Leaves from my Chinese Scrapbook/Chapter 20
CHAPTER XX.
THE FLOWER-FAIRIES: A TAOIST FAIRY-TALE.
"At close of day my cottage-door
Is barred by the wind and rain;
The blossoms fall in a crimson shower—
No denizens of my maiden bower
But willow-leaves, remain;
In sweet disorder they lie strewed,
While zephyrs and breezes toss;
And never shall gardener's besom rude
Among their rosy ranks intrude,
As they lie on the verdant moss."
INTRODUCTION.
According to a certain delightful Chinese story-book, called Rare Events in Ancient and Modern Times, which has afforded us many a pleasant hour of relaxation in the midst of graver studies, there flourished, in the T'ang dynasty, a retired scholar whose name was Ch'ui Hsuän-wei. He was one of those amiable recluses who, though professedly misanthropic, are by no means averse to such pleasures as appeal to their peculiar tastes—an Epicurean, if you will, certainly not a Stoic, but a man who, keeping aloof from the madding crowd, sought no other companionship than that of his books and flowers. He was never married; the presence of another human creature would have taken the edge off the exquisite flavour of his enjoyments. Even his servants lived outside, and no one was admitted on any pretext but that of urgent business. He loved to pore over those deep, bold volumes of Taoist philosophy which Laotzŭ, Chuang-tzŭ, and the other masters of that school have bequeathed to an ungrateful posterity, and which are now regarded by the bigoted Confucianists as the embodiments of all that is heterodox and wrong; but his dearest pleasure was in the cultivation of his magnificent garden, to the laying out of which he had devoted thirty years of his voluptuous but innocent existence. His mansion stood surrounded by flowers—by a splendid wilderness of flowers—gleaming with all those gorgeous colours which only skilful culture can produce, and flourishing on all sides with a luxuriance past conception. In this floral paradise he reigned alone and supreme. He tended his precious flowers with the solicitude of a nurse and the homage of a devotee; while the only sorrows that ever reached him were such as resulted from the blighting of a geranium or the death of a favourite rose.
Having lived for many years in this state of philosophic indolence—which is extolled by Taoist writers as the summit of all obtainable happiness and wisdom—an event occurred which seriously interrupted the noiseless tenor of his way. It was "blue night." The moon shone with unexampled splendour, pouring its silvery effulgence over the garden, and spiritualising every twig and leaf with liquid lustre. Absolute quiet reigned in the little paradise; not a breath of air was heard; and the philosopher was utterly unable to tear himself away from the bewitching influences around him. As he stood, silent and absorbed, a shadow seemed to flit among the flowers. It was a bluish shadow, and it appeared to be advancing stealthily, as if afraid of being seen. The philosopher strained his eyes and rubbed them, to make sure that it was not a dream. Suddenly the figure of a woman, dressed in a long robe of pale blue, emerged from among the flowery thicket, and moved slowly towards him. By this time the good man was transfixed to the spot with awe. Collecting his senses as best he could, he gasped out an inquiry as to who his mysterious visitor was; but still on she came, silently and noiselessly, saluting him courteously with her graceful head as she approached.
"Who are you?" burst out the philosopher at last. The spell was broken, and he was himself again.
"My dwelling is not very far from yours," replied the Lady of the Azure Robe, opening a pair of vermilion lips and disclosing two rows of teeth as white and glistening as jade. "As I was passing on with my attendants to visit a relative, I felt a longing to rest a while in this beautiful garden of yours; but," added the maiden demurely, "I did not feel quite sure whether you would permit me to do so."
Hsuän-wei thought that it was altogether the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to him; but such was the fascination of his visitor that he consented with delight. The princess—for such she seemed to be—overwhelmed him with thanks and retired; and in a few minutes returned, bringing with her a bevy of the loveliest girls that ever blessed the eyes of sinful man. The philosopher looked attentively at them in the pale, bright moonlight. Some were carrying flowers, others willow-boughs; all were of the most exquisite and seductive beauty, and of surpassingly voluptuous grace; but no two were in any way alike. On they trooped, filling the moonlit garden with fair forms; while the bewildered recluse gazed wonderingly at the strange scene, marvelling within himself whence they had all come. At last he recollected himself sufficiently to invite them to enter his pavilion; and when they were all seated he found that he could restrain his curiosity no longer.
"Ladies," he said, "I cannot express my delight at your arrival, unexpected as it is; but I do beg you to tell me at least what your names are, and what relative it is that you are in search of, that you have suddenly invaded my poor domains with your bright presences in the very dead of night."
Then arose a maiden in a green robe, and announced that her name was Aspen. Pointing to one in a white robe, "And hers," she said, "is Plum; the one in a purple garment is named Peach;" and so she went on, presenting them one after another, till she came to a little girl in a crimson robe, whose name, she said, was Pomegranate. "But although we have all different names," added the maiden, "we are all sisters, and all live together. Now the Lady Wind, who is our maternal aunt eighteen times removed, said some days ago that she was coming to visit us; but she has never done so; and as the moon is unusually brilliant to-night, we sisters are going to visit her instead. So we thought that, as you have always been such a dear friend and protector to us, we should like to pay you a call on our way; and here we are, you see!"
Hsuän-wei was just about to make a suitable reply when in came the Lady of the Azure Robe, and announced the arrival of the Lady Wind. This caused a tremendous flutter among the girls, who all hastened out to welcome her. The philosopher stepped on one side, where he could peep at what was going on without being seen. When the ladies of the many-tinted robes had all made their obeisance, one of them said—
"We were just on the way to visit you, but this kind host detained us"—which was a very artful way of putting it. "We never thought you were so near at hand. However, we have met, and that is the purpose we both had."
"I have been coming to see you for a long while," replied the Lady Wind, "but I have had a great deal to do lately. This is the first time I have had any leisure at all, and you see that I have come at once."
"It is a clear and glorious night," rejoined the girl; "stay and rest with us a while, and we will keep your birthday." Then, turning to the Lady of the Azure Robe, she begged her to procure some wine.
"But may we stay in this place?" inquired the Lady Wind.
"Why not?" replied the lady who had introduced herself by the name of Aspen. "The owner is a kind and worthy man, and the place itself is charming."
"But where is the owner? " asked the new arrival.
