Hanging Waters

"It is a pity," said Ming So, squatting on his heels on the raised
embankment, "that the sides of this paddy-field are not in line with the
points of the compass, for if they were we might expect a better yield
of rice."

His mother halted the water-buffalo and gave a further roll up to each
of her trouser-legs.

"What man told you that?" she demanded. Then, without waiting for an
answer, she raised one foot and splashed the water-buffalo. The signal
moved the animal, the animal moved the wooden plough, and Ming Nai waded
on across the paddy-field, the handles of the plough in her unswerving
grip. Her son saw her turn at the far end. As she passed him again, she
added, "Because he is no wiser than you are, my son." This time she did
not even stop the plough as she passed.

Ming So remained squatting on the raised embankment which held the
precious water in the paddy-field. By and by, to-morrow if not to-day,
he would have to bucket water into that paddy-field--a work of
considerable monotony, whose results were not immediately obvious.
Therefore an unsatisfying piece of work. To-day, or to-morrow, or the
week after--it did not matter much. His mother finished the few
remaining mud-furrows, tethered the animal to a stake on the flat,
raised bank, dragged the primitive plough to dry land, and came towards
him.

"What man told you of the points of the compass?" she demanded.

"It was Pai Kwat, the schoolmaster," Ming So told her as he rose to his
feet and trotted along beside her, homewards. "He is a very great man,
is Pai Kwat. He knows all that there is to learn of Feng Sui--the
Science of Favourable Aspects--besides a great deal of other learning
of which I have not plucked a single blade. He is a great man, is Pai
Kwat. His voice tells his greatness to those who have the intelligence
to observe. You have heard the booming note with which he instructs the
children in the village school?"

"Drums also boom, and drums are empty," said his mother succinctly. "No,
my son, you are too ready to listen with attention to loud noises
without duly considering their meaning. Of course, your dead father had
the same fault, so that you probably inherit it from him. If your father
had thought less of Feng Sui, in the matter of selecting his grave,
there would be less need, now, for me to guide that foolish beast along
uncounted furrows in our paddy-field. To buy land for his grave at the
ridiculous rate which he paid for it, just because the land was supposed
to be lucky! Why, when men are dead, they all look the same." She
laughed quietly to herself. "And smell the same, wherever their grave
may chance to be," she added.

"But when people die," persisted the boy, "is it not of the highest
importance where their graves may be? Does not the eternal comfort of
the dead man's soul depend on the forethought which he or his family
expend on the choice of a suitable burial place? The honourable teacher,
Pai Kwat, tells many tales of evil which has befallen a family because
they did not pay due attention to Feng Sui."

Ming Nai snorted impatiently.

"Pai Kwat! Pai Kwat! Who is this Pai Kwat that his tales should deplete
a widow's money-box? What does he know of anything except the
over-praised wisdom of the ancients and the contents of his musty books?
Now, if you ask me for the name of a wise man, I would mention your
uncle, the honourable Tung Lai Luk, who is favouring our unworthy
household with his presence to-day. There is a man for you, if you like!
No nonsense about the tales of the ancients. Still, you have seen only
thirteen winters, so that we must not yet expect from you the ripe
judgment of your elders."

The boy skipped delightedly.