can hold a Japanese to a bargain as easily as one can hold a slipperycatfish on a gourd." The Sons of Nippon have another point in theirfavour: the British merchant is a Westerner, while the Japanese usesto the full his advantage of being an Oriental like ourselves. Trade--trade-- is what Japan craves, and it is according to its need that shemakes friends or enemies. It is her reason for all she does; herdiplomacy, her suavity is based upon it; her army and her vast navyare to help gain and hold it; it is the end and aim of her ambitions.We, Chinese, have people-- millions, tens of millions of them. Whenthey are better educated, when China is more prosperous, when newdemands and higher standards of living are created, when the cooliewill not be satisfied with his bowl of rice a day and his one bluegarment, then possibilities of commerce will be unlimited. Japan seesthis with eyes that look far into the future, and she wants to controlthis coming trade-- and I fear she will. She has an ambition that is asgreat as her overpowering belief in herself, an ambition to be in theEast what England is in the West; and she is working patiently,quietly, to that end. We fear her; but we are helpless. I hear the mentalk bitterly; but what can they do. We must not be another Corea; wemust wait until we are strong, and look to other hands to help us inour struggle.We hope much from America, that country which has so wonderful aninfluence upon us, which appeals to our imagination because it isgreat and strong and prosperous. The suave and humorous American,with his easy ways, is most popular with our people, although hecannot always be trusted nor is his word a bond. He is different fromthe man of England, who is not fond of people not of his own colourand will not try to disguise the fact. He is cold and shows nosympathy to those of an alien race, although we must admit healways acts with a certain amount of justice. America iscontemptuous of China and her people, but it is a kindly contempt,not tinged with the bitterness of the other Powers, and we hope,because of that kindliness and also because of trade interests (theAmerican is noted for finding and holding the place that yields himdollars), she will play the part of a kindly friend and save China fromher enemies who are now watching each other with such jealouseyes. There is another reason why we like America: she does notseem to covet our land. There is no Shang-tung nor Wei-hai-wei forher. I would that she and England might form a bond of brotherhoodfor our protection; because all the world knows that where Germany,Russia, or Japan has power, all people from other lands are barred byclose-shut doors.Since hearing my husband talk I see those babies with other eyes,with eyes of knowledge and dislike. I see them becoming one of thetwo great classes in Japan-- merchants with grasping hands to holdfast all they touch, or men of war. There is no other class. And, too,they have no religion to restrict them, irreverence already marks theirattitude toward their gods. They will imitate and steal what they wantfrom other countries, even as their ancestors took their religion, theirart, their code of ethics, even their writing, from other peoples. Theirpast is a copy of the East; their present is an attempt to be a copy ofthe West. They cannot originate or make a thing from withinthem-selves.Their lives are coarse and sordid when stripped of the elaboratecourtesy and sham politeness that marks their dealings with theoutside world. Their courtesy, what is it? This thin veneer of politenessis like their polished lacquer that covers the crumbling wood within.But we have a proverb, "Even a monkey falls"; and some distant daythe Western world that thinks so highly of Japan will see beneath thesurface and will leave her, and the great pagoda she has buildedwithout foundation will come tumbling down like the houses of sandwhich my children build in the garden. It will be seen that they are liketheir beautiful kimonas, that hang so gracefully in silken folds. Buttake away the kimonas, and the sons and daughters of that Empireare revealed in all their ugliness-- coarse, heavy, sensual, with nograce or spirit life to distinguish them from animals.They are like their beautiful kimonas, that hang so gracefully in silken folds.Do I speak strongly, my Mother? We feel most strongly the action ofthe Japanese in this, our time of trouble. We have lost friends; thehusbands, brothers, fathers of our women-folk are lying in longtrenches because of training given to our rebels by members of thatrace. I should not speak so frankly, but it is only to thee that I cansay what is within my heart. I must put the bar of silence across mylips with all save thee; and sitting here within the courtyard I hear allthat goes on inYamen, shop, and women's quarters. One need notleave one's doorway to learn of the great world. I hear my sons speakof new China, and many things I do not understand; my husband andhis friends talk more sedately, for they are watching thoughtful men,trying hard to steer this, our ship of State, among the rocks that nowbeset it close on every side. My daughters bring their friends, myservants their companions, and the gossip of our busy world isemptied at my feet.The clock strikes one, and all the world's asleep except,Kwei-li.11Dear MotherShe is here, my daughter-in-law, and I can realise in a small degreethy feelings when I first came to thy household. I know thou wertprepared to give me the same love and care that my heart longs togive to this, the wife of my eldest son. I also know how she feels inthis strange place, with no loved faces near her, with the thought thatperhaps the new home will mean the closed doors of a prison, and thehusband she never saw until the marriage day the jealous guardianthereof. I have tried to give her welcome and let her see that she isheart of our hearts, a part of us.She is different from the young girls I have seen these latter days,different from my daughters, and-- I may say it to thee, my Mother-- asweeter, dearer maiden in many ways. She has been trained withinthe courtyards in the old-fashioned customs that make for simplicityof heart, grace of manner, that give obedience and respect to olderpeople; and she has the delicate high-bred ways that our girls seemto feel unnecessary in the hurry of these days. She takes me back toyears gone by, where everything is like a dream, and I can feel againthe chair beneath me that carried me up the mountain-side with itsshadowing of high woods, and hear the song of water falling gentlyfrom far-off mountain brooks, and the plaintive cry of flutes unseen,that came to welcome me to my new home.The pathway up the mountain-side.With her dainty gowns, her tiny shoes, her smooth black hair, she isa breath from another world, and my sons and daughters regard heras if she were a stray butterfly, blown hither by some wind too strongfor her slight wings. She is as graceful as the slender willow, heryouthful charm is like the cherry-tree in bloom, and the sweetthoughts natural to youth and the springtime of life, flow from her heartas pure as the snow-white blossoms of the plum-tree. She does notbelong to this, our modern world; she should be bending with irisgrace above goldfish in the ponds, or straying in gardens where thereare lakes of shimmering water murmuring beneath great lotus flowersthat would speak to her of love.We are all more than charmed, and gather to the sunshine she hasbrought. As they knelt before us for our blessing, I thought what ahappy thing is youth and love. "Kings in their palaces grow old, butyouth dwells forever at contentment's side."But I must tell thee of the marriage. Instead of the red chair ofmarriage, my new daughter-in-law was brought from the house of heruncle in that most modern thing, a motor-car. I insisted that it shouldbe covered with red satin, the colour of rejoicing; and great rosettestrailed from the corners to the ground. The feasting was elaborate andcaused me much care in its preparation, as not only had beenprovided the many different kinds of food for our Chinese friends, butforeigners, who came also, were served with dishes made expresslyfor them, and with foreign wines, of which they took most liberally.The Europeans, men and women, ate and drank together with afreedom that to me is most unseemly, and I cannot understand themen who have no pride in their women's modesty but allow them to sitat table with strange men close by their side. Behind the archway, weChinese women "of the old school," as my daughter calls us, feastedand laughed our fill, just as happy as if parading our new gowns beforethe eyes of stranger-men.Li-ti is delighted with thy gift, the chain of pearls. It is a mostappropriate present, for "pearls belong of right to her whose soulreflects the colour of youth's purity"; and I, I am so happy in this newlife that has come to dwell beneath our rooftree. I had many fears thatshe would not be to my liking, that she would be a modern Chinesewoman; and another one, oh, Mother mine, would fill to overflowing mybowl of small vexations; but the place is perfumed by her scent, thescent of sandalwood, which represents the China that I love, andflowers of jessamine and purple hyacinths and lilies-of-the-valley,which speak to us of youth and spring and love and hope.Thy daughter, who gives the messages from all thy family, who touchthy hand with deep respect.12My Dear Mother,I am sorry that thou hast been troubled by news of the fighting withinthe province. All is well with us, as we sent thee word by telegraph. Ifanything happens that touches any of thy household, we will sendthee word at once.This town is a hotbed of rebellion, and it is all because the rebels havebeen enabled to perfect their plans through the existence of theforeign settlements. How I dislike these foreigner adventurers! I wishthey would take their gilded dust, their yellow gold, and leave us toour peace; but they walk our streets as lords and masters, and allowthe plotting traitors to make their plans, and we are helpless. If I wereChina's ruler and for one day had power, there would not be one whiteman left within the borders of my country. We hear each day offriends who give their lives on the field of battle, these battles and thisconflict which would not be present with us were it not for the foreignpowers, who within these settlements, protect the low-browed ruffianswho are plotting China's ruin.Did I say I disliked these foreigners? How mild a word! Thou, inSezchuan, far from the touch of the alien life, hast never seen thesepeople who cause us so much trouble. How can I describe them tothee so that thou wilt understand? They are like unto the dragons ofthe earth, for ugliness. Men have enormous stature and mightystrength, and stride with fierce and lordly steps. Their faces have greatnoses between deep-set eyes, and protruding brows, and ponderousjaws like animals-- symbols of brute force which needs but to be seento frighten children in the dark. We are the gentler race, and we feelinstinctively the dominating power of these men from over the seas,who all, American, Russian, German, English, seem to be cast in thesame brutal mould. Their women have long, horse-like faces, showingthe marks of passion and discontent, which they try to cover with thecontents of the powder-jar and with rouge; they are utterly unlike thewomen of our race, who are taught to express no hate, no love, noranything save perfect repose and gentleness, as befits true ladyhood.One has but to see a Chinese gentleman, with his easy manners,composed, self-contained, with a natural dignity, to know that we arebetter trained than the people from the West. It is because we aretrue idealists. We show it in our grading of society. With us thescholar is honoured and put first, the farmer second, the artisan third,and the merchant and the soldier last. With them, these worshippersof the dollar, the merchant is put first, and the man to guard that dollaris made his equal! That is a standard for a nation! The barterer and themurderer; let others follow where they lead.These foreigners rate China low, who have never met a Chinesegentleman, never read a line of Chinese literature, and who look atyou in ignorance if you mention the names of our sages. They see noChinese except their servants, and they judge the world about themfrom that low point of view. I know a lady here who is a leader in theirsociety, a woman who has lived within our land for many tens ofyears; when asked to meet a prince of our house Imperial, shedeclined, saying she never associated with Chinese. A prince to herwas no more than any other yellow man; she said she would as soonthink of meeting her gate coolie at a social tea. How can there be acommon meeting-ground between our people and the averageEuropean, of whom this woman is a representative and who is notalone in her estimation of the people amongst whom she lives butwhom she never sees. They get their knowledge of China fromservants, from missionaries who work among the lower classes, andfrom newspaper reports that are always to the disadvantage of ourpeople.More and more the West must see that the East and West may meetbut never can they mingle. Foreigners can never enter our innerchamber; the door is never wholly opened, the curtain never drawnaside between Chinese and European. The foreign man is amaterialist, a mere worshipper of things seen. With us "the taste ofthe tea is not so important as the aroma." When Chinese gentlemenmeet for pleasure, they talk of poetry and the wisdom of the sages, ofrare jade and porcelains and brass. They show each other treasures,they handle with loving fingers the contents of their cherished boxes,and search for stores of beauty that are brought to light only for thosewho understand. But when with foreigners, the talk must be of tea, itsprices, the weight of cotton piece goods, the local gossip of the townin which they live. Their private lives are passed within a world apart,and there is between these men from