at the Hsiao temple. Now it chanced that the magistrate of the
district, Mr. Tsêng of San-han, had a daughter who was very fond of
hunting, and that one day young Chang met her in the fields, and was
much struck with her great beauty. She was dressed in an embroidered
sable jacket, and rode about on a small palfrey, for all the world
like a girl in a picture. Chang went home with the young lady still in
his thoughts, his heart being deeply touched; but he soon after heard,
to his infinite sorrow and dismay, that Miss Tsêng had died suddenly.
Their own home being at a distance,[202] her father deposited the
coffin in a temple;[203] the very temple, in fact, where her lover was
residing. Accordingly Chang paid to her remains the same respect he
would have offered to a god; he burnt incense every morning, and
poured out libations at every meal, always accompanied by the
following invocation:--“I had hardly seen you when your spirit became
ever present to me in my dreams. But you passed suddenly away; and
now, near as we are together, we are as far apart as if separated by
hills and rivers. Alas! alas! In life you were under the control of
your parents; now, however, there is nothing to restrain you, and with
your supernatural power, I should be hearing the rustle of your robe
as you approach to ease the sorrow of my heart.” Day and night he
prayed thus, and when some six months had passed away, and he was one
night trimming his lamp to read, he raised his head and saw a young
lady standing, all smiles, before him. Rising up, he inquired who she
was; to which his visitor replied, “Grateful to you for your love of
me, I was unable to resist the temptation of coming to thank you
myself.” Chang then offered her a seat, and they sat together chatting
for some time. From this date the young lady used to come in every
evening, and on one occasion said to Chang, “I was formerly very fond
of riding and archery, shooting the musk and slaying the deer; it is a
great sorrow to me to be deprived of these pleasures by death. If you
have any friendly feelings towards me, I pray you recite for me the
Diamond _sutra_[204] five thousand and forty-eight times, and I will
never forget your kindness.” Chang did as he was asked, getting up
every night and telling his beads before the coffin, until the
occasion of a certain festival, when he wished to go home to his
parents, and take the young lady with him. Miss Tsêng said she was
afraid her feet were too tender to walk far; but Chang offered to
carry her, to which she laughingly assented. It was just like carrying
a child, she was so light;[205] and by degrees Chang got so accustomed
to taking her about with him, that when he went up for his examination
she went in too.[206] The only thing was she could not travel except
at night. Later on, Chang would have gone up for his master’s degree,
but the young lady told him it was of no use to try, for it was not
destined that he should pass; and accordingly he desisted from his
intention. Four or five years afterwards, Miss Tsêng’s father resigned
his appointment, and so poor was he that he could not afford to pay
for the removal of his daughter’s coffin, but wanted to bury it
economically where it was. Unfortunately, he had no ground of his own,
and then Chang came forward and said that a friend of his had a piece
of waste land near the temple, and that he might bury it there. Mr.
Tsêng was very glad to accept, and Chang kindly assisted him with the
funeral,--for what reason the former was quite unable to guess. One
night after this, as Miss Tsêng was sitting by Chang’s side, her
father having already returned home, she burst into a flood of tears,
and said, “For five years we have been good friends; we must now part.
I can never repay your goodness to me.” Chang was alarmed, and asked
her what she meant; to which she replied, “Your sympathy has told for
me in the realms below. The sum of my _sutras_ is complete, and to-day
I am to be born again in the family of a high official, Mr. Lu, of
Ho-pei. If you do not forget the present time, meet me there in
fifteen years from now, on the 16th of the 8th moon.” “Alas!” cried
Chang, “I am already over thirty, and in fifteen years more I shall be
drawing near the wood.[207] What good will our meeting do?” “I can be
your servant,” replied Miss Tsêng, “and so make some return to you.
