There was now a lull in the conversation. The viceroy shifted his position in his chair, and took another whiff from the long, slender Chinese pipe held to his mouth by one of his body-servants. One whiff, and the pipe was taken away to be emptied and refilled. After a short respite he again resumed the conversation, but the questions he now asked were of a personal nature. We enumerate a few of them, without comment, only for the purpose of throwing some additional light on the character of our questioner.
“About how much did the trip cost you? Do you expect to get back all or more than you spent? Will you write a book?
“Did you find on your route any gold or silver deposits?
“Do you like the Chinese diet; and how much did one meal cost you?
“How old are you? [One of the first questions a Chinese host usually asks his guest.] Are you married? What is the trade or profession of your parents? Are they wealthy? Do they own much land?” (A Chinaman’s idea of wealth is limited somewhat by the amount of land owned.)
“Will you telegraph to your parents from Shanghai your safe arrival there?
“Were you not rash in attempting such a journey? Suppose you had been killed out in the interior of Asia, no one would ever have heard of you again.
“Are you Democrats or Republicans?” (The viceroy showed considerable knowledge of our government and institutions.)
“Will you run for any political office in America? Do you ever expect to get into Congress?
“Do you have to buy offices in America?” was the last inquiry.