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 At the age of thirteen a change came in Liu's life. A relative, of whom there are ever plenty in Chinese families, had persuaded the little widow that mints of money might be made by embarking in business. After much persuasion, she yielded. Was not the interest small? And would not her boy need more as he grew older? And was she not ambitious for him? The sums loaned were called in, and the little home mortgaged.

Soon a great double shop displayed a new and euphonious name. Big lanterns swung below the eaves. Long boards with letters of gold told of the virtues of the place, while within hams swung from the ceilings, various confections covered the counters and long strings of tobacco lined the shop front close by the street. For five years business went on briskly. By degrees, however, other relatives and friends attached themselves till "the money failed to fill the mouths," and, in brief, business failed and had to be abandoned. Another venture was made in the then flourishing opium trade, but their capital was limited and larger firms outsold them.

Liu was now a youth of twenty. With the little capital left he tried running a sox shop. Alas, in his last venture he had lost more than money. He had lost manhood as well. His countrymen have a proverb, "You can't work in a dye shop and keep your clothes unstained." Liu had himself fallen a victim to the opium he sold to others.

The record of his ruin is the old story of China's sorrow after that. Sucking his pipe, sleeping, sliding