But come, escort me a few miles on my way; the road is beset with
brambles, and I shall have some trouble with my dress.” So Chang
carried her as before, until they reached a high road, where they
found a number of carriages and horses, the latter with one or two
riders on the backs of each, and three or four, or even more persons,
in every carriage. But there was one richly-decorated carriage, with
embroidered curtains and red awnings, in which sat only one old woman,
who, when she saw Miss Tsêng, called out, “Ah, there you are.” “Here I
am,” replied Miss Tsêng; and then she turned to Chang and said, “We
must part here; do not forget what I told you.” Chang promised he
would remember; and then the old woman helped her up into the
carriage, round went the wheels, off went the attendants, and they
were gone. Sorrowfully Chang wended his way home, and there wrote upon
the wall the date mentioned by Miss Tsêng; after which, bethinking
himself of the efficacy of prayer, he took to reciting _sutras_ more
energetically than ever. By-and-by he dreamed that an angel appeared
to him, and said, “The bent of your mind is excellent indeed, but you
must visit the Southern Sea.”[208] Asking how far off the Southern Sea
was, the angel informed him it was close by; and then waking up, and
understanding what was required of him, he fixed his sole thoughts on
Buddha, and lived a purer life than before. In three years’ time his
two sons, Ming and Chêng, came out very high on the list at the
examination for the second degree, in spite of which worldly successes
Chang continued to lead his usual holy life. Then one night he dreamed
that another angel led him among beautiful halls and palaces, where he
saw a personage sitting down who resembled Buddha himself. This
personage said to him, “My son, your virtue is a matter of great joy;
unhappily your term of life is short, and I have, therefore, made an
appeal to God[209] on your behalf.” Chang prostrated himself, and
knocked his head upon the ground; upon which he was commanded to rise,
and was served with tea, fragrant as the epidendrum. A boy was next
instructed to take him to bathe in a pool, the water of which was so
exquisitely clear that he could count the fishes swimming about
therein. He found it warm as he walked in, and scented like the leaves
of the lotus-flower; and gradually the water got deeper and deeper,
until he went down altogether and passed through with his head under
water. He then waked up in a fright; but from this moment he became
more robust and his sight improved. As he stroked his beard the white
hairs all came out, and by-and-by the black ones too; the wrinkles on
his face were smoothed away, and in a few months he had the beardless
face of a boy of fifteen or sixteen. He also grew very fond of playing
about like other boys, and would sometimes tumble head over heels, and
be picked up by his sons. Soon afterwards his wife died of old age,
and his sons begged him to marry again into some good family; but he
said he should be obliged to go to Ho-pei first; and then, calculating
his dates, found that the appointed time had arrived. So he ordered
his horses and servants, and set off for Ho-pei, where he discovered
that there actually was a high official named Lu. Now Mr. Lu had a
daughter, who when born was able to talk,[210] and became very clever
and beautiful as she grew up. She was the idol of her parents, and had
been asked in marriage by many suitors, but would not accept any of
them; and when her father and mother inquired her motives for refusal,
she told them the story of her engagement in her former life. “Silly
child,” said they, reckoning up the time, and laughing at her; “that
Mr. Chang would now be about fifty years of age, a changed and feeble
old man. Even if he is still alive, his hair will be white and his
teeth gone.” But their daughter would not listen to them; and, finding
her so obstinate in her determination, they instructed the doorkeeper
to admit no strangers until the appointed time should have passed,
that thus her expectations might be brought to naught. Before long,
Chang arrived, but the doorkeeper would not let him in, and he went
back to his inn in great distress, not knowing what to do. He then
took to walking about the fields, and secretly making inquiries
concerning the family. Meanwhile Miss Tsêng thought that he had broken
his engagement, and refused all food, giving herself up to tears
alone. Her mother argued that he was probably dead, or in any case
that the breach of engagement was no fault of her daughter’s; to none
of which, however, would Miss Tsêng listen, lying where she was the
livelong day. Mr. Lu now became anxious about her, and determined to
see what manner of man this Chang might be; so, on the plea of taking
a walk, he went out to meet him in the fields, and to his astonishment
found quite a young man. They sat down together on some leaves, and
after chatting awhile Mr. Lu was so charmed with his young friend’s
bearing that he invited him to his house. No sooner had they arrived,
