The Chinese Boy and Girl

JUVENILE JUGGLING

"How is that?"

"Very good."

"Can you do it?" asked the sleight-of-hand performer, as he rolled a little red ball between his finger and thumb, pitched it up, caught it as it came down, half closed his hand and blew into it, opened his hand and the ball had disappeared.

He picked up another ball, tossed it up, caught it in his mouth, dropped it into his hand, and it mysteriously disappeared.

The juggler was seated on the ground with a piece of blue cloth spread out before him, on which were three cups, and five little red wax balls nearly as large as cranberries.

He continued to toss the wax balls about until they had all disappeared. We watched him closely, but could not discover where they had gone. He then arose, took a small portion of my coat sleeve between his thumb and finger, began rubbing them together, and by and by, one of the balls appeared between his digits. He picked at a small boy's ear and got another of the balls. He blew his nose and another dropped upon the cloth. He slapped the top of his head and one dropped out of his mouth, and he took the fifth from a boy's hair.

He then changed his method. He placed the cups' mouths down upon the cloth, and under one of them put the five little balls. When he placed the cup we watched carefully; there were no balls under it. When he raised it up, behold, there were the five little balls.

He removed the cups from one place to another, and asked us to guess which cup the balls were under, but we were always wrong.

There was a large company of us, ranging from children of three to old men and women of seventy-five, and from Chinese schoolboys to a bishop of the church, but none of us could discover how he did it.

Later, however, I learned how the trick was performed. As he raised the cup with his thumb and forefinger, he inserted two other fingers under, gathered up all the balls between them and placed them under the cup as he put it down. While in making the balls disappear, he concealed them either in his mouth or between his fingers.

The Chinese have a saying:

In selecting his balls from north to south,
The magician cannot leave his mouth;
And in rolling his balls, you understand,
He must have them hidden in his hand.

Of quite a different character are the jugglers with plates and bowls. Not only children, but many of a larger growth delight to watch these. Our only way of learning about them was to call them into our court as the Chinese call them to theirs, and that is what we did.

The performer first put a plate on the top of a trident and set it whirling. In this whirling condition he put the trident on his forehead where he balanced it, the trident whirling with the plate as though boring into his skull.

He next took a bamboo pole six feet long, with a nail in the end on which he set the plate whirling. The plate, of course, had a small indentation to keep it in its place on the nail. He raised the plate in the air and inserted into the first pole another of equal length, then another and still another, which put the plate whirling in the air thirty feet high.

Thus whirling he balanced it on his hand, on his arm, on his thumb, on his forehead, and finally in his mouth, after which he tossed the plate up, threw the pole aside and caught it as it came down. The old manager standing by received the pole, but as he saw the plate tossed up, he fell flat upon the earth, screaming lest the plate be broken.

This same performer set a bowl whirling on the end of a chop-stick. Then tossing the bowl up he caught it inverted on the chop-stick, and made it whirl as rapidly as possible. In this condition he tossed it up ten, then fifteen, then twenty or more feet into the air catching it on the chop-stick as it came down.

He then changed the process. He tossed the bowl a foot high, and struck it with the other chop-stick one, two, three, four or five times before it came down, and this he did so rapidly and regularly as to make it sound almost like music. There is a record of one of the ancient poets who was able to play a tune with his bowl and chop-sticks after having finished his meal. He may have done it in this way.

This trick seemed a very difficult performance. It excited the children, and some of the older persons clapped their hands and exclaimed, "Very good, very good." But when he tossed it only a foot high and let go the chop-stick, making it change ends, and catching the bowl, they were ready for a general applause. In striking the bowl and thus manipulating his chop-sticks, his hands moved almost as rapidly as those of an expert pianist.

"Can you toss the knives?" piped up one of the children who had seen a juggler perform this difficult feat.

The man picked up two large knives about a foot long and began tossing them with one hand. While this was going on a third knife was handed him and he kept them going with both hands. At times he threw them under his leg or behind his back, and at other times pitched them up twenty feet high, whirling them as rapidly as possible and catching them by the handles as they came down.

While doing this he passed one of the knives to the attendant who gave him a bowl, and he kept the bowl and two knives going. Then he gave the attendant another knife and received a ball, and the knife, the ball and the bowl together, the ball and bowl at times moving as though the former were glued to the bottom of the latter.

These were not all the tricks he could perform but they were all he would perform in addition to his bear show for twelve cents—for this was the man with the bear—so the children allowed him to go.

Some weeks later they called in a different bear show. This bear was larger and a better performer, but his tricks were about the same.

The juggler in addition to doing all we have already described performed also the following tricks.

