Once upon a time there dwelt a beautiful maiden in a quiet little
village on the shore of the Heavenly River.
Her name was Vega, but the people of China have always called her the
Spinning Maiden, because of her faithfulness to her work, for though
days, and months, and years passed away, she never left her loom.
Her diligence so moved the heart of her grandfather, the King of
Heaven, that he determined to give her a vacation, which she at once
decided to spend upon the earth.
In a village near where the maiden dwelt there was a young man named
Altair, whom the Chinese call the Cow-herd.
Now the Cow-herd was in love with the Spinning Girl, but she was always
so intent upon her work as never to give him an opportunity to confess
his affection, but now he determined to follow her to earth, and, if
possible, win her for his bride.
He followed her through the green fields and shady groves, but never
dared approach her or tell her of his love.
At last, however, the time came. He discovered her bathing in a limpid
stream, the banks of which were carpeted with flowers, while myriad
boughs of blossoming peach and cherry trees hid her from all the world
but him.
He secretly crept near and stole away and hid her garments made of
silken gauze and finely woven linen, making it alike impossible for her
to resist his suit or to return to her celestial home.
She yielded to the Cow-herd and soon became his wife, and as the years
passed by a boy and girl were born to them, little star children,
twins, such as are seen near by the Spinning Girl in her heavenly home
to-day.
One day she went to her husband, and, bowing low, requested that he
return the clothes he had hid away, and he, thinking the presence of
the children a sufficient guaranty for her remaining in his home, told
her he had put them in an old, dry well hard by the place where she had
been bathing.
No sooner had she secured them than the aspect of their home was
changed. The Cow-herd's wife once more became the Spinning Girl and
hied her to her heavenly abode.
It so happened that her husband had a piece of cow-skin which gave him
power over earth and air. Snatching up this, with his ox-goad, he
followed in the footsteps of his fleeing wife.
Arriving at their heavenly home the happy couple sought the joys of
married life. The Spinning Girl gave up her loom, and the Cow-herd his
cattle, until their negligence annoyed the King of Heaven, and he
repented having let her leave her loom. He called upon the Western
Royal Mother for advice. After consultation they decided that the two
should be separated. The Queen, with a single stroke of her great
silver hairpin, drew a line across the heavens, and from that time the
Heavenly River has flowed between them, and they are destined to dwell
forever on the two sides of the Milky Way.
What had seemed to the youthful pair the promise of perpetual joy,
became a condition of unending grief. They were on the two sides of a
bridgeless river, in plain sight of each other, but forever debarred
from hearing the voice or pressing the land of the one beloved, doomed
to perpetual toil unlit by any ray of joy or hope.
Their evident affection and unhappy condition moved the heart of His
Majesty, and caused him to allow them to visit each other once with
each revolving year,--on the seventh day of the seventh moon. But
permission was not enough, for as they looked upon the foaming waters
of the turbulent stream, they could but weep for their wretched
condition, for no bridge united its two banks, nor was it allowed that
any structure be built which would mar the contour of the shining dome.
In their helplessness the magpies came to their rescue. At early morn
on the seventh day of the seventh moon, these beautiful birds gathered
in great flocks about the home of the maiden, and hovering wing to wing
above the river, made a bridge across which her dainty feet might carry
her in safety. But when the time for separation came, the two wept
bitterly, and their tears falling in copious showers are the cause of
the heavy rains which fall at that season of the year.
From time immemorial it has been known that the Yellow River is neither
more nor less than a prolongation of the Milky Way, soiled by earthly
contact and contamination, and that the homes of the Spinning Maiden
and the Cow-herd are the centres of two of the numerous villages that
adorn its banks. It is not to be wondered at, however, that in an evil
and skeptical world there should be many who doubt these facts.
On this account, and to forever settle the dispute, the great traveller
and explorer, Chang Ch'ien, undertook to discover the source of the
Yellow River. He first transformed the trunk of a great tree into a
boat, provided himself with the necessities of life and started on his
journey.
Days passed into weeks, and weeks became months as he sailed up the
murky waters of the turbid stream. But the farther he went the clearer
the waters became until it seemed as if they were flowing over a bed of
pure, white limestone. Village after village was passed both on his
right hand and on his left, and many were the strange sights that met
his gaze. The fields became more verdant, the flowers more beautiful,
the scenery more gorgeous, and the people more like nymphs and fairies.