different lands a greater bar thanthat of language-- the bar of mutual misunderstanding and lack ofsympathy with the other race.Poor China! She is first clubbed on the head and then stroked on theback by these foreigners, her dear friends. Friends! It is only when thecold season comes that we know the pine-tree and the cypress to beevergreens, and friends are known in adversity. The foreigners whoprofess to be our friends are waiting and hoping for adversity to comeupon us, that they may profit by it. They want our untouched wealth,our mines of coal and iron and gold, and it is upon them they havecast their eyes of greed.The foreigners have brought dishonesty in business dealings to ourmerchants. At first, the trader from the foreign land found that hecould rely on old-time customs and the word of the merchant to bind abargain; but what did the Chinese find? There are no old-time customsto bind a foreigner, except those of bond and written document. Hehas no traditions of honour, he can be held by nothing except a courtof law. For years the word "China" has meant to the adventurers ofother lands a place for exploitation, a place where silver was to beobtained by the man with fluent tongue and winning ways. Evenforeign officials did not scruple to use their influence to enter trade.An old case has recently come before the Governor. It has beenbrought many times to the ears of the officials, but they have saidnothing, for fear of offending the Great Government whoserepresentative is involved in the not too pleasant transaction. One ofour great inland cities had no water nearer than the river, several milesaway. A foreign official with a machine of foreign invention digged deepinto the earth and found pure, clear water. Then he thought, "If there isater here for me, why not for all this great city of many tens ofthousands?" Which was a worthy thought, and he saw for himselfgreat gains in bringing to the doors of rich and poor alike the waterfrom the wells. He told theTaotaithat he would go to his country andbring back machines that would make the water come forth as fromliving springs. The official met his friends and the plan was discussedand many thousands oftaelswere provided and given into the handsof the official from over the seas. The friends of theTaotaifelt no fearfor their money, as the official signed a contract to produce water fromthe earth, and he signed, not as a simple citizen but as therepresentative of his government, with the great seal of thatgovernment attached to the paper. Of course our simple peoplethought that the great nation was behind the project; and they wereamazed and startled when, after a trip to his home land and a returnwith only one machine, a few holes were made but no water found,and the official announced that he was sorry but there was nothingmore that he could do. He did not offer to return the money, and in hisposition he could not be haled into a court of law; there was nothingfor his dupes to do but to gaze sadly into the great holes that hadtaken so much money, and remember that wisdom comes withexperience."When a man has been burned once with hot soup he forever afterblows upon cold rice"; so these same men of China will think o'erlongbefore trusting again a foreigner with their silver.Thy son has been trying to settle another case. Some men fromAmerica went to Ningpo, and talked long and loud of the darkness ofthe city, its streets dangerous in the night-time, its continual firescaused by the flickering lamps of oil that are being so constantlyoverturned by the many children. They told the officials that the timeswere changing, that to walk the streets with a lighted lantern in thehand is to lose step with the march of progress. They showed thebenefits of the large lights of electricity blazing like a sun on eachcorner of the great city, making it impossible for robbers andevil-doers to carry on their work in darkness. They promised to turnnight-time into day, to put white lights inYamen, office, andhouse-hold. There should be a light beneath each rooftree, at nogreater expense than the bean-oil lamp. They were most plausible,and many thousands of silver dollars were brought forth and given tothe men as contract money. They left us to buy machinery; the yearshave passed; they never have returned. Ningpo still has streets ofdarkness, men still walk abroad with lighted lanterns, the bean-oillamp is seen within the cottage and-- will be until the hills shall fade,so far as the officials are concerned, who once dreamed dreams of acity lit by the light as of myriad suns.How can the missionaries have the face to come here with theirreligion, when the dissolute white man is in every port manifesting alust and greed and brutality which Chinese are accustomed toassociate with the citizenship and religion attributed to Christianity.No wonder it is hard for them to make converts among the people whohave business dealings with these men from Christian nations.But China will not forever bear the ill-treatment of men from Westernlands. She is awake to all the insults; she has learned in the bitterhalls of experience. She sleeps no longer; she will rise in self-defenseand fight aggression; and the nations who have misused her mustremember that when she moves it will be the movement of a mightypeople aroused by the thought of their great wrongs. She is peacefuland long-suffering, but she is different from the old-time China. Shehas now a national spirit that has been brought about by better meansof communication between provinces. In the olden time it was difficultfor one part or the Empire to know the conditions in another. But nowthe telegraph and the daily newspaper come to all the smallestvillages. I am sure that the watchman by thy outer gate reads as heguards thy household, and learns in far Sezchuan what has happenedto-day in Peking, or the Southern city of Canton, and the news isdiscussed in the tea-shops and on corners by men from farm andshop and office.The foreigners are mistaken in their belief that China can never beunited. She has been one for centuries, in beliefs, in morals, ineducation, and in religion, and now she will be more united in herstand against the hated white man who covets her treasures. Shemay quarrel with her brothers within her borders; but that is nothingbut a family feud, and in time of danger from outside, like all families,she will unite to fight for her own until the last red lantern fades andthe morning star is shining. Enough of politics and bitterness! I hearthy son, who is coming for his evening cup of tea.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.13My Dear Mother,The times here are very bad; people are fleeing from the inland citiesand coming to Shanghai by the thousands. The place is crowded tosuffocation.The people are fleeing from the inland cities.Wu Ting-fang was here and talked long into the night with myhusband. My son, who, I am afraid, does not think too highly of thisgreat man, says that he is with the party that is "on top," that hespends most of his time sitting on the fence-- whatever that maymean. I drove past his house the other day and did not see him sittingon the fence, but on his veranda, calmly drinking tea.Sun Yat-sen has violated his word of honour and has joined theSouthern forces. We feel he has acted most dishonourably and (myson again) should have "staid bought." Gossips say he received manymillions oftaels, presumably for the railroads, but that was only anexcuse to slip the money into his wide and hungry pockets.It is decided to send my son to Canton, into the office of the governorof that province. We are glad to get him away from Shanghai, which isa nest of adders and vipers, conspiring and raising their poisonousheads in the dark. One does not know whom to trust, or who mayprove to be a traitor.Li-ti, his wife, wishes to go with him, and weeps the whole daythrough because we will not permit it. She is not well, and we tell hershe will not be really separated from her husband, because, as thepoets tell us, people who love, though at a distance from each other,are like two lutes tuned in harmony and placed in adjoining rooms.When you strike thekungnote on one, thekungnote on the other willanswer, and when you strike thechonote on the one thechonote onthe other will give the same sound. They are both tuned to the samepitch, when the influence of the key-note, love, is present.I took my son apart the other night and said, "I am thy mother and Iwant to speak words to thee straight from the heart. Thou art to havethe joy of work, and remember the pride of work lies in the thought,'For me alone is the task.'" I tried to make him understand that praise,glory, and honours are good, but they do not make for long life, andespecially in these times it is better to work quietly without attractingtoo much attention. It is more safe, for "he who raises himself ontiptoe cannot stand, and he who stretches his legs wide apart cannotwalk."His father was especially anxious that he be not pierced with thearrow of treachery that poisons the blood and finds the weak spot inthe armour of so many of our young men. He told him to keep himselfabove suspicion, to avoid those entangled in the nets of doubledealing of whom one is uncertain, because "the red glow of themorning sun seems to stain even the pure whiteness of the new-fallensnow."Why, Mother-mine, didst thou send the old priest from the templedown here? He abides in the courtyard, squatting on his heels,serving the spirits neither of Heaven nor of earth, but he sits and talksand talks and talks with the women of the courtyards. There are someof them I would fain send to a far-off province, especially Fang Tai, themother of our gateman."A woman with a long tongue is a flight of steps leading to calamity."This priest of thine has been quarrelling with her now over the questionof the son of Wong Tai, who is accused of being on too friendly termswith some of the leaders of the rebellion. He made the unfortunateremark that perhaps the man was innocent but "one does not arrangehis head-dress under an apricot-tree, nor his foot-gear in a melonpatch, if he wishes to be above suspicion," and this simple remarkhas called down upon his priestly head the wrath of all the women. Ithink he will go to the monastery within the city to pass the night-- atleast if he has wisdom equal to his years.Yesterday I thought that I might make some use of him, and I feltwhen he was working he would not be stirring up the courtyards. Ibade him write the Sage's words upon a scroll of satin for my boy totake with him to his new home. He did it very beautifully, as he is areal artist with the brush. This is the reading of the scroll:"There are three things for a man to guard against:The lusts of the flesh in early years,The spirit of combativeness in middle-age,And ambition as the years go on.There are three things to command your reverence:The ordinances of Heaven,Great men, and the words of the sages.There are three times three things to be remembered:To be clear in vision,Quick in hearing,Kindly in expression,Respectful in demeanour,True in word,Serious in duty,Inquiring in doubt,Self-controlled in anger,And just and fair when the chair of success is before your door."I made a roll of it and placed it upon his desk, and when he opened ithe found within another scroll of silk, the same in colour, size, andfinish, written by his most unfilial sisters, which read:"Remember that thou art young.What thoudostknow is not to be compared,With what thou dostnotknow."It made him angry at first, but I do not know but that the shorter scrollcontains the greater wisdom.I am anxious for this boy of mine, who is starting to sail his ship ofmanhood across the Broad River of Life in these most perilous times.I think he is strong enough to conquer all, but I have lighted candlesand bought fine incense to persuade the Gods to temper winds tountried hands.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.14My Dear Mother,I have not written thee for several days. We are in Nanking, where myhusband is presiding at a meeting of the officials in order to discussthe question of a compromise, or to try in some way to settle thequestions that are causing this dreadful rebellion, without more loss oflife. He is also acting as judge in the case of some of the men whohave been caught pillaging and destroying the homes of the innocentpeople. It is hard for him to act with strict justice, remembering themany friends he has lost, and it is necessary to see things withouttheir individuality in order to be wise in all judgments. I came,ostensibly to see the friends of my childhood, but really to take careof thy son and see that he eats with regularity and takes his rest. Heis working far too hard. He gives himself to whatever task arrives,greedy for the work, like one who lusts in the delight of seeing tasksaccomplished. But he is trusted by all, both sides agreeing to rest onhis decisions, all realising that personal feeling is put far into thebackground of his mind when the interests of new China are at stake.We are in theYamenwhere I lived as a young girl, but now all ischanged. Instead of the old guard of honour, with their great flappinghats, their gaily decorated jackets, baggy trousers tucked into velvetboots, pennants flying from their spear-points as their small poniesdashed madly in front of the official carriage, we were met by a bodyof foreign-dressed soldiers who conducted us with military precisionquite different from the old-time dash and lack of discipline.Inside theYamen, also, things are different. Everything is orderly andmoves with a machine-like regularity that seems totally foreign to anEastern official's residence. There is not the democracy of other days;the man from the street, the merchant or the coolie with his burden onhis shoulders, did not follow us into the courtyards to see what wasbeing done, nor were there crowds of idle men gazing with mildcuriosity at the visitors to their city.We hear much of the old-time power of the officials; but things