and aristocratic.
When he speaks it is of subtleties.
But when he speaks his dignity drops from him. His
eyes shift quickly from one end of their little slit
to the other, his mouth, his full brown mouth,
moves over-fast, his hands flicker back and forth.

The courtroom is crowded with ominous yellow poverty.
The cases are of many sorts.
A woman, she of the little tortured feet and sullen face,
has kidnapped a small boy to sell. A man was
caught smuggling opium. A tea-merchant, in
dark green silk, complains that he was decoyed
and held prisoner in a lodging-house for ransom.
A gambling den has been raided and the ivory
dominoes are shown in court.
The prisoners are stoically sullen. The odor of them
fills the room.

Above them sit the two men, raised on the pedestal
of the law, judging their fellows.
I turn to the man beside me, waiting his case.
"Tell me" I ask "of these men, which is the better
judge?"
He answers carefully.
"The Chinaman is cleverer by half. He sees where
the other is blind. But Chinese magistrates are
bought, and this one sells himself too cheap."
"And the other?" I ask again.
"A good man, and quite honest. You see he doesn't