nows how to express his enjoyment of it; he looks
at me with such a radiant face, saying, "Oh, nice sun, nice!" I feel
ready at that moment to forgive him for every thing that we ever have to
blame him for,--such a sun seems to shine out of him; and I feel as if
we made a mistake to be critical about his little faults, which are
mainly attributable to his extreme youth.

He has lately been away to celebrate the new year. "Going home to
China," he calls it, because at that time the Chinese eat their national
food, and observe their own customs. We told him, before he left, that
he must be sure to come back in two days; but three passed, with no sign
of him. Then R---- went down to the wash-house, and left word that he
must come directly back. In the course of the afternoon, he walked in.
The moment he opened the door, we said to him, very severely, "What for
you stop too long?" But he walked up to me, without a word, and put down
before me a little dirty handkerchief, all tied up in knots, which I
finally made up my mind to open. It was full of the most curious
sweet-meats and candy, little curls of cocoanut, frosted with sugar;
queer fruits, speckled with seeds; and some nuts that looked exactly
like carved ram's-heads with horns. We had to accept this as a
peace-offering, and put aside our anger.

He is much pleased to be where there is a woman. Although he is so
young, he says that he has lived generally only with men,--Spanish men,
he says, where there was "too much tree." I suppose it was some rather
unsettled place,--a sheep-ranch, perhaps.

He is so unsophisticated that he will answer all our questions, as the
older ones will not, if they can. I asked him, one day, about the
ceremonies that I saw at Lone Mountain,--what they burned the red and
silver paper on the graves for; and he said that in the other world the
Chinamen were dressed in paper, and, if they did not burn some for them
on their graves, they would not have any clothes. I told him I saw a boy
kneel down on a grave, and take a cup of rice wine, and sip a little,
and then pour it out on the sand. He said, Oh, no, that he did not drink
any, only put it to his lips, and said, "Good-by, good-by," because the
dead Chinaman would come no more.

Whenever he speaks of any thing mysterious, we can see, by the darkening
of his face, how he feels the awe of it. One of his friends, in hurrying
to get his ironing done, to get ready to celebrate the new year, br