are notnearly so democratic under this new government as in former times,when, it is true, the governor had power of life and death, but still wasobliged to deal leniently with his people. A little larger demand fortribute, a case of rank injustice, and he became the object of thepeople's wrath and would quite likely see hisYamenin a blaze, orpay with his life for his greed. The masses held real power within theirhands. If their officials did not deal justly with them, they caused ariot, and if the frightened official could not still it within a certain time,he was told that he evidently could not control his people and so wasremoved.My husband inspected the regiments stationed here. I saw them froma veranda in theYamenwhere we women were unseen. Fifteenthousand men marched past him; and they were a sight for one wholoves his country. They were all young men, no one seeming to beover twenty-five, and as they marched my heart was filled with prideand hope in them. I thought, it is of just such men, such sons ofpeasants and working people, that Japan made her army that gaineda victory over one of the greatest nations in the Western world. Whycannot we, with our unlimited numbers, make an army that will causeour country to be respected and take its place among the powers ofthe world? We have the men, myriads and myriads of them; men whoare used to hardship and privation in their daily life, who, on a bowl ofrice, a morsel of dried fish, can fight the whole day through. Our menare not accustomed to the luxuries of the foreigners, who, even intimes of war, carry great stores of what seems to Eastern nations,unnecessary baggage. With them their endless string of wagons istheir greatest pitfall, and with us these latter could be reduced to thesmallest count.Yet we hear on every hand that the courage of the Chinese soldier isheld at low value. But why? When sent unarmed, or with guns forwhich there were no bullets, into the Japanese war, against troopswith the latest inventions in weapons to kill, the only thing to be donewas to retreat. But when they are paid, fed, and armed, and haveleaders who will go to the front with them, instead of saying, "There isthe enemy. Charge! I will go back to the hills and await your hour ofglory," they are found to be courageous to the verge of fanaticism.Under trusted leaders there is no forlorn hope or desperate service forwhich they would not volunteer. Let them have confidence in their newgenerals, and, even though not understanding the cause, they willmake the best soldiers in the world.But I must not talk to thee of war; we want not more bloodshed andthe fatherless homes and lean years that follow in the track of greatarmies. Yet, if we cannot be without it, let it serve war's ends-- theultimate safety of our people, and bring them peace and tranquillity,their heart's desire.I visited the ruined homes of friends of mine, who are no more. It mademe feel that life is nothing but a mirage, a phantom, or as foam, and"even as all earthly vessels made on the potter's wheel must end bybeing broken, so end the lives of men." I went out to the home ofYuan Tai-tai, who, to my childish mind was the great lady of mydreams. I can close my eyes and see her still, like a brilliantbutter-fly, dressed in her gay brocades, her hair twined with jewels ofpearl and jade; with hand in mine she wandered o'er her garden,bending over goldfish ponds, or clipping fading flowers from off theirstems. There reigned a heavy silence in her palace, with itsmemories, that seemed full of sadness and a vague regret, remindingme of an old blue China bowl which a hand of other days had filledwith roses. The flowers trying to struggle from beneath the thorns andbrambles that always come where troops are quartered, seemed tosay, "Behold, they are not here who once have cared for us andcherished us, but the gardens breathe of them and we are fragrant fortheir sakes." I picked a branch of cherry-blossoms, and swiftly fell theperfumed petals to the ground-- symbols of the dainty lives thatbloomed so short a time in this fair garden of my lady. Liu Che, thepoet of the olden time, seems to have been speaking of this, myfriend, when he says:There reigned a heavy silence in her palace with its memories."The sound of rustling silk is stilled,With dust the marble courtyard filled;No footfalls echo on the floor,Fallen leaves in heaps block up the door...For she, my pride, my lovely one is lost."We went from Yuan's palace to the Temple of Kwan-yin, which I oftenvisited as a child. It also was a ruin, but it spoke to me of the deadthousands of weary feet that had climbed the steps leading to itsshrines; of the buried mothers who touched the floor before its altarswith reverent heads and asked blessings on their children's lives; oftheir children, taught to murmur prayers to the Mother of all Mercies,who held close within her loving heart the sorrows, hopes, and fears ofwoman's world. Ghosts of these spirits seemed to follow as wewandered through deserted courtyards, and an odour as of oldincense perfumed the air. I went out and stood upon the tortoise thatis left to guard the ruined temple; the great stone tortoise that is thesymbol of longevity of our country, that even armies in their wrathcannot destroy.From the gateway we could see the river, a gleaming thread of silver,and the hillsides, tree clad, flower wreathed, painted with the coloursthat the Gods give to the spring-- the spring that "thrills the warmblood into wine." But I miss the natural songs that should float upwardfrom the valley, and down the reed-strewn banks of the canals, wherelabourers in olden days were happy in their toil.We could see the river, a gleaming thread of silver, and the hillsides, tree clad, flower wreathed, painted with the colours that the Gods give to the spring.Even as we left the place the pattering rain-drops came as rice grainsfalling upon the threshing-floor, and the hills seemed "folding veils ofsorrow round their brows." It was brought to our remembrance that wemust return to a city where war and famine may come thundering ather gates, and we must stand with helpless hands.Dear Mother mine, stay upon thy flower-scented balustrade, and drinkgreat draughts of that wine of spring, the vintage of the wise, that theGods give to thee freely in thy mountain home, and leave to youngerhands the battles with the world. Thou must not come; write no morethat thou wouldst be amongst us. We love thee dearly, but we wouldcherish thee and keep thee from all care.Kwei-li.15My Dear Mother,I have had a most interesting day, and I hasten to tell thee all about it.I have just returned from opening a home for motherless children,given by a mission of a foreign land. It is a beautiful thought, and akindly one, to give a home to these poor waifs of an alien land, all inthe name of their Saviour of the World. I saw for the first time a pictureof this Christ, with little children around Him. The message I readwithin His eyes seemed to be: "I will be father and mother, father andmother and playmate to all little children." The words of the Japanesepoet describe Him: "He was caressing them kindly, folding Hisshining robes round them; lifting the smallest and frailest into Hisbosom, and holding His staff for the tumblers to clutch. To His longgown clung the infants, smiling in response to His smile, glad in Hisbeauteous compassion."I looked at the picture and at the people around me on the platform,and wondered why in all the Christian world that claims this lovingMaster there should be such exceeding bitterness between Hisfollowers. How can they expect us to believe in this great Teacherwhen they themselves are doubtful of his message, and criticise quiteopenly their Holy Book? If it is true, should education and sciencemake its teaching less authentic? We do not want a religion that isuncertain to its own people, yet we take with many thanks what it cangive us, the things we understand, such as their schools andhospitals. Where there is pain or ignorance, there is no distinction inthe God that brings relief. We may not believe in the doctrines that weare taught in the waiting-rooms of their hospitals, but we do believe inthe healing power of the medicines that are brought by religious zealfrom over the seas.If their teaching has not as yet made many converts, the effect hasbeen great in the spread of higher ideals of education, and much ofthe credit for the progress of our modern life must be given to themission schools, which, directly or indirectly, have opened newpathways in the field of education for our country, and caused theyouth of China to demand a higher learning throughout the land. Thisaggressive religion from the West, coupled with the education thatseems to go hand in hand with it, is bound to raise the religious planeof China by forcing our dying faiths to reassume higher and higherforms in order to survive.But I believe that these teachers from the foreign lands shouldunderstand better the religions they are so anxious to displace, andinstead of always looking for the point of difference or weakness in ourfaith, should search more anxiously for the common ground, the sparkof the true light that may still be blown to flame, finding the altar thatmay be dedicated afresh to the true God.Every religion, however imperfect, has something that ought to be heldsacred, for there is in all religions a secret yearning after the unknownGod. This thought of God "is an elixir made to destroy death in theworld, an unfailing treasure to relieve the poverty of mankind, a balmto allay his sickness, a tree under which may rest all creatureswearied with wanderings over life's pathways. It is a bridge for passingover hard ways, open to all wayfarers, a moon of thought arising tocool the fever of the world's sin, and whatever name His followers maycall Him, he is the one True God of all mankind."Whether we see the coolie bowing his head before the image of theLord of Light, the Buddha, or the peasant woman with her papermoney alight in the brazier at the feet of Kwan-yin, we ought to feelthat the place where he who worships stands, is holy ground. Wehear it said that he is worshipping an image, an idol, a thing of stoneor wood or clay. It is not so; he is thinking far beyond the statue, he isseeing God. He looks upwards towards the sky and asks whatsupports that cup of blue. He hears the winds and asks them whencethey come and where they go. He rises for his toil at break of day andsees the morning sun start on his golden journey. And Him who is thecause of all these wonders, he calls his Life, his Breath, his Lord ofAll. He does not believe that the idol is his God. "'Tis to the lightwhich Thy splendour lends to the idol's face, that the worshipperbends."He is thinking far beyond the statue, he is seeing God.The difference between us all lies not in the real teaching of our HolyMen, Confucius, Buddha, Lao Tze, or Christ, but in the narrowness ofthe structure which their followers have built upon their words. Thosesages reared a broad foundation on which might have been built,stone by stone, a mighty pagoda reaching to the skies. There couldhave been separate rooms, but no closed doors, and from out thepointed roofs might have pealed the deep-toned bells caught by everywandering breeze to tell the world that here spoke the Truth or theOne Great God. But, instead, what have they done? The followershave each built separately over that portion which was the work oftheir own Master. The stories have grown narrower and narrower withthe years; each bell rings out with its own peculiar tone, and there isno accord or harmony.I do not dispute with those who have found a healing for themselves.To us our religion is something quite inseparable from ourselves,something that cannot be compared with anything else, or replacedith anything else. It is like our bodies. In its form it may be like otherbodies, but in its relation to ourselves it stands alone and admits of norival; yet the remedy that has cured us should not be forced upon apeople, irrespective of their place, their environment or theirtemperament.We of the East "have sounded depth on depth only to find still deeperdepths unfathomed and profound," and we have learned to say that nosect or religion can claim to be in possession ofallthe Truth. Let theteachers from other countries learn of our doctrines. Let them learn ofBuddha. To one who reads his pure teaching, nothing so beautiful,nothing so high, has been heard in all the world. We admit that, littleby little, changes have come, simplicity has been lost, and with everyaddition something departed from its purity and it became stained.Yet I believe that much of the kindliness, much of the gentleness nowso marked in Chinese nature, may be traced to the teaching of thisgreat apostle of peace and quietude.That other great religion, the religion of the Way, has become steepedin superstition and has been made a reproach in all our land. Yet LaoTze had noble sentiments and lofty thoughts that have helpedgenerations of mankind in many struggles.Confucius, it is said, presented high ideals without the breath of spirit;his system was for the head and did not feed the heart; yet he taughtthat, from the highest in the land to the lowest worker in the field,personal virtue, cleanness of heart and hands, is to be held the thingof greatest value. Men are urged to cherish all that is of good in them,to avoid evil living, to cultivate right feeling, and to be true and faithfulto their tasks.We should not value the teaching of our religion "as a miser values hispearls and jade, thinking their value lessened if pearls and jade arefound in other parts of the world." But the searcher after Truth willwelcome any true doctrine, and believe it no less precious because itwas spoken by Buddha, Lao Tze, Confucius or Christ. We should notpeer too closely to learn what the temple may enshrine, but "feel theinfluence of things Divine and pray, because by winding paths we allmay reach the same great Ocean's shore." We all are searchers forthe