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Rig It Right Maya Animation Rigging Concepts Second
Edition Tina O'Hailey Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Tina O'Hailey
ISBN(s): 9781138617919, 1138617911
Edition: Second Edition
File Details: PDF, 24.50 MB
Year: 2018
Language: english
RIG IT RIGHT!
M AYA
A N I M AT I O N
RIGGING
CONCEP TS
SECOND EDITION
RIG IT RIGHT!
M AYA A N I M AT I O N
RIGGING CONCEP TS
SECOND EDITION

TINA O’HAILEY
CRC Press
Taylor & Francis Group
6000 Broken Sound Parkway NW, Suite 300
Boca Raton, FL 33487-2742

© 2019 by Taylor & Francis Group, LLC

CRC Press is an imprint of Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business

No claim to original U.S. Government works

Printed on acid-free paper

International Standard Book Number-13: 978-1-138-30316-4 (Paperback)

978-1-138-61791-9 (Hardback)

This book contains information obtained from authentic and highly regarded sources.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: O’Hailey, Tina, author.

Title: Rig it right! : Maya animation rigging concepts / Tina O’Hailey.
Description: 2nd edition. | Boca Raton : Taylor & Francis, CRC Press,
2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018011984| ISBN 9781138303164 (pbk. : alk.
paper) | ISBN 9781138617919 (hardback : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Rigging (Computer animation) | Maya (Computer
file)
Classification: LCC TR897.77 .O53 2018 | DDC 777/.7--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018011984

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 CONTENTS v

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments................................................. xiii

Introduction..................................................................xvii
Basic Rules of Rigging..........................................xvii
Taking Control of Your Outliner/Node
Editor/History....................................................... xviii
Introduction to Nodes......................................... xviii
How to Find the Transform and Shape Nodes........xx
Looking Under the Hood.......................................xxi

Part I BASIC CONCEPTS

Chapter 1 Props, Pivot Points, Hierarchies............. 3

Zero-ing Out.............................................................. 4
Using Group Nodes to Hold Animation.................. 6
Making Children........................................................ 8
Lock What Isn’t Going to be Animated................. 12
What to Do If You Have Hidden Attributes
and Want Them Back............................................. 12
Pushing the Concept.............................................. 13

Chapter 2 Deformers..................................................15
Nonlinear Deformers.............................................. 18
Super Toothbrush................................................... 24

Chapter 3 User Controllers....................................... 35

One-to-One Controllers.......................................... 38
Connection Editor................................................... 39
To Limit the Controllers..........................................44
vi CONTENTS

Adding More Animator’s Controllers....................45

A New Type of Connection: Constraint
Connections for Translate, Scale, and Rotate.......46
Clean-Up Time........................................................ 50
Adding Scale to Our Rig......................................... 51

Chapter 4 Utility Nodes and Custom Attributes.......55

Where Else Could You Use This?........................... 58
The Problem with One-to-One Connections........ 60
Utility and Low/High Resolution Switch............... 61
How Do We Create a Custom Attribute on
an Existing Controller?........................................... 63
What Could Go Wrong?.........................................64
Enum........................................................................64
One Odd Thing to Note about the
Polysmooth Node................................................... 66
“One to Many” Connections.................................. 66

Chapter 5 Joints......................................................... 69
Joints are Tricky Things......................................... 71
Orient Joints............................................................ 73
Character With a Skeleton: Googly-eyed
Puppet..................................................................... 76
Check Your Joint Rotational Axis.......................... 77
Creating the Right Arm the Easy Way................... 78
Simple IK Arm......................................................... 79
Waist Control.......................................................... 81
Main Move for the Character................................. 81
Interactive Skinning................................................ 82
Them Eyes............................................................... 83
Cleaning Up............................................................. 83
Scale........................................................................84
Jaw Controller......................................................... 85
Head Controller....................................................... 85
 CONTENTS vii

Chapter 6 Blendshapes and Set Driven Key......... 87

Hooking a Controller Up to a Blendshape............90
Blendshape Weights............................................... 93
Adding Controllers................................................. 97
Set Driven Key........................................................ 98
Set Driven Key to do Automatic Corrective
Blendshapes.......................................................... 101
Set Driven Key to Drive a Forward Kinematic
Tentacle................................................................. 103
More Advanced Controller Setup........................ 104
Extra Effort............................................................ 106

Part II THE BIPED

Chapter 7 The Biped.................................................111

The Leg.................................................................. 116
The Spine.............................................................. 119
Joint Orientations................................................. 121
The Arms/Wings................................................... 121
Orient Joints.......................................................... 123
Hands/Feathers..................................................... 123
Clavicle.................................................................. 124
Mirror Wings......................................................... 125
That Bone’s Connected to the Other Bone......... 126
Helper Joints......................................................... 126
Finishing Up.......................................................... 127

Chapter 8 Skinning.................................................. 129

Pipeline 1: Creating Proxies Manually then
Skinning the Low-res Geometry......................... 131
Skinning................................................................. 131
Skinning the Bird.................................................. 134
Painting Skin Weights.......................................... 135
viii CONTENTS

Mirror Skin Weights.............................................. 139

Creating Proxies.................................................... 139
Joint Adjustment.................................................. 141

Chapter 9 Upper Body, Lower Body, Root:

Always Have A Cha-Cha............................................ 143
Upper_Body_CNTRL and Lower_Body_CNTRL......144
Root_CNTRL.......................................................... 145
CNTRL Hierarchy.................................................. 147