than Mr. Lu begged Chang to excuse him a moment, and ran in first to
tell his daughter, who exerted herself to get up and take a peep at
the stranger. Finding, however, that he was not the Chang she had
formerly known, she burst into tears and crept back to bed, upbraiding
her parents for trying to deceive her thus. Her father declared he was
no other than Chang, but his daughter replied only with tears; and
then he went back very much upset to his guest, whom he treated with
great want of courtesy. Chang asked him if he was not the Mr. Lu, of
such and such a position, to which he replied in a vacant kind of way
that he was, looking the other way all the time and paying no
attention to Chang. The latter did not approve of this behaviour, and
accordingly took his leave; and in a few days Miss Tsêng had cried
herself to death. Chang then dreamed that she appeared to him, and
said, “Was it you after all that I saw? You were so changed in age and
appearance that when I looked upon your face I did not know you. I
have already died from grief; but if you make haste to the little
street shrine and summon my spirit back, I may still recover. Be not
late!” Chang then waked, and immediately made inquiries at Mr. Lu’s
house, when he found that the young lady had been dead two days.
Telling her father his dream, they went forth to summon the spirit
back; and on opening the shroud, and throwing themselves with
lamentations over the corpse, a noise was heard in the young lady’s
throat, and her cherry lips parted. They moved her on to a bed, and
soon she began to moan, to the great joy of Mr. Lu, who took Chang out
of the room and, over a bumper of wine, asked some questions about his
family. He was glad to find that Chang was a suitable match for his
daughter, and an auspicious day was fixed for the wedding. In a
fortnight the event came off, the bride being escorted to Chang’s
house by her father, who remained with them six months before going
home again. They were a youthful pair, and people who didn’t know the
story mistook Chang’s son and daughter-in-law for his father and
mother. A year later Mr. Lu died; and his son, a mere child, having
been badly wounded by some scoundrels, and the family property being
almost gone, Chang made him come and live with them, and be one of
their own family.
FOOTNOTES:
[202] No man being allowed to hold office within a radius of 500 _li_,
or nearly 200 miles, from his native place.
[203] This is a very common custom all over China.
[204] Of all the Buddhist _sutras_, this is perhaps the favourite with
the Chinese.
[205] Contrary to the German notion that the spirit of the dead
mother, coming back at night to suckle the child she has left behind,
makes an impress on the bed alongside the baby.
[206] Being, of course, invisible to all except himself.
[207] A very ancient expression, signifying “the grave,” the word
“wood” being used by synecdoche for “coffin.”
[208] The supposed residence of Kuan-yin, the Chinese Goddess of
Mercy, she who “hears prayers” and is the giver of children.
[209] The great Supreme Ruler, who is supposed to have absolute sway
over the various other deities of the Chinese Pantheon.
[210] Generally spoken of as an inauspicious phenomenon.
XXXIV.
A TAOIST PRIEST.
Once upon a time there was a Mr. Han, who belonged to a wealthy
family, and was fond of entertaining people. A man named Hsü, of the
same town, frequently joined him over the bottle; and on one occasion
when they were together a Taoist priest came to the door with his
alms-bowl[211] in his hand. The servants threw him some money and
food, but the priest would not accept them, neither would he go away;
and at length they would take no more notice of him. Mr. Han heard the
noise of the priest knocking his bowl[212] going on for a long time,
and asked his servants what was the matter; and they had hardly told
him when the priest himself walked in. Mr. Han begged him to be
seated; whereupon the priest bowed to both gentlemen and took his
seat. On making the usual inquiries, they found that he lived at an
old tumble-down temple to the east of the town, and Mr. Han expressed
regret at not having heard sooner of his arrival, so that he might
have shown him the proper hospitality of a resident. The priest said
that he had only recently arrived, and had no friends in the place;
but hearing that Mr. Han was a jovial fellow, he had been very anxious
to take a glass with him. Mr. Han then ordered wine, and the priest
soon distinguished himself as a hard drinker; Mr. Hsü treating him all
the time with a certain amount of disrespect in consequence of his
shabby appearance, while Mr. Han made allowances for him as being a
traveller. When he had drunk over twenty large cups of wine, the
priest took his leave, returning subsequently whenever any
jollification was going on, no matter whether it was eating or
drinking. Even Han began now to tire a little of him; and on one
occasion Hsü said to him in raillery, “Good priest, you seem to like
being a guest; why don’t you play the host sometimes for a change?”
