eems to charm the earth into the thought that spring is here, bringing
forth the faint green buds on magnolia, ash, and willow. Dost thou
remember the verse we used to sing:

"Oh she is good, the little rain, and well she knows our need,
Who cometh in the time of spring to aid the sun-drawn seed.
She wanders with a friendly wind through silent heights unseen,
The furrows feel her happy tears, and lo, the land is green!"

I must send a servant with the rain coverings for the children, that they
may not get wet in returning from their schools.

We greet thee, all.

Kwei-li.

8
My Dear Mother,
Last night I heard a great wailing in the servants' courtyard, and found
there the maid of thy old friend, Tang Tai-tai. She came from Nanking
to us, as she has no one left in all the world. She is a Manchu and
has lived all her life in the Manchu family of Tang within the Tartar city
of Nanking. It seems the soldiers, besieging the city, placed their
guns on Purple Hill, so that they would cause destruction only to the
Tartar city, and it was levelled to the ground. No stone remains upon
another; and the family she had served so faithfully were either killed
in the battle that raged so fiercely, or were afterward taken to the
grounds of Justice to pay with their life for the fact that they belonged
to the Imperial Clan. She is old, this faithful servant, and now claims
my protection. It is another mouth to feed; but there is so much
unhappiness that if it were within my power I would quench with rains
of food and drink the anguish this cruel war has brought upon so
many innocent ones. A mat on which to sleep, a few more bowls of
rice, these are the only seeds that I may sow within the field of love,
and I dare not them withhold.

I am most sorrowful for these poor Manchus. For generations they
have received a pension from the government; to every man-child an
allowance has been made; and now they find themselves with
nothing. Even their poor homes are piles of stone and rubbish. What
will they do to gain their food in this great country which is already full
to over-flowing? They are so pitiful, these old men and women thrown
so suddenly upon the world. Their stories pierce my marrow, and I
would that my sleeve were long and wide enough to cover all the earth
and shelter these poor helpless ones. One old man-- his years must
have been near eighty-- came to our door for help. I talked to him and
found that, until his sons