PEKING, THE CITY OF THE UNEXPECTED 



349 



wares — wares not only to catch the pen- 

 nies of the populace, but also the dollars 

 of the tourist: vases of cloisonne, beads 

 of amber, bottles of jade, lanterns of silk 

 painted daintily with gold fish and lotus 

 flowers, bronzes, none of which, you are 

 solemnly assured, is later than the thir- 

 teenth century, and embroideries into 

 which the souls of countless nameless 

 artists have been stitched. 



Sinuous dragons of gold, peach blos- 

 soms of pink, butterflies of every hue. 

 are wrought upon silks of blue, green, 

 and crimson. 



Now that China has adopted gray re- 

 publican simplicity, Mandarin coats, 

 court dresses, whole wardrobes of impe- 

 cunious Manchus, have found their way 

 into the hands of the dealers. Here are 

 opera cloaks for milady, and gay hand- 

 bags and pillow-covers; for the cunning 

 dealers have learned the taste of the 

 West and have converted sleeve bands 

 into table-runners and skirts into piano 

 scarfs. 



Far less costly, but no less significant 

 to one who would interpret the life of 

 the Orient, are the toys ; for toys are the 

 symbols and sacraments of the unity of 

 mankind. It would be impossible for 

 one to walk through the bazaars of Pe- 

 king and not discover that the children 

 of China are just like children the world 

 over. Toys of the same sort delight 

 them all. Here are flutes and drums, 

 tops and diabolos, diminutive sets of fur- 

 niture and dishes for a household of 

 dolls, jointed bamboo dragons wriggling 

 on a stick, tufted camels and gaudy tigers 

 of painted canvas stuffed with sawdust, 

 and little fuzzy dogs, of the Peking va- 

 riety, which bark huskily when you 

 squeeze their stomachs. 



A MODERN CHINESE WOMAN AN IDEAL 

 HOSTESS 



If the children of China are like the 

 children of the West, the grown-ups can- 

 not be quite so different, as we sometimes 

 imagine. Indeed, in this city of antiquity 

 one stumbles upon bits of the most ex- 

 traordinary social modernity. 



My host took me to call one afternoon 

 at the home of a noted Chinese physician. 

 He was away at the time, in the interest 

 of the anti-opium movement, so his wife 

 received us. 



For a Chinese woman to receive two 

 gentlemen in the absence of her husband 

 is in itself something extraordinary. It 

 is considered very modern for a Chinese 

 wife even to be present when her hus- 

 band receives guests ; but Mrs. Tsen 

 acted the hostess as graciously and as 

 deftly as the most socially experienced 

 hostess of the West. She poured tea, and 

 when the conservation turned to Chinese 

 music she went to the piano and showed 

 how an ancient Chinese melody could be 

 expressed in Western notation ; then she 

 sang it for us, without the least embar- 

 rassment. 



She told how her home had become 

 the gathering place for the younger Chi- 

 nese in the professions in Peking, espe- 

 cially those who had returned from study 

 abroad. Then she pointed to the phono- 

 graph in the corner. "Oh ! yes," she ex- 

 claimed, "of course I dance ; we fre- 

 quently have phonograph dances for our 

 young Chinese friends." 



I had to pinch myself to be sure that I 

 was in China, in a Chinese home, talking 

 to a Chinese woman, in the heart of the 

 conservative North. Phonograph dances 

 within four hours of the Great Wall! 

 After this nothing in Peking was unex- 

 pected. 



AMONG THE BEAUTIFUL HILLS TO THE 

 WEST OE PEKING 



The initial reaction of the visitor to 

 much that he sees in Peking, as I have 

 hinted, is apt to be one of disappoint- 

 ment, followed by surprise, then by de- 

 light and admiration. 



When he leaves the city gates and goes 

 to the western hills, there is surprise and 

 delight, but no initial disappointment. 

 Perhaps that is because he has heard so 

 much of the city and so little of the hills 

 that he goes expecting nothing; perhaps 

 it is because the hills, in spite of their 

 barrenness, are altogether lovely. 



However that may be, half the charm' 

 of Peking is not in Peking at all. but in 

 its surroundings. Shrine upon shrine, 

 palace upon palace, lie without the city 

 walls. They dot the surrounding plain: 

 they nest on near-by wooded knolls : they 

 lodge in crevices of the wide-circling, 

 treeless hills — those quiet hills, slow 

 curving, like billows after storm ; verdant 

 and velvety in summer ; in winter bare 



