litics and bitterness! I hear
thy son, who is coming for his evening cup of tea.

Thy daughter,
Kwei-li.

13
My Dear Mother,
The times here are very bad; people are fleeing from the inland cities
and coming to Shanghai by the thousands. The place is crowded to
suffocation.

[Illustration: Mylady21.]

Wu Ting-fang was here and talked long into the night with my
husband. My son, who, I am afraid, does not think too highly of this
great man, says that he is with the party that is "on top," that he
spends most of his time sitting on the fence-- whatever that may
mean. I drove past his house the other day and did not see him sitting
on the fence, but on his veranda, calmly drinking tea.

Sun Yat-sen has violated his word of honour and has joined the
Southern forces. We feel he has acted most dishonourably and (my
son again) should have "staid bought." Gossips say he received many
millions of taels, presumably for the railroads, but that was only an
excuse to slip the money into his wide and hungry pockets.

It is decided to send my son to Canton, into the office of the governor
of that province. We are glad to get him away from Shanghai, which is
a nest of adders and vipers, conspiring and raising their poisonous
heads in the dark. One does not know whom to trust, or who may
prove to be a traitor.

Li-ti, his wife, wishes to go with him, and weeps the whole day
through because we will not permit it. She is not well, and we tell her
she will not be really separated from her husband, because, as the
poets 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 the kung note on one, the kung note on the other will
answer, and when you strike the cho note on the one the cho note on
the other will give the same sound. They are both tuned to the same
pitch, 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 I
want to speak words to thee straight from the heart. Thou art to have
the 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, and
especially in these times it is better to work quietly without attracting
too much attention. It is more safe, for "he who raises himself on
tiptoe cannot stand, and he who st