A Chinese Wonder Book

A Chinese Wonder Book

Project Gutenberg's A Chinese Wonder Book, by Norman Hinsdale
Pitman This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
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Title: A Chinese Wonder Book
Author: Norman Hinsdale Pitman
Illustrator: Li Chu-T'ang
Release Date: June 24, 2006 [EBook #18674]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A
CHINESE WONDER BOOK ***

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Garcia and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

[Illustration: (Front cover image)]
[Illustration: "SNAKE'S BLOOD MIXED WITH POWDERED
DEER-HORN."]

A CHINESE WONDER BOOK
BY
NORMAN HINSDALE PITMAN
ILLUSTRATED BY LI CHU-T'ANG
[Illustration: Colophon]
NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & CO. 681 FIFTH AVENUE

COPYRIGHT, 1919 By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
All rights reserved
* * * * *
Printed in the United States of America

TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
The Golden Beetle or Why the Dog Hates the Cat 1
The Great Bell 21
The Strange Tale of Doctor Dog 39
How Footbinding Started 52
The Talking Fish 68
Bamboo and the Turtle 88

The Mad Goose and the Tiger Forest 104
The Nodding Tiger 120
The Princess Kwan-Yin 134
The Two Jugglers 147
The Phantom Vessel 160
The Wooden Tablet 172
The Golden Nugget 187
The Man Who Would Not Scold 193
Lu-San, Daughter of Heaven 206

ILLUSTRATIONS
Facing Page
"Snake's blood mixed with powdered deer-horn" Frontispiece
"Here son!" she cried, "look at my treasure!" 8
Clinging to the animal's shaggy hair was Honeysuckle 50
Throwing herself at his feet she thanked him for his mercy 56
"Ah," sighed the turtle, "if only the good god, P'anku, were here" 102
Putting his bill close to her ear, he told Hu-Lin of his recent discovery
108
The tiger gravely nodded his head 130
All day she was busy carrying water 138

Higher and higher he climbed 154
They saw shining in the pathway directly in front of them a lump of
gold 188
As she dressed herself she saw with surprise that her fingers were
shapely 214

THE GOLDEN BEETLE OR WHY THE DOG HATES THE CAT
[Illustration]
"What we shall eat to-morrow, I haven't the slightest idea!" said Widow
Wang to her eldest son, as he started out one morning in search of
work.
"Oh, the gods will provide. I'll find a few coppers somewhere," replied
the boy, trying to speak cheerfully, although in his heart he also had not
the slightest idea in which direction to turn.
The winter had been a hard one: extreme cold, deep snow, and violent
winds. The Wang house had suffered greatly. The roof had fallen in,
weighed down by heavy snow. Then a hurricane had blown a wall over,
and Ming-li, the son, up all night and exposed to a bitter cold wind, had
caught pneumonia. Long days of illness followed, with the spending of
extra money for medicine. All their scant savings had soon melted
away, and at the shop where Ming-li had been employed his place was
filled by another. When at last he arose from his sick-bed he was too
weak for hard labour and there seemed to be no work in the
neighbouring villages for him to do. Night after night he came home,
trying not to be discouraged, but in his heart feeling the deep pangs of
sorrow that come to the good son who sees his mother suffering for
want of food and clothing.
"Bless his good heart!" said the poor widow after he had gone. "No
mother ever had a better boy. I hope he is right in saying the gods will
provide. It has been getting so much worse these past few weeks that it

seems now as if my stomach were as empty as a rich man's brain. Why,
even the rats have deserted our cottage, and there's nothing left for poor
Tabby, while old Blackfoot is nearly dead from starvation."
When the old woman referred to the sorrows of her pets, her remarks
were answered by a pitiful mewing and woebegone barking from the
corner where the two unfed creatures were curled up together trying to
keep warm.
Just then there was a loud knocking at the gate. When the widow Wang
called out, "Come in!" she was surprised to see an old bald-headed
priest standing in the doorway. "Sorry, but we have nothing," she went
on, feeling sure the visitor had come in search of food. "We have fed on
scraps these two weeks--on scraps and scrapings--and now we are
living on the memories of what we used to have when my son's father
was living.