"All that I can tell you is that so soon as he set to work his pencil flew over the paper, and in the twinkling of an eye both pieces were finished. Of a truth he is a most lovable man." Here Clematis gave a little start, but recovered as Primrose went on. "He will make you the most delightful husband." "But where are the odes?" "Oh, here they are, I had forgotten all about them," said Primrose, as she drew the precious document from its hiding-place. Clematis took the paper and read as follows: SPEEDING THE WILD GOOSE. Gold-Autumn's plants are here, last year's are not; Stone-fern and reed in Springtime are forgot, Silk-willow'd shoots proclaim1 your parting, while Bamboo-light airs attest your changing lot. Gourds droop2 no more as you mount up on high; "How beautiful!" she said as she finished reading. "Not only are all the rhymes got in, but the initial words are introduced quite as though they came in naturally. This paper inspires me with love. But, alas! there is that wretched Chang. How are we to get rid of him?" "It is easy enough. If you don't like to speak to your father about it, let Su tell him the whole story, and matters will soon come right." "In shallow waters," replied Clematis, in a parable, "a dragon becomes the plaything of a shrimp. And it is quite possible that Chang may by his arts be more than a match for the brilliant and noble Su." "If you so dread the head and tail of the affair, miss, I am afraid you will lose the substance altogether." "The best plan," replied Clematis, "will be for Su to go to Peking. In his absence that creature Chang will have no one to plagiarize, and I will get my father to put him to another test. At the same time Su might go to my Uncle Earth's sprouting grains your journey Wu and ask him to make a proposal to north bespot; Hide" visaged men your flight with bows await my father on his behalf." Primrose. Su was And "Tree-plant guards" you death quite right when he smothered your maligny plot. WELCOMING THE SWALLOW. Gold-fruit trees tempt the loving pair to light; Stone-sprinkled paths are dark as gloomy night; genius with praises." Punctually at noon, the next morning, Primrose met the poet. "You are a man of your word," said she, laughing with pleasure as she greeted him. "I am in love with your mistress," said Su, making a low bow. "I hope you have good news for me." Silk fringes throw a shadow o'er the scene; which mourns Earth's changed features, in deep sorrow- anew. Tree's fragrant boughs are made for love's true rite. 1 I. e., the wild goose. snubbed? That is not generally the way at all events. However, I gave her your beautiful poems and she was enraptured with them. But she thinks on the whole that the best plan will be for you to go to her uncle Wu at Peking and interest him on your behalf. Meanwhile she will manage that that 2 As spring advances the gourd leaves are said odious creature Chang shall be dis to erect themselves. I. e., hard-visaged. 4 This is a term for the guards on the western frontiers. 5 The second meaning of the word for "Hide." missed." "I have no doubt that her plan is the best," replied Su, rather dolefully. "But Peking is a long way from tuis, and while I'm journeying some brilliant scholar may appear and carry her off." "Don't think so lightly of my young lady as to suppose that she is capable of change. You may go away without any fear. Rely upon it that the Eastern couch will be untenanted until you come back as bridegroom." "Then I will start this very day," said Su. He was going on to say something more, probably to give a farewell message to Clematis, when the scund of approaching footsteps sent Primrose scampering down a by-path. Su watched her retreating figure until a bush of peonies hid her from his sight, when he retired precipitately in the opposite direction. He was in no humor to meet Chang, so he went straight off to the temple of Kwanyin. Having given his valet orders to pack at once, he sat down to write a letter of farewell to his rival. "For two days," he wrote, "my elder brother has been constantly in my thoughts" (this was true enough), "and I have longed for the sound of his pearly words and to listen to his jadelike instructions. Important and urgent business has suddenly called me to the capital, and I now write to say that my elder brother's kindness to one who met him by chance like driftwood in the waters will be forever engraved on my heart." Having entrusted this truthful epistle to the priest for delivery, Su mounted his horse, and, followed by his valet, took the road to Peking. The morning after his arrival at the capital he went as early as decorum allowed to pay his respects to his Excellency Wu, Clematis's uncle. That gentleman received him courteously, but with some surprise. "To what am I to ascribe the honor," he said, "of receiving your chariot at my door?" "This inferior person," replied Su, "is desirous of reaching the palace of the moon,' and having long heard of the beauty and learning of your excellency's niece, Miss Pai, he has ventured to hope that your excellency would 1 Le., entering on matrimony. write on his behalf to the father of the incomparable Clematis." "Oh, that is the way in which the current flows, is it?" said Wu. "But may I ask how you have become acquainted with my niece's excellencies?" Thus invited, Su recounted his adventures with Chang at Kinshi. "Well, from your account," said Wu, "my niece has had a most fortunate escape. As to the letter of introduction to her father I will seize the hatchet and strike at once. And I should advise you to do the same," he added, laughing. "Remember wind, flowers, women, and the moon are never constant, so if I were you I would start without delay