Our Little Korean Cousin | Page 4

as those of many houses in the outskirts
of the city. But its walls were of stone, whereas many of the houses of
Seoul had walls of paper.
Yes, actually walls of paper!
But this paper was a very tough, fibrous substance, and would resist
quite a heavy blow as well as keep out the cold. Its slight cost brought
it within the means of the poorer people.
In some parts of Korea the houses were built of stout timbers, the
chinks covered with woven cane and plastered with mud. Neat hedges
of interlaced boughs surrounded them. The chimney was often simply a
hollow tree, not attached to the house.

Ki Pak's house was not only built of stone, but about it were four walls
of stone, about five feet high, to help keep out intruders. The wall was
surmounted by a rampart of plaited bamboo. In this wall were three
gates, corresponding to entrances into the house itself. One gate, the
largest, on the north side, was used only by Ki Pak himself, though
after he grew older Yung Pak could enter this gate with his father. The
second gate, on the east, was used by the family and friends of Ki Pak.
The third and smallest gate was reserved for the use of the servants.
The roof of this house was not covered with shingles, but with clay tiles,
coloured red. Many houses in the city had simply a roof-covering of
thatched straw.
The house was but a single story high, but in this respect the king's
palace itself was no better. There were three divisions to the house. One
was for the use of the men, a second for the women of the family, and a
third for the servants. Each division had a suitable number of rooms for
its occupants.
Yung Pak's own sleeping-room was a dainty affair, with its paper walls,
tiger-skin rugs upon the stone floor, and the softest of mats and silk and
wadded cotton coverings for his couch.
This couch, by the way, was another queer affair. It was built of brick!
Beneath it were pipes or flues connected with other pipes which ran
beneath the whole house. Through these flues were forced currents of
hot air from a blaze in a large fireplace at one end of the house. The
chimney was at the other end, and thus a draught of hot air constantly
passed beneath the floors in cold weather. On warm nights Yung Pak
would pile his mats upon the floor and sleep as comfortably as ever you
did on the softest feather bed your grandmother could make.
The windows of Ki Pak's house were not made of glass, but were small
square frames covered with oiled paper. These frames fitted into
grooves so that they could be slid back and forth, and in warm weather
the windows were always left open. The doors were made of wood,
though in many houses paper or plaited bamboo was used.

When Yung Pak ate his meals, he sat upon a rug on the floor with his
father and such male guests as might be in the house. The women never
ate with them. Their meals were served in their own rooms.
A servant would bring to each person a sang, or small low table.
Instead of a cloth, on each table was a sheet of fine glazed paper which
had the appearance of oiled silk. This paper was made from the bark of
the mulberry-tree. It was soft and pliable, and of such a texture that it
could be washed easier than anything else, either paper or cloth. On this
were placed dishes of porcelain and earthen ware. There were no
knives or forks, but in their place were chop-sticks such as the Chinese
used. Spoons also were on the table. A tall and long-spouted teapot was
always the finest piece of ware.
On the dining-tables of the poorer people of Korea the teapot was never
seen, for, strange as it may seem, in this land situated between the two
greatest tea-producing countries of the world, tea is not in common use.
All Koreans have splendid appetites, and probably if you should see
Yung Pak eating his dinner you would criticize his table manners. He
not only ate a large amount of food, but ate it very rapidly--almost as if
he feared that some one might steal his dinner before he could dispose
of it. And you would think that he never expected to get another square
meal!
But it was not Yung Pak's fault that he was such a little glutton. In his
youngest days, when his mother used to regulate his food, she would
stuff him full of rice. Then she would turn him over on his back and
paddle his