and the Shen-se coal fizzle. They made Beauling sing for the last time. And he, the sweat rolling off him, for it was bitter hot, sat at the tuneless piano and sang the old songs. Certain great merchants of China heard that he was passing through, and sent him presents of carved jade and amethyst. One—the revered Chang Lo—sent him a string of beads, alternately pierced pearls and cunningly carved gold, with this word:
"He is leaving us forever because he is going to his beloved. Take her this, esteemed Beauling, from the honorable old Chang Lo. It will guard her from the evils of this world and the next."
Beauling thrust the chain and the note into his breast pocket, and he blushed at thought of the astute guesswork of the Honorable Chang Lo. Then he sang the love-song of Taikon in what sounded something like the original Mandarin, and the young men howled with joy. They went aboard ship with him, carrying their own wine in tubs packed with ice, annexed the saloon, and waked