Way. Whence do I come; where do I go? In this passage from theunknown to the unknown, this pilgrimage of life, which is the straightpath, which the true road-- if indeed there be a Way? Such are thequestions that all the world is asking. What is the true answer; wheremay we find it? Whose holy book holds the key that will open widethe door?All have a hunger of the soul for something beside life's meat anddrink; all want a remedy for the sorrows of the world. The Buddhistsbelieve that it can be found in the destruction of desire, by renouncingthe world and following the noble path of peace until death shall openthe portals of the unknowable, everlasting stillness from which there isno return. The Confucianists say the remedy is found within the worldby fulfilling all its duties and leaving to a greater Justice the future andits rewards. The Christians give a whispered message of hope to thelonely soul beating against the bars of the world about him, and saythat a life of love and joy and peace is the gift of their greatMessenger, and when the years have passed that He stands withinan archway to welcome those, His chosen, to a land of bliss wherewe shall meet all who have loved us and whom we have loved in life,and gaze upon His face.Which istheWay, which path to God is broad enough for all theworld?Kwei-li.16My Dear Mother,I received thy letter which was full of reproaches most unjust. I havenot broken my word, given to thee so long ago. I opened the home forfriendless children, not because it belonged to a mission of a foreignreligion, but because I think it a most worthy cause. There are manyhomeless little ones in this great city, and these people give themfood and clothing and loving care, and because it is given in the nameof a God not found within our temples, is that a reason for withholdingour encouragement?Thou hast made my heart most heavy. Twenty-five years ago, whenmy first-born son was taken from me, I turned from Gods who gave nocomfort in my time of need: all alone with hungry winds of bitternessgnawing the lute strings of my desolate mother-heart, I stood upon myterrace, and fought despair. My days were without hope and mynights were long hours filled with sorrow, when sleep went trailingsoftly by and left me to the old dull pain of memory. I called in anguishupon Kwan-yin, and she did not hear my prayer. The painted smileupon her lips but mocked me, and in despair I said, "There are noGods," and in my lonely court of silent dreams I lost the thread ofworldly care until my tiny bark of life was nearly drifting out upon theunknown sea.Thou rememberest that the servants brought to me from out themarket-place the book of the foreign God, and in its pages I woke tolife again. I looked once more from out my curtained window, and sawthe rosy glow of dawn instead of grey, wan twilights of the hopelessdays before me; and, as on a bridge half seen in shadows dim, Ireturned to the living world about me. Thou saidst nothing until it hadbrought its healing, then thou tookest the book and kept it from me.Thou toldst me with tears that it would bring thine head in sorrow tothy resting-place upon the hillside if I left the Gods of my ancestorsand took unto my heart the words and teachings of the God of analien race. I promised thee that I would not cause thee grief, and Ihave kept my word.In my ignorance I have longed for knowledge, for some one to explainthe teaching that rolled away for me the rush of troubled waters thatflooded all my soul; but as I looked about me and saw the manywarring factions that follow the great Teacher of love and peace, I didnot know which way to turn, which had the truth to give me; and Iwantedall, not part. I have this book, and have not sought for wisdomfrom outside, but only search its pages to find its messages to me.Thou must not say I have deserted China's Gods, nor is it just to writethat my children are wandering from the Way. I have observed thefeasts and fastings; each morn the Household God has rice and teabefore him; the Kitchen God has gone with celebrations at springtimeto the spirit up above. The candles have been lighted and the smokeof incense has ascended to propitiate the God of Light, Lord Buddha,and Kwan-yin, and my children have been taught their prayers andholy precepts. It is not my fault, nor shouldst thou blame it to myteaching if rites and symbols have lost their meaning, and if the Godsof China are no longer strong enough to hold our young.Oh, Mother mine, thou knowest I would not cause thee sorrow, andthou hast hurt me sorely with thy letter of bitterness and reproach. Ifthou couldst have seen within my heart these many ears, and knownthe longing for this light that came to me in darkness, then thouwouldst not have burned the book that brought me hope and life againwhen all seemed gone.Thou askest me to promise thee anew that I will not trouble thy lastfew years with thoughts that seem to thee a sacrilege and adesecration of thy Gods. Thou art the mother of my husband, and 'tisto thee I owe all loyalty and obedience. I promise thee, but-- thatwhich is deep within my heart-- ismine.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.17My Dear Mother,I, thy son's wife, have been guilty of the sin of anger, one of the sevendeadly sins-- and great indeed has been my anger. Ting-fang hasbeen bringing home with him lately the son of Wong Kai-kia, a youngman who has been educated abroad, I think in Germany. I have neverliked him, have looked upon his aping of the foreign manners, hishalf-long hair which looks as if he had started again a queue and thenstopped, his stream of words without beginning and without end, as afoolish boy's small vanities that would pass as the years and wisdomcame. But now-- how can I tell thee-- he asks to have my daughter ashis wife, my Luh-meh, my flower. If he had asked for Man-li, whowishes to become a doctor, I might have restrained my anger; but, no,he wants the beauty of our house-hold, and for full a space of tenbreaths' breathing-time, I withheld my indignation, for I wasspeechless. Then I fear I talked, and only stopped for lack of words.My son is most indignant, and says I have insulted his dear friend.His dear friend indeed! He is so veiled in self-conceit that he can beinsulted by no one; and as for being a friend, he does not know theword unless he sees in it something to further his own particularinterests.I told my son that he is a man who leads a life of idleness and worse.The tea-house knows him better than his rooftree. He is most learnedand has passed safely many examinations, and writes letters at theend of his name, and has made an especial study of the philosophersof the present time; and because of this vast amount of book learningand his supposedly great intelligence he is entitled to indulgence,says my son, and should not be judged by the standards that ruleordinary people, who live upon a lower plane. I say that his knowledgeand greater intelligence (which latter I very much doubt) increase hisresponsibilities and should make of him an example for the betterliving of men.The tea-house knows him better than his rooftree.A clever bad man is like vile characters scrawled in ink of gold, andshould be thrown aside as fit only for the braziers.He is handsome in my daughter's eyes; but I say virtue is within theman, not upon his skin. He fascinates my younger sons with hisphilosophy and his tea-house oratory. I do not like philosophy, it is allmarked with the stamp of infidelity and irreligion. It is rarely that aman devotes himself to it with-out robbing himself of his faith, andcasting off the restraints of his religion; or, if they do not lose it utterly,they so adulterate it with their philosophy that it is impossible toseparate the false from the true. The reading of philosophic writings,so full of vain and delusive reasonings, should be forbidden to ouryoung folk, just as the slippery banks of a river are forbidden to onewho knows not how to swim. I will have none of them in our library,nor will I allow their father to read them where his sons can see him.The snake-charmer should not touch the serpents before his child'seyes, knowing that the child will try to imitate him in all things.It is "as pouring water in a frog's face" to talk to these, my children,who think a man, with words upon his lips, a sage. I say a dog is nota good dog because he is a good barker, nor should a man beconsidered a good man because he is a good talker; but I see onlypity in their faces that their mother is so far behind the times. Theseboys of ours are so much attracted by the glimpses they have had ofEuropean civilisation, that they look down upon their own nationality.They have been abroad only long enough to take on the veneer ofWestern education; it is a half-and-half knowledge; and it is theseyoung men who become the discontented ones of China. When theyreturn they do not find employment immediately, since they havegrown out of touch with their country and their country's customs.They feel that they should begin at the top of the ladder, instead ofworking up slowly, rung by rung, as their fathers did before them.They must be masters all at once, not realising that, even with theirtiny grains of foreign knowledge, they have not yet experience tomake them leaders of great enterprises or of men; yet they know toomuch to think of going back into their father's shop.I realise that the students who go abroad from China have manydifficulties to overcome. It is hard to receive their information andinstruction in a language not their mother tongue. They have smallchance to finish their education by practical work in bank or shop orfactory. They get a mass of book knowledge and little opportunity topractise the theories which they learn, and they do not understandthat the text-book knowledge is nearly all foreign to their country andto the temperament of their race. I often ask, when looking at my son,what is his gain? I presume it is in securing a newer, broader point ofview, an ability to adjust himself to modern conditions, and a widersympathy with the movements of the world.China has for centuries been lost to the world by reason of her greatexclusion, her self-satisfaction and blind reliance upon the waysmarked out for her by sages of other days. These young men, withthe West in their eyes, are coming back to shock their fathers' landinto new channels. The process may not be pleasant for us of the oldschool, but quite likely it is necessary. Yet, I feel deep within me, as Ilook at them, that these new Westernised Easterners with theirforeign ways and clever English are not to be the final saviours ofChina. They are but the clarion voices that are helping to awake theslumbering power. China must depend upon the firmer qualities of thecommon people, touched with the breath of the West.It is with great sorrow that we mothers and fathers see our boys andgirls, especially those who return from abroad, neglecting and scoffingat our modes of education that have endured and done such noblework for centuries past. I know it is necessary to study things modernto keep up with the demands of the times; but they can do this andstill reserve some hours for the reading of the classics. Instead ofalways quoting Byron, Burns, or Shelley, as do my son and daughter,let them repeat the beautiful words of Tu Fu, Li Po, Po Chu-i, ourpoets of the golden age.In no country is real learning held in higher esteem than in China. It isthe greatest characteristic of the nation that, in every grade of society,education is considered above all else. Why, then, should our youngpeople be ashamed of their country's learning? The Chinese havedevoted themselves to the cultivation of literature for a longer period bysome thousands of years than any existing nation. The people wholived at the time of our ancestors, the peoples of Egypt, the Greeks,the Romans, have disappeared ages ago and have left only theirhistories writ in book or stone. The Chinese alone have continued togive to the world their treasures of thought these five thousand years.To literature and to it alone they look for the rule to guide them in theirconduct. To them all writing is most sacred. The very pens andpapers used in the making of their books have become objects ofveneration. Even our smallest village is provided with a scrap-box intowhich every bit of paper containing words or printed matter is carefullyplaced, to await a suitable occasion when it may be reverentlyburned.Change is now the order of the day, educationally as well aspolitically. We do not hear the children shouting their tasks at the topof their voices, nor do they learn by heart the thirteen classics, sittingon their hard benches within the simple rooms with earthen floor,where the faint light comes straggling through the unglazed windowson the boy who hopes to gain the prize that will lead him to the greatHalls of Examination at Peking. If, while there, he is favoured by theGod of Learning and passes the examination, he will come back tohis village an honour to his province, and all his world will come anddo him reverence, from the viceroy in his official chair to the meanestworker in the fields. These old-time examinations are gone, thedegrees which were our pride have been abolished, the subjects ofstudy in the schools have been completely changed. The privilegeswhich were once given our scholars, the social and political officeswhich were once open to the winner of the highest prize, have beenthrown upon the altar of modernity. They say it is a most wise moveand leads to the greater individualism, which is now the battle-cry ofChina. The fault of the old examination, we are told, is the lack oforiginal ideas which might be expressed by a student. He must givethe usual interpretations of the classics. Now the introduction of freethought and private opinion has produced in China an upheaval inmen's minds. The new scholars may say what they think wisest, andthey even try to show that Confucius was at heart a staunchrepublican, and that Mencius only thinly veiled his sentiments of
