
The Bitter Tea of General Yen
- APPROVED
- Year:
- 1932
- 88 min
- 146 Views
(0.00 / 0 votes)Well, if it isn't Amelia, our little
tower of strength from Tientsin.
And Dr. Hansen. Shades
Rain and refugees and shooting
all the way. My, what a country.
Hello, Mrs. Blake.
Hello, Mrs. Jackson.
Come in, Mr. Pettis.
Haven't seen you since the gunboats
rescued us from General Yen.
Yeah.
By the skin of our teeth, wasn't it?
Close one, that, close one, that.
Step into the living room.
Everybody in China is here.
Literally everybody.
And no wonder. No missionary in
China would miss Dr. Strike's wedding.
No, indeed. Step right in.
Where is the bride
and groom?
They're not here yet.
What?
Oh, she's on her way
from the ship
with my husband.
Oh. And Bob?
Oh, Dr. Strike telephoned.
He'll be busy working among the
refugees until the very last moment.
He didn't even have time to
meet the boat. Imagine that.
That's Robert Strike all over.
And you say he hasn't
seen her in three years?
No. They're supposed to be
childhood sweethearts.
I can hardly wait
till I see them kiss.
Amelia.
Who is the bride, Mrs. Jackson?
Megan Davis.
Finest old Puritan family
in New England, my dear.
Her father's a big publisher.
Very old family.
I hope Dr. Strike
isn't making a mistake.
No. I hear she is young,
attractive, full of energy.
She'll need it.
Yes.
Dedicating her life to the
service of mankind in China.
Just what I did 50 years ago
with my own bride, Mary.
Yes, it's glorious.
And yet, I pity her.
Pity her?
I've spent 50 years
in China,
and there are times when I think
we're just a lot of persistent ants
trying to move
a great mountain.
Bishop, how can you say that?
After all that you've done?
Yes, I do pity her.
When I think of what
she has to face, I...
Only last month I learned
a terrible lesson.
I was telling the story
of the Crucifixion
to some Mongolian tribesmen.
Finally, l... I thought
They crept closer
to my little platform,
their eyes burning with the
wonder of their attention.
Mongolian bandits, mind you,
listening spellbound.
But, alas, I had misinterpreted
their interest in the story.
The next caravan of merchants
that crossed the Gobi Desert
was captured by them
and crucified.
That, my friends, is China.
Miss Davis, please.
Come on. Miss Davis!
You've run down
my rickshaw boy.
Yes.
That Chinaman in the car doesn't
seem to care much. It was his fault.
Aren't you going to send
for an ambulance?
Is he badly hurt?
Aren't you going to do anything
for that boy? He may be dying.
If so, he is very fortunate.
Life, even at its best,
is hardly endurable.
How can you be so unfeeling?
What kind of a man are you anyway?
Oh, I'm so sorry.
Do you want a handkerchief?
Madam, it's raining, and I'm
afraid you are getting wet.
Miss Davis, I've gotten
another rickshaw boy.
Come on, come on!
You shouldn't have
done that, Miss Davis.
Oh, I couldn't help it.
Everybody was so callous.
I know, but human life
is the cheapest thing in China.
Oh, I do hope the bishop's
going to like them.
It is a wonderful event... Yes?
Oh, here comes the bride.
The bride.
Play "Here Comes the Bride."
Here comes the bride.
Megan Davis!
My land, child.
It's been 11 years since I saw
you last. Let me look at you.
Shh!
Folks, this is
Miss Megan Davis.
Take a good look at her,
because in half an hour,
the poor thing will be
Mrs. Robert Strike.
No, no, no, no, you can't
get acquainted with her now.
slaughter. Come on, Megan.
But I can't understand it.
The owner of the car
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