for Kinshi." Su tried to join in his host's laughter, but it was a sorry attempt. "After having been all these months," he said to himself, "obliged to be content with thinking of plums to quench my thirst, to lose her would be torture." Oppressed by these thoughts he remained silent, and took his leave with scarcely all the refinement of bows and compliments with which he would have retired under ordinary circumstances. If Su had imbibed anything half so useful as a knowledge of astrology from his constant study of the Confucian classics, he would have known that the golden star (Venus) had been watching over his fortunes at Kinshi. No sooner had he turned his face toward Peking than Clematis and the faithful Primrose began their machinations to oust Chang. With every form of innuendo Clematis hinted to her father her suspicions of that young gentleman. Her words fell upon a prepared soil, and Pai determined once again to put the suspected tutor to the test. An opportunity soon came. After a repast in the study of Dreamy Carelessness Pai pointed out a swallow building a nest beneath the eaves of the pavilion, and begged Chang to write on the subject "one of those poetic gems which had so often reflected lustre on his genius." If an attack of palsy had fallen upon Chang he would not have been more shaken than he was by this proposal. stood "I feel that we shall hear something of him before long," said Clematis hopefully. The cold beads of perspiration upon his brow, and for a moment or two all power of framing an excuse went from him. Pai watched these symptoms carefully, and when Chang had so far recovered as "to fear that his paltry verses would be quite unworthy of the regard of Pai's awe-inspiring gaze," he affected to consider the excuse as a profession of modesty. "Let not my benevolent elder brother," he said, "refuse to his disciple the exquisite pleasure of again enjoying the fruits of his genius." With trembling fingers the tutor mixed some ink in the stone which stood before him, and even went the length of taking the pencil in hand. With a vast effort he managed to scrawl on the paper "The Moon," but there his powers completely failed him. For a moment or two he swayed back wards and forwards in his chair, as though bewildered. At last finding concealment no longer possible he complained of a sudden and overpowering indisposition, and fled from the room. Not a movement nor a wriggle of his victim had been lost upon Pai, who saw in the abject confusion of the man a full confirmation of his own and Clematis's suspicions. By degrees Pai drew from Clematis the whole story of the manner in which Chang had lived on Su's poems, and he was not long in discovering the admiration with which she regarded that young scholar. "I never saw the young man," said Pai, "but if his appearance is at all in keeping with his poetic element he must indeed be a deity from Mount Tai." "I wish you had seen him, for then you would have earlier discovered the fraud which has been practised upon you. It was impossible to look upon his tall and graceful form, his scholarly air, his jade-like features, and the piercing brilliancy of his eyes without "Ah, yes, I dare say," said Pai, laughing, "but the unfortunate part of the business is that the print of his footsteps has disappeared on the surface of the waves." Meanwhile, Su arrived again at the temple of the goddess Kwanyin. His impatience to assure himself of Clematis's fidelity induced him to lose no time in presenting Wu's letter. On the next morning, therefore, having dressed himself with great care, he was borne in a sedan chair to Pai's portal. To his infinite disappointment he was met with the news that Pai was not at home, and would not be back until evening. Though thus rebuffed he was tempted by a burning desire to learn something of Clematis, to go once again into the garden by the side door which he knew so well. Leaving his chair coolies at the angle of the wall he easily found the desired gate, and advanced stealthily through a thick fog which lay on the earth in the direction of Chang's now disused study. Just as he crossed the high bridge leading to the pavilion he heard voices of approaching ladies, and, before he had time to conceal himself, Clematis and Primrose stepped out of the mist like goddesses descending from the clouds. It is difficult to say who was most surprised at this sudden meeting, for Clematis's suppressed scream and Primrose's exclamation were not suggestive of more astonishment than Su's start and wondering countenance. At a second glance Clematis recognized the stranger. As to Primrose, she had scarcely enunciated her favorite exclamation "Haiyah," when she was aware that Su stood before her. As is usual in such a crisis, the lady was the first to speak. "Who are you that has thus intruded on our privacy?" inquired Clematis. "I am Su," replied that young gentleman, "and if report says truly, that Miss Pai is the most beautiful maiden within the four seas, you, lady, must be she." Clematis was not too flurried to take note of the compliment paid her. "That is the name of your handmaid," she replied. "But what has brought you, sir, to this mean abode?" peony-and she looked up into Su's face with the open eyes of honesty and love. Never was a prettier picture than she made. Her features were all aglow with excitement, and her cheeks were sufficiently flushed to make excusable "I want to enter the palace of the moon," said Su, "and I have just left for your father a letter of recommendation from his Excellency Wu.” “Unfortunately my father is away the gentle use of her fan, which she and "Distaff and hairpins' must not concern themselves with the winds with flowers," said Clematis, demurely. "But call upon my father, and if he consents you shall find the Oriental couch awaiting you." “Oh, lady, the joy of my heart is like the song of a bird, and I long with ardent desire for the time when I may enter your Perfumed Apartment." "I must not stay longer," said Clematis, "but take the half of this charm," she added as she broke a gold fretted ornament which hung from her neck, "as my pledge that he alone who brings the piece which matches the part I keep shall be my husband." By this time all Clematis's bashfulness had disappeared-Primrose had wandered off and was ostentatiously admiring a very ugly and mis-shapen 1 I.e., young girls. 