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took their best girl to a dance. They never had a "best girl." The only girl they ever had was the brides their mothers picked out for them. What a lottery marriage must be under those conditions. Still there is such a uniformity in dirt, dress & disagreeable fem. appearances, I fancy there is little room for a choice. It must be simply a question of degrees in temper. They never strolled in the shadow of the trees w the girls. They never slept in a bed that had a mattress or a pillow. They never saw a picture or read a story of history or fiction. They never had a hope but to get enough to eat & never had a dream but what was associated wi never - ending toil. They never sang a song that was not a wail or a cry. They never heard a blessing or whispered a prayer. Such are the temples, priests & gods; such are the villages & the people. The foregoing is a crude, imperfect picture, but it is true in outline and color. There is little room for sentiment, little play for the imagination. And yet these people are not wholly unhappy. They know no better life. A failure of a crop means starvation. So if they have a good crop, they are content. Their patient industry, their quiet contentment are their saving graces. In many ways, I like them. Everybody seems to like them. Their lives are of little account to themselves, their families or their country. And yet I believe that parental & filial love have a strong place in their lives. And where those sentiments are, there must be the primary elements of char. at least. - Naught have I set down in malice. I am only anxious that truth shall prevail, that the facts shall be told, that you may pardon this long screed, & that it may provoke a reply. Love to everybody & [[ | took their best girl to a dance. They never had a "best girl." The only girl they ever had was the brides their mothers picked out for them. What a lottery marriage must be under those conditions. Still there is such a uniformity in dirt, dress & disagreeable fem. appearances, I fancy there is little room for a choice. It must be simply a question of degrees in temper. They never strolled in the shadow of the trees w the girls. They never slept in a bed that had a mattress or a pillow. They never saw a picture or read a story of history or fiction. They never had a hope but to get enough to eat & never had a dream but what was associated wi never - ending toil. They never sang a song that was not a wail or a cry. They never heard a blessing or whispered a prayer. Such are the temples, priests & gods; such are the villages & the people. The foregoing is a crude, imperfect picture, but it is true in outline and color. There is little room for sentiment, little play for the imagination. And yet these people are not wholly unhappy. They know no better life. A failure of a crop means starvation. So if they have a good crop, they are content. Their patient industry, their quiet contentment are their saving graces. In many ways, I like them. Everybody seems to like them. Their lives are of little account to themselves, their families or their country. And yet I believe that parental & filial love have a strong place in their lives. And where those sentiments are, there must be the primary elements of char. at least. - Naught have I set down in malice. I am only anxious that truth shall prevail, that the facts shall be told, that you may pardon this long screed, & that it may provoke a reply. Love to everybody & [[unclear]] in yr aff - W.J.C Pei - Tai - ho - Aug. 12, 1910 | ||
Latest revision as of 18:39, 2 April 2020
8.
took their best girl to a dance. They never had a "best girl." The only girl they ever had was the brides their mothers picked out for them. What a lottery marriage must be under those conditions. Still there is such a uniformity in dirt, dress & disagreeable fem. appearances, I fancy there is little room for a choice. It must be simply a question of degrees in temper. They never strolled in the shadow of the trees w the girls. They never slept in a bed that had a mattress or a pillow. They never saw a picture or read a story of history or fiction. They never had a hope but to get enough to eat & never had a dream but what was associated wi never - ending toil. They never sang a song that was not a wail or a cry. They never heard a blessing or whispered a prayer. Such are the temples, priests & gods; such are the villages & the people. The foregoing is a crude, imperfect picture, but it is true in outline and color. There is little room for sentiment, little play for the imagination. And yet these people are not wholly unhappy. They know no better life. A failure of a crop means starvation. So if they have a good crop, they are content. Their patient industry, their quiet contentment are their saving graces. In many ways, I like them. Everybody seems to like them. Their lives are of little account to themselves, their families or their country. And yet I believe that parental & filial love have a strong place in their lives. And where those sentiments are, there must be the primary elements of char. at least. - Naught have I set down in malice. I am only anxious that truth shall prevail, that the facts shall be told, that you may pardon this long screed, & that it may provoke a reply. Love to everybody & unclear in yr aff - W.J.C Pei - Tai - ho - Aug. 12, 1910