Weihaiwei, Aug. 6—I always regard Weihaiwei as one of the homes of scarecrows. And when I say this I am not casting any aspersions on the costumes of the farmers, for they are generally very well dressed ~...but so are the scarecrows: it is no unusual thing to mistake a scarecrow for a farmer, or vice versa, and only yesterday, when I walked across to a patch of millet to examine the unusual sight of a scarecrow dressed in female garb, it suddenly began to wield a hoe. The variety of "scares" is endless, beginning with the hats te scare the hares off the peanut shoots; and finishing with the "Mike Higgses" whose duty it is to drive the ever-growing flocks of sparrows off the ripening Millet and Rye. When I use the term "Mike Higgs" I refer to the living boys and youthy whom I have named from an old song which began, "Mike Higgs used to feed the pigs—coaxed them with his hob-nailed boots: Mike's nose scared away. the crows—kept them off the farmer's fruits" which is all wrong, if you will only note tha crows are not generally charged with attacking fruit! If the lyricist had made it "roots" to thyme with "boots" he would have been more correct, but he had to drag in the unripe plum which caused the early decease of the said Mike Higgs. August is the month of the local Mike Higgses, and when you begin to hear a noise like the wailing of a lost Banshee you will know they are at work. Mike sits be-Hae a pole on which floats a banner of light every little patch of autumn grain, ar
netting: on top of the pole are two tins tied together so that they make a clatter when Mike shakes the pole; in-between-times he just howls dismally; but when the wind blows things are different: wind flutters netting; netting shakes pole; pole rattles tins; tins make noise, And Mike Higgs goes happily to sleep.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.