can hold a Japanese to a bargain as easily as one can hold a slipperycatfish on a gourd." The Sons of Nippon have another point in theirfavour: the British merchant is a Westerner, while the Japanese usesto the full his advantage of being an Oriental like ourselves. Trade--trade-- is what Japan craves, and it is according to its need that shemakes friends or enemies. It is her reason for all she does; herdiplomacy, her suavity is based upon it; her army and her vast navyare to help gain and hold it; it is the end and aim of her ambitions.We, Chinese, have people-- millions, tens of millions of them. Whenthey are better educated, when China is more prosperous, when newdemands and higher standards of living are created, when the cooliewill not be satisfied with his bowl of rice a day and his one bluegarment, then possibilities of commerce will be unlimited. Japan seesthis with eyes that look far into the future, and she wants to controlthis coming trade-- and I fear she will. She has an ambition that is asgreat as her overpowering belief in herself, an ambition to be in theEast what England is in the West; and she is working patiently,quietly, to that end. We fear her; but we are helpless. I hear the mentalk bitterly; but what can they do. We must not be another Corea; wemust wait until we are strong, and look to other hands to help us inour struggle.We hope much from America, that country which has so wonderful aninfluence upon us, which appeals to our imagination because it isgreat and strong and prosperous. The suave and humorous American,with his easy ways, is most popular with our people, although hecannot always be trusted nor is his word a bond. He is different fromthe man of England, who is not fond of people not of his own colourand will not try to disguise the fact. He is cold and shows nosympathy to those of an alien race, although we must admit healways acts with a certain amount of justice. America iscontemptuous of China and her people, but it is a kindly contempt,not tinged with the bitterness of the other Powers, and we hope,because of that kindliness and also because of trade interests (theAmerican is noted for finding and holding the place that yields himdollars), she will play the part of a kindly friend and save China fromher enemies who are now watching each other with such jealouseyes. There is another reason why we like America: she does notseem to covet our land. There is no Shang-tung nor Wei-hai-wei forher. I would that she and England might form a bond of brotherhoodfor our protection; because all the world knows that where Germany,Russia, or Japan has power, all people from other lands are barred byclose-shut doors.Since hearing my husband talk I see those babies with other eyes,with eyes of knowledge and dislike. I see them becoming one of thetwo great classes in Japan-- merchants with grasping hands to holdfast all they touch, or men of war. There is no other class. And, too,they have no religion to restrict them, irreverence already marks theirattitude toward their gods. They will imitate and steal what they wantfrom other countries, even as their ancestors took their religion, theirart, their code of ethics, even their writing, from other peoples. Theirpast is a copy of the East; their present is an attempt to be a copy ofthe West. They cannot originate or make a thing from withinthem-selves.Their lives are coarse and sordid when stripped of the elaboratecourtesy and sham politeness that marks their dealings with theoutside world. Their courtesy, what is it? This thin veneer of politenessis like their polished lacquer that covers the crumbling wood within.But we have a proverb, "Even a monkey falls"; and some distant daythe Western world that thinks so highly of Japan will see beneath thesurface and will leave her, and the great pagoda she has buildedwithout foundation will come tumbling down like the houses of sandwhich my children build in the garden. It will be seen that they are liketheir beautiful kimonas, that hang so gracefully in silken folds. Buttake away the kimonas, and the sons and daughters of that Empireare revealed in all their ugliness-- coarse, heavy, sensual, with nograce or spirit life to distinguish them from animals.They are like their beautiful kimonas, that hang so gracefully in silken folds.Do I speak strongly, my Mother? We feel most strongly the action ofthe Japanese in this, our time of trouble. We have lost friends; thehusbands, brothers, fathers of our women-folk are lying in longtrenches because of training given to our rebels by members of thatrace. I should not speak so frankly, but it is only to thee that I cansay what is within my heart. I must put the bar of silence across mylips with all save thee; and sitting here within the courtyard I hear allthat goes on inYamen, shop, and women's quarters. One need notleave one's doorway to learn of the great world. I hear my sons speakof new China, and many things I do not understand; my husband andhis friends talk more sedately, for they are watching thoughtful men,trying hard to steer this, our ship of State, among the rocks that nowbeset it close on every side. My daughters bring their friends, myservants their companions, and the gossip of our busy world isemptied at my feet.The clock strikes one, and all the world's asleep except,Kwei-li.11Dear MotherShe is here, my daughter-in-law, and I can realise in a small degreethy feelings when I first came to thy household. I know thou wertprepared to give me the same love and care that my heart longs togive to this, the wife of my eldest son. I also know how she feels inthis strange place, with no loved faces near her, with the thought thatperhaps the new home will mean the closed doors of a prison, and thehusband she never saw until the marriage day the jealous guardianthereof. I have tried to give her welcome and let her see that she isheart of our hearts, a part of us.She is different from the young girls I have seen these latter days,different from my daughters, and-- I may say it to thee, my Mother-- asweeter, dearer maiden in many ways. She has been trained withinthe courtyards in the old-fashioned customs that make for simplicityof heart, grace of manner, that give obedience and respect to olderpeople; and she has the delicate high-bred ways that our girls seemto feel unnecessary in the hurry of these days. She takes me back toyears gone by, where everything is like a dream, and I can feel againthe chair beneath me that carried me up the mountain-side with itsshadowing of high woods, and hear the song of water falling gentlyfrom far-off mountain brooks, and the plaintive cry of flutes unseen,that came to welcome me to my new home.The pathway up the mountain-side.With her dainty gowns, her tiny shoes, her smooth black hair, she isa breath from another world, and my sons and daughters regard heras if she were a stray butterfly, blown hither by some wind too strongfor her slight wings. She is as graceful as the slender willow, heryouthful charm is like the cherry-tree in bloom, and the sweetthoughts natural to youth and the springtime of life, flow from her heartas pure as the snow-white blossoms of the plum-tree. She does notbelong to this, our modern world; she should be bending with irisgrace above goldfish in the ponds, or straying in gardens where thereare lakes of shimmering water murmuring beneath great lotus flowersthat would speak to her of love.We are all more than charmed, and gather to the sunshine she hasbrought. As they knelt before us for our blessing, I thought what ahappy thing is youth and love. "Kings in their palaces grow old, butyouth dwells forever at contentment's side."But I must tell thee of the marriage. Instead of the red chair ofmarriage, my new daughter-in-law was brought from the house of heruncle in that most modern thing, a motor-car. I insisted that it shouldbe covered with red satin, the colour of rejoicing; and great rosettestrailed from the corners to the ground. The feasting was elaborate andcaused me much care in its preparation, as not only had beenprovided the many different kinds of food for our Chinese friends, butforeigners, who came also, were served with dishes made expresslyfor them, and with foreign wines, of which they took most liberally.The Europeans, men and women, ate and drank together with afreedom that to me is most unseemly, and I cannot understand themen who have no pride in their women's modesty but allow them to sitat table with strange men close by their side. Behind the archway, weChinese women "of the old school," as my daughter calls us, feastedand laughed our fill, just as happy as if parading our new gowns beforethe eyes of stranger-men.Li-ti is delighted with thy gift, the chain of pearls. It is a mostappropriate present, for "pearls belong of right to her whose soulreflects the colour of youth's purity"; and I, I am so happy in this newlife that has come to dwell beneath our rooftree. I had many fears thatshe would not be to my liking, that she would be a modern Chinesewoman; and another one, oh, Mother mine, would fill to overflowing mybowl of small vexations; but the place is perfumed by her scent, thescent of sandalwood, which represents the China that I love, andflowers of jessamine and purple hyacinths and lilies-of-the-valley,which speak to us of youth and spring and love and hope.Thy daughter, who gives the messages from all thy family, who touchthy hand with deep respect.12My Dear Mother,I am sorry that thou hast been troubled by news of the fighting withinthe province. All is well with us, as we sent thee word by telegraph. Ifanything happens that touches any of thy household, we will sendthee word at once.This town is a hotbed of rebellion, and it is all because the rebels havebeen enabled to perfect their plans through the existence of theforeign settlements. How I dislike these foreigner adventurers! I wishthey would take their gilded dust, their yellow gold, and leave us toour peace; but they walk our streets as lords and masters, and allowthe plotting traitors to make their plans, and we are helpless. If I wereChina's ruler and for one day had power, there would not be one whiteman left within the borders of my country. We hear each day offriends who give their lives on the field of battle, these battles and thisconflict which would not be present with us were it not for the foreignpowers, who within these settlements, protect the low-browed ruffianswho are plotting China's ruin.Did I say I disliked these foreigners? How mild a word! Thou, inSezchuan, far from the touch of the alien life, hast never seen thesepeople who cause us so much trouble. How can I describe them tothee so that thou wilt understand? They are like unto the dragons ofthe earth, for ugliness. Men have enormous stature and mightystrength, and stride with fierce and lordly steps. Their faces have greatnoses between deep-set eyes, and protruding brows, and ponderousjaws like animals-- symbols of brute force which needs but to be seento frighten children in the dark. We are the gentler race, and we feelinstinctively the dominating power of these men from over the seas,who all, American, Russian, German, English, seem to be cast in thesame brutal mould. Their women have long, horse-like faces, showingthe marks of passion and discontent, which they try to cover with thecontents of the powder-jar and with rouge; they are utterly unlike thewomen of our race, who are taught to express no hate, no love, noranything save perfect repose and gentleness, as befits true ladyhood.One has but to see a Chinese gentleman, with his easy manners,composed, self-contained, with a natural dignity, to know that we arebetter trained than the people from the West. It is because we aretrue idealists. We show it in our grading of society. With us thescholar is honoured and put first, the farmer second, the artisan third,and the merchant and the soldier last. With them, these worshippersof the dollar, the merchant is put first, and the man to guard that dollaris made his equal! That is a standard for a nation! The barterer and themurderer; let others follow where they lead.These foreigners rate China low, who have never met a Chinesegentleman, never read a line of Chinese literature, and who look atyou in ignorance if you mention the names of our sages. They see noChinese except their servants, and they judge the world about themfrom that low point of view. I know a lady here who is a leader in theirsociety, a woman who has lived within our land for many tens ofyears; when asked to meet a prince of our house Imperial, shedeclined, saying she never associated with Chinese. A prince to herwas no more than any other yellow man; she said she would as soonthink of meeting her gate coolie at a social tea. How can there be acommon meeting-ground between our people and the averageEuropean, of whom this woman is a representative and who is notalone in her estimation of the people amongst whom she lives butwhom she never sees. They get their knowledge of China fromservants, from missionaries who work among the lower classes, andfrom newspaper reports that are always to the disadvantage of ourpeople.More and more the West must see that the East and West may meetbut never can they mingle. Foreigners can never enter our innerchamber; the door is never wholly opened, the curtain never drawnaside between Chinese and European. The foreign man is amaterialist, a mere worshipper of things seen. With us "the taste ofthe tea is not so important as the aroma." When Chinese gentlemenmeet for pleasure, they talk of poetry and the wisdom of the sages, ofrare jade and porcelains and brass. They show each other treasures,they handle with loving fingers the contents of their cherished boxes,and search for stores of beauty that are brought to light only for thosewho understand. But when with foreigners, the talk must be of tea, itsprices, the weight of cotton piece goods, the local gossip of the townin which they live. Their private lives are passed within a world apart,and there is between