The color of the clouds and the atmosphere was of a richer, softer hue;
while the breezes which wafted his frail bark were milder and gentler
than any he had known before.
Despairing at last of reaching the source he stopped at a village where
he saw a maiden spinning and a young man leading an ox to drink. He
alighted from his boat and inquired of the girl the name of the place,
but she, without making reply, tossed him her shuttle, telling him to
return to his home and inquire of the astrologer, who would inform him
where he received it, if he but told him when.
He returned and presented the shuttle to the noted astrologer Chun
Ping, informing him at the same time where, when and from whom he had
received it. The latter consulted his observations and calculations and
discovered that on the day and hour when the shuttle had been given to
the traveller he had observed a wandering star enter and leave the
villages of the Spinning Girl and the Cow-herd, which proved beyond
doubt that the Yellow River is the prolongation of the Milky Way, while
the points of light which we call stars, are the inhabitants of Heaven
pursuing callings similar to our own.
Chang Ch'ien made another important discovery, namely, that the
celestials, understanding the seasons better than we, turn the shining
dome in such a way as to make the Heavenly River indicate the seasons
of the year, and so the children sing:
Whene'er the Milky Way you spy,
Diagonal across the sky,
The egg-plant you may safely eat,
And all your friends to melons treat.
But when divided towards the west,
You'll need your trousers and your vest
When like a horn you see it float;
You'll need your trousers and your coat.
It is unnecessary to state that I did not go to sleep while the old
nurse was telling the story of the Heavenly River. The child sat on his
little stool, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his
hands, listening with open lips and eyes sparkling with interest. To
the old nurse it was real. The spinning girl and the cow-herd were
living persons. The flowers bloomed,--we could almost smell their
odor,--and the gentle breezes seemed to fan our cheeks. She had told
the story so often that she believed it, and she imparted to us her own
interest.
"Nurse," said the child, "tell me about
"'THE MAN IN THE MOON.'"
"The man in the moon," said the old nurse, "is called Wu Kang. He was
skilled in all the arts of the genii, and was accustomed to play before
them whenever opportunity offered or occasion required.
"Once it turned out that his performances were displeasing to the
spirits, and for this offense he was banished to the moon, and
condemned to perpetual toil in hewing down the cinnamon trees which
grow there in great abundance. At every blow of the axe he made an
incision, but only to see it close up when the axe was withdrawn.
"He had another duty, however, a duty which was at times irksome, but
one which on the whole was more pleasant than any that falls to men or
spirits,--the duty indicated by the proverb that 'matches are made in
the moon.'
"It was his lot to bind together the feet of all those on earth who are
destined to a betrothal, and in the performance of this duty, he was
often compelled to return to earth. When doing so he came as an old man
with long white hair and beard, with a book in his hand in which he had
written the matrimonial alliances of all mankind. He also carried a
wallet which contains a ball of invisible cord with which he ties
together the feet of all those who are destined to be man and wife, and
the destinies which he announces it is impossible to avoid.
"On one occasion he came to the town of Sung, and while sitting in the
moonlight, turning over the leaves of his book of destinies, he was
asked by Wei Ku, who happened to be passing, who was destined to become
his bride. The old man consulted his records, as he answered: 'Your
wife is the daughter of an old woman named Ch'en who sells vegetables
in yonder shop.'
"Having heard this, Wei Ku went the next day to look about him and if
possible to get a glimpse of the one to whom the old man referred, but
he discovered that the only child the old woman had was an ill-favored
one of two years which she carried in her arms. He hired an assassin to
murder the infant, but the blow was badly aimed and left only a scar on
the child's eyebrow.
"Fourteen years afterwards, Wei Ku married a beautiful maiden of
sixteen whose only defect was a scar above the eye, and on inquiries he
discovered that she was the one foretold by the Old Man of the Moon,
and he recalled the proverb that 'Matches are made in heaven, and the
bond of fate is sealed in the moon.'"
"Nurse, tell me about the land of the big people," whereupon the nurse
told him of