XIII. XIII. A LEGEND OF TEA. At a wave of little Lucy's wand the shining, golden Santa Claus floated away as he came. When he next appeared—and it seemed but a moment or two after—he bore a salver that was gorgeous to see. Upon it, sending up clouds of steam, was a wonderfully beautiful pitcher that his mistress never before had seen, encircled by some exquisite small black cups, inlaid and encrusted heavily with gold, each with a perforated cover. "Sky-High presents to his mistress, the Moon Lady of the Christ Child Night," the little fellow said in his best flowery English, "and to her friends, the Stars of the Midnight, the mandarin tea in the mandarin cups of his country—they will please to be accepted from the Santa Claus." From the pitcher he poured the bubbling water in the mandarin cups, when an exquisite fragrance filled the rooms, as of apple-blossoms. While the guests sipped the priceless tea from the priceless cups, at the request of his mistress the little Chinaman related a Buddhist legend. The Dharma's Eyelashes. More than four hundred and a thousand years ago, O Madame my Mistress, the great Dharma came to China to teach the people. He ate only fruits, and he slept but little; he gave his time almost entirely to meditation. The Dharma ate less and less, and slept less and less, and all things were beginning to appear clear to him within, when a drowsiness came over him, and it increased day by day. One day his eyelashes became too heavy for his eyes; they hung like little weights on his eyes, and he fell asleep. He awoke after a long time. The inner light had gone. He felt that he had committed a great sin. "It is you, my little eyelashes," he said, "that weighed me down, and I will punish you. I will cut you off." Then the great Dharma cut off the little black eyelashes, and strewed them upon the ground. As he did so he had the inward light again. He meditated. As he did so the little eyelashes on the ground turned into wee shrubs, and began to grow. They were tea. The Dharma ate the tea. The shrub filled his heart with joy and gladness. So tea came into the world. Drink it—it will fill your heart with joy and gladness. The Rector's wife gave the Santa Claus a seat by her side that he might share with the company the pleasure of the Good Will story his mistress was next to relate; and little Lucy, too, and Charlie came and sat near-by, for they loved their mother's stories, and could always understand them. XIV. MRS. VAN BUREN'S CHRISTMAS TALE. The most beautiful story Mrs. Van Buren had found in her search during the year for a tale to tell her friends around the Good Will tree was one in the German tongue. She had translated it during the summer, and now called it by a title of her own as she told it. Red Mantle, the House Spirit. There was a German pedler who traveled from city to city by the name of Berthold. He grew in wealth, and at last carried portmanteaus of jewels of great value. He usually traveled only in the daytime, and so as to arrive early in the evening at the town inns between the Hartz Mountains and the Rhine. But on one journey he was belated. He found himself in an unknown way in a great fir forest, where the dark pines shut out the lamps of the stars. He began to fear, for the forests were reputed to be infested with robbers, when suddenly a peculiar light appeared. It was a fire that fumed with a steady flame; he perceived it was a charcoal pit. The colliers are honest people, he reasoned; and with a light step he approached the pit. Near-by was a long house, two stories high, and the lower windows were bright with the candles and fire within. He approached the house, and knocked upon the door. The door was opened cautiously by a middle-aged woman, with a bent form and beautiful, but troubled face. "What would thee have, stranger?" "Food and lodging, madam." "That can never be—not here, not here. It distresses me to say it, but it would not be for your comfort to tarry here." "But I am belated, and have lost my way. I must come in." "I will call my husband. Herman, come here!" She stepped aside, when an elderly man appeared, holding a light shaded by his hand, and followed by a group of children. "I am a belated traveler," said he to Herman, the collier, "and I have lost my way. I see that you are an honest man, and I may tell you that I have merchandise of value, and so it is not safe for me to go on. Give me a shelter and a meal, and I will pay for all." "It is loath I am to turn away a stranger, but this is no place for a traveler. The house is haunted, yet it will not be so always, I hope; but it is so now." "But, good man, I am not afraid." "You do not know, stranger." "But I can sleep where you can, and where this good woman can live with her innocent children." "You