these men from different lands a greater bar thanthat of language-- the bar of mutual misunderstanding and lack ofsympathy with the other race.Poor China! She is first clubbed on the head and then stroked on theback by these foreigners, her dear friends. Friends! It is only when thecold season comes that we know the pine-tree and the cypress to beevergreens, and friends are known in adversity. The foreigners whoprofess to be our friends are waiting and hoping for adversity to comeupon us, that they may profit by it. They want our untouched wealth,our mines of coal and iron and gold, and it is upon them they havecast their eyes of greed.The foreigners have brought dishonesty in business dealings to ourmerchants. At first, the trader from the foreign land found that hecould rely on old-time customs and the word of the merchant to bind abargain; but what did the Chinese find? There are no old-time customsto bind a foreigner, except those of bond and written document. Hehas no traditions of honour, he can be held by nothing except a courtof law. For years the word "China" has meant to the adventurers ofother lands a place for exploitation, a place where silver was to beobtained by the man with fluent tongue and winning ways. Evenforeign officials did not scruple to use their influence to enter trade.An old case has recently come before the Governor. It has beenbrought many times to the ears of the officials, but they have saidnothing, for fear of offending the Great Government whoserepresentative is involved in the not too pleasant transaction. One ofour great inland cities had no water nearer than the river, several milesaway. A foreign official with a machine of foreign invention digged deepinto the earth and found pure, clear water. Then he thought, "If there isater here for me, why not for all this great city of many tens ofthousands?" Which was a worthy thought, and he saw for himselfgreat gains in bringing to the doors of rich and poor alike the waterfrom the wells. He told theTaotaithat he would go to his country andbring back machines that would make the water come forth as fromliving springs. The official met his friends and the plan was discussedand many thousands oftaelswere provided and given into the handsof the official from over the seas. The friends of theTaotaifelt no fearfor their money, as the official signed a contract to produce water fromthe earth, and he signed, not as a simple citizen but as therepresentative of his government, with the great seal of thatgovernment attached to the paper. Of course our simple peoplethought that the great nation was behind the project; and they wereamazed and startled when, after a trip to his home land and a returnwith only one machine, a few holes were made but no water found,and the official announced that he was sorry but there was nothingmore that he could do. He did not offer to return the money, and in hisposition he could not be haled into a court of law; there was nothingfor his dupes to do but to gaze sadly into the great holes that hadtaken so much money, and remember that wisdom comes withexperience."When a man has been burned once with hot soup he forever afterblows upon cold rice"; so these same men of China will think o'erlongbefore trusting again a foreigner with their silver.Thy son has been trying to settle another case. Some men fromAmerica went to Ningpo, and talked long and loud of the darkness ofthe city, its streets dangerous in the night-time, its continual firescaused by the flickering lamps of oil that are being so constantlyoverturned by the many children. They told the officials that the timeswere changing, that to walk the streets with a lighted lantern in thehand is to lose step with the march of progress. They showed thebenefits of the large lights of electricity blazing like a sun on eachcorner of the great city, making it impossible for robbers andevil-doers to carry on their work in darkness. They promised to turnnight-time into day, to put white lights inYamen, office, andhouse-hold. There should be a light beneath each rooftree, at nogreater expense than the bean-oil lamp. They were most plausible,and many thousands of silver dollars were brought forth and given tothe men as contract money. They left us to buy machinery; the yearshave passed; they never have returned. Ningpo still has streets ofdarkness, men still walk abroad with lighted lanterns, the bean-oillamp is seen within the cottage and-- will be until the hills shall fade,so far as the officials are concerned, who once dreamed dreams of acity lit by the light as of myriad suns.How can the missionaries have the face to come here with theirreligion, when the dissolute white man is in every port manifesting alust and greed and brutality which Chinese are accustomed toassociate with the citizenship and religion attributed to Christianity.No wonder it is hard for them to make converts among the people whohave business dealings with these men from Christian nations.But China will not forever bear the ill-treatment of men from Westernlands. She is awake to all the insults; she has learned in the bitterhalls of experience. She sleeps no longer; she will rise in self-defenseand fight aggression; and the nations who have misused her mustremember that when she moves it will be the movement of a mightypeople aroused by the thought of their great wrongs. She is peacefuland long-suffering, but she is different from the old-time China. Shehas now a national spirit that has been brought about by better meansof communication between provinces. In the olden time it was difficultfor one part or the Empire to know the conditions in another. But nowthe telegraph and the daily newspaper come to all the smallestvillages. I am sure that the watchman by thy outer gate reads as heguards thy household, and learns in far Sezchuan what has happenedto-day in Peking, or the Southern city of Canton, and the news isdiscussed in the tea-shops and on corners by men from farm andshop and office.The foreigners are mistaken in their belief that China can never beunited. She has been one for centuries, in beliefs, in morals, ineducation, and in religion, and now she will be more united in herstand against the hated white man who covets her treasures. Shemay quarrel with her brothers within her borders; but that is nothingbut a family feud, and in time of danger from outside, like all families,she will unite to fight for her own until the last red lantern fades andthe morning star is shining. Enough of politics and bitterness! I hearthy son, who is coming for his evening cup of tea.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.13My Dear Mother,The times here are very bad; people are fleeing from the inland citiesand coming to Shanghai by the thousands. The place is crowded tosuffocation.The people are fleeing from the inland cities.Wu Ting-fang was here and talked long into the night with myhusband. My son, who, I am afraid, does not think too highly of thisgreat man, says that he is with the party that is "on top," that hespends most of his time sitting on the fence-- whatever that maymean. I drove past his house the other day and did not see him sittingon the fence, but on his veranda, calmly drinking tea.Sun Yat-sen has violated his word of honour and has joined theSouthern forces. We feel he has acted most dishonourably and (myson again) should have "staid bought." Gossips say he received manymillions oftaels, presumably for the railroads, but that was only anexcuse to slip the money into his wide and hungry pockets.It is decided to send my son to Canton, into the office of the governorof that province. We are glad to get him away from Shanghai, which isa nest of adders and vipers, conspiring and raising their poisonousheads in the dark. One does not know whom to trust, or who mayprove to be a traitor.Li-ti, his wife, wishes to go with him, and weeps the whole daythrough because we will not permit it. She is not well, and we tell hershe will not be really separated from her husband, because, as thepoets tell us, people who love, though at a distance from each other,are like two lutes tuned in harmony and placed in adjoining rooms.When you strike thekungnote on one, thekungnote on the other willanswer, and when you strike thechonote on the one thechonote onthe other will give the same sound. They are both tuned to the samepitch, when the influence of the key-note, love, is present.I took my son apart the other night and said, "I am thy mother and Iwant to speak words to thee straight from the heart. Thou art to havethe joy of work, and remember the pride of work lies in the thought,'For me alone is the task.'" I tried to make him understand that praise,glory, and honours are good, but they do not make for long life, andespecially in these times it is better to work quietly without attractingtoo much attention. It is more safe, for "he who raises himself ontiptoe cannot stand, and he who stretches his legs wide apart cannotwalk."His father was especially anxious that he be not pierced with thearrow of treachery that poisons the blood and finds the weak spot inthe armour of so many of our young men. He told him to keep himselfabove suspicion, to avoid those entangled in the nets of doubledealing of whom one is uncertain, because "the red glow of themorning sun seems to stain even the pure whiteness of the new-fallensnow."Why, Mother-mine, didst thou send the old priest from the templedown here? He abides in the courtyard, squatting on his heels,serving the spirits neither of Heaven nor of earth, but he sits and talksand talks and talks with the women of the courtyards. There are someof them I would fain send to a far-off province, especially Fang Tai, themother of our gateman."A woman with a long tongue is a flight of steps leading to calamity."This priest of thine has been quarrelling with her now over the questionof the son of Wong Tai, who is accused of being on too friendly termswith some of the leaders of the rebellion. He made the unfortunateremark that perhaps the man was innocent but "one does not arrangehis head-dress under an apricot-tree, nor his foot-gear in a melonpatch, if he wishes to be above suspicion," and this simple remarkhas called down upon his priestly head the wrath of all the women. Ithink he will go to the monastery within the city to pass the night-- atleast if he has wisdom equal to his years.Yesterday I thought that I might make some use of him, and I feltwhen he was working he would not be stirring up the courtyards. Ibade him write the Sage's words upon a scroll of satin for my boy totake with him to his new home. He did it very beautifully, as he is areal artist with the brush. This is the reading of the scroll:"There are three things for a man to guard against:The lusts of the flesh in early years,The spirit of combativeness in middle-age,And ambition as the years go on.There are three things to command your reverence:The ordinances of Heaven,Great men, and the words of the sages.There are three times three things to be remembered:To be clear in vision,Quick in hearing,Kindly in expression,Respectful in demeanour,True in word,Serious in duty,Inquiring in doubt,Self-controlled in anger,And just and fair when the chair of success is before your door."I made a roll of it and placed it upon his desk, and when he opened ithe found within another scroll of silk, the same in colour, size, andfinish, written by his most unfilial sisters, which read:"Remember that thou art young.What thoudostknow is not to be compared,With what thou dostnotknow."It made him angry at first, but I do not know but that the shorter scrollcontains the greater wisdom.I am anxious for this boy of mine, who is starting to sail his ship ofmanhood across the Broad River of Life in these most perilous times.I think he is strong enough to conquer all, but I have lighted candlesand bought fine incense to persuade the Gods to temper winds tountried hands.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.14My Dear Mother,I have not written thee for several days. We are in Nanking, where myhusband is presiding at a meeting of the officials in order to discussthe question of a compromise, or to try in some way to settle thequestions that are causing this dreadful rebellion, without more loss oflife. He is also acting as judge in the case of some of the men whohave been caught pillaging and destroying the homes of the innocentpeople. It is hard for him to act with strict justice, remembering themany friends he has lost, and it is necessary to see things withouttheir individuality in order to be wise in all judgments. I came,ostensibly to see the friends of my childhood, but really to take careof thy son and see that he eats with regularity and takes his rest. Heis working far too hard. He gives himself to whatever task arrives,greedy for the work, like one who lusts in the delight of seeing tasksaccomplished. But he is trusted by all, both sides agreeing to rest onhis decisions, all realising that personal feeling is put far into thebackground of his mind when the interests of new China are at stake.We are in theYamenwhere I lived as a young girl, but now all ischanged. Instead of the old guard of honour, with their great flappinghats, their gaily decorated jackets, baggy trousers tucked into velvetboots, pennants flying from their spear-points as their small poniesdashed madly in front of the official carriage, we were met by a bodyof foreign-dressed soldiers who conducted us with military precisionquite different from the old-time dash and lack of discipline.Inside theYamen, also, things are different. Everything is orderly andmoves with a machine-like regularity that seems totally foreign to anEastern official's residence. There is not the democracy of other days;the man from the street, the merchant or the coolie with his burden onhis shoulders, did not follow us into the courtyards to see what wasbeing done, nor were there crowds of idle men gazing with mildcuriosity at the visitors to their city.We hear much of the old-time power of the