band, and 'tis
to thee I owe all loyalty and obedience. I promise thee, but-- that
which is deep within my heart-- is mine.

Thy daughter,
Kwei-li.

17
My Dear Mother,
I, thy son's wife, have been guilty of the sin of anger, one of the seven
deadly sins-- and great indeed has been my anger. Ting-fang has
been bringing home with him lately the son of Wong Kai-kia, a young
man who has been educated abroad, I think in Germany. I have never
liked him, have looked upon his aping of the foreign manners, his
half-long hair which looks as if he had started again a queue and then
stopped, his stream of words without beginning and without end, as a
foolish boy's small vanities that would pass as the years and wisdom
came. But now-- how can I tell thee-- he asks to have my daughter as
his wife, my Luh-meh, my flower. If he had asked for Man-li, who
wishes 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 ten
breaths' breathing-time, I withheld my indignation, for I was
speechless. 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 be
insulted by no one; and as for being a friend, he does not know the
word unless he sees in it something to further his own particular
interests.

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 learned
and has passed safely many examinations, and writes letters at the
end of his name, and has made an especial study of the philosophers
of the present time; and because of this vast amount of book learning
and his supposedly great intelligence he is entitled to indulgence,
says my son, and should not be judged by the standards that rule
ordinary people, who live upon a lower plane. I say that his knowledge
and greater intelligence (which latter I very much doubt) increase his
responsibilities and should make of him an example for the better
living of men.

[Illustration: Mylady25.]

A clever bad man is like vile characters scrawled in ink of gold, and
should be thrown aside as fit only for the braziers.

He is handsome in my daughter's eyes; but I say virtue is within the
man, not upon his skin. He fascinates my younger sons with his
philosophy and his tea-house oratory. I do not like philosoph