Then Hsuän-wei started out of his hiding-place, and, lifting his eyes, beheld the Lady Wind. Her form was graceful, and had a certain gauzy, floating appearance, like a gossamer; but her words were cold, like the breath that plays among the leaves of a forest; and when Hsuän-wei stood near her a chill struck him to the bone, so that he shivered from head to foot. ever, he invited her into the pavilion, where the attendant sylphs had set out materials for an exquisite repast. He placed the Lady Wind in the seat of honour, and all the others took their ranks in order. In a twinkling the table was covered with delicious viands and jars of fragrant wine as luscious as the purest honey. The moon increased in splendour, till the room was as bright as day; rich perfumes rose into the air, sweet and heavy, permeating the persons of the revellers; host and guests drank to each other repeatedly; cups and goblets were mixed together on the table, presenting a scene of most luxurious confusion. At last, when the fumes of the wine were beginning to take effect, a sylph in a red robe filled a huge goblet to the brim and presented it to the Lady Wind, saying, "I have a song to sing to you." Upon which she broke forth as follows:—
"The gauzy robe, worn carelessly,
Displays the charms within,
Pink as cosmetic's artful dye
On lip and cheek and chin;
But ah! the bloom will fade away,
The ruby tint grow pale;
The winds of spring last not for aye—
Who would their loss bewail?"
The singer's voice was sweet and winning, but the listeners seemed to have no great relish for the burden of her song; whereupon a sylph in a white robe presented another goblet to the Lady Wind, saying, "I have also a song, which I will let you hear."
"She is pure as the priceless jade, whiter than driven snow;
Luminous as the lovely moon shining on flow'rs below;
Sighing and singing a sorrowful song, as the sweet spring zephyrs die—
Who would reproach them with more than a murmured 'Adieu!' as they fly?
And so when her flowery beauty, like all around, decays,
She sighs and smiles unconsciously, and dreams of the bygone days."
The strains of this song were somewhat melancholy; indeed they were almost harrowing. Now the Lady Wind, if the truth must be told, was of a very flighty and frivolous disposition; and, what was worse, she was very fond of wine, and had drunk so many cups that she became quite ungovernable, and began to act in a most extravagant and silly way. When, therefore, she had listened to these two songs, she exclaimed—
"How is it that, on this auspicious occasion, when we are all enjoying ourselves, and delighting in the beautiful view, you sing such sorrowful stuff as this? Besides, the meaning is too obscure for anybody to understand; it's an insult to all the company!"
Whereupon she condemned the two unfortunate songstresses to pay forfeit by drinking a large cup of wine apiece, and said that they would have to sing again. But as she was handing them the cups, it was proved only too plainly that she had taken too many herself; her hands shook so that she could not grasp them securely, and suddenly she lost her hold of them altogether. Crash they went, and the wine flowed all over poor little Pomegranate. Now little Pomegranate was very young and very pretty, and had always been very fond of gay clothes. On this occasion she had on a bran-new embroidered crimson robe, which she was naturally very anxious to keep from wine-stains, as the slightest drop would spoil the colour; and now she was covered with it from head to foot! Unfortunately, too, she had had a little more than was good for her already; and when she saw her dress ruined, she flushed with anger, and cried—
"Sisters! you are all for courting this aunt of ours, eighteen times removed; but I am not afraid of her, and you may just court her for the future by yourselves."
Then she got up and left the room. The Lady Wind flew into a terrible rage, and exclaiming, "That little girl has found the wine too much for her, in daring to insult me so," she gathered up her robes and prepared to depart. All the sylphs implored her not to go away, but without avail. Then they tried to calm her anger, saying, "Pomegranate is very young, and just now is not quite herself; pray forget what she has done, and to-morrow we will bring her to beg pardon." As, however, nothing would appease the Lady Wind, they accompanied her to the door, and off she flounced in high dudgeon towards the east. Then the sylphs trooped back, and, taking a graceful leave of their entertainer, moved towards a place where the flowers grew thickest, and disappeared.
Up sprang the philosopher, and gave chase. But in his hurry his foot slipped, and he fell sprawling upon his back; and when he picked himself up again there was not one of them in sight. Then he sat down and began to think seriously over what had happened. Could it have been a dream? He was sure he had not been asleep. Were they ghosts? Surely not; their robes were too beautiful, their utterance too distinct, for anything evil. And yet, supposing them to be human beings, how could they have disappeared so suddenly, without leaving so much as a shadow behind them? It was an impenetrable mystery, so far; and the good sage was utterly perplexed. Then he went back into his pavilion, and not a sign of the late revelry was visible; his chairs and tables stood decorously in their accustomed places, unsullied by the remains of fruit or the dregs of wine; all that he noticed was a subtle odour, a faint sweet fragrance different from anything he had ever perceived before.
But the next night, as he was strolling thoughtfully among his flowers in the clear moonlight, he suddenly found himself once more surrounded by his elfin friends. Where they came from he never could find out; it seemed as though they had sprung out of the ground, or been materialised from the sweet aroma of the flowers. At first they seemed not to perceive him, for they were all busily engaged in urging little Pomegranate to beg pardon of the Aunt Wind. Pomegranate, however, was inexorable. "Why should I go supplicating that horrid old woman?" she cried, with flushing cheeks. "If there's likely to be any mischief, let us ask the dear old gentleman to protect us; what need we be afraid of then?" At this suggestion all the sylphs were quite enraptured, and turning to their kindly host, they explained the whole affair. "You see," said the spokeswoman, "that all we sisters live in your garden, and every year we are injured by malignant gales, so that we never feel at ease; we often ask our aunt, the Lady Wind, to treat us kindly and protect us; but now, alas! Pomegranate has mortally offended her, so we cannot count upon her any more. So, dear, kind guardian, we appeal to you; and if you can help us in our extremity, we shall be very grateful."
"But what power have I to help you? " asked Hsuän-wei, more puzzled than before.
"We don't want you to do anything very difficult," replied little Pomegranate. " All you will have to do is to prepare a crimson flag embroidered in gold with the sun, moon, and stars, and then hoist it to the east of the flowers at daybreak on the first morning of each new year; then we shall feel quite safe. As regards the present year, New Year's Day, of course, is past, so please do it on the 21st of the present moon at dawn instead, when there is just the faintest breath of east wind; then there will be no fear of any recurrence of what happened yesterday."
"That is easy enough," replied the sage politely. "You may certainly rely upon my doing what you ask." Then they all thanked him with one voice, producing a concert of the most melodious music in the world, and said they would never forget his goodness. But no sooner had they finished speaking than off they started as fleetly as if they had wings, waving a smiling adieu to the bewildered philosopher as he panted after them without the smallest chance of being able to catch them up. Suddenly he felt a puff of fragrant wind in his face, and all the fairies simultaneously disappeared.