officials; but things are notnearly so democratic under this new government as in former times,when, it is true, the governor had power of life and death, but still wasobliged to deal leniently with his people. A little larger demand fortribute, a case of rank injustice, and he became the object of thepeople's wrath and would quite likely see hisYamenin a blaze, orpay with his life for his greed. The masses held real power within theirhands. If their officials did not deal justly with them, they caused ariot, and if the frightened official could not still it within a certain time,he was told that he evidently could not control his people and so wasremoved.My husband inspected the regiments stationed here. I saw them froma veranda in theYamenwhere we women were unseen. Fifteenthousand men marched past him; and they were a sight for one wholoves his country. They were all young men, no one seeming to beover twenty-five, and as they marched my heart was filled with prideand hope in them. I thought, it is of just such men, such sons ofpeasants and working people, that Japan made her army that gaineda victory over one of the greatest nations in the Western world. Whycannot we, with our unlimited numbers, make an army that will causeour country to be respected and take its place among the powers ofthe world? We have the men, myriads and myriads of them; men whoare used to hardship and privation in their daily life, who, on a bowl ofrice, a morsel of dried fish, can fight the whole day through. Our menare not accustomed to the luxuries of the foreigners, who, even intimes of war, carry great stores of what seems to Eastern nations,unnecessary baggage. With them their endless string of wagons istheir greatest pitfall, and with us these latter could be reduced to thesmallest count.Yet we hear on every hand that the courage of the Chinese soldier isheld at low value. But why? When sent unarmed, or with guns forwhich there were no bullets, into the Japanese war, against troopswith the latest inventions in weapons to kill, the only thing to be donewas to retreat. But when they are paid, fed, and armed, and haveleaders who will go to the front with them, instead of saying, "There isthe enemy. Charge! I will go back to the hills and await your hour ofglory," they are found to be courageous to the verge of fanaticism.Under trusted leaders there is no forlorn hope or desperate service forwhich they would not volunteer. Let them have confidence in their newgenerals, and, even though not understanding the cause, they willmake the best soldiers in the world.But I must not talk to thee of war; we want not more bloodshed andthe fatherless homes and lean years that follow in the track of greatarmies. Yet, if we cannot be without it, let it serve war's ends-- theultimate safety of our people, and bring them peace and tranquillity,their heart's desire.I visited the ruined homes of friends of mine, who are no more. It mademe feel that life is nothing but a mirage, a phantom, or as foam, and"even as all earthly vessels made on the potter's wheel must end bybeing broken, so end the lives of men." I went out to the home ofYuan Tai-tai, who, to my childish mind was the great lady of mydreams. I can close my eyes and see her still, like a brilliantbutter-fly, dressed in her gay brocades, her hair twined with jewels ofpearl and jade; with hand in mine she wandered o'er her garden,bending over goldfish ponds, or clipping fading flowers from off theirstems. There reigned a heavy silence in her palace, with itsmemories, that seemed full of sadness and a vague regret, remindingme of an old blue China bowl which a hand of other days had filledwith roses. The flowers trying to struggle from beneath the thorns andbrambles that always come where troops are quartered, seemed tosay, "Behold, they are not here who once have cared for us andcherished us, but the gardens breathe of them and we are fragrant fortheir sakes." I picked a branch of cherry-blossoms, and swiftly fell theperfumed petals to the ground-- symbols of the dainty lives thatbloomed so short a time in this fair garden of my lady. Liu Che, thepoet of the olden time, seems to have been speaking of this, myfriend, when he says:There reigned a heavy silence in her palace with its memories."The sound of rustling silk is stilled,With dust the marble courtyard filled;No footfalls echo on the floor,Fallen leaves in heaps block up the door...For she, my pride, my lovely one is lost."We went from Yuan's palace to the Temple of Kwan-yin, which I oftenvisited as a child. It also was a ruin, but it spoke to me of the deadthousands of weary feet that had climbed the steps leading to itsshrines; of the buried mothers who touched the floor before its altarswith reverent heads and asked blessings on their children's lives; oftheir children, taught to murmur prayers to the Mother of all Mercies,who held close within her loving heart the sorrows, hopes, and fears ofwoman's world. Ghosts of these spirits seemed to follow as wewandered through deserted courtyards, and an odour as of oldincense perfumed the air. I went out and stood upon the tortoise thatis left to guard the ruined temple; the great stone tortoise that is thesymbol of longevity of our country, that even armies in their wrathcannot destroy.From the gateway we could see the river, a gleaming thread of silver,and the hillsides, tree clad, flower wreathed, painted with the coloursthat the Gods give to the spring-- the spring that "thrills the warmblood into wine." But I miss the natural songs that should float upwardfrom the valley, and down the reed-strewn banks of the canals, wherelabourers in olden days were happy in their toil.We could see the river, a gleaming thread of silver, and the hillsides, tree clad, flower wreathed, painted with the colours that the Gods give to the spring.Even as we left the place the pattering rain-drops came as rice grainsfalling upon the threshing-floor, and the hills seemed "folding veils ofsorrow round their brows." It was brought to our remembrance that wemust return to a city where war and famine may come thundering ather gates, and we must stand with helpless hands.Dear Mother mine, stay upon thy flower-scented balustrade, and drinkgreat draughts of that wine of spring, the vintage of the wise, that theGods give to thee freely in thy mountain home, and leave to youngerhands the battles with the world. Thou must not come; write no morethat thou wouldst be amongst us. We love thee dearly, but we wouldcherish thee and keep thee from all care.Kwei-li.15My Dear Mother,I have had a most interesting day, and I hasten to tell thee all about it.I have just returned from opening a home for motherless children,given by a mission of a foreign land. It is a beautiful thought, and akindly one, to give a home to these poor waifs of an alien land, all inthe name of their Saviour of the World. I saw for the first time a pictureof this Christ, with little children around Him. The message I readwithin His eyes seemed to be: "I will be father and mother, father andmother and playmate to all little children." The words of the Japanesepoet describe Him: "He was caressing them kindly, folding Hisshining robes round them; lifting the smallest and frailest into Hisbosom, and holding His staff for the tumblers to clutch. To His longgown clung the infants, smiling in response to His smile, glad in Hisbeauteous compassion."I looked at the picture and at the people around me on the platform,and wondered why in all the Christian world that claims this lovingMaster there should be such exceeding bitterness between Hisfollowers. How can they expect us to believe in this great Teacherwhen they themselves are doubtful of his message, and criticise quiteopenly their Holy Book? If it is true, should education and sciencemake its teaching less authentic? We do not want a religion that isuncertain to its own people, yet we take with many thanks what it cangive us, the things we understand, such as their schools andhospitals. Where there is pain or ignorance, there is no distinction inthe God that brings relief. We may not believe in the doctrines that weare taught in the waiting-rooms of their hospitals, but we do believe inthe healing power of the medicines that are brought by religious zealfrom over the seas.If their teaching has not as yet made many converts, the effect hasbeen great in the spread of higher ideals of education, and much ofthe credit for the progress of our modern life must be given to themission schools, which, directly or indirectly, have opened newpathways in the field of education for our country, and caused theyouth of China to demand a higher learning throughout the land. Thisaggressive religion from the West, coupled with the education thatseems to go hand in hand with it, is bound to raise the religious planeof China by forcing our dying faiths to reassume higher and higherforms in order to survive.But I believe that these teachers from the foreign lands shouldunderstand better the religions they are so anxious to displace, andinstead of always looking for the point of difference or weakness in ourfaith, should search more anxiously for the common ground, the sparkof the true light that may still be blown to flame, finding the altar thatmay be dedicated afresh to the true God.Every religion, however imperfect, has something that ought to be heldsacred, for there is in all religions a secret yearning after the unknownGod. This thought of God "is an elixir made to destroy death in theworld, an unfailing treasure to relieve the poverty of mankind, a balmto allay his sickness, a tree under which may rest all creatureswearied with wanderings over life's pathways. It is a bridge for passingover hard ways, open to all wayfarers, a moon of thought arising tocool the fever of the world's sin, and whatever name His followers maycall Him, he is the one True God of all mankind."Whether we see the coolie bowing his head before the image of theLord of Light, the Buddha, or the peasant woman with her papermoney alight in the brazier at the feet of Kwan-yin, we ought to feelthat the place where he who worships stands, is holy ground. Wehear it said that he is worshipping an image, an idol, a thing of stoneor wood or clay. It is not so; he is thinking far beyond the statue, he isseeing God. He looks upwards towards the sky and asks whatsupports that cup of blue. He hears the winds and asks them whencethey come and where they go. He rises for his toil at break of day andsees the morning sun start on his golden journey. And Him who is thecause of all these wonders, he calls his Life, his Breath, his Lord ofAll. He does not believe that the idol is his God. "'Tis to the lightwhich Thy splendour lends to the idol's face, that the worshipperbends."He is thinking far beyond the statue, he is seeing God.The difference between us all lies not in the real teaching of our HolyMen, Confucius, Buddha, Lao Tze, or Christ, but in the narrowness ofthe structure which their followers have built upon their words. Thosesages reared a broad foundation on which might have been built,stone by stone, a mighty pagoda reaching to the skies. There couldhave been separate rooms, but no closed doors, and from out thepointed roofs might have pealed the deep-toned bells caught by everywandering breeze to tell the world that here spoke the Truth or theOne Great God. But, instead, what have they done? The followershave each built separately over that portion which was the work oftheir own Master. The stories have grown narrower and narrower withthe years; each bell rings out with its own peculiar tone, and there isno accord or harmony.I do not dispute with those who have found a healing for themselves.To us our religion is something quite inseparable from ourselves,something that cannot be compared with anything else, or replacedith anything else. It is like our bodies. In its form it may be like otherbodies, but in its relation to ourselves it stands alone and admits of norival; yet the remedy that has cured us should not be forced upon apeople, irrespective of their place, their environment or theirtemperament.We of the East "have sounded depth on depth only to find still deeperdepths unfathomed and profound," and we have learned to say that nosect or religion can claim to be in possession ofallthe Truth. Let theteachers from other countries learn of our doctrines. Let them learn ofBuddha. To one who reads his pure teaching, nothing so beautiful,nothing so high, has been heard in all the world. We admit that, littleby little, changes have come, simplicity has been lost, and with everyaddition something departed from its purity and it became stained.Yet I believe that much of the kindliness, much of the gentleness nowso marked in Chinese nature, may be traced to the teaching of thisgreat apostle of peace and quietude.That other great religion, the religion of the Way, has become steepedin superstition and has been made a reproach in all our land. Yet LaoTze had noble sentiments and lofty thoughts that have helpedgenerations of mankind in many struggles.Confucius, it is said, presented high ideals without the breath of spirit;his system was for the head and did not feed the heart; yet he taughtthat, from the highest in the land to the lowest worker in the field,personal virtue, cleanness of heart and hands, is to be held the thingof greatest value. Men are urged to cherish all that is of good in them,to avoid evil living, to cultivate right feeling, and to be true and faithfulto their tasks.We should not value the teaching of our religion "as a miser values hispearls and jade, thinking their value lessened if pearls and jade arefound in other parts of the world." But the searcher after Truth willwelcome any true doctrine, and believe it no less precious because itwas spoken by Buddha, Lao Tze, Confucius or Christ. We should notpeer too closely to learn what the temple may enshrine, but "feel theinfluence of things Divine and pray, because by winding paths we allmay reach the same great Ocean's shore." We all are