Chapter 10 Feet and Knees: Simple,

Group-Based, and Joint-Based Feet....................... 149
Peel Heel................................................................ 152
Toe Tap.................................................................. 152
Tippy Toe............................................................... 152
Main Foot Movement........................................... 153
Locking Them Down Boss................................... 154
Adding Controls for the Animator....................... 155
The Knee............................................................... 157
Cleaning Up........................................................... 159

Chapter 11 Spines: FK, Spline, SDK

(Set Driven Key)........................................................... 161
FK Spine ............................................................... 161
Set Driven Key Spine............................................ 164
Spline Spine.......................................................... 166
Head....................................................................... 172
Jaw/Beak............................................................... 174

Chapter 12 Arms, Elbows, And Clavicles:

Single-Chain, Triple-Chain With Wrist Twist
(SDK Or Cluster)........................................................... 177
Functionality.......................................................... 177
IK/FK Switching Methods..................................... 178
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feminine instinct she simply nodded coolly in his direction, and
continued what might be called a flirtation with Wong Ling, who had
that morning presented her with the first Chinese lily of the season
and a box of the best preserved ginger.
Tian Shan sat himself down on a box of dried mushrooms and
glowered at his would-be rival, who, unconscious of the fact that he
was making a third when there was needed but a two, chattered on
like a running stream. Thoughtlessly and kittenishly Fin Fan tossed a
word, first to this one, and next to that; and whilst loving with all her
heart one man, showed much more favor to the other.
Finally Tian Shan arose from the mushrooms and marched over to
the counter.
“These yours?” he inquired of Wong Ling, indicating the lily and
the box of ginger.
“Miss Fin Fan has done me the honor of accepting them,” blandly
replied Wong Ling.
“Very good,” commented Tian Shan. He picked up the gifts and
hurled them into the street.
A scene of wild disorder followed. In the midst of it the father of
Fin Fan, who had been downtown, appeared at the door.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“Oh, father, father, they are killing one another! Separate them,
oh, separate them!” pleaded Fin Fan.
But her father’s interference was not needed. Wong Ling swerved
to one side, and falling, struck the iron foot of the stove. Tian Shan,
seeing his rival unconscious, rushed out of the store.

The moon hung in the sky like a great yellow pearl and the night
was beautiful and serene. But Fin Fan, miserable and unhappy, could
not rest.
“All your fault! All your fault!” declared the voice of conscience.
“Fin Fan,” spake a voice near to her.
Could it be? Yes, it surely was Tian Shan.
She could not refrain from a little scream.
“Sh! Sh!” bade Tian Shan. “Is he dead?”
“No,” replied Fin Fan, “he is very sick, but he will recover.”
 “I might have been a murderer,” mused Tian Shan. “As it is I am
liable to arrest and imprisonment for years.”
“I am the cause of all the trouble,” wept Fin Fan.
Tian Shan patted her shoulder in an attempt at consolation, but a
sudden footfall caused her to start away from him.
“They are hunting you!” she cried. “Go! Go!”
And Tian Shan, casting upon her one long farewell look, strode
with rapid steps away.

Poor Fin Fan! She had indeed lost every one, and added to that
shame, was the secret sorrow and remorse of her own heart. All the
hopes and the dreams which had filled the year that was gone were
now as naught, and he, around whom they had been woven, was,
because of her, a fugitive from justice, even in Canada.
One day she picked up an American newspaper which a customer
had left on the counter, and, more as a habit than for any other
reason, began spelling out the paragraphs.

A Chinese, who has been unlawfully breathing United States air for
several years, was captured last night crossing the border, a feat
which he is said to have successfully accomplished more than a
dozen times during the last few years. His name is Tian Shan, and
there is no doubt whatever that he will be deported to China as soon
as the necessary papers can be made out.

Fin Fan lifted her head. Fresh air and light had come into her soul.
Her eyes sparkled. In the closet behind her hung a suit of her
father’s clothes. Fin Fan was a tall and well-developed young
woman.

“You are to have company,” said the guard, pausing in front of

Tian Shan’s cage. “A boy without certificate was caught this morning
by two of our men this side of Rouse’s Point. He has been unable to
give an account of himself, so we are putting him in here with you.
You will probably take the trip to China together.”
 Tian Shan continued reading a Chinese paper which he had been
allowed to retain. He was not at all interested in the companion
thrust upon him. He would have preferred to be left alone. The face
of the absent one is so much easier conjured in silence and solitude.
It was a foregone conclusion with Tian Shan that he would never
again behold Fin Fan, and with true Chinese philosophy he had
begun to reject realities and accept dreams as the stuff upon which
to live. Life itself was hard, bitter, and disappointing. Only dreams
are joyous and smiling.
One star after another had appeared until the heavens were
patterned with twinkling lights. Through his prison bars Tian Shan
gazed solemnly upon the firmament.
Some one touched his elbow. It was his fellow-prisoner.
So far the boy had not intruded himself, having curled himself up
in a corner of the cell and slept soundly apparently, ever since his
advent.
“What do you want?” asked Tian Shan not unkindly.
“To go to China with you and to be your wife,” was the softly
surprising reply.
“Fin Fan!” exclaimed Tian Shan. “Fin Fan!”
The boy pulled off his cap.
“Aye,” said he. “’Tis Fin Fan!”
 THE SING SONG WOMAN