don't know," said the woman, "You don't know." "But I must rest here. There may be thieves without, wolves. There cannot be worse things within. I must come in, and I will." Berthold forced his way into the house, and sat down near the fire, laying his portmanteau near him. The family were silent, and looked distressed. But the woman set before him a meal. "Let us sing," said the collier at last. He turned to a table where were musical glasses, and began to play. How sweet and delicate, like an angel's strain, the music was! Then he began to sing with his family: "Now the woods are all sleeping, O guard us, we pray!" The merchant thought that he had never listened to anything so beautiful. After the old German song, Herman said: "Let us pray—will you kneel with us, traveler? You may have need of our prayers, for you have come in to us at your peril." Much astonished at these words, the merchant knelt down beside his portmanteau. The collier began to pray, when there was a light sound at the storm-door, and a draft of wind stirred the ashes. The merchant turned his face towards the door. A strange sight met his gaze, such as he had never seen before. A little dwarf stood there with eyes like coal and with a red mantle. He moved the door to and fro. His eyes gleamed. He looked like a burning image. At last, swaying the door, he gave the merchant an evil glance that seemed to burn out his very soul, and was gone. The prayer ended, and the family rose from their knees. "I will now show you to your chamber," said the collier; "but before we go up, listen to me. If you do not think one evil thought or speak one evil word during the night, no harm will befall you. Promise me now that you will not think one evil thought or speak one evil word, whatever may befall you." "I promise you, good people, that I will try not to think one evil thought or to speak one evil word, whatsoever may befall me." "And you must not give way to anger; if you do, anger is fire, and he will grow!" said the collier. The collier led the merchant up the stairs to his room and left him there, saying, "Remember." The moon shone into the room. The Swiss cuckoo clock struck ten—eleven—twelve. The merchant could not sleep. He was haunted by the fiery eyes that he had seen at the storm-door. Suddenly the door of his own chamber opened, and a red light filled the room. The same dwarf with the red mantle had entered the chamber and was approaching the bed. The merchant had laid his portmanteau of jewels upon the foot of the bed, with the straps hanging over the bedside. He put his foot down under the clothes so as to touch the case. The light grew brighter, and advanced nearer. Now the dwarf stood full in view, his eyes flashing, and his feet moving as cautiously, his head now and then turned aside, and his hands lifting the red mantle. He came to the foot of the bed, and stood there for a time. The merchant grew impatient, and felt his anger rising. The dwarf turned away his flaming eyes from him and began to handle the straps of the portmanteau of jewels. The merchant's anger at the annoyance grew, and became uncontrollable. "Avaunt!" cried he with terrible oath, leaping from the bed. The dwarf stood before him and began to grow. He shot up at last into a flame, and stretched out his arms. He was a giant. "Help! help!" cried the merchant. There was a sound in the rooms below. The red giant reeled through the door and down the stairs and out into the night. The collier came running up the stairs, "What, what," he demanded, "have you been doing to our House Spirit?" "To your House Spirit?" "Yes, he has just gone out; he is a giant again!" The good wife was following her husband, and wailing. "Now we will have to live him down again; oh, woe, woe; this is an evil night; we will have to live him down again." "Stranger," said the collier, "these things may seem strange to you, but when we came here our lives were haunted by the red giant that has gone out into the wood. We knew not what to do, but we sent for the old pastor, and he said: 'Good forester, you can live him down. Think only good thoughts, speak only good words, do only good deeds, and he will become smaller and smaller, less and less. Harbor no evil-minded person in your house. You may one day live him out of sight, and change him angel.' We had almost lived him down!" "But what was he?" asked the merchant. "He was our Visible Temptation." In the morning the merchant hurried away. Ten years passed. The merchant chanced to travel through the same forest again. Night was coming on, and he recalled the collier's house. He went to it again. He knocked and an old man met him at the door. "Thou art welcome," said the old man. "We are not forgetful to entertain strangers. What wouldst thou?" "Supper