searchers forthe Way. Whence do I come; where do I go? In this passage from theunknown to the unknown, this pilgrimage of life, which is the straightpath, which the true road-- if indeed there be a Way? Such are thequestions that all the world is asking. What is the true answer; wheremay we find it? Whose holy book holds the key that will open widethe door?All have a hunger of the soul for something beside life's meat anddrink; all want a remedy for the sorrows of the world. The Buddhistsbelieve that it can be found in the destruction of desire, by renouncingthe world and following the noble path of peace until death shall openthe portals of the unknowable, everlasting stillness from which there isno return. The Confucianists say the remedy is found within the worldby fulfilling all its duties and leaving to a greater Justice the future andits rewards. The Christians give a whispered message of hope to thelonely soul beating against the bars of the world about him, and saythat a life of love and joy and peace is the gift of their greatMessenger, and when the years have passed that He stands withinan archway to welcome those, His chosen, to a land of bliss wherewe shall meet all who have loved us and whom we have loved in life,and gaze upon His face.Which istheWay, which path to God is broad enough for all theworld?Kwei-li.16My Dear Mother,I received thy letter which was full of reproaches most unjust. I havenot broken my word, given to thee so long ago. I opened the home forfriendless children, not because it belonged to a mission of a foreignreligion, but because I think it a most worthy cause. There are manyhomeless little ones in this great city, and these people give themfood and clothing and loving care, and because it is given in the nameof a God not found within our temples, is that a reason for withholdingour encouragement?Thou hast made my heart most heavy. Twenty-five years ago, whenmy first-born son was taken from me, I turned from Gods who gave nocomfort in my time of need: all alone with hungry winds of bitternessgnawing the lute strings of my desolate mother-heart, I stood upon myterrace, and fought despair. My days were without hope and mynights were long hours filled with sorrow, when sleep went trailingsoftly by and left me to the old dull pain of memory. I called in anguishupon Kwan-yin, and she did not hear my prayer. The painted smileupon her lips but mocked me, and in despair I said, "There are noGods," and in my lonely court of silent dreams I lost the thread ofworldly care until my tiny bark of life was nearly drifting out upon theunknown sea.Thou rememberest that the servants brought to me from out themarket-place the book of the foreign God, and in its pages I woke tolife again. I looked once more from out my curtained window, and sawthe rosy glow of dawn instead of grey, wan twilights of the hopelessdays before me; and, as on a bridge half seen in shadows dim, Ireturned to the living world about me. Thou saidst nothing until it hadbrought its healing, then thou tookest the book and kept it from me.Thou toldst me with tears that it would bring thine head in sorrow tothy resting-place upon the hillside if I left the Gods of my ancestorsand took unto my heart the words and teachings of the God of analien race. I promised thee that I would not cause thee grief, and Ihave kept my word.In my ignorance I have longed for knowledge, for some one to explainthe teaching that rolled away for me the rush of troubled waters thatflooded all my soul; but as I looked about me and saw the manywarring factions that follow the great Teacher of love and peace, I didnot know which way to turn, which had the truth to give me; and Iwantedall, not part. I have this book, and have not sought for wisdomfrom outside, but only search its pages to find its messages to me.Thou must not say I have deserted China's Gods, nor is it just to writethat my children are wandering from the Way. I have observed thefeasts and fastings; each morn the Household God has rice and teabefore him; the Kitchen God has gone with celebrations at springtimeto the spirit up above. The candles have been lighted and the smokeof incense has ascended to propitiate the God of Light, Lord Buddha,and Kwan-yin, and my children have been taught their prayers andholy precepts. It is not my fault, nor shouldst thou blame it to myteaching if rites and symbols have lost their meaning, and if the Godsof China are no longer strong enough to hold our young.Oh, Mother mine, thou knowest I would not cause thee sorrow, andthou hast hurt me sorely with thy letter of bitterness and reproach. Ifthou couldst have seen within my heart these many ears, and knownthe longing for this light that came to me in darkness, then thouwouldst not have burned the book that brought me hope and life againwhen all seemed gone.Thou askest me to promise thee anew that I will not trouble thy lastfew years with thoughts that seem to thee a sacrilege and adesecration of thy Gods. Thou art the mother of my husband, and 'tisto thee I owe all loyalty and obedience. I promise thee, but-- thatwhich is deep within my heart-- ismine.Thy daughter,Kwei-li.17My Dear Mother,I, thy son's wife, have been guilty of the sin of anger, one of the sevendeadly sins-- and great indeed has been my anger. Ting-fang hasbeen bringing home with him lately the son of Wong Kai-kia, a youngman who has been educated abroad, I think in Germany. I have neverliked him, have looked upon his aping of the foreign manners, hishalf-long hair which looks as if he had started again a queue and thenstopped, his stream of words without beginning and without end, as afoolish boy's small vanities that would pass as the years and wisdomcame. But now-- how can I tell thee-- he asks to have my daughter ashis wife, my Luh-meh, my flower. If he had asked for Man-li, whowishes to become a doctor, I might have restrained my anger; but, no,he wants the beauty of our house-hold, and for full a space of tenbreaths' breathing-time, I withheld my indignation, for I wasspeechless. Then I fear I talked, and only stopped for lack of words.My son is most indignant, and says I have insulted his dear friend.His dear friend indeed! He is so veiled in self-conceit that he can beinsulted by no one; and as for being a friend, he does not know theword unless he sees in it something to further his own particularinterests.I told my son that he is a man who leads a life of idleness and worse.The tea-house knows him better than his rooftree. He is most learnedand has passed safely many examinations, and writes letters at theend of his name, and has made an especial study of the philosophersof the present time; and because of this vast amount of book learningand his supposedly great intelligence he is entitled to indulgence,says my son, and should not be judged by the standards that ruleordinary people, who live upon a lower plane. I say that his knowledgeand greater intelligence (which latter I very much doubt) increase hisresponsibilities and should make of him an example for the betterliving of men.The tea-house knows him better than his rooftree.A clever bad man is like vile characters scrawled in ink of gold, andshould be thrown aside as fit only for the braziers.He is handsome in my daughter's eyes; but I say virtue is within theman, not upon his skin. He fascinates my younger sons with hisphilosophy and his tea-house oratory. I do not like philosophy, it is allmarked with the stamp of infidelity and irreligion. It is rarely that aman devotes himself to it with-out robbing himself of his faith, andcasting off the restraints of his religion; or, if they do not lose it utterly,they so adulterate it with their philosophy that it is impossible toseparate the false from the true. The reading of philosophic writings,so full of vain and delusive reasonings, should be forbidden to ouryoung folk, just as the slippery banks of a river are forbidden to onewho knows not how to swim. I will have none of them in our library,nor will I allow their father to read them where his sons can see him.The snake-charmer should not touch the serpents before his child'seyes, knowing that the child will try to imitate him in all things.It is "as pouring water in a frog's face" to talk to these, my children,who think a man, with words upon his lips, a sage. I say a dog is nota good dog because he is a good barker, nor should a man beconsidered a good man because he is a good talker; but I see onlypity in their faces that their mother is so far behind the times. Theseboys of ours are so much attracted by the glimpses they have had ofEuropean civilisation, that they look down upon their own nationality.They have been abroad only long enough to take on the veneer ofWestern education; it is a half-and-half knowledge; and it is theseyoung men who become the discontented ones of China. When theyreturn they do not find employment immediately, since they havegrown out of touch with their country and their country's customs.They feel that they should begin at the top of the ladder, instead ofworking up slowly, rung by rung, as their fathers did before them.They must be masters all at once, not realising that, even with theirtiny grains of foreign knowledge, they have not yet experience tomake them leaders of great enterprises or of men; yet they know toomuch to think of going back into their father's shop.I realise that the students who go abroad from China have manydifficulties to overcome. It is hard to receive their information andinstruction in a language not their mother tongue. They have smallchance to finish their education by practical work in bank or shop orfactory. They get a mass of book knowledge and little opportunity topractise the theories which they learn, and they do not understandthat the text-book knowledge is nearly all foreign to their country andto the temperament of their race. I often ask, when looking at my son,what is his gain? I presume it is in securing a newer, broader point ofview, an ability to adjust himself to modern conditions, and a widersympathy with the movements of the world.China has for centuries been lost to the world by reason of her greatexclusion, her self-satisfaction and blind reliance upon the waysmarked out for her by sages of other days. These young men, withthe West in their eyes, are coming back to shock their fathers' landinto new channels. The process may not be pleasant for us of the oldschool, but quite likely it is necessary. Yet, I feel deep within me, as Ilook at them, that these new Westernised Easterners with theirforeign ways and clever English are not to be the final saviours ofChina. They are but the clarion voices that are helping to awake theslumbering power. China must depend upon the firmer qualities of thecommon people, touched with the breath of the West.It is with great sorrow that we mothers and fathers see our boys andgirls, especially those who return from abroad, neglecting and scoffingat our modes of education that have endured and done such noblework for centuries past. I know it is necessary to study things modernto keep up with the demands of the times; but they can do this andstill reserve some hours for the reading of the classics. Instead ofalways quoting Byron, Burns, or Shelley, as do my son and daughter,let them repeat the beautiful words of Tu Fu, Li Po, Po Chu-i, ourpoets of the golden age.In no country is real learning held in higher esteem than in China. It isthe greatest characteristic of the nation that, in every grade of society,education is considered above all else. Why, then, should our youngpeople be ashamed of their country's learning? The Chinese havedevoted themselves to the cultivation of literature for a longer period bysome thousands of years than any existing nation. The people wholived at the time of our ancestors, the peoples of Egypt, the Greeks,the Romans, have disappeared ages ago and have left only theirhistories writ in book or stone. The Chinese alone have continued togive to the world their treasures of thought these five thousand years.To literature and to it alone they look for the rule to guide them in theirconduct. To them all writing is most sacred. The very pens andpapers used in the making of their books have become objects ofveneration. Even our smallest village is provided with a scrap-box intowhich every bit of paper containing words or printed matter is carefullyplaced, to await a suitable occasion when it may be reverentlyburned.Change is now the order of the day, educationally as well aspolitically. We do not hear the children shouting their tasks at the topof their voices, nor do they learn by heart the thirteen classics, sittingon their hard benches within the simple rooms with earthen floor,where the faint light comes straggling through the unglazed windowson the boy who hopes to gain the prize that will lead him to the greatHalls of Examination at Peking. If, while there, he is favoured by theGod of Learning and passes the examination, he will come back tohis village an honour to his province, and all his world will come anddo him reverence, from the viceroy in his official chair to the meanestworker in the fields. These old-time examinations are gone, thedegrees which were our pride have been abolished, the subjects ofstudy in the schools have been completely changed. The privilegeswhich were once given our scholars, the social and political officeswhich were once open to the winner of the highest prize, have beenthrown upon the altar of modernity. They say it is a most wise moveand leads to the greater individualism, which is now the battle-cry ofChina. The fault of the old examination, we are told, is the lack oforiginal ideas which might be expressed by a student. He must givethe usual interpretations of the classics. Now the introduction of freethought and private opinion has produced in China an upheaval inmen's minds. The new scholars may say what they think wisest, andthey even try to show that Confucius was at heart a staunchrepublican, and that Mencius only thinly veiled his sentiments of