He was not ugly, like the dragon; his fur was quite white and soft and glossy, and he had lovely, gentle brown eyes.
The Hare of the Moon lives a thousand years, as you know, and when he is five hundred years old he changes his color from brown to white, and becomes, if possible, better tempered and nicer than he was before.
As soon as he heard what Wang Chih wanted, he opened two windows at the back of the hut, and told him to look through each of them in turn.
"Tell me what you see," said the Hare, going back to the table where he was pounding the drugs.
"I can see a great many houses and people," said Wang Chih, "and streets—why, this is the town I was in yesterday, the one which has taken the place of my old village."
Wang Chih stared, and grew more and more puzzled. Here he was up in the moon, and yet he could have thrown a stone into the busy street of the Chinese town below his window.
"How does it come here," he stammered, at last.
