rst visit to the house after the birth of the
child should be made by a "lucky" person, for the child's whole future
career may be blighted by meeting with an "ill-starred" person. No
outsider will enter the room where the birth took place for forty days.
On the anniversary of a boy's birth the relatives and friends bring
presents of clothes, hats, ornaments, playthings, and red eggs. The baby
is placed on the floor--the earth, which is the first place he touches;
he is born into a hole in the ground--and around him are placed various
articles, such as a book, pencil, chopsticks, money, and so on. He will
follow the profession which has to do with the articles he first
touches.[AV]

This was the fortieth day, and so my visitant honored me by thrusting
his contemptible presence upon me, and he would not go until late at
night, when a man with a diseased hip and one eye--and a ghastly thing
at that--called to see whether I could treat him with medicine.

Hsiakwan in days to come will probably have a big industry in brick and
tile making. Fifteen li from the town, on the Chao-chow side, many
people now get their living at the business, and one could easily dream
of a "Hsiakwan Brick and Tile Company Limited," with the children's
children of the present pioneers running for the morning papers to have
a look at the share market reports, with light railways connected up
with the main line, which has not yet been built, and so on, and so on.

Hsiakwan is perhaps the busiest town on the main trade route from
Yuen-nan-fu to Burma. Tali-fu, although growing, is only the official
town, of which Hsiakwan is the commercial entrepot. It was here that I
stayed one Sunday some time after this, at one of the biggest inns I
have ever been into in China. It had no less than four buildings, each
with a paved rectangular courtyard which all the rooms overlooked. A
military official, who was on his way to Chao-t'ong to deal with the
rebellion, of which the reader has already learnt a good deal, was
expected soon after I arrived. My room was already arranged, however,
when the landlord came to me and said--

"Yang gwan, you must please go out!"

Now the yang gwan, as was expected, stayed where he was, smiled in
magnanimous acquiescence, invited the proprietor--a stout, jolly person
with one eye--to be seated, and remained quiet. Again and again was I
told that I should be required to clear out, and give up the best room
to the official a