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 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.

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