h Oi, the Chinese actress, threw herself down on the floor of her
room and, propping her chin on her hands, gazed up at the
narrow strip of blue sky which could be seen through her window.
She seemed to have lost her usually merry spirits. For the first time
since she had left her home her thoughts were seriously with the
past, and she longed with a great longing for the Chinese Sea, the
boats, and the wet, blowing sands. She had been a fisherman’s
daughter, and many a spring had she watched the gathering of the
fishing fleet to which her father’s boat belonged. Well could she
remember clapping her hands as the vessels steered out to sea for
the season’s work, her father’s amongst them, looking as bright as
paint could make it, and flying a neat little flag at its stern; and well
could she also remember how her mother had taught her to pray to
“Our Lady of Pootoo,” the goddess of sailors. One does not need to
be a Christian to be religious, and Ah Oi’s parents had carefully
instructed their daughter according to their light, and it was not their
fault if their daughter was a despised actress in an American
Chinatown.
The sound of footsteps outside her door seemed to chase away Ah
Oi’s melancholy mood, and when a girl crossed her threshold, she
was gazing amusedly into the street below—a populous
thoroughfare of Chinatown.
The newcomer presented a strange appearance. She was crying
so hard that red paint, white powder, and carmine lip salve were all
besmeared over a naturally pretty face.
Ah Oi began to laugh.
 “Why, Mag-gee,” said she, “how odd you look with little red rivers
running over your face! What is the matter?”
“What is the matter?” echoed Mag-gee, who was a half-white girl.
“The matter is that I wish that I were dead! I am to be married
tonight to a Chinaman whom I have never seen, and whom I can’t
bear. It isn’t natural that I should. I always took to other men, and
never could put up with a Chinaman. I was born in America, and I’m
not Chinese in looks nor in any other way. See! My eyes are blue,
and there is gold in my hair; and I love potatoes and beef, and every
time I eat rice it makes me sick, and so does chopped up food. He
came down about a week ago and made arrangements with father,
and now everything is fixed and I’m going away forever to live in
China. I shall be a Chinese woman next year—I commenced to be
one today, when father made me put the paint and powder on my
face, and dress in Chinese clothes. Oh! I never want anyone to feel
as I do. To think of having to marry a Chinaman! How I hate the
Chinese! And the worst of it is, loving somebody else all the while.”
The girl burst into passionate sobs. The actress, who was
evidently accustomed to hearing her compatriots reviled by the
white and half-white denizens of Chinatown, laughed—a light,
rippling laugh. Her eyes glinted mischievously.
“Since you do not like the Chinese men,” said she, “why do you
give yourself to one? And if you care so much for somebody else,
why do you not fly to that somebody?”
Bold words for a Chinese woman to utter! But Ah Oi was not as
other Chinese women, who all their lives have been sheltered by a
husband or father’s care.
The half-white girl stared at her companion.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“This,” said Ah Oi. The fair head and dark head drew near
together; and two women passing the door heard whispers and
suppressed laughter.
“Ah Oi is up to some trick,” said one.

II
 he Sing Song Woman! The Sing Song Woman!” It was a wild cry
of anger and surprise.
The ceremony of unveiling the bride had just been performed, and
Hwuy Yen, the father of Mag-gee, and his friends, were in a state of
great excitement, for the unveiled, brilliantly clothed little figure
standing in the middle of the room was not the bride who was to
have been; but Ah Oi, the actress, the Sing Song Woman.
Every voice but one was raised. The bridegroom, a tall, handsome
man, did not understand what had happened, and could find no
words to express his surprise at the uproar. But he was so newly
wedded that it was not until Hwuy Yen advanced to the bride and
shook his hand threateningly in her face, that he felt himself a
husband, and interfered by placing himself before the girl.
“What is all this?” he inquired. “What has my wife done to merit
such abuse?”
“Your wife!” scornfully ejaculated Hwuy Yen. “She is no wife of
yours. You were to have married my daughter, Mag-gee. This is not
my daughter; this is an impostor, an actress, a Sing Song Woman.
Where is my daughter?”
Ah Oi laughed her peculiar, rippling, amused laugh. She was in no
wise abashed, and, indeed, appeared to be enjoying the situation.
Her bright, defiant eyes met her questioner’s boldly as she
answered:
“Mag-gee has gone to eat beef and potatoes with a white man.
Oh, we had such a merry time making this play!”
“See how worthless a thing she is,” said Hwuy Yen to the young
bridegroom.
The latter regarded Ah Oi compassionately. He was a man, and
perhaps a little tenderness crept into his heart for the girl towards
whom so much bitterness was evinced. She was beautiful. He drew
near to her.
“Can you not justify yourself?” he asked sadly.
For a moment Ah Oi gazed into his eyes—the only eyes that had
looked with true kindness into hers for many a moon.
“You justify me,” she replied with an upward, pleading glance.
 Then Ke Leang, the bridegroom, spoke. He said: “The daughter of
Hwuy Yen cared not to become my bride and has sought her
happiness with another. Ah Oi, having a kind heart, helped her to
that happiness, and tried to recompense me my loss by giving me
herself. She has been unwise and indiscreet; but the good that is in
her is more than the evil, and now that she is my wife, none shall
say a word against her.”
Ah Oi pulled at his sleeve.
“You give me credit for what I do not deserve,” said she. “I had no
kind feelings. I thought only of mischief, and I am not your wife. It is
but a play like the play I shall act tomorrow.”
“Hush!” bade Ke Leang. “You shall act no more. I will marry you
again and take you to China.”
Then something in Ah Oi’s breast, which for a long time had been
hard as stone, became soft and tender, and her eyes ran over with
tears.
“Oh, sir,” said she, “it takes a heart to make a heart, and you have
put one today in the bosom of a Sing Song Woman.”
Tales of Chinese Children
 THE SILVER LEAVES

