Steele High School - Annual Yearbook (Dayton, OH)

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THE ANNUAL Page twenty-three AN ANCEINT CITY OF CHINA By BERNICE MURRA Y away the South Gate Pagoda, and beyond that the walls of the city where I was to spend six busy, happy months. After two days and a half spent in a Chinese cart anything that offered a cessation from its exquisite torture would be welcome, and so Hsu Chou Fu, as I first saw it outlined against the evening sky seemed to me to be a veritable haven of rest. I had the distinction of being the first white woman outside of the missionaries who had ever been in the city, so you see it was real China, and not the modified variety one gets in the ports. Imagine, if you can, a city with as many inhabitants as Dayton, confined inside of a wall, three miles in circumference. Small wonder that half of the city seems to be on the streets and every little alley is literally swarming with people. On three sides of the city is the old bed of the Yellow River, once a busy waterway, now a sandy waste. Before 1852 Hsu Chou Fu was one of the principal cities on the river. Situated a little over one hundred miles from its mouth on a bend in the river it was an important port and the city was a flourishing one. The people, however, lived in constant fear of the Hoang-ho, and they called it Chinese sorrow, for they never knew when it would overflow its banks, leaving behind desolation and the sound of mourning. There are many interesting legends connected with the river and these are used as the basis of some of the stories still told in the tea shops. On Yuin Long San, one of the hills outside of the city there is a build- ing made in the shape of a boat which, the story says, was built by a wealthy ofiicial as a work of merit. At the time of flood all of the people were to gather in this ship, a la Noah's ark, and be fioated away to safety. Another legend tells of Shu Guniang, a young and beautiful maiden, the daughter of a high official, throwing herself into the river at the time of a flood when the city was threatened with inundation. Her act appeased the anger of the gods who had sent the flood and it immediately subsided. So appreciative were the people of the city that they erected a temple, not to the girl-that would be conferring too much honor upon youth-but to her parents. The temple may be visited outside of the North Gate to-day. 7 UST at sunset we came through a pass in the hills and saw fifteen li

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Page twenty-two THE ANNUAL After supper Peter went to bed. He could hear the old men talking in querulous tones below, but finally he fell asleep. The sun was streaming in the little room when Peter awoke. He sat up in bed. Birds were twittering in the tree outside the window. Everything seemed happy. Peter was happy, too. He had been dreaming of the old farm and Johnny. Breakfast was a counterpart of the supper the night before. The same monotony prevailed. The matron spoke of the beautiful weather. It won't last long, I guess, one of the old men replied. But for the most part they were sullen and unresponsive. After the meal was ended, the matron called Peter aside. Now, she said, suppose you tell me where you came from and where your folks live. I am afraid you can't stay without the papers. It's against the rules, you know. Peter was silent. Oh, here he is, here's grandada! I've found him. A little boy rushed into the room. Following him closely a man and a woman were ushered in by Mr. Samuel Abernethy. Peter looked on astonished. Could it really be Johnny come to him? Yes, oh, yes, it was! He held out his arms. Tears were streaming down his little old wrinkled face. He held the boy close. johnny didn't forget his old grand-dad, he murmured. The matron and the superintendent slipped from the room unnoticed. The woman came forward and folded the two, Peter and johnny, in her arms. Come back, father, dear father, she sobbed. The old farm wants you and we want you. She looked into her husband's eyes. He held out his hand and Peter grasped it. johnny freed from his embrace ran towards the door. Come, grandada, he cried imperiouslyg come, I want to fish in the brook. ' dl 'AF -AF INCOMPREHENSION Smiling, you dream in the fire's glow, While the graying ashes slip belowg What do you see that I cannot see? Is there some place where I may not be?- Some far, dim spot in an unguessed land, Where things are easy to understand, Where you may find peace for your troubled soul- While I see only the glowing coal.-Katherine Kunz

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Page twenty-four THE ANNUAL Some of the oldest inhabitants will tell you that they remember the time when the city was a great shipping center surrounded on three sides by the Hoang-ho, and they declare that it changed its bed in a single night. When the lights were extinguished in the homes that night in 1852, the city was threatened with the worst flood they had ever known, but with the first stirrings of a new day it was found that there was only the muddy bed left to show that there had even been a river at all. No one seems to know just how old the city is, but it is certain that it was a flourishing port at the time of the overthrow of Babylon. To our eyes unaccustomed to such antiquity the city wall appeared to be thousands of years old, but the inhabitants call it new, for it has only three or four hundred years to its credit. The houses as viewed from the wall seem to be thrown together in a promiscous fashion. We find the Yamen of the official or the home of the millionaire side by side with the mud hut of the poorest coolie, wealth and abundance rubbing elbows with abject poverty. It is a country of sharp contrasts-the high official in his silken robes sitting at ease in his richly furnished sedan chair is carried on the backs of dirty coolies, scantily clothed even in winter, and earning the few cash they will receive for their labor by the sweat of their brow. The strangest thing about it all is the feeling of being a curiosity when one goes out and it is hard to get used to being called foreigner, Wherever you go there is sure to be a curious crowd following and when you turn and ask them sharply why they follow you, not at all embarrassed. they will calmly answer that they only wanted to Can Can Clook, seej. A tour of the shops is made with difficulty on account of the interest manifested in your prospective purchases by every one who passes. The maiority of the shops are open to the street and all the customer has to do is to step up on the narrow platform before the counter and ask for what he wants. There is nothing to tempt the would-be buyer. One must ask for the exact article he wants and, failing to get it, there is no substitute offered. In fact, one is made to feel that the shop-keeper is conferring a favor to wait upon you at all. In the silk shop we are invited to a room in the rear where we are given seats and shown the fabrics in that leisurely fashion that only an Oriental can assume. Failing to find what we want here we are escorted to a room farther back, and the process of elimination continuing, we finally find ourselves in the very rear room, small and dingy, but here we are shown the richest silks, the pride of the shop-keeper's heart. Few there be who enter here, for the room is jealously guarded-hence the reason for its be- ing the last one. After making our purchases we go out to the street again where our chairs are waiting for us. Down the narrow street our bearers swing us with the peculiar cry of the chair coolies, and our shopping expedition is over,