The direct proof of it was, by this
night-time thing, revealed and made yet plainer. He stood convicted, a
chronic violator of the immutable rule. And he knew, likewise, there was
but one way out of the coil--and took it, there in his bedroom, vividly
ringed about by the obscene and indecent circle of his lights which kept
away the blessed, cursed darkness while the suicide's soul was passing.
AN INSTRUMENT OF THE GODS[6]
By LINCOLN COLCORD
(From _The American Magazine_)
"You think the Chinese are prosaic," said Nichols from the darkness of
his corner. "I've listened to you closely. You fellows have been
discussing only superficialities. At heart, you and the Oriental are the
same. The Chinese are romantic, I tell you; they are heroic. Yes,
really. Let me tell you a tale."
Suddenly he laughed. "You won't be convinced. But strip my friend Lee Fu
Chang naked, forget about that long silken coat of his; dress him in a
cowboy's suit and locate him on the Western plains, and the game he
played with Captain Wilbur won't seem so inappropriate. You merely won't
expect a mandarin Chinaman to play it. You'll feel that China is too
civilized for what he did.
"Some of you fellows must remember the notorious case of Captain Wilbur
and the 'Speedwell;' but I'll briefly refresh your memories: He was a
well-known shipmaster of the palmy days, and his vessel was one of the
finest clippers ever launched on the shores of New England.
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