He first put one end of an iron rod fifteen inches long in his mouth. On this he placed a small revolving frame three by six inches. He set a bowl whirling on the end of a bamboo splint fifteen inches long, the other end of which he rested on one side of the frame, balancing the whole in his mouth.

While the bowl continued whirling, he took the frame off the rod, stuck the bamboo in a hole in the frame an inch from the end, resting the other end of the frame on the rod, brought the bowl over so as to obtain a centre of gravity and thus balanced it.

He took two small tridents a foot or more in length, put the end of the handle of one in his mouth, set the bowl whirling on the end of the handle of the other, rested the middle prong of one on the middle prong of the other and let it whirl with the bowl. Afterwards he set the prong of the whirling trident on the edge of the other and let it whirl.

He took two long curved boar's teeth which were fastened on the ends of two sticks, one a foot long, the other six inches. The one he held in his mouth, the other having a hole diagonally through the stick, he inserted a chop-stick making an angle of seventy degrees. He set the bowl whirling on the end of the chop-stick, rested one tooth on the other, in the indentation and they whirled like a brace and bit.

Finally he took a spiral wire having a straight point on each end. This he called a dead dragon. He set the bowl whirling on one end, placing the other on the small frame already referred to. As the spiral wire began to turn as though boring, he called it a living dragon. These feats of balancing excited much wonder and merriment on the part of the children.

The juggler then took an iron trident with a handle four and a half feet long and an inch and a half thick, and, pitching it up into the air, caught it on his right arm as it came down. He allowed it to roll down his right arm, across his back, and along his left arm, and as he turned his body he kept the trident rolling around crossing his back and breast and giving it a new impetus with each arm. The trident had on it two cymbal-shaped iron plates which kept up a constant rattling.

This showman had with him three boy acrobats whose skill he proceeded to show.

"Pitch the balls," he said.

The largest of the three boys fastened a cushioned band, on which was a leather cup, around his head, the cup being on his forehead just between his eyes.

He took two wooden balls, two and a half inches in diameter, tossed them in the air twenty feet high, catching them in the cup as they came down. The shape of the cup was such as to hold the balls by suction when they fell. He never once missed. This is the most dangerous looking of all the tricks I have seen jugglers perform.

"Shooting stars," said the showman.

The boy tossed aside his cup and balls and took a string six feet long, on the two ends of which were fastened wooden balls two and a half inches in diameter. He set the balls whirling in opposite directions until they moved so rapidly as to stretch the string, which he then held in the middle with finger and thumb and by a simple motion of the hand kept the balls whirling.

He was an expert, and changed the swinging of the balls in as many different ways as an expert club-swinger could his clubs.

"Boy acrobats," called out the manager, as the manipulator of the "shooting stars" bowed himself out amid the applause of the children.

The two smaller boys threw off their coats, hitched up their trousers—always a part of the performance whether necessary or not—and began the high kick, high jump, handspring, somersault, wagon wheel, ending with hand-spring, and bending backwards until their heads touched the ground.

One of them stood on two benches a foot high, put a handkerchief on the ground, and bending backwards, picked it up with his teeth.

The two boys then clasped each other around the waist, as in the illustration, and each threw the other back over his head a dozen times or more.

Exit the bear show with the boy acrobats, enter the old woman juggler with her husband who beats the gong.

This was one of the most interesting performances I have ever seen in China, perhaps because so unexpected.

The old woman had small, bound feet. She lay flat on her back, stuck up her feet, and her husband put a crock a foot in diameter and a foot and a half deep upon them. She set it rolling on her feet until it whirled like a cylinder. She tossed it up in such a way as to have it light bottom side up on her "lillies,"[1] in which position she kept it whirling. Tossing it once more it came down on the side, and again tossing it she caught it right side up on her small feet, keeping it whirling all the time.

My surprise was so great that I gave the old woman ten cents for performing this single trick.

The tricks of sleight-of-hand performers are well-nigh without number. Some of them are easily understood,—surprising, however, to children—and often interesting to grown people, while others are very clever and not so easily understood.

Instead of the hat from which innumerable small packages are taken, the Chinese magician had two hollow cylinders, which exactly fit into each other, that he took out of a box and placed upon a cylindrical chest, and from these two cylinders—each of which he repeatedly showed us as being without top or bottom and empty—he took a dinner of a dozen courses.

He called upon the baker to bring bread, the grocer to bring vegetables, and after each call he took out of the cylinders the thing called for. He finally called the wine shop to bring wine, and removing both cylinders, he exposed to the surprised children a large crock of wine.

As he brought out dish after dish, the children looked in open-mouthed wonder, and asked papa, mama or nurse, where he got them all, for they evidently were not in the cylinders. But papa saw him all the time manipulating the crock in the cylinder which he did not show, and he knew that all these things were taken from and then returned to this crock, while instead of being full of wine, he had only a cup of wine in a false lid which exactly fitted the mouth of the crock, and made it seem full.

