I was about eight when I was taken to my new home, and the following years were so full of sorrow that I hardly dare tell you about them. I was just a little slave-girl, nothing more. There are many thousands in the same plight in China. I was the property of my mother-in-law, and she was a bad-tempered and cruel woman. She seemed to take a delight in beating me, and was always thinking of some new way to make my life miserable; while from morning to night I had to work far beyond my power. The opium-eating father used to grab all the money he could, so the rice often barely went round, and I was continually being half-starved—only having gruel, and but little of that. All the menial work of the house fell to my lot, and, as I was at the beck and call of all, I was at it from morning to night. The brothers, too, expected me to wait on them, and struck me if I didn’t obey their wishes. My mother-in-law’s cruel tongue and crueller hand drove me on all day, and late at night I was glad to rest my weary bones on the straw bed in the loft. Things went from bad to worse. Not only was the father given to opium, but the mother and sons were all bad—continually drinking, card-playing, and quarrelling, till the house bore a bad name all round. Surrounding the house were several fields. Once there had been a large farm, but one by one the fields were sold for opium, until only a few were left. These were tilled by the sons and so brought in a little money. [Illustration: The women and girls work all day transplanting rice.] The thing we depended on most was cotton, and I had to take my share in cultivating it. The fields had to be constantly weeded, and that was done by the women and girls. As with our bound feet it is difficult to stand, we used to take small stools into the fields and sit with our hoe in our hands busily digging out the weeds. Then came cotton-picking—back-aching work, with the sun fiercely shining overhead, and plenty of angry words when the amount picked wasn’t as much as my mother-in-law thought it ought to be. In the autumn and winter I learned to wind the cotton, and then to work at the loom, weaving the coarse white cloth of which our garments were made. This, with making shoes and cooking rice, was my chief work; and though I suffered much I dared not complain—for I was like the dumb man eating wormwood, unable to utter my misery. CHAPTER IV. A VILLAGE SCHOOL. I should like to tell you something about the school my father-in-law kept. It was held in a little dark room at the back of the house, and there were a dozen or so boys of about six to twelve, who came daily, as soon as it was light, and studied till dusk. They brought their own desks and stools, paid for their own ink and pens and books, and gave a little to the teacher, either in money or farm produce. They were mostly farmers’ boys, and in the busy season often had to help at home; so their education proceeded slowly.