With the Priest of the God of the Golden Fish.

On the south side of the island of Hongkong are a number of small villages occupied by fishermen. Any one of these hidden away under the shade of the great bamboos may be taken as a type of all the others. The little houses have roofs made of reeds and bundles of twigs, but these do not serve so well for protection from wind and weather as the thick foliage of the overhanging trees. On the beach fishing nets are spread to dry; and in the calm waters of the little bay a number of poor old junks ride lazily at anchor. One of these is drawn up on the shore and the men are examining the haul of fish just brought in. Women and children with baskets and buckets are hurrying down to the beach to do their part in the work of sorting. The large shining blue fishes with bands of blue and rose-red and the yellow ones with spots of red and green they pack in small baskets between rows of green leaves. The lobsters, always plentiful, they place in baskets having compartments so that they cannot get at each other and mangle their bodies fighting; the oysters they throw into a large common bucket, keeping out the small and inferior ones to carry to their huts to use for food. Whenever wind and weather permit the men go off on fishing expeditions, and this is the usual scene which attends their home coming. Then, according to whether the haul has been a good or a poor one, Lihoa, the oldest man in the village, says: "We will take to the God of the Sea who rides on the Golden Fish a thank offering," or "The God who rides on the Golden Fish is angry with us; we must pacify him with strips of gold-paper." And, regularly on an appointed day, the old man goes up to the cell of the priest carrying the thank- or the sin-offering, as the case may be, to the God with the dreadful goggle eyes who rides a gilded sea-monster.

On the day on which the crosses had been erected on the Cathedral of the Holy Saviour Lihoa and his people had had a miserably small catch of fish.

"My children," cried Lihoa, "what crime against the God of the Golden Fish have you committed? So small a haul as this we have not had for a year and a day. The New Year is at hand. How can we have our usual celebration with only a sapeck or two in our pockets?"

"How shall we celebrate the New Year?" cried one. "How shall we appease the God?" wailed others mournfully.

An old Chinaman, whose wrinkled face looked like parchment cried out:

"Why do you even ask the cause of our bad luck? Do you not know why it has come upon us? Were not those white-faced women here again yesterday whose God is the enemy of our God? Again they have carried off bur babies to the great white house in Hongkong. Why do not the people kill the superfluous children according to the old custom of the land? Why let living children get into the hands of these foreign women to be murdered and to have their eyes and hearts stewed up into magic drinks? The God of the Golden Fish is angry with us. Not another good haul shall we have; and what is more we shall be swallowed up in the sea, if we allow any more children to be taken to the house of the foreign God."

"Be still, be still, old Loha," answered Lihoa. "You don't know what you are taking about. I myself have been to the great white house of the foreign women in Hongkong. There they do naught but good, and nobody ever hears of your doing anything good from morning till night. Our children are better taken care of there than here in our poor old huts. If our women only loved their babes as much as these white-faced women do! Be still. Your drivelling talk about stewing up their eyes and hearts to make drinks is all a foolish lie. Did we not open one of the graves of one of the children to see if the eyes and hearts were there? And they were. A nephew of mine, the son of my sister Luli, who was exposed twelve years ago by his mother, because her husband was drowned and she had no means of bringing him up, was taken to the great house and now he is a splendid big boy. From there they sent him to the school, and he can speak and write the Chinese language and also that of the West. Some day I shall go and get him and bring him back to live with our family.—Ah! here we stand and gossip like old women, while the sun is sinking. It is time to take the fish and the oysters to the market. Whose turn is it to go?"

Four men stepped forward and raised the wooden yoke having attached to it buckets of oysters and baskets of fish. The sack containing the crabs Lihoa himself swung over his shoulder, and they started at a quick pace up the hill over which the path to Victoria lay. The women as they turned to go with the children to the huts to prepare the evening meal bade them farewell and called out, "A fortunate sale!"

Night settled down quickly, for in a tropical climate the twilight does not last so long as with us. In Hongkong the sun hardly sets before it is dark, and this evening as the moon, almost at the full, stood high in the heavens, Lihoa had no occasion to light the little lantern which he carried with him. He found the footpath leading up the hill without difficulty, and his people followed after him goose-fashion in single file. Almost at the top they came to the cell in the rock occupied by the priest of the God of the Golden Fish, and in the moonlight to their astonishment saw in the broad open space in front of it a group of men from the neighboring villages. At a signal from Lihoa the carriers placed their burden upon the ground and all went forward to see what the gathering meant.

"Have you heard nothing, Lihoa, of the great scheme which is on foot?" asked the leader of the most important of the villages on the north coast of Hongkong. "Has not the recruiting officer of the rich Natse been to your village?—Oh, it is so small and hidden away that he does not deem it worth his while to go to you, and then, besides, the three hundred who are wanted have announced their intention to go, for who would remain here and tiresomely drag out existence with the niggardly sums to be made from fishing when elsewhere the gold lies in such heaps that one can pick up whole bags full in a few days?"

"How? What? For heaven's sake!—sacks full of gold in a few days?" cried Lihoa, who, like all Chinamen, was covetous of great wealth. "Speak, Lohe, tell us, can we get some of the gold,—at least a handful or two? It is just as you say, our village is the last and the very least in the world, and not a soul has come to us with the good news. Tell us the road to fortune."

