There are hardly any sports, so-called, that develop the muscles and render a lad graceful and agile. The Chinese boy at sixteen is as grave and staid as an American grandfather; and if he happens to be married soon after, he throws aside most games as being childish. At the best, he has nothing corresponding to base-ball, foot-ball, cricket, bicycle-riding, skating, sliding, or tennis. Nor is he fond of exerting himself. He would rather sit for hours talking and joking than waste time in running or jumping. He thinks it work if his play entails much perspiration. His elders, too, frown upon boisterous games. They approve quiet, meditative lads who are given to study. But you must not suppose that the Chinese boy never plays at all. In spite of many obstacles, he proves that he is a boy still, and I will describe the outdoor amusements in which he does indulge. Kite-flying is a national recreation. Young and old take part in it and it is not unusual to see a gray-haired man enjoying it in company with a ten-year-old youngster. Kites are of all sizes. I have seen kites that were six or seven feet from wing to wing. The frame is made of bamboo slips which can be easily bent. Over this is pasted very stout rice-paper, upon which strong figures are painted—sometimes the face of a man, sometimes a bird. On the larger kites a bow is fastened at the top, with a reed instead of a string, and when the wind blows upon this reed, a melodious sound will be heard through the air, that greatly delights everybody; it seems to the spectators a mysterious voice from a different sphere. Kite-flying in America can be much improved. Kites should be constructed of the Chinese shape. The rib that runs through both wings should bulge out so that the paper on both sides may cave in. This is for the purpose of catching and retaining the wind as well as of steadying the kite. To a kite of this shape a tail is needless. [Illustration: FRAME OF A CHINESE KITE.] To fly such a kite, the cord must be very strong, and often it requires two or three men to hold it. When it gets among the clouds, and the flyer’s enthusiasm is at its boiling-point, a paper butterfly, beautifully colored, is fastened on the cord and the wind sends it up with a whizzing sound to the kite itself. But when it touches the kite, the butterfly’s wings come together, and down it returns, by its own weight, bringing a message from the skies, and its graceful approach is watched breathlessly. The ninth day of the ninth month, which comes in October, is “Kites’ Day.” On that day it is the fashion to go up high hills and hold communion with heavenly zephyrs. Such a scene is inspiring. Men and boys, of all ranks, sizes and ages, are seen with cords in their hands, pulling, yanking and jerking, or letting loose, all sorts of agile rice-paper monsters in the azure sky. The fun consists in making the kites fight—in entangling them and cutting one another’s strings by sudden jerks.