In the Land of the Free Quiz

PDF page 195: See, Little One—the hills in the morning sun. There is thy home for years to come. It is very beautiful and thou wilt be very happy there.” The Little One looked up into his mother’s face in perfect faith. He was engaged in the 162pleasant occupation of sucking a sweetmeat; but that did not prevent him from gurgling responsively. “Yes, my olive bud; there is where thy father is making a fortune for thee. Thy father! Oh, wilt thou not be glad to behold his dear face. ’Twas for thee I left him.” The Little One ducked his chin sympathetically against his mother’s knee. She lifted him on to her lap. He was two years old, a round, dimple-cheeked boy with bright brown eyes and a sturdy little frame. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” puffed he, mocking a tugboat steaming by. San Francisco’s waterfront was lined with ships and steamers, while other craft, large and small, including a couple of white transports from the Philippines, lay at anchor here and there off shore. It was some time before the Eastern Queen could get docked, and even after that was accomplished, a lone Chinaman who had been waiting on the wharf for an hour was detained that much longer by men with the initials U. S. C. on their caps,

PDF page 199: “Slept!” she echoed, weepingly. “Ah, how could I close my eyes with my arms empty 167of the little body that has filled them every night for more than twenty moons! You do not know—man—what it is to miss the feel of the little fingers and the little toes and the soft round limbs of your little one. Even in the darkness his darling eyes used to shine up to mine, and often have I fallen into slumber with his pretty babble at my ear. And now, I see him not; I touch him not; I hear him not. My baby, my little fat one!” “Now! Now! Now!” consoled Hom Hing, patting his wife’s shoulder reassuringly; “there is no need to grieve so; he will soon gladden you again. There cannot be any law that would keep a child from its mother!” Lae Choo dried her tears. “You are right, my husband,” she meekly murmured. She arose and stepped about the apartment, setting things to rights. The box of presents she had brought for her California friends had been opened the evening before; and silks, embroideries, carved ivories, ornamental lacquer-ware, brasses, camphorwood boxes, fans, and chinaware were scattered around in confused heaps. In the midst of unpacking the thought of her child in the hands of strangers had overpowered her, and she had left everything to crawl into bed and weep. 168Having arranged her gifts in order she stepped out on to the deep balcony. The star had faded from view and there were bright streaks in the western sky. Lae Choo looked down the street and around. Beneath the flat occupied by her and her husband were quarters for a number of bachelor Chinamen, and she could hear them from where she stood, taking their early morning breakfast. Below their dining-room was her husband’s grocery store. Across the

PDF page 195: See, Little One—the hills in the morning sun. There is thy home for years to come. It is very beautiful and thou wilt be very happy there.” The Little One looked up into his mother’s face in perfect faith. He was engaged in the 162pleasant occupation of sucking a sweetmeat; but that did not prevent him from gurgling responsively. “Yes, my olive bud; there is where thy father is making a fortune for thee. Thy father! Oh, wilt thou not be glad to behold his dear face. ’Twas for thee I left him.” The Little One ducked his chin sympathetically against his mother’s knee. She lifted him on to her lap. He was two years old, a round, dimple-cheeked boy with bright brown eyes and a sturdy little frame. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” puffed he, mocking a tugboat steaming by. San Francisco’s waterfront was lined with ships and steamers, while other craft, large and small, including a couple of white transports from the Philippines, lay at anchor here and there off shore. It was some time before the Eastern Queen could get docked, and even after that was accomplished, a lone Chinaman who had been waiting on the wharf for an hour was detained that much longer by men with the initials U. S. C. on their caps,

PDF page 196: before he could board the steamer and welcome his wife and child. “This is thy son,” announced the happy Lae Choo. Hom Hing lifted the child, felt of his little 163body and limbs, gazed into his face with proud and joyous eyes; then turned inquiringly to a customs officer at his elbow. “That’s a fine boy you have there,” said the man. “Where was he born?” “In China,” answered Hom Hing, swinging the Little One on his right shoulder, preparatory to leading his wife off the steamer. “Ever been to America before?” “No, not he,” answered the father with a happy laugh. The customs officer beckoned to another. “This little fellow,” said he, “is visiting America for the first time.” The other customs officer stroked his chin reflectively. “Good day,” said Hom Hing. “Wait!” commanded one of the officers. “You cannot go just yet.” “What more now?” asked Hom Hing. “I’m afraid,” said the first customs officer, “that we cannot allow the boy to go ashore. There is nothing in the papers that you have shown us—your wife’s papers and your own—having any bearing upon the child.” “There was no child when the papers were made out,” returned Hom Hing. He spoke calmly; but there was apprehension in his eyes and in his tightening grip on his son. 164“What is it? What is it?” quavered Lae Choo, who understood a little English. The second customs officer regarded her pityingly. “I don’t like this part of the business,” he muttered.