The next day he set to work, and prepared a splendid flag, in accordance with little Pomegranate's request. On the 21st of the moon he rose before daylight, and, sure enough, there was a little breath of east wind blowing; so he made haste to run it up, and then awaited the result. He had not long to wait. In less time than it takes to write it, a tremendous hurricane sprang up which shook the very earth; the air was filled with whirling dust and flying stones; all the forests in the neighbourhood were injured, and huge trees torn up by the roots. In his garden, however, everything was calm and still; not a single flower so much as trembled. Then the truth of the whole mystery burst upon Hsuän-wei. The enchanting girls he had been entertaining were the spirits of his own flowers; the little maiden in the crimson robe was nothing but a bud of red pomegranate; and the flighty, excitable lady whom they called their aunt eighteen times removed was the Goddess of the Wind![1]
That evening, as soon as the moon was up, all the fairies came garlanded with peach-blossoms and plum-blossoms, to tender their thanks to their preserver. "We know," said one of them, "that we cannot make you any adequate return; but we have brought you these blossoms, which, if you will eat, will confer upon you the gift of everlasting youth. Take them, then, dear friend; long may you live to be the guardian of our race, and then our own lives will be long and happy too!" So the philosopher took the blossoms, and ate them; when suddenly his face grew young again, the wrinkles disappeared from his brow, his complexion became fair and delicate, and he felt a new strong current of energy coursing through his veins. Soon afterwards he attained to a knowledge of the True Way, and shared the immortality of the Genii.
THE STORY.
Now I daresay, remarks our author, that all you gentlemen look upon what I have written about flower-fairies and the Goddess of the Wind as so much incoherent nonsense. I grant that they are things which nobody in the world appears ever to have seen or heard of, and that they are not mentioned in any historical records or classical writing; but strange and supernatural as they are, the world is full of them, though only a very small proportion of them find their way into books; so when they do occur it is not a matter to be wondered at.
Now in the reign of Jên Tsung, of the Sung dynasty, there lived at a village in Kiang-nan an old man named Tsiu Hsien, who belonged to a literary family and possessed a few acres of land. His wife was dead, and had left him without children. He spent his whole life in the cultivation of a handsome flower-garden, for flowers were his very special hobby. He loved them as he might have loved his children had he been blessed with any. He was an indefatigable collector of rare specimens and exotics, which he valued far more than any jewels; and whenever he passed any gay gardens, during his constant rambles, he would insinuate himself into them with a benignant smile, whether he were invited or not. If the flowers were familiar to him, he would trot out again; but if they were at all unique, nobody would be able to drag him away the whole day long. People said that he was flower-mad. If he met with any for sale he always bought them, whether he had any money or not; and when he had none about him, he would just strip off his coat and give it to the seller in payment. Of course he was often terribly taken in. His mania being notorious, the flower merchants asked of him the most exorbitant prices; while some rascals would even stick cut flowers into a flower-pot, and impose upon him with a rootless plant. But nothing would cure him of his infatuation, and eventually he found himself master of a superb pleasure-ground, full of his choicest favourites. It was surrounded by a bamboo-fence grown all over with red, white, and yellow roses, clematis, almonds, rose-mallows, touch-me-nots, cocks'-crests, sun-flowers, golden lilies, white lilies, pinks, carnations, princes'-feathers, white butterflies, night-falling gold-moneys, camellias, peonies, and a host of others. When they were all in full bloom, they looked like a great screen blazing with a mass of different colours; and by the time one began to fade another opened. The path leading to the house was bordered with bamboos, and the house itself was surrounded by the rarest plants. An eternal spring reigned in this delightful spot. Here flourished the water-sprite flower—as clear as ice and exquisitely pure as jade; the moutan,[2] with its heavenly fragrance and royal tint; pear-blossoms as white as moonlight, peach-blossoms ruddy as the sun, tea-flowers more precious than pearls, and roses in a blushing cloud.
It was not long before the fame of this wonderful garden spread over all the country side, and people came flocking every day to get a furtive peep over the stone wall which ran around it. No annoyance, however, occurred until one afternoon, when the recluse was sitting, as usual, in the midst of his little paradise. Suddenly he looked up, and saw a coarse, disagreeable face peering THE STORY.
"This humble place is mine, Sir," he said, with as much politeness as he could command; "it is not worth the attention of your worship. I beg you will not demean yourself by entering; you can see the flowers equally well from rather a greater distance."
"You old fool," was the young mandarin's reply, "haven't you lived near me long enough to know my name? What do you mean by not wanting to let me see your flowers?"
Then he began to pick flowers right and left; and the unfortunate owner stood by in a grievous state of indignation, yet did not dare to remonstrate. His unwelcome visitor showed no signs of moving; on the contrary, he jumped down into the garden, and then bawled to his servants on the other side to go home and bring some wine. This increased the distress of poor old Tsiu, and emboldened him to enter another protest against the outrage.
"Indeed, Sir," he said, trembling with agitation, "there is no room in my snail-shell of a house fit for your worship to sit in; let me beg you, when you have seen enough, to return to your own mansion and drink there."
"No room?" retorted Chang, pointing to a cosy nook; "that place will suit me very well."
"Nay," said the old gentleman, "that place is far too dirty; your worship can certainly never sit there."
"If that's all," replied Chang, "I can sit upon a bit of carpet; so don't you trouble yourself about me."
Just then his servants came back, carrying all the materials for a luxurious picnic. A piece of cloth was spread upon the ground, and Chang and two or three of his friends, who had now joined him, squatted down and began to play at gamble-fingers, making a most intolerable noise. Chang enjoyed the whole thing immensely, and stared with delight at the old gentleman, who sat scowling helplessly by. Then a vile idea entered his wicked head.
"Here, you old idiot," he roared, with his mouth full of meat and his face all flushed with wine; "you're not worth a place in the corner of my eye, and yet you seem to know something about flowers. Take a cup of wine, and let us drink together!"
"Drink it yourself," said the old gentleman haughtily; "I never touch wine."
"Look here," continued Chang, too tipsy to notice the slight, "I have taken rather a fancy to this garden of yours; what do you say to selling it?"
"Sell my garden!" shrieked the old man, as a pang of rage and terror shot through his heart; "why, it's my very life; you don't know what you're asking. Sell my garden! No, Sir; I will not sell it. I tell you my garden is my life, and I will never part with it."
"Your life, indeed!" retorted Chang scornfully. "Look here; I mean to buy it, so you had better make up your mind to sell at once. And I'll tell you what; as you have nowhere else to live, I'll buy you into the bargain, THE STORY.
Then all the others chimed in. "Why, there's a stroke of luck for you!" they cried; "why don't you thank his worship for such a gracious offer?" But the old man had grown numb and powerless under the insult, and his lips refused to move.