2 I.e., the passions. wielded with accustomed grace. The sun had pierced the mist while they had been talking, as if to smile on so much beauty. Its rays lit up the ornaments which adorned her hair until they sparkled again, and added brightness and light to the delicate colors of her robe. Su was entranced by her loveliness, and though he had always professed to her that her poetic talent was the sole object of his admiration, it must be confessed that during his interview nothing but herself had occupied all his soul. Reluctantly Clematis turned to leave, and it was not until her fairy form had disappeared from view at the end of an alley of roses and azaleas that Su took his departure. On presenting himself in the evening at Pai's portal, Su was cordially greeted, and his proposal to become the husband of the incomparable Clematis was readily assented to. The preliminaries having thus been happily settled, it was agreed that the arrangements for the marriage should be made at once. Delay was unnecessary, and as soon as Clematis's wedding shoes had been embroidered, and her other habiliments made ready, the ceremony took place with all due observance of the most punctilious rites. Su's impatience to lift the veil of his bride and to gaze again upon her features was sorely tried by the delay entailed by the tedious formalities. At last the long-wished-for moment came. Never had he looked upon greater loveliness, and he thought that those exquisite features reflected a poetic soul. In a moment of inspiration he took up a pencil which Primrose, knowing the propensities of the pair, had laid on the table, and wrote as follows: A maiden in the harem's precincts bred, By song consoled, through song's enchantment wed: Snow hymned by Siel has vanished from I came among them, did not arise from From The Saturday Review. To plume oneself on a negative virtue is surely the cheapest form of selfrighteousness, and I am not puffed up when I declare that I never was "one of those miserable males" who are ever seeking "sensations" and "experiences." Indeed, I have often suspected that these seekers are but the figment of certain philosophic brains. We all, naturally, have moments of boredom and the desire for diversion. In such a moment, yesterday, I myself did stray beyond the portal of a scarlet edifice in the Marylebone Road and did wander among wax-works. My visit may have been a "sensation" or an "experience," or both, but it was not at all nice. In future I shall stick to ennui. What is it that pervades that congress of barren effigies? Why is the atmosphere so sinister, so subtly exhaustive? They say that, for all creatures, life ebbs lowest and death's meridian is in those chill, still intervals before the sun's relapse or resurrection, and I can well imagine that, likewise, no invalid, laid among those effigies, could survive for many minutes. They frightened; me, I remember, when I was a little child and was taken to see them, as a treat. In a sense, they frightened me again, yesterday. But my fear, when any notion that they were real men and women, bewitched into an awful calm. I could not have cried to be taken home. I could not tear myself from their company. Powerless of escape, as in a dream, I must needs wander on, pausing before each one of those cadaverous and ignoble dolls, hating the tallowy faces and glass eyes that stared back at me, the rusty clothes, the smooth, nailless, little hands. I wished to Heaven I had never come into the place, yet must I needs stay there. The orchestra, playing lively tunes, did but intensify the gloom and horror of the exhibition. One would prefer no music in a sarcophagus. Why were they ranged here, these dolls? What fascination had they? They were not lifelike. They gave me no illusion. I remembered how Ouida, in one of her earlier books, had told us of one who came to the dim hall of some Florentine villa, and, gazing round at the pagan statues that were there, had fancied himself in the presence of the immortal gods, and had abased himself before them. Could any man, I wondered, entering Madame Tussaud's initial chamber, fancy that the old kings and queens of England had come to life? Mrs. Markham being his sole authority for most of their faces, he would not be hampered by any positive conceptions. For aught one knows, Richard Cœur de Lion may have had some such face as yonder person on the daïs, and King Stephen's image may be the image of King Stephen. But oh, what stiff and inadequate absurdities! That fatuous puppet, called Mr. Gladstone, in the next room, is scarcely less convincing. And even when the familiar features of some man or woman have been moulded correctly, how little one cares, how futile it all seems! The figures are animated with no spark of life's semblance. Made in man's image, they are as man to God. Even from that elaborately set scene, representing a drawing room at the court of St. James's, one can draw no possible illusion. It is true that the royal personages, of whose models it is composed, are better sub |