I shouldn't mind dreaming the whole day through."




BAMBOO AND THE TURTLE

[Illustration]


A party of visitors had been seeing the sights at Hsi Ling. They had
just passed down the Holy Way between the huge stone animals when
Bamboo, a little boy of twelve, son of a keeper, rushed out from his
father's house to see the mandarins go by. Such a parade of great men
he had never seen before, even on the feast days. There were ten sedan
chairs, with bearers dressed in flaming colours, ten long-handled, red
umbrellas, each carried far in front of its proud owner, and a long line
of horsemen.

When this gay procession had filed past, Bamboo was almost ready to cry
because he could not run after the sightseers as they went from temple
to temple and from tomb to tomb. But, alas! his father had ordered him
never to follow tourists. "If you do, they will take you for a beggar,
Bamboo," he had said shrewdly, "and if you're a beggar, then your
daddy's one too. Now they don't want any beggars around the royal
tombs." So Bamboo had never known the pleasure of pursuing the rich.
Many times he had turned back to the little mud house, almost
broken-hearted at seeing his playmates running, full of glee, after the
great men's chairs.