“Ah,” replied the priest, “I am much the same as yourself--a mouth
carried between a couple of shoulders.”[213] This put Hsü to shame,
and he had no answer to make; so the priest continued, “But although
that is so, I have been revolving the question with myself for some
time, and when we do meet I shall do my best to repay your kindness
with a cup of my own poor wine.” When they had finished drinking, the
priest said he hoped he should have the pleasure of their company the
following day at noon; and at the appointed time the two friends went
together, not expecting, however, to find anything ready for them. But
the priest was waiting for them in the street; and passing through a
handsome court-yard, they beheld long suites of elegant apartments
stretching away before them. In great astonishment, they remarked to
the priest that they had not visited this temple for some time, and
asked when it had been thus repaired; to which he replied that the
work had been only lately completed. They then went inside, and there
was a magnificently-decorated apartment, such as would not be found
even in the houses of the wealthy. This made them begin to feel more
respect for their host; and no sooner had they sat down than wine and
food were served by a number of boys, all about sixteen years of age,
and dressed in embroidered coats, with red shoes. The wine and the
eatables were delicious, and very nicely served; and when the dinner
was taken away, a course of rare fruits was put on the table, the
names of all of which it would be impossible to mention. They were
arranged in dishes of crystal and jade, the brilliancy of which
lighted up the surrounding furniture; and the goblets in which the
wine was poured were of glass,[214] and more than a foot in
circumference. The priest here cried out, “Call the Shih sisters,”
whereupon one of the boys went out, and in a few moments two elegant
young ladies walked in. The first was tall and slim like a willow
wand; the other was short and very young, both being exceedingly
pretty girls. Being told to sing while the company were drinking, the
younger beat time and sang a song, while the elder accompanied her on
the flageolet. They acquitted themselves admirably; and, when the song
was over, the priest holding his goblet bottom upwards in the air,
challenged his guests to follow his example, bidding his servants pour
out more wine all round. He then turned to the girls, and remarked
that they had not danced for a long time, asking if they were still
able to do so; upon which a carpet was spread by one of the boys, and
the two young ladies proceeded to dance, their long robes waving about
and perfuming the air around. The dance concluded, they leant against
a painted screen, while the two guests gradually became more and more
confused, and were at last irrecoverably drunk. The priest took no
notice of them; but when he had finished drinking, he got up and said,
“Pray, go on with your wine; I am going to rest awhile, and will
return by-and-by.” He then went away, and lay down on a splendid couch
at the other end of the room; at which Hsü was very angry, and shouted
out, “Priest, you are a rude fellow,” at the same time making towards
him with a view of rousing him up. The priest then ran out, and Han
and Hsü lay down to sleep, one at each end of the room, on
elaborately-carved couches covered with beautiful mattresses. When
they woke up, they found themselves lying in the road, Mr. Hsü with
his head in a dirty drain. Hard by were a couple of rush huts; but
everything else was gone.
FOOTNOTES:
[211] This is the Buddhist _patra_, which modern writers have come to
regard as an instrumental part of the Taoist religion. See No. IV.,
note 46.
