e.

He was the sunniest of Mongolians. The Chinaman, under favorable
conditions, is not without a sly sense of humor of his peculiar sort;
but to American eyes there is nothing very pleasant in his angular and
smileless features. The manner of his contact with many Californians is
not calculated to evoke mirthfulness. The brickbat may be a good
political argument in the hands of a hoodlum, but it does not make its
target playful. To the Chinaman in America the situation is new and
grave, and he looks sober and holds his peace. Even the funny-looking,
be-cued little Chinese children wear a look of solemn inquisitiveness,
as they toddle along the streets of San Francisco by the side of their
queer-looking mothers. In his own land, overpopulated and misgoverned,
the Chinaman has a hard fight for existence. In these United States his
advent is regarded somewhat in the same spirit as that of the seventeen
year locusts, or the cotton-worm. The history of a people may be read in
their physiognomy. The monotony of Chinese life during these thousands
of years is reflected in the dull, monotonous faces of Chinamen.

Ah Lee was an exception. His skin was almost fair, his features almost
Caucasian in their regularity; his dark eye lighted up with a peculiar
brightness, and there was a remarkable buoyancy and glow about him every
way. He was about twenty years old. How long he had been in California I
know not. When he came into my office to see me the first time, he
rushed forward and impulsively grasped my hand, saying:

"My name Ah Lee--you Doctor Plitzjellie?"

That was the way my name sounded as he spoke it. I was glad to see him,
and told him so.

"You makee Christian newspaper? You talkee Jesus? Mr. Taylor tellee me.
Me Christian--me love Jesus."

Yes, Ah Lee was a Christian; there could be no doubt about that. I have
seen many happy converts, but none happier than he. He was not merely
happy--he was ecstatic.

The story of the mighty change was a simple one, but thrilling. Near
Vacaville, the former seat of the Pacific Methodist College, in Solano
county, lived the Rev. Iry Taylor, a member of the Pacific Conference of
the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. Mr. Taylor was a praying man, and
he had a praying wife. Ah Lee was employed as a domestic in the family.
His curiosity was first excited in regard to family prayers. He wanted
to know what it all meant. The Taylor's explained. The old, old story
took hold of Ah L