LETTER VII

SAN FRANCISCO, 18--.
DEAR CHING FOO: I was glad enough when my case came up. An hour's
experience had made me as tired of the police court as of the dungeon.
I was not uneasy about the result of the trial, but on the contrary felt
that as soon as the large auditory of Americans present should hear how
that the rowdies had set the dogs on me when I was going peacefully along
the street, and how, when I was all torn and bleeding, the officers
arrested me and put me in jail and let the rowdies go free, the gallant
hatred of oppression which is part of the very flesh and blood of every
American would be stirred to its utmost, and I should be instantly set at
liberty. In truth I began to fear for the other side. There in full
view stood the ruffians who had misused me, and I began to fear that in
the first burst of generous anger occasioned by the revealment of what
they had done, they might be harshly handled, and possibly even banished
the country as having dishonoured her and being no longer worthy to
remain upon her sacred soil.

The official interpreter of the court asked my name, and then spoke it
aloud so that all could hear. Supposing that all was now ready, I
cleared my throat and began--in Chinese, because of my imperfect English:

"Hear, O high and mighty mandarin, and believe! As I went about my
peaceful business in the street, behold certain men set a dog on me,
and--