[212] To call attention to his presence. Beggars in China accomplish
their purpose more effectually by beating a gong in the shop where
they ask for alms so loudly as to prevent the shopkeeper from hearing
his customers speak; or they vary the performance by swinging about
some dead animal tied to the end of a stick. Mendicity not being
prohibited in China, there results a system of black mail payable by
every householder to a beggars’ guild, and this frees them from the
visits of the beggars of their own particular district; many, however,
do not subscribe, but take their chance in the struggle as to who will
tire out the other first, the shopkeeper, who has all to lose, being
careful to stop short of anything like manual violence, which would
forthwith bring down upon him the myrmidons of the law, and subject
him to innumerable “squeezes.”
[213] _Sc._ a “sponge.”
[214] Said to have been introduced into China from the west by a
eunuch named San-pao during the Ming dynasty.
XXXV.
THE FIGHT WITH THE FOXES.
In the province of Chih-li, there was a wealthy family in want of a
tutor. One day a graduate presented himself at the door, and was asked
by the master of the house to walk in; and he conversed so pleasantly
that in a short time it was clear to both sides that they were
mutually pleased with each other. The tutor said his name was Hu; and
when the usual present had been made to him, he was forthwith provided
with apartments, and entered very energetically upon his duties,
proving himself a scholar of no mean order. He was, however, very fond
of roaming, and generally came back in the middle of the night, not
troubling himself to knock if the door was locked but suddenly
appearing on the inside. It was therefore suspected that he was a fox,
though as his intentions seemed to be harmless, he was treated
extremely well, and not with any want of courtesy as if he had been
something uncanny. By-and-by he discovered that his master had a
daughter,[215] and being desirous of securing the match was always
dropping hints to that effect, which his master, on the other hand,
invariably pretended not to understand. One day he went off for a
holiday, and on the next day a stranger called; who, tying a black
mule at the door, accepted the invitation of the master to take a seat
within. He was about fifty years of age, very neat and clean in his
dress, and gentlemanly in his manners. When they were seated, the
stranger began by saying that he was come with proposals of marriage
on behalf of Mr. Hu; to which his host, after some consideration,
replied that he and Mr. Hu got along excellently well as friends, and
there was no object in bringing about a closer connection. “Besides,”
added he, “my daughter is already betrothed, and I beg you, therefore,
to ask Mr. Hu to excuse me.” The stranger said he was quite sure the
young lady was not engaged, and inquired what might be the objection
to the match: but it was all of no avail, until at length he remarked,
“Mr. Hu is of a good family; I see no reason why you should have such
an aversion to him.” “Well, then,” replied the other, “I will tell you
what it is. We don’t like his _species_.” The stranger here got very
angry, and his host also lost his temper, so that they came to high
words, and were already on the way to blows, when the latter bade his
servants give the stranger a beating and turn him out. The stranger
then retired, leaving his mule behind him; and when they drew near to
look at it they found a huge creature with black hair, drooping ears,
and a long tail. They tried to lead it away, but it would not move;
and on giving it a shove with the hand from behind, it toppled over
and was discovered to be only of straw. In consequence of the angry
words that had been said, the master of the house felt sure that there
would be an attempt at revenge, and accordingly made all preparations;
and sure enough the next day a whole host of fox-soldiers arrived,
some on horseback, some on foot, some with spears, and others with
cross-bows, men and horses trampling along with an indescribable din.
The family were afraid to leave the house, and the foxes shouted out
to set the place on fire, at which the inmates were dreadfully
alarmed; but just then one of the bravest of them rushed forth with a
number of the servants to engage the foxes. Stones and arrows flew
about in all directions, and many on both sides were wounded; at
length, however, the foxes drew off leaving their swords on the field.
These glittered like frost or snow, but when picked up turned out to
be only millet-stalks. “Is this all their cunning?” cried their
adversary, laughing, at the same time making still more careful
preparations in case the foxes should come again. Next day they were
deliberating together, when suddenly a giant descended upon them from
the sky. He was over ten feet in height by several feet in breadth,
and brandished a sword as broad as half a door; but they attacked him
so vigorously with arrows and stones that he was soon stretched dead
upon the ground, when they saw that he was made of grass. Our friends
now began to make light of their fox-foes, and as they saw nothing
more of them for three days their precautions were somewhat relaxed.
