THE LOST CHILD.
A CHINESE STORY.
[The tale, entitled “Sea-lou (Little-chamber) the Lost Child,” is one of the most popular of Chinese fictions, and fairly indicates the state of intellectual activity prevailing over that extensive and thickly populated empire. The very inanity of the story, with its marvellous coincidences, is significant to our Western minds, while its details afford interesting glimpses of the semi-civilised state of the Chinese people. It is abstracted, rather than translated; but the spirit, characteristic phrases, and curious Chinese tone of thought of the original have been preserved as closely as possible in the following version.]
“It is not right,” he continued, “that I should give the property acquired by myself and ancestors to an entire stranger. But I will wait till I find a young person who has a true affection for me; and I will not adopt one before I have received ample proofs of such affection, and satisfied my heart that I really have secured it.”
Lien’s friends were not altogether disinterested advisers: they all had children, and any one of them would gladly have allowed the rich agriculturist to adopt a son. Several boys, too, about this time seemed all at once to become wonderfully fond of the childless old man. So, one day, Lien said to his wife:
“The people of this place, knowing that my property is fat and thick, and that I have not decided on adopting a child, are continually pestering me with advice upon the matter, and letting down all manner of baits and hooks to deceive me and catch my wealth. I intend, therefore, to travel into a distant country, in order to endeavour to find some one, by land or water, who may evince a true affection for me. I may be lucky enough to find a suitable person, who, by showing a sincere heart towards me, may, on his part, be lucky enough to become my adopted son.”
The project meeting his wife’s approbation, Lien, as soon as he had settled his plums—that is to say, arranged his affairs,—started off on his journey. When he had reached a considerable distance from home, he threw off the garb and character of a well-to-do Chinese gentleman, and assumed the appearance of a beggar, who wished to sell himself as a slave. The various persons he met by the way, reasoned with him, saying that he was unfit to be either a labourer, domestic servant, or tutor,—that, in short, no one would purchase a helpless old man like him. To this Lien invariably replied:
“It is true my years are many, and that I am not worth a hair as a labourer, domestic servant, or tutor; but the purchaser I seek is a wealthy orphan, to whom I could act in the capacity of a father, by taking care of his money and pro-