A Trip to China
WE WILL leave the mystic shores of India, with its gorgeous colourings and atmosphere of deep underlying things of which we in the West appear to he ignorant. I never tired of gazing on the performances of the conjurors with which the country abounds, or endeavouring to pierce the marvels accomplished by the holy men and fakirs.
But at length the time came when we found it necessary to continue our tour round the world, and we set sail for China. On the boat going over we created a great stir amongst the passengers by carrying out a few thought-reading experiments. One lady, however, was a very superior person, who loftily disdained any belief in the possibility of conveying impressions, and very loudly proclaimed us frauds and charlatans for imposing on people.
Now, in view of the fact that we simply gave a demonstration for the purpose of entertaining the passengers, and that we never claimed, and never have claimed, any occult powers, leaving other people to tell each other how we accomplished our feat, this was rather hard on us, and I determined that I would convince her against her will.
My opportunity came sooner than I expected, and I did not fail to take advantage of it. I chanced to notice that she was reading a novel of which I had a copy down below in my cabin. She was sitting in a deck chair on the upper deck, and as I dropped into a chair beside her I noticed that she had just reached Page 151.
I knew that my wife was downstairs in the cabin, and I had instructed her to hold herself in readiness to receive any impression I might send her during the next hour or two.
When, therefore, I saw the title of the book which our critic was reading, I flashed it to my wife, following it up with the number of the page at which it was opened.
Then I waited a few moments until I saw that the lady who was reading it had got some way down the page. In the meantime my wife had been reading the page herself and had made herself acquainted with the thrilling incident with which the author was dealing at the time.
It chanced to be the murder of her lover by a woman who no longer cared for him.
I then spoke to the lady and suggested that she might give me a test by which she could satisfy herself that no fraud was practised upon her. I pointed out that, as my wife was nowhere in sight, if, without our seeing each other, she could tell our sceptic all that she had just been reading, it would completely dispel any doubts she might have as to our bona fides.
After a few moments she condescendingly agreed, and I asked her to go down to the cabin where my wife was, leaving me on deck, I pointed out that I had not left her side for several minutes, during which time I had been conveying to my wife the incident which she had just read, and which I had also read as the hook lay open on her knees.
She made her way down below, and not only did my wife give her a detailed and graphic account of what had transpired in that particular page, but she told her the book in which it would be found, and the number of the page.
The woman was literally dumbfounded, and of course we did not enlighten her as to our possession of it duplicate book, so that she imagined the whole incident had been visualised entirely in my mind, and then transferred to that of my wife.
At length we reached China, and you can imagine our feelings perhaps when I tell you that almost the first thing that we witnessed was the beheading of 16 Chinese criminals.
It was a terribly gruesome business to me, but apparently it was taken as being all in the day's work by the natives.
Death Dealer
The men who were to suffer the death penalty were carried out by two coolies in a sort of net on a bamboo stick. Just the sort of thing that I have seen them use for carrying hogs in other countries. The condemned seemed to accept their punishment very philosophically, and when they reached the place of execution made no fuss when liberated from their net prison and made to kneel down a few paces apart, in one long line.
At last all the preliminaries were over, and the executioner, a great, hefty man, with a huge, curved sword, approached his victims.
They were all kneeling, as I have stated, and as the executioner approached number one on his little list number one accommodatingly bent his head forward to make his neck more easily "get-atable."
The death-dealer raised his arm; there was a swish through the air. I closed my eyes! When I opened them I saw that the body of number one, minus his head, which had rolled a few feet away, had tumbled over on its side, whilst the executioner was just about to attend to number two in the line.
I glanced along the line to see how the other doomed men were taking it, and I was amazed to see those farthest away almost craning their heads forward, as though to count how many before it was their turn.
Never have I seen death so casually looked upon and anticipated in by those Chinese criminals.
Less gruesome, but by no means less interesting, were the funerals which we witnessed. A funeral apparentlly is looked upon as a great event, and one for a great display of sorrow and ceremony.
No revue or fair could ever attain such spectacular features as those connected with a Chinese funeral.