n he opened it
he found within another scroll of silk, the same in colour, size, and
finish, written by his most unfilial sisters, which read:

"Remember that thou art young.
What thou dost know is not to be compared,
With what thou dost not know."

It made him angry at first, but I do not know but that the shorter scroll
contains the greater wisdom.

I am anxious for this boy of mine, who is starting to sail his ship of
manhood across the Broad River of Life in these most perilous times.
I think he is strong enough to conquer all, but I have lighted candles
and bought fine incense to persuade the Gods to temper winds to
untried hands.

Thy daughter,
Kwei-li.

14
My Dear Mother,
I have not written thee for several days. We are in Nanking, where my
husband is presiding at a meeting of the officials in order to discuss
the question of a compromise, or to try in some way to settle the
questions that are causing this dreadful rebellion, without more loss of
life. He is also acting as judge in the case of some of the men who
have been caught pillaging and destroying the homes of the innocent
people. It is hard for him to act with strict justice, remembering the
many friends he has lost, and it is necessary to see things without
their individuality in order to be wise in all judgments. I came,
ostensibly to see the friends of my childhood, but really to take care
of thy son and see that he eats with regularity and takes his rest. He
is working far too hard. He gives himself to whatever task arrives,
greedy for the work, like one who lusts in the delight of seeing tasks
accomplished. But he is trusted by all, both sides agreeing to rest on
his decisions, all realising that personal feeling is put far into the
background of his mind when the interests of new China are at stake.

We are in the Yamen where I lived as a young girl, but now all is
changed. Instead of the old guard of honour, with their great flapping
hats, their gaily decorated jackets, baggy trousers tucked into velvet
boots, pennants flying from their spear-points as their small ponies
dashed madly in front of the official carriage, we were met by a body
of foreign-dressed soldiers who conducted us with military precision
quite different from the old-time dash and lack of discipline.

Inside the Yamen, also, things are different. Everything is orderly and
moves with a machine-like regularity that seems totally foreign to an
Eastern official's reside