When he had put away his crock and cylinders, he produced what seemed to be two empty cups.

He presented them to us to show that they were empty, then putting them mouth to mouth, and placing them on the ground, he left them a moment, when with a "presto change," and a wave of the hand, he removed the top cup and revealed to the astonished children and some of the children of a larger growth, a cup full of water with two or three little fish or frogs therein.

On inquiry I was told that he had the under cup covered with a thin film of water-colored material, and that as he removed the top cup he removed also the film which left the fish or frogs exposed to view.

This same juggler performed many tricks of producing great dishes of water from under his garments, the mere enumeration of which, might prove to be tiresome.

I was walking along the street one day near the mouth of Filial Piety Lane where a large company of men and children were watching a juggler, and from the trick I thought it worth while to invite him in for the amusement of the children. He promised to come about four o clock, which he did.

He first proceeded to eat a hat full of yellow paper, after which, with a gag and a little puff, he pulled from his mouth a tube of paper of the same color five or six yards long.

This was very skillfully performed and for a long time I was not able to understand how he did it. But after awhile I discovered that with the last mouthful of paper he put in a small roll, the centre of which he started by puffing, and this he pulled out in a long tube. He did it with so many groanings and with such pain in the region of the stomach, that attention was directed either to his stomach or the roll, and taken away from his mouth.

"I shall eat these needles," said he, as he held up half a dozen needles, "and then eat this thread, after which I shall reproduce them."

He did so. He grated his teeth together causing a sound much like that of breaking needles. He pretended to swallow them, working his tongue back and forth in his tightly closed mouth, after which he drew forth the thread on which all the needles were strung.

He had a number of small white bone needles which he stuck into his nose and pulled out of his eyes, or which he pushed up under his upper lip and took out of his eyes or vice versa. How he performed the above trick I was not able to discover. He seemed to put them through the tear duct, but whether he did or not I cannot say. How he got them from his mouth to his eyes unless he had punctured a passage beneath the skin, is still to me a mystery.

His last trick was to swallow a sword fifteen inches long. The sword was straight with a round point and dull edges. There was no deception about this. He was an old man and his front, upper teeth were badly worn away by the constant rasping of the not over-smooth sword. He simply put it in his mouth, threw back his head and stuck it down his throat to his stomach.

[1] Small feet of the Chinese woman.

STORIES TOLD TO CHILDREN

One hot summer afternoon as I lay in the hammock trying to take a nap after a hard forenoon's work and a hearty lunch, I heard the same old nurse who had told me my first Chinese Mother Goose Rhymes, telling the following story to the same little boy to whom she had repeated the "Mouse and the Candlestick."

She told him that the Chinese call the Milky Way the Heavenly River, and that the Spinning Girl referred to in the story is none other than the beautiful big star in Lyra which we call Vega, while the Cow-herd is Altair in Aquila.

THE HEAVENLY RIVER, WITH THE PEOPLE WHO DWELL THEREON.

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

THE LAND OF GIANTS.

"There was in ancient times a country east of Korea which was called the land of the giants. It was celebrated for its length rather than for its width, being bounded on all sides by great mountain ranges, the like of which cannot be found in other countries. It extends for thousands of miles along the deep passes between the mountains, at the entrance to which there are great iron gates, easily closed, but very difficult to open.

"Many armies have made war upon the giants, among which none have been more celebrated than those of Korea, which embraces in its standing army alone many thousands of men, but thus far they have never been conquered.

"Nor is this to be wondered at, for besides their great iron gates, and numerous fortifications, the men are thirty feet tall according to our measurement, have teeth like a saw, hooked claws, and bodies covered with long black hair.

"They live upon the flesh of fowls and wild beasts which are found in abundance in the mountain fastnesses, but they do not cook their food. They are very fond of human flesh, but they confine themselves to the flesh of enemies slain in battle, and do not eat the flesh of their own people, even though they be hostile, as this is contrary to the law of the land.

"Their women are as large and fierce as the men, but their duties are confined to the preparation of extra clothing for winter wear, for although they are covered with hair it is insufficient to protect them from the winter's cold."

While the old nurse was relating the tale of the giants I could not but wonder whether there was not some relation between that and the Brobdingnagians I had read about in my youth. But I was not given much time to think. This seemed to have been a story day, for the nurse had hardly finished the tale till the child said:

"Now tell me about the country of the little people," and she related the story of

THE LAND OF DWARFS.

"The country of the little people is in the west, where the sun goes down.

"Once upon a time a company of Persian merchants were making a journey, when by a strange mishap they lost their way and came to the land of the little people. They were at first surprised, and then delighted, for they discovered that the country was not only densely populated with these little people, who were not more than three feet high, but that it was rich in all kinds of precious stones and rare and valuable materials.

