took it from him and tore it in pieces. What great benefits, then, have I received from him, or what kindness did he ever show me? As for the last objection, I myself will provide everything requisite for the marriage. There, take these twenty taëls, offer them to your master; they will provide his dress. Make haste and inform him of all that I have told you. If he agrees, I am prepared to conclude the marriage this very day."

The messenger proceeded with the twenty taëls to the youth, who now agreed to the proposals. As soon as the young widow heard it, she was quite overjoyed. She quitted her mourning at once, and began to adorn herself; at the same time that the coffin was transported, by her directions, into the old ruin. The hall was presently made ready for the celebration of the nuptials, and a grand feast prepared, in order that nothing might be wanting to the occasion. Towards night all the lanterns were lit, and the nuptial taper adorned the principal table. When all was prepared, the youth appeared, habited in a dress which set off to the best advantage his features and figure. The lady herself soon joined him, dressed in a silk garment splendidly embroidered. They placed themselves near each other, opposite to the nuptial taper. Thus contrasted, they set off each other's attractions, as pearls and jewels serve to heighten the splendour of a golden tissue, and at the same time derive a brilliancy from it in return. Having made the accustomed salutations, and wished each other all felicity, they proceeded hand in hand to the interior apartment, where they went through the ceremony of drinking out of the cup of alliance, and then sat down to table.

Towards the conclusion of the repast, what was the

*For all the details of a Chinese marriage, the reader has been before referred to the 'Fortunate Union.'

astonishment of the late widow, and new bride, when the bridegroom all on a sudden fell into the most terrible convulsions! His features became distorted, his brows knit together, and his mouth twisted into frightful shapes. He could no longer hold himself erect; but fell at his full length on the floor. There stretched out, he beat his breast with both hands, calling out aloud that he had a sickness which must destroy him. Enamoured as she was to the last degree with her new spouse, the lady cried out loudly for help, and, without any consideration for herself, fell on the floor and embraced the unfortunate youth, entreating him to tell her what was the matter: he, however, was in too great an agony to make any reply, and, in short, appeared just ready to expire.

The old domestic, running in at the alarm, took his master up and shook him. "Has this ever befallen him before?" inquired the afflicted lady. "The distemper has seized him several times," replied the other ;-" there seldom passes a year without such an attack; and but one remedy can save him!"-"Tell me quickly," she cried, "what it is."—"Our physician," continued he, "discovered the secret, which is infallible: let him take the brain of a man newly killed, and drink it in warm wine; the convulsions will immediately cease, and he will be as well as ever. The first time that this illness attacked him, the prince, his father, ordered a condemned prisoner to be put to death on purpose; but, alas! where shall we find such a remedy at present?"-" Would the brain of a man who died naturally have the same effect?" inquired the lady. "Our physician," replied the other, "told us that in case of absolute need it might be used, provided that the person had not been too long dead."

"Oh,” cried the lady, "my last husband has been dead only a few days; open his coffin, then, and take the

remedy from thence."-"I had thought of that," said the man, "but was afraid to propose it, lest it should offend you. "A great matter truly!" exclaimed she. "Is not the present sufferer now my husband? and ought I not to expend my own blood in his service? Why hesitate, then, to use the dead for the sake of the living?" With that she left her new spouse in the servant's care, and, taking in one hand a hatchet used for cutting wood, while with the other she carried a lamp, away went the fair one to the old ruin where the coffin of her late husband had been last deposited. Arrived there, she tucked up her long sleeves, seized the hatchet with both hands, and, lifting it above her head, struck with all her force upon the lid of the coffin, which split immediately in two. A woman's strength would not have served to break the lid of an ordinary coffin; but the philosopher, being aware that people sometimes return to life after seeming to be dead, had purposely directed that the planks of his coffin should be made very slight. A few more blows drove off the lid, and our lady, being out of breath with her exertions, stood still a moment to recover herself. At that instant she heard a deep sigh, and, casting her eyes on the coffin, she saw her former husband move himself and sit up!

One may imagine her dismay at this apparition; she uttered a loud scream, her legs tottered under her, and the axe fell unnoticed from her hands.-"My dear wife," said the philosopher calmly, "lend me your hand to get out of this." Once upon his legs, he took the lamp from her and walked towards the hall. The lady followed him, but with faltering steps, and sweating big drops; for she felt that her new husband must be the first object that met the eyes of her old one! When they reached the apartment, everything looked gay and splendid, but the

youth and his attendant seemed luckily to have vanished. This gave her a little courage, and she now began to contrive some way of escaping from her embarrassment; so, casting a tender look at the philosopher, "Ah!" cried she, "my thoughts have been occupied day and night with your dear memory; at length, having heard a distinct sound issue from the coffin, and recollecting the stories that they tell of dead persons returning to life, I flattered myself that you might be of the number. So I ran as fast as I could, and knocked off the lid. Thank Heaven, my hopes did not deceive me! What happiness to recover my dear husband, whose loss I should for ever have bewailed!"

"I am much obliged by your kind attention," said the philosopher; "but have still one little question to ask you. How is it you are not in mourning; what is the reason that you are dressed out in this fine brocade?" The answer was ready. "I went," she replied, " to open the coffin, with a secret foreboding of my happiness: the joy of the occasion called for anything but a mourning dress, and it was inconsistent to receive you alive in a habit that relates only to the dead: I therefore put on my wedding clothes."" Well, well," said he, "we will let that pass: but why was my coffin stowed away in the old ruin, instead of this hall, which was its proper place?" This question posed the lady, and she had nothing to say. Chuâng-tsze, then casting his eyes on the dishes and bowls and other signs of rejoicing, considered them attentively without saying a word: he next called for some warm wine, and swallowed several cups in silence, while his wife stood by in the greatest confusion. "Look behind you!" at length said the philosopher; and on turning round she perceived her intended, with his follower, ready to enter the hall. This was a new subject of terror to her; but on looking

round again they had vanished.* In a word, this unhappy woman, finding all her intrigues discovered, and unable to survive her shame, retired to her chamber, and there, untying her silken girdle, hung herself by it to one of the beams. She soon became dead in earnest, without the chance of returning to plague her husband; who, finding her in that condition, cut her down very quietly, and, mending up his old coffin, laid her in it. Then striking up a mock dirge on the cups and bowls intended for the feast, he broke them all in pieces with great shouts of laughter, and ended by setting fire to the mansion, and burning his wife's body in the ruins, from which nothing was saved except the sacred book called Taou-tě-king.

After that, the philosopher set out on his travels, quite resolved never to take another wife. In his wanderings he fell in again with his master Laou-tsze, to whom he attached himself for ever after, and became the first of his disciples.

It remains for us to describe a variety of superstitious customs and observances which are practised by the Chinese, either with or without a particular relation to some one of the three sects, or persuasions, which have been already noticed. In common with a considerable portion of the rest of mankind, they are pretty generally fatalists, or believers in inevitable destiny; and the practical mischiefs of such a creed cannot be more strongly displayed than in the consequences resulting from their apathetic carelessness in regard to the use of fire. Notwithstanding the repeated conflagrations which every year devastate the town of Canton and other cities, the same unaccountable negligence is perpetually apparent to the

* The whole had been an illusion, practised by the adept in philosophy and magic,