of the tents, but it was very smoky, and not much cleaner than the Esquimaux. It is a wonder how Lucy could go to sleep there, but she did, heartily wishing herself somewhere else.
CHAPTER VIII. CHINA.
WAS it the scent of the perfumed tea, a present from an old sailor friend, which Mrs. Bunker was putting away, or was it the sight of the red jar ornamented with little black-and-gold men, with round caps, long petticoats, and pigtails, that caused Lucy next to open her eyes upon a cane sofa, with cushions ornamented with figures in coloured silks? The floor of the room was of shining inlaid wood; there were beautifully woven mats all round; stands made of red lacquer work, and seats of cane and bamboo; and there was a round window, through which could be seen a beautiful garden, full of flowering shrubs and trees, a clear pond lined with coloured tiles in the middle, and over the wall the gilded roof of a pagoda, like an umbrella, only all in ridge and furrow, and with a little bell at every spoke. Beyond, were beautifully and fantastically shaped hills, and a lake below with pleasure boats on it. It was all wonderfully like being upon a bowl come to life, and Lucy knew she was in China, even before there came into the room, toddling upon her poor little tiny feet, a young lady with a small yellow face, little slips of eyes sloping upwards from her flat nose, and back hair combed up very tight from her face, and twisted up with flowers and ornaments. She had ever so many robes on, the edge of one peeping out below the other, and at the top a sort of blue China-crape tunic, with very wide loose sleeves drooping an immense way from her hands. There was no gathering in at the waist, and it reached to her knees, where a still more splendid white silk, embroidered, trailed along. She had a big fan in her hand, but when she saw the visitor she went up to a beautiful little low table, with an ivory frill round it, where stood some dainty, delicate tea-cups and saucers. Into one of these she put a little ball, about as big as an oak-apple, of tea-leaves; a maid dressed like herself poured hot water on it, and handed it on a lacquer-work tray. Lucy took it, said, 'Thank you,' and then waited.
[Illustration: 'Is it not good?' said the little hostess.
'Is it not good?' said the little hostess.
'It must be! You are the real tea people,' said Lucy; 'but I was waiting for sugar and milk.'
'That would spoil it,' said the Chinese damsel; 'only outer barbarians would think of such a thing. And, ah! I see you are one! See, Ki-hi, what monstrous feet!'
'They are not bigger than your maid's,' said Lucy, rather disgusted. 'Why are yours so small?'
'Because my mother and nurse took care of me when I was a baby, and bound them up that they might not grow big and ugly like the poor creatures who have to run about for their husbands, feed silkworms, and tend ducks!'
'But shouldn't you like to walk without almost tumbling down?' said Lucy.
'No, indeed! Me, a daughter of a mandarin of the blue button! You are a mere barbarian to think a lady ought to want to walk. Do you not see that I never do anything? Look at my lovely nails.'
'I think they are claws,' said Lucy; 'do you never break them?'
'No; when they are a little longer, I shall wear silver shields for them, as my mother does.'
'And do you really never work?'
'I should think not,' said the young lady, scornfully fanning herself; 'I leave that to the common folk, who are obliged. Come with me and let me lean on you, and I will give you a peep through the lattice, that you may see that my father is far above making his daughter work. See, there he sits, with his moustachios hanging down to his chin, and his tail to his heels, and the blue dragon embroidered on his breast, watching while they prepare the hall for a grand dinner. There will be a stew of puppy dog, and another of kittens, and birds-nest soup; and then the players will come and act a part of the nine-night tragedy, and we will look through the lattice. Ah! Father is smoking opium, that he may be serene and in good spirits! Does it make your head ache? Ah! that is because you are a mere outer barbarian. She is asleep, Ki-hi; lay her on the sofa, and let her sleep. How ugly her pale hair is, almost as bad as her big feet!'
CHAPTER IX. KAMSCHATKA.
[Illustration: Whisking over the snow with all her might and main, muffled up in cloaks and furs.
LUCY had been disappointed of a drive with the reindeer, and she had been telling Don how useful his relations were in other places. Behold, she awoke in a wide plain, where as far as her eye could reach there was nothing but snow. The few fir-trees that stood in the distance were heavily laden; and Lucy herself,-where was she? Going very fast? Yes, whisking over the snow with all her might and main, and muffled up in cloaks and furs, as indeed was necessary, for her breath froze upon the big muffler round her throat, so that it seemed to be standing up in a wall; and by her side was a little boy, muffled up quite as close, with a cap or rather hood, casing his whole head, his hands gloved in fur up to the elbows, and long fur boots. He had an immense long whip in his hand, and was flourishing it, and striking with it-at what? They were an enormous way off from him, but they really were very big dogs, rushing along like the wind, and bearing along with them-what? Lucy's ambition-a sledge, a thing without wheels, but gliding along most rapidly on the hard snow; flying, flying almost fast enough to take away her breath, and leaving birds, foxes, and any creature she saw for one instant, far behind. And-what was very odd-the young driver had no reins; he shouted at the dogs and now and then threw a stick at them, and they quite seemed to understand, and turned when he wanted them. Lucy wondered how he or they knew the way, it all seemed such a waste of snow; and after feeling at first as if the rapidity of their course made her unable to speak, she ventured on gasping out, 'Well, I've been in an express train, but this beats it! Where are you going?'
'To Petropawlowsky, to change these skins for whisky and coffee, and rice,' answered the boy.
'What skins are they?' asked Lucy.
'Bears'-big brown bears that Father killed in a cave-and wolves' and those of the little ermine and sable that we trap. We get much, much for the white ermine and his black tail. Father's coming in another sledge with, oh! such a big pile. Don't you hear his dogs yelp? We'll win the race yet! Ugh! hoo! hoo! hoo-o-o!-On! on! lazy ones, on, I say! don't let the old dogs catch the young!'
Crack, crack, went the whip; the dogs yelped with eagerness,-they don't bark, those Northern dogs; the little Kamschatkadale bawled louder and louder, and never saw when Lucy rolled off behind, and was left in the middle of a huge snowdrift, while he flew on with his load.
Here were his father's dogs overtaking her; picking her-some one picking her up. No, it was Don! and here was Mrs. Bunker exclaiming, 'Well, I never thought to find Miss Lucy in no better a place than on Master's old bearskin!'
CHAPTER X. THE TURK.
'WHAT a beautiful long necklace, Mrs. Bunker! May I have it for Lonicera?'
'You may play with it while you are here, Missie, if you'll take care not to break the string, but it is too curious for you to take home and lose. It is what they call a Turkish rosary; they say it is made of rose-leaves reduced to a paste and squeezed ever so hard together, and that the poor ladies that are shut up in the harems have little or nothing to do but to run them through their fingers.'
'It has a very nice smell,' said Lucy, examining the dark brown beads, which hung rather loosely on their string, and letting them fall one by one through her hands, till of course that happened which she was hoping for: she woke on a long low sofa, in the midst of a room all carpet and cushions, in bright colours and gorgeous patterns, curling about with no particular meaning; and with a window of rich brass lattice-work.
And by her side there was an odd bubbling, that put her in mind of blowing the soap-suds into a honey-comb when preparing them for bubble blowing; but when she looked round she saw something very unlike the long pipes her brother called 'churchwardens,' or the basin of soap-suds. There was a beautifully shaped glass bottle, and into it went a long, long twisting tube, like a snake coiled on the floor, and the other end of the serpent, instead of a head, had an amber mouth-piece which went between a pair of lips. Lucy knew it for a hubble-bubble or narghilhe, and saw that the lips were in a brown face, with big black eyes, round which dark bluish circles were drawn. The jet-black hair was carefully braided with jewels, and over it was thrown a great rose-coloured gauze veil; there was