and lodging," said the merchant. "They shall be yours. We offer hospitality to all." He was Herman, the collier. He did not recognize the merchant. The old woman—for she was now gray—set before him an ample supper. The children had grown to be young men and women. The cuckoo clock struck the hour of nine. The collier altered the musical glasses. "Will you join with us in singing?" asked he of the traveler. The family sang as before the old German hymn: "Now the woods are all sleeping, Guard us we pray." "Let us pray now," said the collier. They knelt; the merchant by his portmanteau as before. He watched the storm-door. It did not open. But he became conscious of light overhead. He looked up. A star was forming there. Then a face of light on whose forehead gleamed the star. Then wings of pure light were outstretched above the family. "Amen," said the collier. The light over him vanished. The collier's family had lived down the demon, and changed him into an angel. The Christmastide passed, but for days afterward the story of the forest family that lived down all the evil in them and turned it into an angel, haunted the mind of little Sky-High. "I will tell that story, mistress," he said one day, "at the Feasts in my Country of the Crystal Sea." "And to whom will you tell it, Sky-High?" asked Mrs. Van Buren. "The Mandarin of the Crystal Sea is not deaf, mistress. Sky-High will tell it to him." XV. IN THE HOUSE-BOY'S CARE. Lucy and Charles were full of joy when it was fully decided that they were to be taken on a voyage around the world. They spent whole evenings with Sky-High, tracing the route on the maps and globes. They would go by the way of San Francisco or Vancouver, and thence to Canton. They were to visit Sky-High's land first of all. "They're all gone mad sure!" said Nora; "and that boy'll never send 'em back!" Mr. Van Buren wished to learn something of the Chinese language as spoken, and was willing to study an hour every evening with the house-boy, and Lucy and Charles picked up the funny choking phrases as fast as their father. Mr. Van Buren said that Manchuria, the land of the conquering Tartars, was likely to play a notable part in the history of the future in connection with the great Siberian railway; and the whole family began to take an interest in the history and condition of that vast province on the Ameer, where little Sky-High had lived. Mrs. Van Buren read aloud to them all the story of Kubla Khan and of Tamerlane, and of Marco Polo, the great traveler, and about the Mongols, the Buddhist missionaries, the Great Wall, the long periods of peace and temple building. They studied the maxims of Confucius and the accounts of modern missionaries. For Charles and Lucy to hear these stories of the country that had given the world fire-crackers and silk, and was, moreover, the land of their dear little Sky-High, was like listening to the "Arabian Nights." The winter passed away quickly, delightful with their preparations for the great journey. "You said that you had lived with the mandarin of Manchuria, I think," remarked Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High one evening. "With a mandarin in Manchuria, master," corrected Sky-High. "There are many mandarins in Manchuria. Manchuria is a large country." "Are there more people than in Boston?" asked Charlie. "I do not know how many there are in Boston—there are fifteen million in the province of Manchuria." "Did the mandarin live in great, wonderful, gorgeous splendor?" asked Lucy. Sky-High's eyes opened with a gleam. "His gifts are gold," he said. "His dragons have teeth of gold. The monoliths in his garden are one thousand, it may be two thousand years old. At the Feast of Lanterns he covers the sky over his palace with fire. You should see his gardens and the gables of his houses! It takes some minutes to speak his whole name." "I wish I could look upon a man like that!" said Charlie. "I hope we shall see that mandarin when we go to China." "That will be easy," said Sky-High. The family sailed away from the Pacific coast in the spring. Mr. and Mrs. Van Buren really felt very glad to have such an intelligent servant as Sky-High for their visit to the Chinese provinces, even though they were to leave him behind at his home. When they arrived at Hong Kong there was a surprise. Some officials at the port appeared to recognize Sky-High, and brought to him an important-looking mail which he received with a sudden dignity. He also was paid attentions from notable Chinese people, such as servants would not seem likely to meet. Mr. Van Buren finally explained it to himself. He carried letters to many consuls and commercial houses. Sky-High was noticed because he was in his service. "In such countries," said Mr. Van Buren, "customs are