Ting led the way into a reception-room which was furnished in red cloth and dark woods. There was a seat and a table against each side, and two red cushions on the edge of a platform across the end of the room, with a low table between them. An attendant appeared with tea. Ting took a covered tea bowl in his two hands, extended it towards me, bowed, then placed it on the low stand--thus indicating the seat which I was to take, on the platform. Mr. Wen said, in my ear, "Sit down." Mr. Sowerby was placed at the other side of the stand; the two Chinese gentlemen seated themselves at the two side-tables, facing each other. One thing I remembered from Mr. Sowerby's coaching--I must not touch my bowl of tea. I must not even look at it. The tea is not to drink; it is brought in order that the caller may be enabled to take his leave gracefully. The Chinese gentlefolk are so wedded to life's little ceremonies that guest and host cannot bring themselves to talk right out about terminating a visit. The guest would shiver at the notion of saying, "Well, I must go, now." Instead, he fingers his tea bowl, or perhaps merely glances at it; and then he and his host both rise. His Excellency fixed his eyes on me and uttered a deliberate, musical sentence. "He says," translated Mr. Sowerby, "that you have come to help China." I am afraid I blushed at this. It had not occurred to me to state my mission in just those words. I replied that I had come, as a journalist, to learn the truth about the opium question. We talked for an hour about the wonderful warfare which China is waging against her besetting vice. "China is sincere in this struggle," he said. "Public opinion was never more determined." He asked me if I had investigated the new Malay drug which had lately been heralded as a specific for opium-poisoning. "If," he said, "you should learn of any real cure, while you are investigating this subject, I wish you would advise me about it." I promised him I would do so. I had already heard from a number of sources that Ting was personally giving two to three thousand taels a month (a tael is about seventy-five cents) to the support of opium refuges and for the purchase of drugs for distribution among the poor. "China is sick," he said; "she must be cured so that she may hold up her head among the nations." Shortly after we had driven back through the rain and had mounted the stairs to Mr. Sowerby's library, a Yamen runner was shown into the room, bearing presents from the provincial judge. The runner bowed to me and presented his tray. On it, beside the large red "card" of Ting Pao Chuen, were four bottles of native wine, or "shumshoo," two cans of beef tongue, and two cans of sauerkraut! V SOWING THE WIND IN CHINA--SHANGHAI