"They discovered also that during the season of planting and harvesting, they were in constant terror lest the great multitude of cranes, which are without number in that region, should swoop down upon them and eat both them and their crops. They soon learned, however, that the little people were under the protecting care of the Roman Empire, whose interest in them was great, and her arm mighty, and they were thus guarded from all evil influences as well as from all danger. Nor was this a wholly unselfish interest on the part of the Roman power, for the little people repaid her with rich presents of the most costly gems,—pearls, diamonds, rubies and other precious stones."

I need not say I was beginning to be surprised at the number of tales the old woman told which corresponded to those I had been accustomed to read and hear in my childhood, nor was my surprise lessened when at his request she told him how

THE SUN WENT BACKWARD.

"Once upon a time Lu Yang-kung was engaged in battle with Han Kou-nan, and they continued fighting until nearly sundown. The former was getting the better of the battle, but feared he would lose it unless they fought to a finish before the close of day. The sun was near the horizon, and the battle was not yet ended, and the former, pointing his lance at the King of Day caused him to move backward ten miles in his course."

"When did that happen?" inquired the child.

"The Chinese say it happened about three thousand years ago," replied the old nurse.

"Now tell me about the man who went to the fire star."

The old woman hesitated a moment as though she was trying to recall something and then told him the story of

MARS, THE GOD OF WAR.

"Once upon a time there was a great rebel whose name was Ch'ih Yu. He was the first great rebel that ever lived in China. He did not want to obey the chief ruler, and invented for himself warlike weapons, thinking that in this way he might overthrow the government and place himself upon the throne.

"He had eighty-one brothers, of whom he was the leader. They had human speech, but bodies of beasts, foreheads of iron, and fed upon the dust of the earth.

"When the time for the battle came, he called upon the Chief of the Wind and the Master of the Rain to assist him, and there arose a great tempest. But the Chief sent the Daughter of Heaven to quell the storm, and then seized and slew the rebel. His spirit ascended to the Fire-Star (Mars)—the embodiment of which he was while upon earth,—where it resides and influences the conduct of warfare even to the present time."

"Tell me the story of the man who went to the mountain to gather fire-wood and did not come home for such a long time."

The old nurse began a story which as it progressed reminded me of

RIP VAN WINKLE.

"A long time ago there lived a man named Wang Chih, which in our language means 'the stuff of which kings are made.' In spite of his name, however, he was only a common husbandman, spending his summers in plowing, planting and harvesting, and his winters in gathering fertilizers upon the highways, and fire-wood in the mountains.

"On one occasion he wandered into the mountains of Ch'u Chou, his axe upon his shoulder, hoping to find more and better fire-wood than could be found upon his own scanty acres, or the adjoining plain. While in the mountains he came upon a number of aged men, in a beautiful mountain grotto, intently engaged in a game of chess. Wang was a good chess-player himself, and for the time forgot his errand. He laid down his axe, stood silently watching them, and in a very few moments was deeply interested in the game.

"It was while he was thus watching them that one of the old men, without looking up from the game, gave him what seemed to be a date seed, telling him at the same time to put it in his mouth. He did so, but no sooner had he tasted it, than he lost all consciousness of hunger and thirst, and continued to stand watching the players and the progress of the game, thinking nothing of the flight of time.

"At last one of the old men said to him:

"'You have been here a long time, ought you not to go home?'

"This aroused him from his reverie, and he seemed to awake as from a dream, his interest in the game passed away, and he attempted to pick up his axe, but found that it was covered with rust and the handle had moulded away. But while this called his attention to the fact that time had passed, he felt not the burden of years.

"When he returned to the plain, and to what had formerly been his home, he discovered that not only years but centuries had passed away since he had left for the mountains, and that his relatives and friends had all crossed to the 'Yellow Springs,' while all records of his departure had long since been forgotten, and he alone remained a relic of the past.

"He wandered up and down inquiring of the oldest people of all the villages, but could discover no link which bound him to the present.

"He returned to the mountain grotto, devoted himself to the study of the occult principles of the 'Old Philosopher' until the material elements of his mortal frame were gradually evaporated or sublimated, and without having passed through the change which men call death, he became an immortal spirit returning whence he came."

Just as the old woman finished this story, my teacher, who always took a nap after lunch, ascended the steps.

"Ah, the story of Wang Chih."

"Do you know any of these stories?" I asked him as I sat down beside him.

"All children learn these stories in their youth," he answered, and then as if fearing I would try to induce him to tell them to me he continued, "but nurses always tell these stories better than any one else, because they tell them so often to the children, for whom alone they were made."