And I grew still more uneasy, when I found that any succored and befriended refugee from Ireland or elsewhere could stand up before that judge and swear, away the life or liberty or character of a refugee from China; but that by the law of the land the Chinaman could not testify against the Irishman.  I was really and truly uneasy, but still my faith in the universal liberty that America accords and defends, and my deep veneration for the land that offered all distressed outcasts a home and protection, was strong within me, and I said to myself that it would all come out right yet. 
                                                  Ah Song hi.

LETTER VII

SanFrancisco, 18—.  Dear Ching Foo:  I was glad enough when my case came up.  An hour’s experience had made me as tired of the police court as of the dungeon.  I was not uneasy about the result of the trial, but on the contrary felt that as soon as the large auditory of Americans present should hear how that the rowdies had set the dogs on me when I was going peacefully along the street, and how, when I was all torn and bleeding, the officers arrested me and put me in jail and let the rowdies go free, the gallant hatred of oppression which is part of the very flesh and blood of every American would be stirred to its utmost, and I should be instantly set at liberty.  In truth I began to fear for the other side.  There in full view stood the ruffians who had misused me, and I began to fear that in the first burst of generous anger occasioned by the revealment of what they had done, they might be harshly handled, and possibly even banished the country as having dishonoured her and being no longer worthy to remain upon her sacred soil.

The official interpreter of the court asked my name, and then spoke it aloud so that all could hear.  Supposing that all was now ready, I cleared my throat and began—­in Chinese, because of my imperfect English: 

“Hear, O high and mighty mandarin, and believe!  As I went about my peaceful business in the street, behold certain men set a dog on me, and—­

“Silence!”

It was the judge that spoke.  The interpreter whispered to me that I must keep perfectly still.  He said that no statement would be received from me—­I must only talk through my lawyer.

I had no lawyer.  In the early morning a police court lawyer (termed, in the higher circles of society, a “shyster”) had come into our den in the prison and offered his services to me, but I had been obliged to go without them because I could not pay in advance or give security.  I told the interpreter how the matter stood.  He said I must take my chances on the witnesses then.  I glanced around, and my failing confidence revived.

“Call those four Chinamen yonder,” I said.  “They saw it all.  I remember their faces perfectly.  They will prove that the white men set the dog on me when I was not harming them.”