And sorry had been his recompense.
The best Christian in the mission had lately broken into the mission house and stolen everything valuable he could lay his impious hands on.
Remembrance of this infamy rankled in his bosom and impelled him to this expansive panegyric on Chinese virtue.
Some four months ago the good father was away on a holiday, visiting a missionary brother in an adjoining town.

In his absence the mission was entered through a rift made in the wall, and three hundred taels of silver, all the money to the last sou that he possessed, were stolen.
Suspicion fell upon a Christian, who was not only an active Catholic himself, but whose fathers before him had been Catholics for generations.

It was learned that his wife had some of the money, and that the thief was on his way to Suifu with the remainder.

There was great difficulty in inducing the yamen to take action, but at last the wife was arrested.

She protested that she knew nothing; but, having been triced up by the wrists joined behind her back, she soon came to reason, and cried out that, if the magistrate would release her hands, she would confess all.