different from ours." Certain high Chinamen in the hongs—the trade-houses—bowed low in a most respectful way to Sky-High, their manner very noticeable. Whenever Lucy and Charles accompanied him they were offered Chinese sweetmeats or novel toys of ivory and jade. "The people are very kind and polite to you," said Mr. Van Buren to Sky-High, one day. "You are fortunate to come back in our service. Our family has traded with China for three generations; I suppose we are known nearly everywhere." "I am fortunate, master," said the little Chinaman. They prepared to go on to Canton. Sky-High arranged the journey, and explained the details to Mr. Van Buren. He had an air of taking the family under his protection, and seemed to be wholly familiar with the way along the boat-lined waters. "We are to stop just before we reach the city," he said to Mr. Van Buren, "to meet a mandarin of Manchuria of the Crystal Sea. He is visiting at the summer palace of a grand mandarin of Canton. A barge will come out to meet us. There will be fireworks. I have arranged it all. Besides these two there will be also a mandarin from the Yellow River." "'Meet us! I have arranged it all!' What does our little house-boy mean?" thought Mr. Van Buren. He called Sky-High, and asked him to explain his strange words. "I have arranged it all," said Sky-High simply. "A barge will meet you, and take you to this summer palace. There will be fireworks for the sake of Charles and Lucy; the heavens will blaze. The mandarins have heard of your family. They wish to receive you and to please the children of the mandarin of Boston." Lucy danced at these hospitable words. She had treated little Sky-High like a wang. She had dreamed that he was a wang. Perhaps—well, little Lucy found it thrilling to feel that almost anything splendid might happen! But Mr. Van Buren had no idea that his family had become of importance to the grandees of China, although it was true that his father and grandfather had traded in the country and had extensive correspondence with the hongs. "Sky-High," said he, "you must be simply amusing yourself! A grand mandarin would not order fireworks for Charles and Lucy. What mandarin is he?" "Of the Crystal province. He has heard of you; he wishes to honor you as a noble American and the friend of his people." Mr. Van Buren wondered if his wife's little house-boy had gone insane. He spoke with impatience. "Let us not be fooling ourselves with this business any longer!" "I have never deceived you, master," said the little serving-man. "I am as the great George Washington in his youth. The mandarin of the province of the Crystal Sea holds you in high esteem, and he wishes to entertain the children." Mr. Van Buren inquired at the American consular office concerning this "Mandarin of the province of the Crystal Sea." The consul informed him, with a smile, that the mandarin in question was especially rich and powerful, that he took an interest in American manners and customs, and often entertained Americans who had been kind to his people in America as well as merchants who had dealt honorably with the Chinese. Still, Mr. Van Buren could not understand how a great and high-born mandarin should be in communication with his servant. Here little Lucy spoke up. "Papa, I know it is all so ! Our Sky-High has never told a lie. Even General George Washington would have liked him." XVI. IN THE LITTLE WANG'S LAND. The family set out for Canton under the direction of their little servant, whose heart seemed full of anticipation and delight. The boat stopped when some distance still from the city. A gilded barge with a dragon's head and silken curtains had come to meet them. Not far away they saw a landing, with boats and people. "You are to wait for me here," said little Sky-High, as he went aboard the barge. "I will return soon." Gongs sounded, banners waved, as the gilded boat made its way through the river craft. Mr. Van Buren could see a row of sedan chairs standing upon the landing, gorgeous in gilded frames and silk curtains, with bearers and servants in rich costumes. Presently, among these people they saw their little Sky-High approach a tall man, who seemed to be a master of ceremonies, when the gongs were again beaten. "Well, this is growing somewhat remarkable!" said Mr. Van Buren. "Yes, even if the boy is returning from America with Americans whose name is noted in the commerce of the country!" Sky-High returned; the family went aboard the cushioned boat, and at the landing were assisted into the sedans, and carried up the water-steps into a high garden, with pavilions, and then on to other gardens away from the river. Golden gables shone above the trees. The hedges were full of blooms and bees, and lovely birds went flashing by. The trees were hung