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remarkable, books I have ever seen.

A T'ao is two or any number of volumes of a book wrapped in a
single cover. In this case it was two volumes. In the inside of

the cover there was a depression three inches square in which was
kept a piece of lead, wood or pasteboard, divided into fifteen

pieces as in the following illustration.
These blocks are all in pairs except one, which is a rhomboid.

They are all exactly proportional, having their sides either
half-inch, inch, inch and a half, or two inches in length.

They are not used as are the blocks in our kindergarten
simply to make geometrical figures, but rather to illustrate

such facts of history as will have a moral influence, or be an
intellectual stimulus to the child.

He may build houses with them, or make such ancient or
modern ornaments, or household utensils, as may suit his

fancy; but the primary object of the blocks and the books,
is to impress upon the child's mind, in the most forcible

way possible, the leading facts of history, poetry, mythology
or morals; while the houses, boats and other things are

simply side issues.
The first illustration the child constructed for me, for I

desired him to teach me how it was done, was a dragon horse, and
when I asked him to explain it, he said that it represented the

animal seen by Fu Hsi, the original ancestor of the Chinese
people, emerging from the Meng river, bearing upon its back a map

on which were fifty-five spots, representing the male and female
principles of nature, and which the sage used to construct what

are called the eight diagrams.
The child tossed the blocks off into a pile and then constructed

a tortoise which he said was seen by Yu, the Chinese Noah, coming
out of the Lo river, while he was draining off the floods. On its

back was a design which he used as a pattern for the nine
divisions of his empire.

These two incidents are referred to by Confucius, and are among
the first learned by every Chinese child.

I looked through the book and noticed that many of the
designs were for the amusement of the children, as well

as to develop their ingenuity. In the two volumes of the
T'ao he had only the outlines of the pictures which he

readilyconstructed with the blocks. But he had with him
also a small volume which was a key to the designs having

lines indicating how each block was placed. This he had
purchased for a few cash. Much of the interest of the book,

however, attached to the puzzling character of the pictures.
There was one with a verse attached somewhat like the following:

The old wife drew a chess-board
On the cover of a book,

While the child transformed a needle
Into a fishing-hook.

Chinese literature is full of examples of men and women
who applied themselves to their books with untiring

diligence. Some tied their hair to the beam of their humble
cottage so that when they nodded with sleepiness the jerk

would awake them and they might return to their books.
Others slept upon globular pillows that when they

became so restless as to move and cause the pillow to roll
from under their head they might get up and study.

The child once more took the blocks and illustrated how one who
was so poor as to be unable to furnish himself with candles,

confined a fire-fly in a gauze lantern using that instead of a
lamp. At the same time he explained that another who was perhaps

not able to afford the gauze lantern, studied by the light of a
glowworm.

"K'ang Heng," said the child, as he put the blocks together in a
new form, "had a still better way, as well as more economical.

His house was built of clay, and as the window of his neighbor's
house was immediately opposite, he chiseled a hole through his

wall and thus took advantage of his neighbor's light.
"Sun K'ang's method was very good for winter," continued the

child as he rearranged the blocks, "but I do not know what he
would do in summer. He studied by the light reflected from the

snow.
"Perhaps," he went on as he changed the form, "he followed

the example of another who studied by the pale light of the
moon."

"What does that represent?" I asked him pointing to a child with
a bowl in his hand who looked as if he might have been going to

the grocer's.
"Oh, that boy is going to buy wine."

The Chinese have never yet realized what a national evil
liquor may become. They have little wine shops in the

great cities, but they have no drinking houses corresponding
to the saloon, and it is not uncommon to see a child going

to the wine shop to fetch a bowl of wine. The Buddhist
priest indulges with the same moderation as the official class

or gentry. Indeed most of the drunkenness we read about
in Chinese books is that of poets and philosophers, and in

them it is, if not commended, at least not condemned.
The attitude of literature towards them is much like that of