The foxes, however, soon reappeared, armed with bows and arrows, and
succeeded in shooting the master of the house in the back,
disappearing when he summoned his servants and proceeded to attack
them. Then, drawing the arrow from his back, he found it was a long
thorn; and thus the foxes went on for a month or so, coming and going,
and making it necessary to take precautions, though not really
inflicting any serious injury. This annoyed the master of the family
very much, until one day Mr. Hu[216] himself appeared with a troop of
soldiers at his back, and he immediately went out to meet him. Mr. Hu
withdrew among his men, but the master called to him to come forth,
and then asked him what he had done that soldiers should be thus
brought against his family. The foxes were now on the point of
discharging their arrows; Mr. Hu, however, stopped them; whereupon he
and his old master shook hands, and the latter invited him to walk
into his old room. Wine being served, his host observed, “You, Mr. Hu,
are a man of intelligence, and I trust you will make allowances for
me. Friends as we were, I should naturally have been glad to form a
connection with you; your carriages, however, horses, houses, etc.,
are not those of ordinary mortals; and even had my daughter consented,
you must know the thing would have been impossible, she being still a
great deal too young.” Mr. Hu was somewhat disconcerted at this, but
his host continued, “It’s of no consequence; we can still be friends
as before, and if you do not despise us earthly creatures, there is my
son whom you have taught; he is fifteen years old, and I should be
proud to see him connected with you if such an arrangement should be
feasible.” Mr. Hu was delighted, and said, “I have a daughter one year
younger than your son; she is neither ugly nor stupid. How would she
do?” His host got up and made a low bow, which Mr. Hu forthwith
returned, and they then became the best of friends, forgetting all
about the former unpleasantness. Wine was given to Mr. Hu’s
attendants, and every one was made happy. The host now inquired where
Mr. Hu lived, that the ceremony of pouring out a libation to the
geese[217] might be performed; but Mr. Hu said this would not be
necessary, and remained drinking till night, when he went away again.
From this time there was no more trouble; and a year passed without
any news of Mr. Hu, so that it seemed as if he wished to get out of
his bargain. The family, however, went on waiting, and in six months
more Mr. Hu reappeared, when, after a few general remarks, he declared
that his daughter was ready, and requested that an auspicious day
might be fixed for her to come to her husband’s home. This being
arranged, the young lady arrived with a retinue of sedan-chairs, and
horses, and a beautiful trousseau that nearly filled a room.[218] She
was unusually respectful to her father and mother in-law, and the
former was much pleased with the match. Her father and a younger
brother of his had escorted her to the house, and conversing away in a
most refined style they sat drinking till daybreak before they went
away. The bride herself had the gift of foreknowing whether the
harvest would be good or bad, and her advice was always taken in such
matters. Mr. Hu and his brother, and also their mother, often came to
visit her in her new home, and were then very frequently seen by
people.
FOOTNOTES:
[215] The women’s apartments being quite separate from the rest of a
Chinese house, male visitors consequently know nothing about their
inhabitants.
[216] See No. XIII., note 90.
[217] A very ancient custom in China, originating in a belief that
these birds never mate a second time. The libation is made on the
occasion of the bridegroom fetching his bride from her father’s house.
[218] A Chinese trousseau, in addition to clothes and jewels, consists
of tables and chairs, and all kinds of house furniture and ornaments.
XXXVI.
THE KING.