PDF page 197: The first officer turned to Hom Hing and in an official tone of voice, said: “Seeing that the boy has no certificate entitling him to admission to this country you will have to leave him with us.” “Leave my boy!” exclaimed Hom Hing. “Yes; he will be well taken care of, and just as soon as we can hear from Washington he will be handed over to you.” “But,” protested Hom Hing, “he is my son.” “We have no proof,” answered the man with a shrug of his shoulders; “and even if so we cannot let him pass without orders from the Government.” “He is my son,” reiterated Hom Hing, slowly and solemnly. “I am a Chinese merchant and have been in business in San Francisco for many years. When my wife told to me one morning that she dreamed of a green tree with spreading branches and one beautiful red flower growing thereon, I answered her that I wished my son to be born in our 165country, and for her to prepare to go to China. My wife complied with my wish. After my son was born my mother fell sick and my wife nursed and cared for her; then my father, too, fell sick, and my wife also nursed and cared for him. For twenty moons my wife care for and nurse the old people, and when they die they bless her and my son, and I send for her to return to me. I had no fear of trouble. I was a Chinese merchant and my son was my son.” “Very good, Hom Hing,” replied the first officer. “Nevertheless, we take your son.” “No, you not take him; he my son too.” It was Lae Choo. Snatching the child from his father’s arms she held and covered him with her own.

PDF page 197: The first officer turned to Hom Hing and in an official tone of voice, said: “Seeing that the boy has no certificate entitling him to admission to this country you will have to leave him with us.” “Leave my boy!” exclaimed Hom Hing. “Yes; he will be well taken care of, and just as soon as we can hear from Washington he will be handed over to you.” “But,” protested Hom Hing, “he is my son.” “We have no proof,” answered the man with a shrug of his shoulders; “and even if so we cannot let him pass without orders from the Government.” “He is my son,” reiterated Hom Hing, slowly and solemnly. “I am a Chinese merchant and have been in business in San Francisco for many years. When my wife told to me one morning that she dreamed of a green tree with spreading branches and one beautiful red flower growing thereon, I answered her that I wished my son to be born in our 165country, and for her to prepare to go to China. My wife complied with my wish. After my son was born my mother fell sick and my wife nursed and cared for her; then my father, too, fell sick, and my wife also nursed and cared for him. For twenty moons my wife care for and nurse the old people, and when they die they bless her and my son, and I send for her to return to me. I had no fear of trouble. I was a Chinese merchant and my son was my son.” “Very good, Hom Hing,” replied the first officer. “Nevertheless, we take your son.” “No, you not take him; he my son too.” It was Lae Choo. Snatching the child from his father’s arms she held and covered him with her own.

PDF page 197: The first officer turned to Hom Hing and in an official tone of voice, said: “Seeing that the boy has no certificate entitling him to admission to this country you will have to leave him with us.” “Leave my boy!” exclaimed Hom Hing. “Yes; he will be well taken care of, and just as soon as we can hear from Washington he will be handed over to you.” “But,” protested Hom Hing, “he is my son.” “We have no proof,” answered the man with a shrug of his shoulders; “and even if so we cannot let him pass without orders from the Government.” “He is my son,” reiterated Hom Hing, slowly and solemnly. “I am a Chinese merchant and have been in business in San Francisco for many years. When my wife told to me one morning that she dreamed of a green tree with spreading branches and one beautiful red flower growing thereon, I answered her that I wished my son to be born in our 165country, and for her to prepare to go to China. My wife complied with my wish. After my son was born my mother fell sick and my wife nursed and cared for her; then my father, too, fell sick, and my wife also nursed and cared for him. For twenty moons my wife care for and nurse the old people, and when they die they bless her and my son, and I send for her to return to me. I had no fear of trouble. I was a Chinese merchant and my son was my son.” “Very good, Hom Hing,” replied the first officer. “Nevertheless, we take your son.” “No, you not take him; he my son too.” It was Lae Choo. Snatching the child from his father’s arms she held and covered him with her own.