The agent Lohe, who for each able-bodied Chinaman whom he secured, received a hundred sapecks, agreed to tell Lihoa the road for the reason that he was "his cousin and was glad to do him a little service". He pictured to him a land, bearing the barbaric name Australia, which the "devils from the West" had discovered many days' journey away beyond the islands to the south, where the gold lay in the fields like the stones on the island of Hongkong, and where great nuggets, as large as a man's head, were to be had. This Goldland "the devils from the West" wanted for themselves, but the priest of the God, in whose cell he had just been, said that this gold could be taken away only by the sons of the Celestial Kingdom, that the treasures of this land belonged to the Chinese, and not to the barbarians of the West. The sly discoverers of the Goldland had come to get the Chinese to bring these lumps of gold to their ships, where the men from the West and the sons of the Celestial Kingdom would divide the spoils. The rich Natse was out in search of three hundred men to bring this gold from the distant land to the south. Of course, each one of the three hundred fortunate enough to go would receive his own weight in gold, and for him and his entire family there would be a life of wealth and honor on his return home.

Thus Lohe explained the situation.

"More than a hundred pounds of gold, and wealth and honor," repeated Lihoa, on whom the story of the gold which the God had said was to be given to the Chinese and not to the hated barbarians from the West, had made a deep impression.

"Have you heard it, my people? We can all become as rich as rich
Natse, and even richer, if we go on the ship to the southland."

"Yes", said one of the oyster carriers, "if all that is true—"

"And if we are not drowned on the long journey," put in another.

"Or, if 'the devils from the West' do not kill us for our money after we have brought all the gold from the land to the ship for them," put in the third fish carrier.

"Yes, but if I knew that I would surely come back with some of the gold, I would go," added the fourth.

"There, just see how sharp you all are!" said Lohe. "Just such doubts as these troubled my friends and myself, so we are here to consult the priest of the God of the Golden Fish, who surely knows. We have promised to have a new fish made of solid gold to replace the gilded wooden one, if he counsels us well and has a care over us while on the way. The priest is now in his cell burning incense before the God, and when the moon reaches that constellation in the middle of the heavens, he will tell us the God's answer."

The moon had almost reached the place designated. Lihoa and his followers with the rest of the men seated themselves on the mossy rocks before the sanctuary, to await the answer of the spirit. The nearer the time came the quieter they were; until at last they scarcely dared breathe. The rim of the moon touched the constellation: no sound was heard in the cave. Softly the silver beams of light fell upon the bare rocks and cast over the "waters of the sea a shimmering bridge that stretched from the foot of the hill away into the darkness.

"Will the spirit not answer?" whispered Lihoa impatiently.

"Wait. The moon is not yet in the middle of the constellation," answered Lohe. Hardly had he uttered these words when from the cell came the sound of a gong, then a song in a high nasal tone, which was plainly heard, but being in a strange language was not understood by any of the listeners.

"The Spirit speaks to the priest," said the credulous men, trembling with superstitious fear. The secret song lasted for a minute perhaps, then from the depths of the cave came a flash of lightning and a loud peal of thunder. Many of the Chinamen, half frightened out of their wits, fled screaming at the top of their lungs. Again the gong sounded, and the priest came to the entrance of the cell with a smoking pan of incense in his hand. So suddenly did he appear, that it seemed as if he had sprung out of the very rock on which they stood. All gave a wild cry of terror, as with utter abhorrence they gazed, while a little deformed old man described figures in the air with his smoking pan, and said, shaking his great bald head:

"What do you fear, O children of the Middle Kingdom? Surely not my master, the terrible God that rides on the back of the Golden Fish, nor me, poor old Lihong. For you and you alone I have just subjected myself to his terrible gaze. Had you seen his burning eyes, your courage would have failed you. He is angry because some of you do not hate enough those who serve the foreign God, his deadly enemy; yet he answered your questions, because many of you have heretofore brought to him your offerings. Listen to the words of the Spirit which rides upon the back of the Golden Fish:

Gold, gold, gold,
In distant fields so far away!
'Tis his who comes to seek, I say;
'Tis his to take where'er he will,
'Tis his go where he will—his still.

Gold, gold, gold,
In getting it three things beware!
In discord take no part or share;
Beware the sea's engulfing waves,
And thirst which drives men to their graves."

With open mouths the Chinamen listened to the mysterious words of the priest, and when he had finished his slyly contrived speech, they sat for a time in mute astonishment. Finally Lohe spoke up:

"To me the answer seems favorable. The God confirms the idea of there being gold in a distant laud to the south, and says that we can get and keep possession of it, if we only take heed of three things—discord, the sea, and thirst. As to discord—it lies within our power to avoid that; as to the sea—we could be drowned quite as easily on our own coast as on a long journey to the south, if that is to be our fate; and as to thirst, who would not endure thirst for the sake of becoming ten times richer than the rich Natse?"

All agreed that the answer was most favorable. The greedy priest did not stop, but went on to tell that the God could not be relied upon to take them safely through all dangers, unless rich sacrificial offerings were made. "Daily", said he, "I will burn incense and strips of gold paper before his picture. The clouds of smoke will appease the spirits of the storm and fall upon you as rain-drops which will quench your burning thirst, and the gold paper will reconcile the spirits that watch over the gold in the distant Goldland, so that they will willingly give to you their treasures."

The Chinamen reached into their pockets and handed over their last sapeck to the priest, then in silence left, firmly resolved to attempt the journey to the Goldland.