Confucius said, "When I was on a mission to Ch'u State, I saw a litter
of young pigs nestling close to their dead mother. After a while they
looked at her, then all left the dead body and went off. For their
mother did not look at them any more, nor did she seem any more to
be of their kind. What they loved was their mother: not the body which
contained her, but that which made the body what it was."
That is the way with our country. She may leave the dead forms of her
old government, perhaps it will be her misfortune to leave her religion,
but the spirit of her government and the spirit of her religion she will
always love.
But I must not gossip more with thee over my dearly loved country
and her people. I know I talk to thee o'ermuch of politics and the
greedy eyes of foreigners which are fixed upon our land, but one
cannot live in Shanghai, even behind the women's archway, without
hearing, night and day, the things that move this, our world, so
strongly. Even my small children play at war, shoot their rebels, build
their fortresses and drive the foreigners from off their piles of sand.
I cry to thee, my Mother, because a heart must speak its bitterness,
and here our lips are sealed to all.
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