A certain Governor of Hu-nan despatched a magistrate to the capital in
charge of treasure to the amount of six hundred thousand ounces of
silver. On the road the magistrate encountered a violent storm of
rain, which so delayed him that night came on before he was able to
reach the next station. He therefore took refuge in an old temple;
but, when morning came, he was horrified to find that the treasure had
disappeared. Unable to fix the guilt on any one, he returned forthwith
to the Governor and told him the whole story. The latter, however,
refused to believe what the magistrate said, and would have had him
severely punished, but that each and all of his attendants stoutly
corroborated his statements; and accordingly he bade him return and
endeavour to find the missing silver. When the magistrate got back to
the temple, he met an extraordinary-looking blind man, who informed
him that he could read people’s thoughts, and further went on to say
that the magistrate had come there on a matter of money. The latter
replied that it was so, and recounted the misfortune that had
overtaken him; whereupon the blind man called for sedan-chairs, and
told the magistrate to follow and see for himself, which he
accordingly did, accompanied by all his retinue. If the blind man said
east, they went east; or if north, north; journeying along for five
days until far among the hills, where they beheld a large city with a
great number of inhabitants. They entered the gates and proceeded on
for a short distance, when suddenly the blind man cried, “Stop!” and,
alighting from his chair, pointed to a lofty door facing the west, at
which he told the magistrate to knock and make what inquiries were
necessary. He then bowed and took his leave, and the magistrate obeyed
his instructions, whereupon a man came out in reply to his summons. He
was dressed in the fashion of the Han dynasty,[219] and did not say
what his name was; but as soon as the magistrate informed him
wherefore he had come, he replied that if the latter would wait a few
days he himself would assist him in the matter. The man then conducted
the magistrate within, and giving him a room to himself, provided him
regularly with food and drink. One day he chanced to stroll away to
the back of the building, and there found a beautiful garden with
dense avenues of pine-trees and smooth lawns of fine grass. After
wandering about for some time among the arbours and ornamental
buildings, the magistrate came to a lofty kiosque, and mounted the
steps, when he saw hanging on the wall before him a number of human
skins, each with its eyes, nose, ears, mouth, and heart.[220]
Horrified at this, he beat a hasty retreat to his quarters, convinced
that he was about to leave his own skin in this out-of-the-way place,
and giving himself up for lost. He reflected, however, that he should
probably gain nothing by trying to escape, and made up his mind to
wait; and on the following day the same man came to fetch him, saying
he could now have an audience. The magistrate replied that he was
ready; and his conductor then mounted a fiery steed, leaving the other
to follow on foot. By-and-by they reached a door like that leading
into a Viceroy’s _yamên_, where stood on either side crowds of
official servants, preserving the utmost silence and decorum. The man
here dismounted and led the magistrate inside; and after passing
through another door they came into the presence of a king, who wore a
cap decorated with pearls, and an embroidered sash, and sat facing the
south. The magistrate rushed forward and prostrated himself on the
ground; upon which the king asked him if he was the Hu-nan official
who had been charged with the conveyance of treasure. On his answering
in the affirmative, the king said, “The money is all here; it’s a mere
trifle, but I have no objection to receive it as a present from the
Governor.” The magistrate here burst into tears, and declared that
his term of grace had already expired: that he would be punished if he
went back thus, especially as he would have no evidence to adduce in
substantiation of his story. “That is easy enough,” replied the king,
and put into his hands a thick letter, which he bade him give to the
Governor, assuring him that this would prevent him from getting into
any trouble. He also provided him with an escort; and the magistrate,
who dared not argue the point further, sorrowfully accepted the letter
and took his departure. The road he travelled along was not that by
which he had come; and when the hills ended, his escort left him and
went back. In a few days more he reached Ch‘ang-sha, and respectfully
informed the Governor of what had taken place; but the Governor
thought he was telling more lies, and in a great rage bade the
attendants bind him hand and foot. The magistrate then drew the letter
forth from his coat; and when the Governor broke the seal and saw its
contents, his face turned deadly pale. He gave orders for the
magistrate to be unbound, remarking that the loss of the treasure was
of no importance, and that the magistrate was free to go. Instructions
were next issued that the amount was to be made up in some way or
other and forwarded to the capital; and meanwhile the Governor fell
sick and died.