; and who can blame her?

Mother, send me all that thou canst spare from out thy plenty. I would
I could give more. I would be a lamp for those who need a lamp, a bed
for those who need a bed; but I am helpless. O, He who hears the
wretched when they cry, deign to hear these mothers in their sorrow!

Thy daughter,
Kwei-li.

23
I know that thou hast heard the news, as it is in all the papers.
Ting-fang is accused of throwing the bomb that killed General Chang. I
write to reassure thee that it cannot be true. I know my son. Thou
knowest thy family. No Liu could do so foul a deed.

Do not worry; we will send thee all the news. The morrow's tidings will
be well, so rest in peace.

Kwei-li.

24,a.
I thank thee from my heart for the ten thousand taels telegraphed for
the use of our son. Father has sent fifty thousand taels to be used in
obtaining his freedom. I am sure it will not be needed, as my son is
not the culprit. And if he were, it is not the olden time when a life
could be bought for a few thousand ounces of silver, no matter how
great the crime. We will not bribe the Courts of Law, even for our son.

But I am sure it will pass with the night's darkness, and we will wake
to find it all a dream. I know, my mother's heart assures me, that my
boy is innocent.

Do not speak or think of coming down. We will let thee know at once
all news.

Kwei-li

24,b.
[-Telegram_]
We are leaving to-night for Canton.

25
We are entering Canton. The night denies me sleep, and my brain
seems beating like the tireless shuttles upon a weaving-loom. I
cannot rest, but walk the deck till the moon fades from the dawn's
pale sky, and the sun shows rose-coloured against the morning's
grey. Across the river a temple shines faintly through its ring of
swaying bamboo, and the faint light glistens on the water dripping
from the oars that bring the black-sailed junks with stores of
vegetables for all that greedy city of living people. The mists cling
lovingly to the hill-tops, while leaves from giant banyan-trees sway idly
in the morning wind, and billows of smoke, like dull, grey spirits, roll
up-ward and fade into a mist of clouded jade, touched with the golden
fingers of the rising sun.

[Illustration: Mylady30.]

I see it all with eyes that do not see, because the creeping hours I
count until I find my son.

26
Ting-fang has been tried and found guilty. The runners have brought
me hour by hour the news; and eve