"What a brute of an old fellow this is!" exclaimed Chang. "Why don't you answer me, Yes or No?"
"I have already told you No," replied the victim, with as much firmness as he could muster; "why do you ask again?"
"Bosh!" was the polite rejoinder. "Now look here; if you dare to say 'No' again, I'll have you arrested. I can do it, mind; so look out for your own skin. I'll give you one more chance."
Tsiu became speechless with grief and indignation. There seemed no hope for him at all. Then he thought his best plan would be to tide over the immediate difficulty by temporising; for Chang was a man of influence, and just then he was very tipsy; the great thing was to get rid of him as soon as possible. So, repressing his wrath by a violent effort, he replied—
"If your worship really wants my garden, we will speak about it in a day or two; it is not a matter that can be settled hastily. Come, gentlemen, you have business; do not let any considerations of politeness detain you longer."
So saying he rose, in the hope of effecting a general move. His plan was successful, and everybody swore that his proposition was very reasonable. Then Chang and his associates staggered to their feet, while the attendants cleared away the mess they had made, and sauntered slowly towards the gate. Tsiu was in an agony of fear lest they should commit further depredations, and took care to walk between them and the flower-beds. Chang, however, went on ahead, and soon began to climb a piece of rockwork to pick some flowers that had struck his fancy. The old man rushed after him in terror. "Although these flowers are but useless trifles," he panted, "your worship cannot think how much labour is required in the course of a year to produce as many as you see; is it not a grievous pity to spoil them so? If you pick them, they will fade in two days at the very farthest; why should your worship do such mischief?"
"Pooh!" bawled Chang roughly; "what mischief am I doing, pray? You are going to sell me the whole affair to-morrow; so, you see, your flowers are virtually mine now. Supposing I were to pull every one of them up by the roots, what business would it be of yours?"
Then he made as though to thrust Tsiu away; but the old gentleman stood his ground manfully, saying, "You may kill me if you like, for I am but an old man; but you shall not pick my flowers."
"This is a most abominable old fellow," struck in the parasites. "His worship has but taken a few worthless buds; what does he mean by kicking up such a row about it? Do you think, Sir, that you are going to frighten us away?"
Then they all made a general rush upon the flowers, picking them by scores, and throwing them in shocking confusion upon the ground. The poor old fellow's rage was inexpressible; his cries of anguish rose to heaven. He relinquished his hold of Chang, and risked his life in trying to put a stop to the cruel massacre; but he was overpowered by numbers, while his flowers flew like hail about him. "You pack of cut-throat thieves," he cried, in a paroxysm of despair, "have you no honest calling, that you must come here to insult and injure me? Ah, what value is my life to me any longer?" And with that he butted his head furiously against Chang, who, being shaky on his legs, measured his length upon the ground. Then all the bullies, crying "Shame!" rushed up to avenge the fallen hero. Among them was an elderly man, who, seeing that their victim was already far advanced in years, and fearing that serious mischief might be done, attempted to dissuade them from further violence. He assisted Chang to rise; but Chang was beside himself with drink and fury, and, rushing forward like a mad dog, he struck off all the flowers that remained upon their stems and strewed them all over the place. And even then he was not satisfied, but crushed them to pieces with his feet.
Meanwhile the unhappy Tsiu was beating the earth and calling vainly upon Heaven, rolling all over the ground in impotent frenzy. By this time, however, the cries and shrieks of the combatants had reached the neighbours, who came flocking in, and were aghast at the scene of ruin and desolation, and the strange sight of so many lubberly fellows attacking a feeble old man. They immediately put a stop to the spoliation, and asked what it was all about. Some of them, who were the tenants of Chang's father, were inclined to take the part of Chang. At last, however, they managed to get the bully out of the garden-gate. "Tell that old thief he'd better make me a present of the garden," roared he, by way of a parting salute;" then we'll consider the affair settled. But if he says so much as half a 'No' let him look out for his skin." Of course, the neighbours saw the wretch was drunk, and paid no attention to his tipsy nonsense; so, having seen him well off the premises, they came back and tried to comfort poor old Tsiu. But his soul refused to be comforted, and he lifted up his voice and wept. Indeed the case was past all help, and there was nothing for the neighbours to do but to leave him in his misery and return to their several homes.
As they went back their conversation naturally turned upon the events of the afternoon. One man said that it served the old fellow right for locking up his garden and never allowing anybody to see the flowers, and that he had no one but himself to thank for it. But this view of the question excited the indignation of the others, particularly of one man, who retorted with more candour and abruptness than the first speaker at all relished. "Don't talk such arrant nonsense," he blurted out. "There is an old proverb which says that if you cultivate a garden for a year, you will enjoy the flowers for just ten days. People are fond enough of looking at them, but who thinks of the long drudgery that was necessary to bring them to such perfection? Just think, now, what years of toil this poor old man must have devoted to his hobby to produce such a magnificent show; why should you be angry with him for loving his garden and taking pride in it?"—To this nobody was able to reply, and so the subject dropped.
Meanwhile the unfortunate old Tsiu sat, weeping and disconsolate, in the midst of his fallen treasures. Tenderly he picked them up, and talked to them, saying, "O dear flowers, I have loved you all my life; you never lost a petal or a leaf before. Who could think such sad misfortunes were coming on us all to-day?" Then he fell to sighing and bemoaning himself afresh; the crushed; bruised blossoms lay strewn in sad disorder on his lap; to-morrow, perchance, he would be driven out of his lovely garden altogether.
"What are you crying about, Mr. Tsiu?" suddenly inquired a sharp, clear, pleasant little voice at his elbow. Tsiu turned his head, not a little startled, and beheld, close by him, a lovely and elegant girl of about sixteen summers. He had no idea who she was, or how she had got in; but there she was, and she looked very much indeed as though she meant it.
"Who are you, my little girl?" replied Tsiu, wiping his eyes; "and what has brought you here?"
"Oh, we are near neighbours—I and my family," rejoined the girl, in her sweet, sharp voice, which acted like a tonic upon the old man's unstrung nerves. "I've heard that you have the finest moutan-flowers to be seen anywhere, so I thought I should like to come and look about me a bit. But what is the reason of all this ruin and desolation I see? Who has been murdering all your flowers like this?"
At the mention of his moutan-flowers Tsiu very nearly broke down again; but he mastered his emotion, and told the cheery little girl all about the outrages of Chang To his perplexity, however, she only laughed; she didn't seem to pity him a bit.
