When a well-bred Chinaman, of whatever station, meets you for the first time, he thus addresses you, first asking you how old you are:
"What is your honourable age?"
"I have been dragged up a fool so many years," you politely reply.
"What is your noble and exalted occupation?"
"My mean and contemptible calling is that of a doctor."
"What is your noble patronymic?"
"My poverty-struck family name is Mô."
"How many honourable and distinguished sons have you?"
"Alas! Fate has been niggardly; I have not even one little bug."
But, if you can truthfully say that you are the honourable father of sons, your interlocutor will raise his clasped hands and say gravely, "Sir, you are a man of virtue; I congratulate you." He continues—