"The city gate will be closed before we can reach it if I return," said he, "and we will not be able to get in to-night."
"No matter about that," I insisted, "go back and give them the money."
He turned around with many mutterings, lashed up his mule at the top of his speed, gave them the money, and then started on a gallop for the city gate. It was a rough ride in that springless cart over the rutty roads. But my house seemed warmer that night and my bed seemed softer after I had paid the carter myself.
Among my friends and patients none are more interesting than the Misses Hsu. They are very intelligent, and after I had become well acquainted with them I said to them one day:
"How is it that you have done such wide reading?"
"You know, of course," they said, "that our father is a chuang yuan."
I asked them the meaning of a chuang yuan. Then I learned that under the Chinese system a great many students enter the examinations, and those who secure their degree are called hsiu tsai; a year or two later these are examined again, and those who pass are given the degree of chu jen; once more these latter are examined and the successful candidates are called chin shih, and are then ready for official position. They continue to study, however, and are allowed to go into the palace, where they are examined in the presence of the Emperor, and those who pass are called han lin, or forest of pencils. Once in three years these han lins are examined and one is allowed to obtain a degree—he is a chuang yuan.
Out of four hundred million people but one is allowed this degree once in three years.
"Your father must be a very great scholar," I remarked.
"He has always been a diligent student," they answered, modestly.