going to war with China over the matter. "We are not ready yet," said he.
He then demanded of the reformers what they were going to do with
themselves. This was too much for So Jai-pil. His seniors tried to restrain
him, but in vain, "What way is this for Samurai to treat Samurai?" he hotly
demanded. "We trusted you, and now you betray and forsake us. I have had
enough of you. I am going to a new world, where men stand by their bonds
and deal fairly with one another. I shall go to America."

A few weeks later he landed in San Francisco, penniless. He knew scarcely
any English. He sought work. His first job was to deliver circulars from
door to door, and for this he was paid three dollars a day. He attended
churches and meetings to learn how to pronounce the English tongue. He
saved money enough to enter college, and graduated with honours. He became
an American citizen, taking a new form of his name, Philip Jaisohn. He
joined the United States Civil Service and in due course was made a doctor
of medicine by Johns Hopkins University. He acquired a practice at
Washington, and was lecturer for two medical schools. Later on, he was
recalled to his native land.

The Korean reformers themselves saw, later on, the folly of their attempt.
"We were very young," they say. They were the tools of the Japanese
Minister, and they had inherited a tradition of political life which made
revolt seem the natural weapon by which to overthrow your enemies. They
learned wisdom in exile, and some of them were subsequently to reach high
rank in their country's service.

There is a sequel to this story. The King and the Court regarded Kim
Ok-kiun as the unpardonable offender. Other men might be forgiven, for
after all attempted revolts were no novelties. But there was to be no
forgiveness for Kim.