hing, including life itself, may be taken as a fair test of
genuine patriotism, then it will be found, if historical records be not
ignored, that China has furnished numberless brilliant examples of true
patriots who chose to die rather than suffer dishonour to themselves or
to their country. A single instance must suffice.

The time is the close of the thirteenth century, when the Mongols under
Kublai Khan were steadily dispossessing the once glorious and powerful
House of Sung, and placing the empire of China under alien rule.
Disaster followed disaster, until almost the last army of the Sungs
was cut to pieces, and the famous statesman and general in command, Wen
(pronounced _One_) T'ien-hsian, fell into the hands of the Mongols. He
was ordered, but refused, to write and advise capitulation, and every
effort was subsequently made to induce him to own allegiance to the
conquerors. He was kept in prison for three years. "My dungeon," he
wrote, "is lighted by the will-o'-the-wisp alone; no breath of spring
cheers the murky solitude in which I dwell. Exposed to mist and dew,
I had many times thought to die; and yet, through the seasons of two
revolving years, disease hovered around me in vain. The dank, unhealthy
soil to me became Paradise itself. For there was that within me which
misfortune could not steal away; and so I remained firm, gazing at the
white clouds floating over my head, and bearing in my heart a sorrow
boundless as the sky."

At length he was summoned into the presence of Kublai Khan, who said
to him, "What is it you want?" "By the grace of the Sung Emperor," he
replied, "I became His Majesty's Minister. I cannot serve two masters.
I only ask to die." Accordingly, he was executed, meeting his death with
composure, and making an obeisance in the direction of the old capital.
His last words were, "My work is finished." Compare this with the quiet
death-bed of another statesman, who flourished in the previous century.
He had advised an enormous cession of territory to the Tartars, and had
brought about the execution of a patriot soldier, who wished to recover
it at all costs. He was loaded with honours, and on the very night he
died he was raised to the rank of Prince. He was even canonized, after
the usual custom, as Loyalty Manifested, on a mistaken estimate of his
career; but fifty years later his title was changed to False and Foul
and his honours were cancelled, while the people at large took his
degr