PDF page 197: The first officer turned to Hom Hing and in an official tone of voice, said: “Seeing that the boy has no certificate entitling him to admission to this country you will have to leave him with us.” “Leave my boy!” exclaimed Hom Hing. “Yes; he will be well taken care of, and just as soon as we can hear from Washington he will be handed over to you.” “But,” protested Hom Hing, “he is my son.” “We have no proof,” answered the man with a shrug of his shoulders; “and even if so we cannot let him pass without orders from the Government.” “He is my son,” reiterated Hom Hing, slowly and solemnly. “I am a Chinese merchant and have been in business in San Francisco for many years. When my wife told to me one morning that she dreamed of a green tree with spreading branches and one beautiful red flower growing thereon, I answered her that I wished my son to be born in our 165country, and for her to prepare to go to China. My wife complied with my wish. After my son was born my mother fell sick and my wife nursed and cared for her; then my father, too, fell sick, and my wife also nursed and cared for him. For twenty moons my wife care for and nurse the old people, and when they die they bless her and my son, and I send for her to return to me. I had no fear of trouble. I was a Chinese merchant and my son was my son.” “Very good, Hom Hing,” replied the first officer. “Nevertheless, we take your son.” “No, you not take him; he my son too.” It was Lae Choo. Snatching the child from his father’s arms she held and covered him with her own.

PDF page 198: The officers conferred together for a few moments; then one drew Hom Hing aside and spoke in his ear. Resignedly Hom Hing bowed his head, then approached his wife. “’Tis the law,” said he, speaking in Chinese, “and ’twill be but for a little while—until tomorrow’s sun arises.” “You, too,” reproached Lae Choo in a voice eloquent with pain. But accustomed to obedience she yielded the boy to her husband, who in turn delivered him to the first officer. The Little One protested lustily against the 166transfer; but his mother covered her face with her sleeve and his father silently led her away. Thus was the law of the land complied with.

PDF page 200: way was a large restaurant. Last night it had been resplendent with gay colored lanterns and the sound of music. The rejoicings over “the completion of the moon,” by Quong Sum’s firstborn, had been long and loud, and had caused her to tie a handkerchief over her ears. She, a bereaved mother, had it not in her heart to rejoice with other parents. This morning the place was more in accord with her mood. It was still and quiet. The revellers had dispersed or were asleep. A roly-poly woman in black sateen, with long pendant earrings in her ears, looked up from the street below and waved her a smiling greeting. It was her old neighbor, Kuie Hoe, the wife of the gold embosser, Mark Sing. With her was a little boy in yellow jacket and lavender pantaloons. Lae Choo remembered him as a baby. She used to like to play with 169him in those days when she had no child of her own. What a long time ago that seemed! She caught her breath in a sigh, and laughed instead. “Why are you so merry?” called her husband from within. “Because my Little One is coming home,” answered Lae Choo. “I am a happy mother—a happy mother.” She pattered into the room with a smile on her face. The noon hour had arrived. The rice was steaming in the bowls and a fragrant dish of chicken and bamboo shoots was awaiting Hom Hing. Not for one moment had Lae Choo paused to rest during the morning hours; her activity had been ceaseless. Every now and again, however, she had raised her eyes to the gilded clock on the curiously carved mantelpiece. Once, she had exclaimed: “Why so long, oh! why so long?” Then apostrophizing

PDF page 201: herself: “Lae Choo, be happy. The Little One is coming! The Little One is coming!” Several times she burst into tears and several times she laughed aloud. Hom Hing entered the room; his arms hung down by his side. “The Little One!” shrieked Lae Choo. 170“They bid me call tomorrow.” With a moan the mother sank to the floor. The noon hour passed. The dinner remained on the table.

PDF page 201: he winter rains were over: the spring had come to California, flushing the hills with green and causing an ever-changing pageant of flowers to pass over them. But there was no spring in Lae Choo’s heart, for the Little One remained away from her arms. He was being kept in a mission. White women were caring for him, and though for one full moon he had pined for his mother and refused to be comforted he was now apparently happy and contented. Five moons or five months had gone by since the day he had passed with Lae Choo through the Golden Gate; but the great Government at Washington still delayed sending the answer which would return him to his parents. Hom Hing was disconsolately rolling up and down the balls in his abacus box when a keen-faced young man stepped into his store. “What news?” asked the Chinese merchant. “This!” The young man brought forth 171a typewritten letter. Hom Hing read the words:

PDF page 201: he winter rains were over: the spring had come to California, flushing the hills with green and causing an ever-changing pageant of flowers to pass over them. But there was no spring in Lae Choo’s heart, for the Little One remained away from her arms. He was being kept in a mission. White women were caring for him, and though for one full moon he had pined for his mother and refused to be comforted he was now apparently happy and contented. Five moons or five months had gone by since the day he had passed with Lae Choo through the Golden Gate; but the great Government at Washington still delayed sending the answer which would return him to his parents. Hom Hing was disconsolately rolling up and down the balls in his abacus box when a keen-faced young man stepped into his store. “What news?” asked the Chinese merchant. “This!” The young man brought forth 171a typewritten letter. Hom Hing read the words: