The mother said a few sentences in broken English, and welcomed us with an air of sincerity, though not a little embarrassed.

She was a woman of about forty years, and from the expression of her face had evidently met with trials.

Brought over to San Francisco from Canton when a young girl, she had married Shan Tong with all the ceremony and merry-making which characterise a Chinese wedding, with its processions and feasting and the noise of its firecrackers; but some four or five years ago death claimed her husband, and she was left to do battle alone, while he was laid to rest in the Chinese burying-ground at the west end of Laurel Hill Cemetery.

But she did not suffer from want, for Chinamen are kind to the needy of their own race.

Among the objects which excited our curiosity were the tiny shoes of the small-footed woman.