He had a deep sense of compassion for anyone in distress of body or spirit: a poor man had only to hold out his hand, and Po-wan poured gold into it; if a destitute widow and her brood of starvelings but lifted sorrowful eyes to his, he provided them with food and lodging and friendship for the rest of their days.
His resources so dwindled that finally he scarcely had enough food for himself; his clothes flapped threadbare on his wasted frame; and the cold seeped into his bone marrow for lack of a fire.
‘I have a beautiful daughter,’ he said, ‘wonderfully amiable and pleasing of disposition. But although she is in her twentieth year, she has never in all her life uttered a single word...'