ornaments and head-dresses being grander, Leonard said, than anything he had ever seen before; and the little Chinese actors themselves seemed to be thoroughly at their ease, and quite at home, in their grand attire.

"Why did that policeman come after you to-day, father, and take down the name of the boat that we got into?" Leonard once asked, when he and his father had been out together, and were returning home.

"Policemen have done that several times, if you had only noticed," was the reply. "That was to guard us from pirates. They took the name of our boat, so that the owner could be held responsible if we did not return safely. The Chinese are dreadful pirates, and are generally on the look-out for opportunities to rob. Sometimes a band of them will take their pa.s.sages in a ship, and when fairly out at sea will all rise in mutiny against the captain and his officers, and perhaps murder them, so as to be able to plunder as they choose."

"I should think the boat-policemen had plenty of work to do," Leonard then said.

"Father, do you remember well when you were just eleven?" the child then asked suddenly, going, as it seemed, right away from his present subject. "Did you ever want to be a sailor then? ever think for certain you would be one?"

"I do not remember ever having had that wish."

"Well, I have had it over and over again, and thought that there could not be anything better in the world than going about in ships, and seeing different places. I've wished to be a sailor for ever so many years; but, you know, I don't wish it now."

[Ill.u.s.tration: FISHERMEN AND FISHERWOMEN.]

Mr. Graham smiled. I expect it was Leonard's "ever so many years" which made him do so.

"Don't you?" his father asked. "Then what do you want to be now?"

"Something, father, I'm not half good enough for," the boy answered, thoughtfully. "A missionary! Oh, father, I do so want to be a missionary now, and come to China, as you and grandfather have done! Shouldn't you like it too? I know mother would; and perhaps the Church Missionary Society would send me out if I asked them."

"I should like nothing better, my little son," was the missionary's reply.

A few minutes later Leonard was out of doors again, flying himself one of the "wonderful kites," which a Chinaman had made for, and given to, him, and his father was watching his little fellow with pleasure almost amounting to pride.

Was this his impulsive boy's own thought, he wondered, or had his sister suggested it to him.

Quite his own; but no doubt the quiet, gentle influence which Sybil exerted over her younger brother was very good for him.

"Do you think, Sybil, that the heathen Chinese could teach the Christian English anything?" Mr. Graham asked his daughter, as they sat and talked together the very last evening.

"I am sure they could," she answered quickly; "many things. Filial love and obedience for one, respect and reverence for old age for another; and then, though they do believe such silly, superst.i.tious things, there seems to be such a reality, so much earnestness, about the way some of them carry out their religion. They do not mind how early they get up and go out to keep a religious festival, and they seem to ask a sort of blessing, from their G.o.ds, on everything they do, and keep their fasts and feasts so very regularly; but I think their love for their parents beats everything. 'Boy' asked for a holiday yesterday, because it was his mother's birthday, and got up very early to do his work before he went." "Boy" was a kind of footman.

"Yes; parents' birthdays are kept up much more than are those of children. Sometimes on their birthdays they will sit under a crimson canopy, whilst their children kneel and perform the 'kow-tow' to them.

The fifty-first birthday, and every ten years afterwards, is celebrated with great pomp, when religious ceremonies are often performed at the Temple of Longevity. I believe thirty Buddhist priests will then sometimes return thanks for three days.

"When a man is eighty-one, the fact is occasionally communicated to the Emperor, who may then allow money to be given for a monumental arch to be erected to the old man's honour.

"After parents are dead their birthdays are still celebrated in the ancestral hall, where their portraits hang."

"I suppose children give their parents beautiful presents on their birthdays?"

"When they begin to get old the best present that a child can, and does, make a parent, and one which he values more than anything else, is a coffin, because, you know, a Chinaman thinks that unless his body be buried properly his spirit cannot rest.

"The Chinese are strange contradictions," Mr. Graham went on. "Although they are very courageous in bearing torture, they are dreadful liars, and a great liar is generally a great coward. Then they are sober and industrious, but slaves to the opium drug; meek and gentle, but, at the same time, treacherous and cruel; most dutiful to their parents, but often very jealous of their neighbours; and then, perhaps strangest of all, is their love towards their children, but yet their readiness to put their girls to death."

Sybil was silent for several minutes. "Oh, father!" she then said, "isn't the time dreadfully near now? Fancy leaving you and dear mother!

How can we?"

"You must go to _your_ work, darling, and we must stay here to do ours.

Is it not so?" Mr. Graham asked, in the dear, kind, soft voice that Sybil loved so much, and which she always called his "preachy voice."

"But what shall give us comfort? what shall we think about when we are trying to do our several duties, though apart, I hope contentedly and well? That it is G.o.d who has called us to our several duties; it is His Almighty will which we have now and always to obey; but remember, not alone, not unaided, dear Sybil. Who will be our guide, stay, and comfort, when we are separated from one another?"

Sybil knew, but could not answer, because she was crying.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WOMAN OF POAH-BI.]

"Your mother and I," Mr. Graham went on, "in commending our children to the Fatherly love and care of Him Who gave you to us, know that we place you in the safest keeping; and you yourselves have also both learnt, have you not, how to go to our Father and 'Supreme Ruler' in earnest prayer, whenever tempted to do what would displease Him? A missionary, you know, is one who is sent on a mission--to fulfil a duty. A missionary's children must not shrink from fulfilling, must not fail to fulfil, the mission on which they are sent, must they?"

Sybil looked comforted. She liked this last "Peep-show" very much, and kissed her father to show him that she did.

A few minutes later she said, "Do you know, father, I believe little Chu is really beginning to believe and understand properly, for the other day, when I was saying my prayers, she came and knelt down beside me, and she would never kneel to our G.o.d before, even when she saw the Christian woman at Poah-bi do so, with whom we stayed, and with whom she was such good friends. I shall often remember that woman and her dear little baby, which she tied to herself so funnily, because I liked them so very much.

"Poor little Chu!" Sybil then went on. "I shall be so glad to see her again when I come back to you, but I do not think she will like me to go away."

"Chu will have to be a great deal at school now. She has her work to do too, you know."

"How I shall think of you, father, and the Hong-Kong Mission on Intercession Day, when it comes round, shan't I?"

"Yes, Sybil; and not only on Intercession Day, but always in your prayers, you must remember to pray very fervently, both for Chinese and other unbelievers, and not only for me, but for all who are seeking their conversion."

"It seems a more real thing now to pray for," Sybil said.

"And to give thanks for too. Here in Hong-Kong we have great cause to be thankful."

"What a dear old lady that was who was baptized on Sunday! but what was the Christian name she chose? I could not hear it."

"Mong-Oi, which means 'desiring the love' (of Jesus)."

"That was a beautiful name, wasn't it? And there were a number of communicants for here too. How many native communicants are there in Hong-Kong?"

"Between sixty and seventy; and what is so comforting is that the communicants seem to be really devout, and to realise what being a communicant means for, and requires of, them, and it is no easy matter at all for natives of China to embrace Christianity. Sometimes they have to leave all their relations, and suffer much persecution in consequence."