with red lanterns that seemed as light as air; and there were dragon kites in the sky. It was like an ethereal paradise, even to the now silent Boston merchant. A vista opened, showing a house where guards in brilliant Chinese uniforms stood at the door. Then again gongs sounded. Three mandarins in robes of silk, their buttons of rank glittering in their caps, came down the wide pathway, as though to meet the visitors, before whose chairs little Sky-High walked. One of them, a stately man, nearly seven feet high, suddenly spread out his arms; whereupon Sky-High rushed forward, prostrated himself, and was almost wrapped from sight, as he was lifted in the immense sleeves of silk and gold. Mr. Van Buren was now truly filled with amazement. Little Sky-High's mistress was terrified. The children didn't know exactly what to think, sitting together in their sedan, only that they were glad to see the tall mandarin enfold their own dear Sky-High in his flowing silk robes! Little Lucy was half crying. "I believe, I do believe, that he was a wang all the time!" she at last said to Charlie. The palace was wonderful. Strange lamps hung over them as they passed in. There were beautiful couches and chairs, with gilded arms and silken cushions. The walls were set with carvings and perforated work. Here hung bars of musical bells; there stood great jars and vases; everywhere were fantastic furnishings of silks and costly metals. Feathery green bamboos grew in dragon pots. In the corners stood grotesque figures in armor. The lamps in their golden lattices burst into soft flame. "Unaccountable!" said Mr. Van Buren to himself. "Sky-High would hardly be better welcomed were he the wang that Lucy dreamed him to be!" "Mandarin of Boston," said the tall Chinaman, with an obeisance the like of which was never made in western lands, "welcome to our country; you have been good, indeed, to this boy—the Light of my Eyes, the Heart of my Heart! Madam of this illustrious mandarin, never will I forget you, nor"—turning to the two half-frightened children—"nor you, my little Prince and Princess of the Golden Dome beyond the seas! All shall always be well for you all in our country!" The tall Chinaman spoke in "flowery English," easily; but the American family knew not what to say, nor how to answer, and they bowed in silence and Lucy said to herself, "The little wang knew what to do in my country, but I do not know what to do in his!" A little later Mrs. Van Buren, beckoning him to her side as though she were in her own house, said to Sky-High, in lowered tones, "Is this tall mandarin the mandarin in Manchuria that was your master before you came to America?" Little Sky-High bowed, with a sudden blink of his almond eyes. "Mistress," said he, "he was the mandarin who sent me to America, in care of the consul, that I might know of the American home-life. He wishes me to learn everything that will be of good to me and my country when I am a man"— "Is he any kinsman of yours?" interrupted his mistress. "Yes, my noble madam." "Pray, what relation may he be to you?" Mrs. Van Buren asked, a strange sensation rushing over her. Lucy and Charles stood near, drinking in every word. "The prince is my father, mistress," answered little Sky-High. The two children, standing in the shelter of a carven screen, clapped their hands in the American fashion. Lucy cried out, though softly, "Oh, Sky-High, we are so glad, so glad! You are a wang! You were a wang all the time!" "Even as you treated me, always, my little Lady of the Lotus!" answered Sky-High, bowing before the children and their mother in the manner of his gorgeous father. That night there was a feast in the summer palace of the Canton mandarin in honor of the return of the little prince, and the visit of his great American friend, the mandarin of Boston. Over the tea of Dharma the mandarins related Chinese tales for the entertainment of the illustrious American. The little prince told the story of the German collier family who changed a haunting evil into a guardian angel. And the prince, his father, said, "That must be a true tale, for it is as it would be with men and spirits in China. The wisdom of Buddha is in the story." The next day, in the pavilion by the lake of the rosy nelumbiums, where she sat with her mother, and the wonderful Chinese ladies and children, little Lucy said to Sky-High. "I always treated you like a wang, didn't I?" "And we will treat you here as a viceroy would treat another viceroy's little girl," said Sky-High—whose real name was Ching—the Prince Ching. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE SKY-HIGH; OR, THE SURPRISING DOINGS OF WASHEE-WASHEE-WANG *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. 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