here was a fringe of trees along an open field. They were not
very tall trees, neither were they trees that flowered or fruited;
but to the eyes of Ah Leen they were very beautiful. Their slender
branches were covered with leaves of a light green showing a silvery
under surface, and when the wind moved or tossed them, silver
gleams flashed through the green in a most enchanting way.
Ah Leen stood on the other side of the road admiring the trees
with the silver leaves.
A little old woman carrying a basket full of ducks’ eggs came
happily hobbling along. She paused by the side of Ah Leen.
“Happy love!” said she. “Your eyes are as bright as jade jewels!”
Ah Leen drew a long breath. “See!” said she, “the dancing leaves.”
The little old woman adjusted her blue goggles and looked up at
the trees. “If only,” said she, “some of that silver was up my sleeve, I
would buy you a pink parasol and a folding fan.”
“And if some of it were mine,” answered Ah Leen, “I would give it
to my baby brother.” And she went on to tell the little old woman
that that eve there was to be a joyful time at her father’s house, for
her baby brother was to have his head shaved for the first time, and
everybody was coming to see it done and would give her baby
brother gifts of gold and silver. Her father and her mother, also, and
her big brother and her big sister, all had gifts to give. She loved well
her baby brother. He was so very small and so very lively, and his
fingers and toes were so pink. And to think that he had lived a whole
moon, and she had no offering to prove the big feeling that swelled
and throbbed in her little heart for him.
Ah Leen sighed very wistfully.
 Just then a brisk breeze blew over the trees, and as it passed by,
six of the silver leaves floated to the ground.
“Oh! Oh!” cried little Ah Leen. She pattered over to where they
had fallen and picked them up.
Returning to the old woman, she displayed her treasures.
“Three for you and three for me!” she cried.
The old woman accepted the offering smilingly, and happily
hobbled away. In every house she entered, she showed her silver
leaves, and told how she had obtained them, and every housewife
that saw and heard her, bought her eggs at a double price.
At sundown, the guests with their presents began streaming into
the house of Man You. Amongst them was a little old woman. She
was not as well off as the other guests, but because she was the
oldest of all the company, she was given the seat of honor. Ah Leen,
the youngest daughter of the house, sat on a footstool at her feet.
Ah Leen’s eyes were very bright and her cheeks glowed. She was
wearing a pair of slippers with butterfly toes, and up her little red
sleeve, carefully folded in a large leaf, were three small silver leaves.
Once when the mother of Ah Leen brought a cup of tea to the
little old woman, the little old woman whispered in her ear, and the
mother of Ah Leen patted the head of her little daughter and smiled
kindly down upon her.
Then the baby’s father shaved the head of the baby, the Little
Bright One. He did this very carefully, leaving a small patch of hair,
the shape of a peach, in the centre of the small head. That peach-
shaped patch would some day grow into a queue. Ah Leen touched
it lovingly with her little finger after the ceremony was over. Never
had the Little Bright One seemed so dear.
The gifts were distributed after all the lanterns were lit. It was a
pretty sight. The mother of the Little Bright One held him on her lap,
whilst each guest, relative, or friend, in turn, laid on a table by her
side his gift of silver and gold, enclosed in a bright red envelope.
The elder sister had just passed Ah Leen with her gift, when Ah
Leen arose, and following after her sister to the gift-laden table,
proudly deposited thereon three leaves.
“They are silver—silver,” cried Ah Leen.
 Nearly everybody smiled aloud; but Ah Leen’s mother gently lifted
the leaves and murmured in Ah Leen’s ear, “They are the sweetest
gift of all.”
How happy felt Ah Leen! As to the old woman who sold ducks’
eggs, she beamed all over her little round face, and when she went
away, she left behind her a pink parasol and a folding fan.
 THE PEACOCK LANTERN

