84 CHINESE LITERATURE
come from any other hand save that of Li Ling. With this verdict the foreign student may well rest content. Here is the letter :
"O Tzu-ch'ing, O my friend, happy in the enjoyment of a glorious reputation, happy in the prospect of an imperishable name, there is no misery like exile in a far-off foreign land, the heart brimful of longing thoughts of home ! I have thy kindly letter, bidding me of good cheer, kinder than a brother's words ; for which my soul thanks thee.
" Ever since the hour of my surrender until now, destitute of all resource, I have sat alone with the bitter- ness of my grief. All day long I see none but barbarians around me. Skins and felt protect me from wind and rain. With mutton and whey I satisfy my hunger and slake my thirst. Companions with whom to while time away, I have none. The whole country is stiff with black ice. I hear naught but the moaning of the bitter autumn blast, beneath which all vegetation has dis- appeared. I cannot sleep at night. I turn and listen to the distant sound of Tartar pipes, to the whinnying of Tartar steeds. In the morning I sit up and listen still, while tears course down my cheeks. O Tzu-ch'ing, of what stuff am I, that I should do aught but grieve ? The day of thy departure left me disconsolate indeed. I thought of my aged mother butchered upon the threshold of the grave. I thought of my innocent wife and child, condemned to the same cruel fate. Deserv- ing as I might have been of Imperial censure, I am now an object of pity to all. Thy return was to honour and renown, while I remained behind with infamy and dis- grace. Such is the divergence of man's destiny.
"Born within the domain of refinement and justice, I
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