"'There yet is man—
Man, the divinest of all things, whose heart
Hath known the shipwreck of a thousand hopes,
Who bears a hundred wrinkled tragedies
Upon the parchment of his brow.'
"Ou-Yang Hein penned those lines," he added, raising his hat in adieu. But before we parted I made him promise to write out for me the Chinese verses he had quoted; and it is his beautifully written lines I have copied. I am going to learn them off by heart. How I would love to recite them at one of Aunt Gwendolin's "Drawing-rooms!"
The professor had gone but a few paces when he returned to inquire what hospital poor Lee Yet was in, saying that he would go around and see how he was faring.
"This is such a very selfish world," he added, as if half to himself, "I sometimes fear those poor foreigners that come to our shores get woefully treated."
That was lovely of him! After all, men are brothers under their skin. That was what their great man, Christ, taught—that all men are brothers; he did not except the Chinese, as some Americans want to do.