t was such a pretty lantern—the prettiest of all the pretty lanterns

that the lantern men carried. Ah Wing longed to possess it. Upon
the transparent paper which covered the fine network of bamboo
which enclosed the candle, was painted a picture of a benevolent
prince, riding on a peacock with spreading tail. Never had Ah Wing
seen such a gorgeous lantern, or one so altogether admirable.
“Honorable father,” said he, “is not that a lantern of illuminating
beauty, and is not thy string of cash too heavy for thine honorable
shoulders?”
His father laughed.
“Come hither,” he bade the lantern man. “Now,” said he to Ah
Wing, “choose which lantern pleaseth thee best. To me all are the
same.”
Ah Wing pointed to the peacock lantern, and hopped about
impatiently, whilst the lantern man fumbled with the wires which
kept his lanterns together.
“Oh, hasten! hasten!” cried Ah Wing.
The lantern man looked into his bright little face.
“Honorable little one,” said he, “would not one of the other
lanterns please thee as well as this one? For indeed, I would, if I
could, retain the peacock lantern. It is the one lantern of all which
delights my own little lad and he is sick and cannot move from his
bed.”
Ah Wing’s face became red.
“Why then dost thou display the lantern?” asked the father of Ah
Wing.
“To draw attention to the others,” answered the man. “I am very
poor and it is hard for me to provide my child with rice.”
 The father of Ah Wing looked at his little son.
“Well?” said he.
Ah Wing’s face was still red.
“I want the peacock lantern,” he declared.
The father of Ah Wing brought forth his string of cash and drew
therefrom more than double the price of the lantern.
“Take this,” said he to the lantern man. “’Twill fill thy little sick
boy’s bowl with rice for many a day to come.”
The lantern man returned humble thanks, but while unfastening
the peacock lantern from the others, his face looked very sad.
Ah Wing shifted from one foot to another.
The lantern man placed the lantern in his hand. Ah Wing stood
still holding it.
“Thou hast thy heart’s desire now,” said his father. “Laugh and be
merry.”
But with the lantern man’s sad face before him, Ah Wing could not
laugh and be merry.
“If you please, honorable father,” said he, “may I go with the
honorable lantern man to see his little sick boy?”
“Yes,” replied his father. “And I will go too.”
When Ah Wing stood beside the bed of the little sick son of the
lantern man, he said:
“I have come to see thee, because my father has bought for my
pleasure the lantern which gives thee pleasure; but he has paid
therefor to thy father what will buy thee food to make thee strong
and well.”
The little sick boy turned a very pale and very small face to Ah
Wing.
“I care not,” said he, “for food to make me strong and well—for
strong and well I shall never be; but I would that I had the lantern
for the sake of San Kee.”
“And who may San Kee be?” inquired Ah Wing.
“San Kee,” said the little sick boy, “is an honorable hunchback.
Every evening he comes to see me and to take pleasure in my
peacock lantern. It is the only thing in the world that gives poor San
Kee pleasure. I would for his sake that I might have kept the
peacock lantern.”
“For his sake!” echoed Ah Wing.
“Yes, for his sake,” answered the little sick boy. “It is so good to
see him happy. It is that which makes me happy.”
The tears came into Ah Wing’s eyes.
“Honorable lantern man,” said he, turning to the father of the little
sick boy, “I wish no more for the peacock lantern. Keep it, I pray
thee, for thy little sick boy. And honorable father”—he took his
father’s hand—“kindly buy for me at the same price as the peacock
lantern one of the other beautiful lanterns belonging to the
honorable lantern man.”
 CHILDREN OF PEACE

hey were two young people with heads hot enough and hearts
true enough to believe that the world was well lost for love, and
they were Chinese.
They sat beneath the shade of a cluster of tall young pines
forming a perfect bower of greenness and coolness on the slope of
Strawberry hill. Their eyes were looking ocean-wards, following a
ship nearing the misty horizon. Very serious were their faces and
voices. That ship, sailing from west to east, carried from each a
message to his and her kin—a message which humbly but firmly set
forth that they were resolved to act upon their belief and to establish
a home in the new country, where they would ever pray for
blessings upon the heads of those who could not see as they could
see, nor hear as they could hear.
“My mother will weep when she reads,” sighed the girl.
“Pau Tsu,” the young man asked, “do you repent?”
“No,” she replied, “but—”
She drew from her sleeve a letter written on silk paper.
The young man ran his eye over the closely penciled characters.
“’Tis very much in its tenor like what my father wrote to me,” he
commented.
“Not that.”
Pau Tsu indicated with the tip of her pink forefinger a paragraph
which read:

Are you not ashamed to confess that you love a youth who is not
yet your husband? Such disgraceful boldness will surely bring upon
your head the punishment you deserve. Before twelve moons go by
you will be an Autumn Fan.

The young man folded the missive and returned it to the girl,
whose face was averted from his.
“Our parents,” said he, “knew not love in its springing and
growing, its bud and blossom. Let us, therefore, respectfully read
their angry letters, but heed them not. Shall I not love you dearer
and more faithfully because you became mine at my own request
and not at my father’s? And Pau Tsu, be not ashamed.”
The girl lifted radiant eyes.
“Listen,” said she. “When you, during vacation, went on that long
journey to New York, to beguile the time I wrote a play. My heroine
is very sad, for the one she loves is far away and she is much
tormented by enemies. They would make her ashamed of her love.
But this is what she replies to one cruel taunt:

“When Memory sees his face and hears his voice,

The Bird of Love within my heart sings sweetly,
So sweetly, and so clear and jubilant,
That my little Home Bird, Sorrow,
Hides its head under its wing,
And appeareth as if dead.
Shame! Ah, speak not that word to one who loves!
For loving, all my noblest, tenderest feelings are awakened,
And I become too great to be ashamed.”