"So that is it, is it? " she replied, with a pretty smile. "Now, wouldn't you like to be able to stick all these flowers on their stems again?"
"Don't jest with me, little girl," said Tsiu reproachfully; "I am in no humour for a joke. Who ever heard of such a thing as putting dead flowers on their stalks as they were before?"
"Don't you be so conceited and so sure, as though nobody in the world could do anything that you can't," retorted the child again, with her silvery, saucy laugh. "It so happens that my ancestors were in possession of a secret by which even that wonderful thing might be done; and I don't know but what I might be able to accomplish it myself."
Then old Tsiu began to prick up his ears. "No, but really, little girl," he said, "is there such a secret?"
"Why should there not be, really?" replied the saucy girl, mimicking his earnest tones. Then Tsiu made her a low bow, and said—
"If, my child, you are indeed able to perform this miracle, the old man's obligations to you would be such as he could never hope to repay. See, here is a full-blown rose; operate on this one to begin with."
"Don't bow to me like that," replied the little girl; "but go into the house and fetch me a bowl of nice fresh water." Up jumped old Tsiu with wonderful alacrity, turning the thing over and over in his mind as he walked along. He procured the water, and came trotting briskly back again; but—where was the little girl? She had disappeared; but every flower was on its stem again, as fresh, as blooming, as full of life as ever—not one was lying bruised upon the ground—his favourites were all restored!
The old man could hardly believe his eyes. His delight was more extravagant, even, than his grief had been. He ran from flower to flower, and from bed to bed, stroking and fondling the pretty blossoms, and congratulating them upon their happy restoration. Their colours were deeper and more brilliant than ever; a spell seemed to have passed over the whole garden. Formerly all the flowers on a single plant were of the same colour; but now they were all diversified—red flowers had become purple, pale flowers had become vivid, and five different hues blazed in splendid contrast where there had been only one before.
When he had given full vent to his joy, he went in search of the delightful little girl who had wrought this charming miracle. He thought she must be hiding somewhere among the flowers; but there was not the slightest trace of her—she had vanished altogether, without leaving so much as a shadow behind. It seemed impossible that she should have gone far, however, so he made for the garden-gate, feeling sure that she would be just outside. But he found it securely bolted, and not looking at all as though anybody had just gone through. Whereupon he opened it, and, sure enough, there was nobody in sight but two old cronies of his, Mr. Yü and Mr. Shan, who were watching a fisherman drying his nets. When they saw Mr. Tsiu come out, they rose and made him a low bow, saying, "We have just heard of the outrage perpetrated upon you by that fellow Chang, but we were in the field at the time, and not able to come before to inquire about it."
"Don't mention the matter," replied Tsiu. "I was, certainly, the victim of that rascal's malevolence; but owing to the timely aid of a dear little girl, who suddenly made her appearance like an angel from heaven, and by some wonderful means restored every one of my flowers, everything is all right again. But she has gone off as suddenly as she came, without waiting to be thanked; pray, gentlemen, did either of you see which way she took?"
The two old men listened to this story with astonishment. "How is it possible," they said, "that flowers once cut should be refixed? Who was this wonderful girl, pray? And how long is it since she disappeared?"
"Just now," replied Tsiu eagerly; "not a minute ago. You must have seen her go out of the gate."
"We have been here a considerable time," said the old men, "and we have seen no girl; nobody has come out of the gate at all."
When Tsiu heard that, the conviction suddenly flashed upon him that his little benefactress must have been a fairy, and not a human child at all. As he was pondering the affair, his two friends began to question him about it, and he told them the whole story from beginning to end; whereupon they exclaimed, " But how is such a miracle possible? Let us both come into your garden and see it with our own eyes."
So Tsiu ushered them in, and they walked round and round, the excited proprietor never ceasing to repeat, "Oh, it was a fairy. Yes, it must have been a fairy. Human beings cannot work such wonders." Then he burnt a large quantity of fragrant incense, and kotowed in gratitude to Heaven, while his two old friends said, "Yes, it must have been so. This is the recompense of your sincerity of heart and your unconquerable love of flowers. Now, to-morrow you must invite Chang and his rascally associates to come here and see the marvel with their own eyes, that they may be made thoroughly ashamed of themselves."
"Nay, nay," said Tsiu; "not I, indeed. Men of their stamp are like vicious dogs, which, when they are seen at a distance, must be avoided. Why should I go out of my way to ask them here again?"
"You're right, you're right," nodded the two old fellows. Then Tsiu, who had never been in such spirits before, proposed a cup of wine in honour of the occasion; and the three friends sat drinking and hobnobbing till long after sunset, when the visitors got up to go away, leaving the old gentleman as happy and light-hearted as his previous visitors had left him miserable and sad.
The news of the prodigy spread like wildfire over the village, and next morning, as soon as it was light, the people came in crowds to see and hear all about it. They were not at all sure that Tsiu would let them in; none of them knew what a change had come over him since the visit of his fairy benefactress. He had not slept the whole night, but had sat in his garden in the still moonlight meditating upon the events of that most eventful day. Suddenly the thought flashed across him that perhaps all this had happened to him because he had been a little mean and selfish in never permitting any one else to enjoy his garden with him, and he considered how different it might have been if he had had rather more of the liberal, kindly, generous spirit of the fairies. So the next day he flung open his garden-gate, that anybody might come in who wished to, and gave a kindly welcome to the first visitors who presented themselves. The news that the place was free to everybody passed from mouth to mouth, and the long-closed garden was soon filled with a respectful, wondering, and enchanted throng.
And now we must return to Chang, who had as yet heard nothing of the way in which his mischief had been mended. His rage had not cooled with the hours. "The old rascal butted me with his head yesterday," he said; "shall I have no revenge? I am going to him now, this very minute, to demand possession of his garden; and if he says no, I'll get together a lot of men and make them cut down every stick in the place."
"Don't be afraid of his refusing," replied his friends; "his garden is so close to your own house, you've got him in your power. Only don't destroy any more flowers, or you won't have any left to enjoy yourself."
"Pooh!" said Chang; "they'll bloom again next year, won't they? Come, let us be off at once; it's not polite to keep the old man waiting."
Then they all got up and started; but as they were just going out of the door, a man, seeing whither they were bound, said—
"What, haven't you heard the news? There has been a descent of fairies in Mr. Tsiu's garden, and all the flowers are joined on to their stalks again. And there's what is more wonderful than that, too; for people do say that the flowers are far finer than they were at first—that five colours may now be seen where there was only one before!"
