He died suddenly,
and when in the city of Los Angeles I read the telegram announcing his
death, I felt, mingled with the pain at the loss of a friend, exultation
that before there was any reaction in his religious life his mighty soul
had found a congenial home amid the supernal glories and sublime joys of
the world of spirits. The moral of this man's life will be seen by him
for whom this imperfect Sketch has been penciled.
Ah Lee.
He was the sunniest of Mongolians. The Chinaman, under favorable
conditions, is not without a sly sense of humor of his peculiar sort;
but to American eyes there is nothing very pleasant in his angular and
smileless features. The manner of his contact with many Californians is
not calculated to evoke mirthfulness. The brickbat may be a good
political argument in the hands of a hoodlum, but it does not make its
target playful. To the Chinaman in America the situation is new and
grave, and he looks sober and holds his peace. Even the funny-looking,
be-cued little Chinese children wear a look of solemn inquisitiveness,
as they toddle along the streets of San Francisco by the side of their
queer-looking mothers. In his own land, overpopulated and misgoverned,
the Chinaman has a hard fight for existence.
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