“You do love me then, eh, Pau Tsu?” queried the young man.
“If it is not love, what is it?” softly answered the girl.
Happily chatting they descended the green hill. Their holiday was
over. A little later Liu Venti was on the ferry-boat which leaves every
half hour for the Western shore, bound for the Berkeley Hills
opposite the Golden Gate, and Pau Tsu was in her room at the San
Francisco Seminary, where her father’s ambition to make her the
equal in learning of the son of Liu Jusong had placed her.
 II

he last little scholar of Pau Tsu’s free class for children was
pattering out of the front door when Liu Venti softly entered the
schoolroom. Pau Tsu was leaning against her desk, looking rather
weary. She did not hear her husband’s footstep, and when he
approached her and placed his hand upon her shoulder she gave a
nervous start.
“You are tired, dear one,” said he, leading her towards the door
where a seat was placed.
“Teacher, the leaves of a flower you gave me are withering, and
mother says that is a bad omen.”
The little scholar had turned back to tell her this.
“Nay,” said Pau Tsu gently. “There are no bad omens. It is time for
the flower to wither and die. It cannot live always.”
“Poor flower!” compassionated the child.
“Not so poor!” smiled Pau Tsu. “The flower has seed from which
other flowers will spring, more beautiful than itself!”
“Ah, I will tell my mother!”
The little child ran off, her queue dangling and flopping as she
loped along. The teachers watched her join a group of youngsters
playing on the curb in front of the quarters of the Six Companies.
One of the Chiefs in passing had thrown a handful of firecrackers
amongst the children, and the result was a small bonfire and great
glee.
It was seven years since Liu Venti and Pau Tsu had begun their
work in San Francisco’s Chinatown; seven years of struggle and
hardship, working and waiting, living, learning, fighting, failing,
loving—and conquering. The victory, to an onlooker, might have
seemed small; just a modest school for adult pupils of their own
race, a few white night pupils, and a free school for children. But the
latter was in itself evidence that Liu Venti and Pau Tsu had not only
sailed safely through the waters of poverty, but had reached a haven
from which they could enjoy the blessedness of stretching out
helping hands to others.
 During the third year of their marriage twin sons had been born to
them, and the children, long looked for and eagerly desired, were
welcomed with joy and pride. But mingled with this joy and pride
was much serious thought. Must their beloved sons ever remain
exiles from the land of their ancestors? For their little ones Liu Venti
and Pau Tsu were much more worldly than they had ever been
themselves, and they could not altogether stifle a yearning to be
able to bestow upon them the brightest and best that the world has
to offer. Then, too, memories of childhood came thronging with their
children, and filial affection reawakened. Both Liu Venti and Pau Tsu
had been only children; both had been beloved and had received all
the advantages which wealth in their own land could obtain; both
had been the joy and pride of their homes. They might, they
sometimes sadly mused, have been a little less assured in their
declarations to the old folk; a little kinder, a little more considerate.
It was a higher light and a stronger motive than had ever before
influenced their lives which had led them to break the ties which had
bound them; yet those from whom they had cut away were ignorant
of such forces; at least, unable, by reason of education and
environment, to comprehend them. There were days when
everything seemed to taste bitter to Pau Tsu because she could not
see her father and mother. And Liu’s blood would tingle and his heart
swell in his chest in the effort to banish from his mind the shadows
of those who had cared for him before ever he had seen Pau Tsu.
“I was a little fellow of just about that age when my mother first
taught me to kotow to my father and run to greet him when he
came into the house,” said he, pointing to Little Waking Eyes, who
came straggling after them, a kitten in his chubby arms.
“Oh, Liu Venti,” replied Pau Tsu, “you are thinking of home—even
as I. This morning I thought I heard my mother’s voice, calling to
me as I have so often heard her on sunny mornings in the Province
of the Happy River. She would flutter her fan at me in a way that
was peculiarly her own. And my father! Oh, my dear father!”
“Aye,” responded Liu Venti. “Our parents loved us, and the love of
parents is a good thing. Here, we live in exile, and though we are
happy in each other, in our children, and in the friendships which the
new light has made possible for us, yet I would that our sons could
be brought up in our own country and not in an American
Chinatown.”
He glanced comprehensively up the street as he said this. A
motley throng, made up, not only of his own countrymen, but of all
nationalities, was scuffling along. Two little children were eating rice
out of a tin dish on a near-by door-step. The singsong voices of girls
were calling to one another from high balconies up a shadowy alley.
A boy, balancing a wooden tray of viands on his head, was crossing
the street. The fat barber was laughing hilariously at a drunken
white man who had fallen into a gutter. A withered old fellow,
carrying a bird in a cage, stood at a corner entreating passers-by to
pause and have a good fortune told. A vender of dried fish and
bunches of sausages held noisy possession of the corner opposite.
Liu Venti’s glance travelled back to the children eating rice on the
doorstep, then rested on the head of his own young son.
“And our fathers’ mansions,” said he, “are empty of the voices of
little ones.”

“Let us go home,” said Pau Tsu suddenly.

Liu Venti started. Pau Tsu’s words echoed the wish of his own
heart. But he was not as bold as she.
“How dare we?” he asked. “Have not our fathers sworn that they
will never forgive us?”
“The light within me this evening,” replied Pau Tsu, “reveals that
our parents sorrow because they have this sworn. Oh, Liu Venti,
ought we not to make our parents happy, even if we have to do so
against their will?”
“I would that we could,” replied Liu Venti. “But before we can
approach them, there is to be overcome your father’s hatred for my
father and my father’s hatred for thine.”
A shadow crossed Pau Tsu’s face. But not for long. It lifted as she
softly said: “Love is stronger than hate.”
Little Waking Eyes clambered upon his father’s knee.
“Me too,” cried Little Sleeping Eyes, following him. With chubby
fists he pushed his brother to one side and mounted his father also.
 Pau Tsu looked across at her husband and sons. “Oh, Liu Venti,”
she said, “for the sake of our children; for the sake of our parents;
for the sake of a broader field of work for ourselves, we are called
upon to make a sacrifice!”
Three months later, Liu Venti and Pau Tsu, with mingled sorrow
and hope in their hearts, bade goodbye to their little sons and sent
them across the sea, offerings of love to parents of whom both son
and daughter remembered nothing but love and kindness, yet from
whom that son and daughter were estranged by a poisonous thing
called Hate.