Thackeray towards the gentlemen of his day.
The child constructed the picture of a Buddhist priest, who, with

staff in hand, and a mug of wine, was viewing the beautiful
mountains in the distance. He then changed it to one in which an

intoxicated man was leaning on a boy's shoulder, the inscription
to which said: "Any one is willing to assist a drunken man to

return home."
"This," he went on as he changed his blocks, "is a picture of Li

Pei, China's greatest poet. He lived more than a thousand years
ago. This represents the closing scene in his life. He was

crossing the river in a boat, and in a drunken effort to
get the moon's reflection from the water, he fell overboard

and was drowned." The child pointed to the sail at the
same time, repeating the following:

The sail being set,
He tried to get,

The moon from out the main.
I noticed a large number of boat scenes and induced the

child to construct some of them for me, which he was quite
willing to do, explaining them as he went as readily as our

children would explain Old Mother Hubbard or the Old
Woman who Lived in her Shoe, by seeing the illustrations.

Constructing one he repeated a verse somewhat like the following:
Alone the fisherman sat,

In his boat by the river's brink,
In the chill and cold and snow,

To fish, and fish, and think.
Then he turned over to two on opposite pages, and as he

constructed them he repeated in turn:
In a stream ten thousand li in length

He bathes his feet at night,
While on a mount he waves his arms,

Ten thousand feet in height.
The ten thousand li in one couplet corresponds to the

ten thousand feet in the other, while the bathing of the
feet corresponds to the waving of the arms. Couplets of

this kind are always attractive to the Chinese child as well
as to the scholar, and poems and essays are replete with

such constructions.
The child enjoyed making the pictures. I tried to make

one, but found it very difficult. I was not familiar with the
blocks. It is different now, I have learned how to make

them. Then it seemed as if it would be impossible ever to
do so. When I had failed to make the picture I turned them

over to him. In a moment it was done.
"Who is it?" I asked.

"Chang Ch'i, the poet," he answered. "Whenever he went for a walk
he took with him a child who carried a bag in which to put the

poems he happened to write. In this illustration he stands with
his head bent forward and his hands behind his back lost in

thought, while the lad stands near with the bag."
We have given in another chapter the story of the great

traveller, Chang Ch'ien, and his search for the source of the
Yellow River.

In one of the illustrations the child represented him in his boat
in a way not very different from that of the artist.

Another quotation from one of the poets was illustrated as
follows:

Last night a meeting I arranged,
Ere I my lamp did light,

Nor while I crossed the ferry feared,
Or wind or rain or night.

The child's eyes sparkled as he turned to some of those
illustrating children at play, and as he constructed one which

represents two children swinging their arms and running,
he repeated:

See the children at their
play,

Gathering flowers by the
way.

"They are gathering pussy-willows," he added.
In another he represented a child standing before the

front gate, where he had knocked in vain to gain admission.
As he completed it he said, pointing to the apricot

over the door:
Ten times he knocked upon the gate,

But nine, they opened not,
Above the wall he plainly saw,

A ripe, red apricot.
He continued to represent quotations from the poets and explain

them as he went along.
There was one which indicated that some one was ascending

the steps to the jade platform on which the dust had settled
as it does on everything in Peking; at the same time the

verse told us that
Step by step we reach the platform,

All of jade of purest green,
Call a child to come and sweep it,

But he cannot sweep it clean.
"You know," he went on, "the cottages of many of the

poets were near the beautiful lakes in central China, in the
wild heights of the mountains, or upon the banks of some

flowing stream. In this one the pavilion of the poet is on
the bank of the river, and we are told that,

In his cottage sat the poet
Thinking, as the moon went by,

That the moonlight on the water,
Made the water like the sky."

Changing it somewhat he made a cottage of a different kind. This
was not made for the picture's sake, but to illustrate a sentence

it was designed to impress upon the child's mind. The quotation
is somewhat as follows:

The ringing of the evening bells,
The moon a crescent splendid,

The rustling of the swallow's wings
Betoken winter ended.

The child looked up at me significantly as he turned to
one which represented a Buddhist priest. I expected something of

a joke at the priest's expense as in the nursery rhymes and
games, but there was none. That would injure the sale of the

book. The inscription told us that "a Buddhist lantern will
reflect light enough to illuminate the whole universe."



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