This startled Chang considerably; but he soon recovered himself, and took refuge in disbelief. "As though it was likely," he said scornfully, "that that old thief should have such luck! Besides, how is it that no one ever heard of fairies coming before, but only when the flowers had been destroyed? It's all a flam, to keep me from going again. He wants to make out that he's under supernatural protection, in order to scare me off!"
"What your worship says is exactly to the point," chimed in the parasites. In a short time they arrived at the garden-gate, both leaves of which were flung open, while the garden was full of visitors, who all had the same marvellous story in their mouths. But all this only hardened Chang's purpose, and he swore, loud enough to be heard, that if the fairies were there even then, he would still seize upon the garden. At last, however, after following a winding path, he found himself at the scene of his outrages of the day before, and then he saw that everything he had heard was true. Not a sign of devastation was visible; every flower bloomed upon its stalk; and there was something strange about their appearance—the more one looked at them the more beautiful they seemed to grow, till at last each flower bore a mysterious resemblance to a smiling human face.
Then Chang was chopfallen indeed; ay, and he was frightened too. But even this had no effect upon his resolution. He cast a cold, malicious glance around him, and then a thought of hideous wickedness came into his head. "Come, let us be off," he said to his associates, abruptly; "there's nothing to be done here."
"What!" exclaimed the parasites, "go away without insisting on the garden being given up to you?"
"Hush! " was the reply; "I have just thought of a splendid plan." Here they passed out of the gate, and began walking along the road again. "I am not going to say one word to old Tsiu, good or bad; but to-morrow his garden will be mine."
Then they all pressed him to tell them what his intention was, and he proceeded as follows:—"You know," he explained, "that there's trouble at Pei-chou. A fellow named Wang Tsêh is after some seditious business, and is driving the people mad with his pretended sorcery and magic. The Privy Council have accordingly sent despatches round to all the districts and departments in the empire, instructing the authorities to put down unflinchingly all manner of heterodox and illicit doctrines that may be current among the people, and to arrest all persons suspected of the black art. The Governor here has offered a reward of three thousand strings of cash to anybody who will give evidence that will lead to the arrest of the ringleaders; so to-morrow I mean to go and lay information about this affair in Tsiu's garden, and send my servant Pa to accuse him of being a magician and seducing the people. He won't be able to stand the examination by torture; he'll confess, and then he'll be put in prison and his garden confiscated. When it is put up for sale, who will dare to buy it? It will just fall into my hands, and the three thousand strings as well."
"Superb!" exclaimed the other wretches, in a chorus of exultation. "The idea is splendid. Waste no time, but set to work at once."
So Chang hurried into the city, and drew up an indictment in due form. Next day he sent his servant with it quite early to the yamên, selecting this particular man Pa because he was on good terms with all the yamên people, besides being his own right hand in villainy. The magistrate was on the look-out for sorcerers, and found no difficulty whatever in believing a story to which the entire country-side was witness. He fore made out a warrant of arrest, and despatched an officer with Pa to take Tsiu into custody. Chang was in high feather, and distributed largess lavishly among the yamên runners, following them at some short distance, that he might enjoy the scene. The poor old man was walking, as usual, in his garden, and paid no attention to the crowd of people whom he saw approaching, thinking they were visitors like the rest. But he was soon undeceived. They suddenly set up a wild halloo, rushed forward in a body, and pinioned his arms securely. The old man was horribly frightened, and cried, "Why, what fault have I committed? What is my crime? I do beseech you, gentlemen, to explain." Then they all bawled out in concert, abusing him for a wicked old sorcerer and rebel; and without allowing him to say a word in his defence, dragged him violently towards the gate. When the neighbours witnessed these proceedings they came flocking together in amazement, and asked what was the matter. "Matter!" retorted the leader of the gang; "do you still ask what is the matter? He's a vile old rebel, and you are every one of you inculpated in the affair." This startled the simple people not a little, and they one and all made off as fast as they could in all directions, fearing lest by some means or other they too should be involved. A few of Tsiu's friends, however, followed him at a distance. Chang remained behind with his parasites, and as soon as the garden was clear they took formal possession of it. They then searched in every nook and corner to see that there were none of Tsiu's people hidden away anywhere; and finding that nobody was left, they locked the garden-gate and trooped off to the magistrate's.
On their arrival they found that the officers had taken old Tsiu into their charge, and had made him kneel down on the stone pavement in front of the inner entrance. The jailers, who had been heavily bribed by Chang, had got their implements of torture in readiness, and were anxiously waiting to commence operations. Just then the magistrate came in, and the examination began.
"What place do you belong to, wizard?" bawled the "father-and-mother-of-his-people," roughly. "What do you mean by coming here and corrupting honest folk with your sorceries? and how many confederates have you?"
These words sounded to Tsiu like a sudden explosion of gunpowder in the dark, and he did not know what to reply. At last he said—
"The insignificant man is a native of the village of Chang-lo; he is not a wizard, and does not come from anywhere else; and he knows nothing of any sorceries." "What!" roared the magistrate; "will you deny that only the day before yesterday you conjured a number of broken flowers on to their stems again? What do you call that, pray, but the black art?"
When Tsiu heard that, he knew directly that Chang was at the bottom of the whole affair; so he began at the beginning, and told the magistrate everything that had happened from the time of Chang's drunken outrage to the visit of the beneficent little fairy. But the magistrate, whose nature prompted him to take a distorted and one-sided view of everything, would not believe a word of it.
"A very ingenious tale, indeed," he said, with a brutal laugh. "How many men, do you think, are there not who would he only too glad to be visited by fairies in their distress; and to how many do the fairies come? Do you suppose it was your tears and sobs that brought her to your help? Pray let us know her name; she surely didn't make off without telling you who she was. And you really think you are going to take us in with this? Don't trouble yourselves to accuse him further," continued the mandarin to the bystanders; "he most certainly is a wizard. Quick, now, with the press-boards!"
The words were hardly out of his mouth when all the jailers rushed off to get the instruments of torture, with the ferocity of wolves and tigers. They soon came hurrying back like a swarm of bees, and grasping the old man violently, laid him by the heels, pulled his legs apart, and were just about to apply the torture when the magistrate was seized with a sudden fit of dizziness. He felt his eyes become dim; his head seemed to go round, so that he could no longer hold himself erect; indeed he nearly toppled off his bench. He therefore ordered the adjournment of the case till the next day, and told the jailers to put a cangue, or wooden frame, on Tsiu's neck, and lead the unfortunate man back to prison, guarding him strictly in the meantime. Tsiu was accordingly marched back, weeping and bemoaning his sad fate, and followed by a crowd of gaping spectators. On his way he saw Chang. "Sir," he exclaimed, "I never injured you when you came into my garden the day before yesterday, nor have I committed any fault against you to-day; why do you pursue me with this relentless cruelty, and try to take my life?"