III

wo little boys were playing together on a beach. One gazed

across the sea with wondering eyes. A thought had come—a
memory.
“Where are father and mother?” he asked, turning to his brother.
The other little boy gazed bewilderedly back at him and echoed:
“Where are father and mother?”
Then the two little fellows sat down in the sand and began to talk
to one another in a queer little old-fashioned way of their own.
“Grandfathers and grandmothers are very good,” said Little
Waking Eyes.
“Very good,” repeated Little Sleeping Eyes.
“They give us lots of nice things.”
“Lots of nice things!”
“Balls and balloons and puff puffs and kitties.”
“Balls and balloons and puff puffs and kitties.”
“The puppet show is very beautiful!”
“Very beautiful!”
“And grandfathers fly kites and puff fire flowers!”
“Fly kites and puff fire flowers!”
“And grandmothers have cakes and sweeties.”
“Cakes and sweeties!”
“But where are father and mother?”
 Little Waking Eyes and Little Sleeping Eyes again searched each
other’s faces; but neither could answer the other’s question. Their
little mouths drooped pathetically; they propped their chubby little
faces in their hands and heaved queer little sighs.
There were father and mother one time—always, always; father
and mother and Sung Sung. Then there was the big ship and Sung
Sung only, and the big water. After the big water, grandfathers and
grandmothers; and Little Waking Eyes had gone to live with one
grandfather and grandmother, and Little Sleeping Eyes had gone to
live with another grandfather and grandmother. And the old Sung
Sung had gone away and two new Sung Sungs had come. And Little
Waking Eyes and Little Sleeping Eyes had been good and had not
cried at all. Had not father and mother said that grandfathers and
grandmothers were just the same as fathers and mothers?
“Just the same as fathers and mothers,” repeated Little Waking
Eyes to Little Sleeping Eyes, and Little Sleeping Eyes nodded his
head and solemnly repeated: “Just the same as fathers and
mothers.”
Then all of a sudden Little Waking Eyes stood up, rubbed his fists
into his eyes and shouted: “I want my father and mother; I want my
father and mother!” And Little Sleeping Eyes also stood up and
echoed strong and bold: “I want my father and mother; I want my
father and mother.”
It was the day of rebellion of the sons of Liu Venti and Pau Tsu.
When the two new Sung Sungs who had been having their
fortunes told by an itinerant fortune-teller whom they had met some
distance down the beach, returned to where they had left their
young charges, and found them not, they were greatly perturbed
and rent the air with their cries. Where could the children have
gone? The beach was a lonely one, several miles from the seaport
city where lived the grandparents of the children. Behind the beach,
the bare land rose for a little way back up the sides and across hills
to meet a forest dark and dense.
Said one Sung Sung to another, looking towards this forest: “One
might as well search for a pin at the bottom of the ocean as search
for the children there. Besides, it is haunted with evil spirits.”
 “A-ya, A-ya, A-ya!” cried the other, “Oh, what will my master and
mistress say if I return home without Little Sleeping Eyes, who is the
golden plum of their hearts?”
“And what will my master and mistress do to me if I enter their
presence without Little Waking Eyes? I verily believe that the sun
shines for them only when he is around.”
For over an hour the two distracted servants walked up and down
the beach, calling the names of their little charges; but there was no
response.

IV

hy grandson—the beloved of my heart, is lost, is lost! Go forth,

old man, and find him.”
Liu Jusong, who had just returned from the Hall, where from morn
till eve he adjusted the scales of justice, stared speechlessly at the
old lady who had thus accosted him. The loss of his grandson he
scarcely realized; but that his humble spouse had suddenly become
his superior officer, surprised him out of his dignity.
“What meaneth thy manner?” he bewilderedly inquired.
“It meaneth,” returned the old lady, “that I have borne all I can
bear. Thy grandson is lost through thy fault. Go, find him!”
“How my fault? Surely, thou art demented!”
“Hadst thou not hated Li Wang, Little Waking Eyes and Little
Sleeping Eyes could have played together in our own grounds or
within the compound of Li Wang. But this is no time to discourse on
spilt plums. Go, follow Li Wang in the search for thy grandsons. I
hear that he has already left for the place where the stupid thorns
who had them in charge, declare they disappeared.”
The old lady broke down.
“Oh, my little Bright Eyes! Where art thou wandering?” she wailed.
Liu Jusong regarded her sternly. “If my enemy,” said he,
“searcheth for my grandsons, then will not I.”
With dignified step he passed out of the room. But in the hall was
a child’s plaything. His glance fell upon it and his expression
softened. Following the servants despatched by his wife, the old
mandarin joined in the search for Little Waking Eyes and Little
Sleeping Eyes.

