On arriving at the mountain, there is a grand feast, and after the picnic, for such it is, every one goes home again.

That is the real thing; now for the imitation.

Names are put down, and money is collected, as before; but the funds are spent over a feast at home, alongside of a paper mountain.
Another of these deceptions, which deceive nobody, is one which might be usefully adapted to life in other countries.

A Chinaman meeting in the street a friend, and having no leisure to stop and talk, or perhaps meeting some one with whom he may be unwilling to talk, will promptly put up his open fan to screen his face, and pass on.

The suggestion is that, wishing to pass without notice, he fails to see the person in question, and it would be a serious breach of decorum on the part of the latter to ignore the hint thus conveyed.
Japan, who may be said to have borrowed the civilization of China, lock, stock and barrel--her literature, her moral code, her arts, her sciences, her manners and customs, her ceremonial, and even her national dress--invented the folding fan, which in the early part of the fifteenth century formed part of the tribute sent from Korea to Peking, and even later was looked upon by the Chinese as quite a curiosity.