Chang made no reply, but turned on his heel and walked off, accompanied by his confederates. Then Tsiu's two old friends, Shan and Yü, came up to him and asked him how he fared, saying, "Never mind the false accusation you are now suffering under; to-morrow we and all your neighbours will rally round you, and personally bear witness to your innocence." "May it indeed be so," said Tsiu; "then everything must come all right." Then his jailers turned round and bullied him, saying, "You condemned criminal, you, you do nothing but weep; don't you know you've got to walk?" So Tsiu restrained his tears, and entered his dungeon. All the neighbours brought him food and wine; but they could get no farther than the prison-doors, and the jailers, instead of giving it to the old man, kept it and gobbled it up themselves. At last night came on; and then it really seemed as though his woes had reached their crisis. He was made to lie down upon what was called the "prisoners' bed"—a diabolical contrivance on which all the prisoners were packed close together, and fitted up with heavy beams and ropes so disposed that each man lay under a crushing weight and tightly lashed to the ground; not a muscle could be moved, not a wrist or ankle turned; a living man was just as powerless as a corpse. "Alas, alas!" groaned Tsiu, in his bitterness, "I know not what fairy it was who restored my flowers; yet this wretch makes it an excuse for his persecutions. O fairy, dear fairy! if you have any pity for me, do for me what you did for my poor flowers, and save my life! Help me in this, and I will renounce all my family, give up the world, and enter the True Way!"
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he espied, in the dim distance, a faint advancing figure. It was, indeed, no other than his fairy benefactress. Tsiu uttered a wild cry of joy and hope. "Fairy, dear fairy," he exclaimed, "if it is really you, extricate me from the dreadful position I am in!"
"Are you so very anxious to escape?" replied the girl, with a smile. Then she stretched forth her hands; and lo! the manacles with which old Tsiu was bound fell clanking to the ground. Up he sprang, and knocked his head three times upon the floor in speechless gratitude. The first thing he did when his transports of joy were over was to ask the fairy who she was. "I am the Protectress of Flowers," replied she, "at the Emerald Pool in Fairyland, where the Royal Mother reigns. I love you because you love flowers; that is the reason I have been assisting you. Now everything that has happened to you came through Destiny; it was your fate, and could not be avoided. To-morrow all your miseries will end! The Spirit of Flowers has taken a strict account of all Chang's villainies, and made a full report of them to God; and God has deprived him of the measure of his years, and is keeping great tribulation in store for his confederates. Continue the cultivation of your heart for a few years longer, and then I will visit you once more for your everlasting good."
Tsiu bowed his head again in wondering gratitude. "And what method am I to adopt," he asked, "for the cultivation of my heart?"
Then the fairy proceeded to explain how, by continuing to love and care for flowers, his heart would undergo a process of constant renovation; and how, by feeding on certain species, and drinking the dew of heaven, he would gradually bring about the sublimation of his body, and eventually attain to the immortality of the genii. Tsiu prostrated himself for the third time; and when he raised his head the fairy visitor was gone. But looking upward, he saw her hovering in mid-air and waving her hand in sign that he should follow her.
Tsiu accordingly pulled himself together and began to clamber up the wall of the prison-yard. When he had got half-way he felt his strength beginning to fail; but he made a tremendous effort, and managed to scramble on to the top. No sooner had he gained this point of vantage, however, than he heard a deafening noise below; every gong in the place was being banged, and shouts were raised on all sides that one of the prisoners had escaped. This put Tsiu into a dreadful state of trepidation; his hands grew numb, his legs shook, and all of a sudden he tumbled violently off the wall, struck his head upon the ground, and awoke!
He was still in the prison; the whole thing had been a dream. But as he lay on his hard couch he reflected seriously about the matter; he turned it over and over in his mind, and tried to find out the meaning and interpretation of it; arriving at last at the satisfactory conclusion that everything would end happily, and that he need give himself no more anxiety at all.
When Chang saw that the magistrate treated Tsiu as a wizard, he was immeasurably delighted. " Ah," said he, chuckling, "the old wretch was always after something or other which nobody could understand. Well, to-night he'll sleep on the prisoners' bed, and I shall enjoy myself in his garden." "Yes," replied his friends; "the day before yesterday it belonged to him, and now it is your worship's; so it is only proper you should enjoy it to your heart's content." "Right you are," shouted the hero; so, without further delay, they started off, telling the servants to bring a supply of wine and eatables after them. The neighbours were greatly incensed when they saw the party arrive, but no one dared to speak. Meanwhile Chang and his friends proceeded to the summerhouse; but when they got there, and looked round, what was their astonishment to see not a single flower upon its stalk! There they lay, strewed about just as they were when Chang had cut them off; broken and bruised and spoilt. At first nobody could speak for amazement. Chang, however, soon recovered himself. "It is evident," he said, "that the old conjurer has been at his tricks again; if not, how could there be such a change in half a day? It surely can't be the fairy again!" This happy thought was speedily capped by one of the hangers-on. "The old fellow knew that your worship would come to enjoy the flowers again," said he; "and therefore he had recourse to this trick to put you out of countenance." "Well," said Chang, "if it be so, let us enjoy the fallen flowers." So saying, he spread a carpet on the ground, sat down, and laid himself out to make the most of things. He gave a couple of bottles of wine to his trusty servant Pa, and they all ate and drank till sunset, by which time they were more than half-drunk. Suddenly, however, a tremendous gust of wind arose; it swept violently across the garden, gathered up all the scattered flowers, and blew them on to their stalks again! Then, in the twinkling of an eye, every flower was transformed into a beautiful girl, a little over two feet high, each of whom, in apparent obedience to successive puffs of wind, visibly increased in size. At last they appeared in a great gleaming group of exquisitely lovely fairies, dressed in bright parti-coloured robes. All the intruders were so dazed with their beauty that not one of them could utter a word; when suddenly a girl in a crimson robe began to speak as follows:—
"Sisters, it is now more than ten years that we have lived here in peace and happiness, thanks to the care and cultivation of good old Mr. Tsiu. Who ever imagined that this mad slave would come to suffocate us with the vulgar odour of his presence, and violate us with his venomous hands? And then he throws Mr. Tsiu into prison for being a wizard, because he is scheming to swallow up his garden! But we have now got our enemy before our eyes; what is to hinder us, sisters, from combining our strength and giving him the thrashing he deserves? Nay, it is our duty; first, out of gratitude to our old friend for his goodness; secondly, to revenge ourselves for the injuries and insults that have been heaped upon us. Is there any reason why we should refrain?"