Under the quiet stars they met—the two old men who had
quarrelled in student days and who ever since had cultivated hate
for each other. The cause of their quarrel had long been forgotten;
but in the fertile soil of minds irrigated with the belief that the
superior man hates well and long, the seed of hate had germinated
and flourished. Was it not because of that hate that their children
were exiles from the homes of their fathers—those children who had
met in a foreign land, and in spite of their fathers’ hatred, had linked
themselves in love.
They spread their fans before their faces, each pretending not to
see the other, while their servants inquired: “What news of the
honorable little ones?”
“No news,” came the answer from each side.
The old men pondered sternly. Finally Liu Jusong said to his
servants: “I will search in the forest.”
“So also will I,” announced Li Wang.
Liu Jusong lowered his fan. For the first time in many years he
allowed his eyes to rest on the countenance of his quondam friend,
and that quondam friend returned his glance. But the servant men
shuddered.
“It is the haunted forest,” they cried. “Oh, honorable masters,
venture not amongst evil spirits!”
But Li Wang laughed them to scorn, as also did Liu Jusong.
“Give me a lantern,” bade Li Wang. “I will search alone since you
are afraid.”
He spake to his servants; but it was not his servants who
answered: “Nay, not alone. Thy grandson is my grandson and mine
is thine!”

“Oh, grandfather,” cried Little Waking Eyes, clasping his arms

around Liu Jusong’s neck, “where are father and mother?”
 And Little Sleeping Eyes murmured in Li Wang’s ear, “I want my
father and mother!”
Liu Jusong and Li Wang looked at each other. “Let us send for our
children,” said they.

ow many moons, Liu Venti, since our little ones went from us?”
asked Pau Tsu.
She was very pale, and there was a yearning expression in her
eyes.
“Nearly five,” returned Liu Venti, himself stifling a sigh.
“Sometimes,” said Pau Tsu, “I feel I cannot any longer bear their
absence.”
She drew from her bosom two little shoes, one red, one blue.
“Their first,” said she. “Oh, my sons, my little sons!”
A messenger boy approached, handed Liu Venti a message, and
slipped away.
Liu Venti read:

May the bamboo ever wave. Son and daughter,

return to your parents and your children.

Liu Jusong, Li
Wang.
“The answer to our prayer,” breathed Pau Tsu. “Oh Liu Venti, love
is indeed stronger than hate!”
 THE BANISHMENT OF MING AND MAI

any years ago in the beautiful land of China, there lived a rich
and benevolent man named Chan Ah Sin. So kind of heart was
he that he could not pass through a market street without buying up
all the live fish, turtles, birds, and animals that he saw, for the
purpose of giving them liberty and life. The animals and birds he
would set free in a cool green forest called the Forest of the Freed,
and the fish and turtles he would release in a moon-loved pool called
the Pool of Happy Life. He also bought up and set free all animals
that were caged for show, and even remembered the reptiles.
Some centuries after this good man had passed away, one of his
descendants was accused of having offended against the laws of the
land, and he and all of his kin were condemned to be punished
therefor. Amongst his kin were two little seventh cousins named
Chan Ming and Chan Mai, who had lived very happily all their lives
with a kind uncle as guardian and a good old nurse. The punishment
meted out to this little boy and girl was banishment to a wild and
lonely forest, which forest could only be reached by travelling up a
dark and mysterious river in a small boat. The journey was long and
perilous, but on the evening of the third day a black shadow loomed
before Ming and Mai. This black shadow was the forest, the trees of
which grew so thickly together and so close to the river’s edge that
their roots interlaced under the water.
The rough sailors who had taken the children from their home,
beached the boat, and without setting foot to land themselves, lifted
the children out, then quickly pushed away. Their faces were deathly
pale, for they were mortally afraid of the forest, which was said to
be inhabited by innumerable wild animals, winged and crawling
things.
Ming’s lip trembled. He realized that he and his little sister were
now entirely alone, on the edge of a fearsome forest on the shore of
a mysterious river. It seemed to the little fellow, as he thought of his
dear Canton, so full of bright and busy life, that he and Mai had
come, not to another province, but to another world.
One great, big tear splashed down his cheek. Mai, turning to weep
on his sleeve, saw it, checked her own tears, and slipping a little
hand into his, murmured in his ear:
“Look up to the heavens, O brother. Behold, the Silver Stream
floweth above us here as bright as it flowed above our own fair
home.” (The Chinese call the Milky Way the Silver Stream.)
While thus they stood, hand in hand, a moving thing resembling a
knobby log of wood was seen in the river. Strange to say, the
children felt no fear and watched it float towards them with interest.
Then a watery voice was heard. “Most honorable youth and maid,” it
said, “go back to the woods and rest.”
It was a crocodile. Swimming beside it were a silver and a gold
fish, who leaped in the water and echoed the crocodile’s words; and
following in the wake of the trio, was a big green turtle mumbling:
“To the woods, most excellent, most gracious, and most honorable.”
Obediently the children turned and began to find their way among
the trees. The woods were not at all rough and thorny as they had
supposed they would be. They were warm and fragrant with
aromatic herbs and shrubs. Moreover, the ground was covered with
moss and grass, and the bushes and young trees bent themselves to
allow them to pass through. But they did not wander far. They were
too tired and sleepy. Choosing a comfortable place in which to rest,
they lay down side by side and fell asleep.
When they awoke the sun was well up. Mai was the first to open
her eyes, and seeing it shining through the trees, exclaimed: “How
beautiful is the ceiling of my room!” She thought she was at home
and had forgotten the river journey. But the next moment Ming
raised his head and said: “The beauty you see is the sun filtering
through the trees and the forest where—”
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