Young Snow-swain was then but 14 years old. He kept his tather's catlin, in the hopes of giving it a worthy burial, such as would be required of a filial son; and continued his studies with renewed diligence. But the next year, his mother sickened, and he had abandon all else to minister to her. Spite all his efforts, she grew worse, and towards the end she told him of his betrothal, and where the important document was secreted, so that when she should have closed her eyes in death, he might take the long, long journey to the far southwest, and seek his wealthy father-in-law, who, from the friendship of past years, and that binding agreement, would doubtless take her son into his family. Soon after this, she passed away.
Snow-swain now sold the house and the few mow of land that belonged to the family, so as to give his parents the best possible burial, and himself lodged in a temple hard by. But after his long spell of night-watching in the last illness, he himself fell sick. Thus much time elapsed before he could start un his long journey. As it was, he was stricken in strength and revenues. But, atter weary months on the road, and hardships untold, he at Tength arrived, and presented himself at the entrance of the big yamen.
The underlings treated him with scorn and contempt, scouting the idea that the meanly-clad youth was any authorized visitor to their "great official," though he, on his part, protested that he was indeed the betrothed son-in-law of the prefect. Voices rose high, and were heard in the recesses within,—until mandarin Huang emerged, and grasping the situation at once, curtly invited the young man in. Then he exclaimed: "A statement like yours needs definite proof. Have you that proof with you?"
"Certainly, Sire," replied Snow-swain, and falling on one knee be produced the document.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.