Then all the other fairies cried with one voice, "You are right! You are right! Let us set about it at once, before any of them have time to escape." Whereupon they all pulled down their long sleeves to serve as whips, and flourished them till the cold produced was like that of a piercing wind which cuts to the very bone. By this time the intruders had taken the alarm; and with the cry, "They're devils! they're devils!" a general stampede took place, everybody looking out for himself, and forgetting all about the plates and dishes on the ground. Some tumbled over the stones; others had their faces torn and scratched by the branches of trees; and no sooner had a man scrambled to his legs than down he fell again. At last, after a series of misfortunes, they came to a dead stop; and, on reconnoitring their ranks, they found that Chang and Pa were missing. Just then the wind stopped, and the heavens grew black; so they all made the best of their way home, barely escaping with their lives—holding their heads, and skulking off like rats. When they reached their own doors, and were just able to draw their breath again, they got together a number of stalwart labourers, whom they provided with torches, to go in search of the two missing ones. Arrived at the garden, the men soon heard a sort of moaning under a large plum-tree; and bringing a light to see what it was, they found the servant Pa, who, having tripped over the trunk of the tree, was lying there with a broken head, utterly unable to rise. Two of them, accordingly, picked him up and carried him home, while the rest hunted all over the garden to find Chang; but all was silent—not a sound was to be heard nor a form to be seen. They discovered, however, to their amazement, that the moutan-flowers were blooming again as brilliantly as ever; not one was on the ground. Then they came to where the plates and dishes had been left; and there they were, all in the greatest possible confusion, while the wine was spilt in every direction—at which they all put their tongues out in astonishment. Some of them set themselves to clearing the things up, and the others resumed their search for Chang. But not a sign of him did they discover. "How can such a thing be possible?" they exclaimed; "the garden is not a large one, and yet we've been round it four or five times without finding so much as his shadow. Surely the wind can't have blown him away, or the devils of girls devoured him?" So they had no alternative but to go home for that night, and postpone further search for him till the next morning.
Just as they were about to pass through the gate, however, they met another batch of men coming in with lanterns, among whom were no other than the two old gentlemen, Mr. Yü and Mr. Shan. They had heard of all these strange doings, and how Chang had been spirited away; but they knew not whether it were true or false, so they had come to see for themselves, and a party of neighbours had come with them. When, therefore, the two old men inquired of the labourers they met coming out, and found every particular confirmed, they were speechless with amazement. "Well, well," they replied, " you go away; we will search the garden ourselves." So they pottered and peered about, but of course discovered nothing; whereupon they both uttered an ejaculation of helpless perplexity, and went out again. "There is nobody in here," said they to the people who were still waiting outside; "let us lock the gate securely and come away."
The villagers, having lost their head-man, were like a serpent that has lost its head; they knew not how to act; so they all replied, "As you please, gentlemen, as you please; we will do exactly as you tell us." Just as they were on the point of dispersing, however, a labourer who had been peering about with his lantern suddenly cried out, "His honourable worship is found!"
A general rush took place, the people all scudding together like a gust of wind. "Isn't that his silk muffler," continued the man, "hanging on that locust-tree?" "To be sure it is!" cried everybody. "Then its owner cannot be far off." So the man continued to pry about near the wall, and before he had gone far he uttered an exclamation of horror; for there, sure enough, was Mr. Chang—or all that could be seen of him—with his head stuck hard and fast in a dung-pit!
Yes, there he was; recognisable only by his clothes, as his face was invisible, and his legs pointing upwards to the sky. The labourers rushed forward; and, in spite of the horrible stench, pulled the body out of the hole, and washed it in the nearest ditch. The two old gentlemen, recognising in the bad man's fate the just retribution of Heaven, went home, and the others quietly dispersed. Meanwhile the news had reached Chang's family, and they prepared a coffin and a shroud, and consigned the dishonoured corpse to its last resting-place. By this time the villain Pa had died of the wound in his head, and such was the end of these two wicked men.
Next morning the magistrate, who had recovered from his sickness, took his seat upon the bench, and prepared to go on with the case. But the first thing he heard was, that the accuser was no more; and then all the facts of the occurrence were made known to him by the officers of the court. The magistrate was overwhelmed with astonishment, and could hardly believe his ears; but the story was confirmed by the two old gentlemen and over a hundred of the neighbours, who all came to bear their testimony. Then the magistrate was delighted to think that he had been prevented from applying torture to an innocent man, and, sending for old Tsiu, he told him he was free. He also posted a proclamation outside the garden- gate, warning everybody against daring to touch the flowers, or trespass in the domain on any pretext whatever. So Tsiu and his friends went in a triumphal procession back to the garden, where they found the moutan-flowers blooming more splendidly than ever; and all the neighbours gave the old gentleman a banquet of wine, to cheer him after his sufferings; after which he invited them in his turn, and the feasting was kept up for several days on end.
From this time forward Tsiu began to follow the directions of the flower-fairy. He lived entirely on flowers, and abjured the use of cooked food altogether. Soon his hair, which had been white with age, turned black again; the wrinkles in his face disappeared; his complexion became as fair and fresh as that of a beautiful boy. At last, as he was sitting one radiant summer's day among his flowers, a warm, sweet wind began to blow; the air filled with clouds, bright with all the colours of the rainbow; white storks, the emblems of longevity, disported themselves in the sky; lovely melodies came floating on the breeze; and a faint, rich perfume was wafted into his nostrils. Raising his eyes in wonder, he saw, approaching from above, a bevy of fairy maidens carrying waving flags, in the midst of whom was the Flower Goddess. "Come," she said," your period of probation is finished. I have reported your good deeds to God, and He ordains that you shall be raised to the ranks of the genii as Guardian of the Flowers, with power to bless all who love them, and punish all who violate their purity." Then the whole lovely vision rose solemnly into the air, and Tsiu, gazing after it, rose too; and all the flowers in his garden, seemingly endowed with life, accompanied their beloved master; who, looking back as he sailed upward through the sky, raised his hands and continued waving an adieu to his old friends on earth until he arrived in heaven, and was lost sight of for evermore.
THE END.
PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
- ↑ Unfortunately it is impossible to reproduce in English the expressive double-entendres of the original, in which the words t'ao, li, shih, fêng, &c., that stand for peach, plum, pomegranate, and wind, are at first cunningly represented by other characters having the same sound; the object being to mislead and puzzle the reader until the denouement is arrived at.
- ↑ The Chinese peony.