antic crawfish. Suddenly Lin could hold his tongue no longer:
"You lazy hound! you whelp! you turtle! you lazy, good-for-nothing
creature! I wish you would hurry up and roll out of this!"

Now, in China, this is very strong language, and, with a cry of joy,
Wang leaped from the ground, for he knew that Lin had scolded him. No
sooner had the first hasty words been spoken than the feathers began
falling from the lazy man's body, and, at last, the dreadful itching
had entirely stopped. On the floor in front of Lin lay a great pile of
feathers, and Wang freed from his trouble, pointed to them and said,
"Thank you kindly, my dear friend, for the pretty names you have called
me. You have saved my life, and, although I have paid for the duck, I
wish to add to the bargain by making you a present of these handsome
feathers. They will, in a measure, repay you for your splendid set of
scold-words. I have learned my lesson well, I hope, and I shall go out
from here a better man. Fairy Old Boy told me that I was lazy. You agree
with the fairy. From this day, however, you shall see that I can bend my
back like a good fellow. Good-bye, and, many thanks for your kindness."

So saying, with many low bows and polite words, Wang left the duck
owner's house, a happier and a wiser man.

LU-SAN, DAUGHTER OF HEAVEN

[Illustration]

Lu-san went to bed without any supper, but her little heart was hungry
for something more than food. She nestled up close beside her sleeping
brothers, but even in their slumber they seemed to deny her that love
which she craved. The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of
the houseboat, music which had so often lulled her into dreamland, could
not quiet her now. Scorned and treated badly by the entire family, her
short life had been full of grief and shame.

Lu-san's father was a fisherman. His life had been one long fight
against poverty. He was ignorant and wicked. He had no more feeling of
love for his wife and five children than for the street dogs of his
native city. Over and over he had threatened to drown them one and all,
and had been prevented from doing so only by fear of the new mandarin.
His wife did not try to stop her husband when he sometimes beat the
children until they fell half dead upon the deck. In fact, she herself
was cruel to them, and often gave the last blow to Lu-san, her only
daughter. Not on one day in the little girl's memory had she escaped
this daily whipping,