Mien-Yaun

I.

YOUNG Mien-yann had for two years been the shining centre of the aristocratic circles of Pekin. Around him revolved the social system. He was the vitalizing element in fashionable life;-the radiant sun, diffusing conventional warmth of tone and brilliancy of polish. He created modes. He regulated reputations. His smile or his frown determined the worldly fate of thousands. His ready assurance gave him preëminence with one sex, and his beauty made him the admiration of the other. When he talked, Mandarins listened ; when he walked, maidens’ eyes glistened. He was, in short, the rage,- and he knew it, and meant to remain so. He was a wonderful student, and understood politics like a second Confucius. With the literature of all ages, from the Shee-king, written four thousand years ago, down to the latest achievements of the modern poets, he was intimately acquainted. His accomplishments were rich and varied, and his Tartar descent endowed him with a spirit and animation that enabled him to exhibit them to every advantage. He sang like a veritable Orpheus, and sensitive women had been known to faint under the excitement of his Moo-lee-wha, or national song. He even danced,- a most rare faculty in Pekin, as in all China,- but this was frowned upon, as immoral, by his family. Comely indeed he was, especially on state occasions, when he appeared in all the radiance of rosy health, overflowing spirits, and the richest crapes and satins -decorated with the high order of the peacock’s feather, the red button, and numberless glittering ornaments of ivory and lapislazuli. Beloved or envied by all the men, and with all the women dying for him, he was fully able to appreciate the comforts of existence. Considering the homage universally accorded him, he was as little of a dandy as could reasonably be expected.

His family connections were very exalted. All his relatives belonged to the Tse,-the learned and governing class. His father had been one of the Tootche-yuen, a censor of the highest board, and was still a member of the council of ministerial Mandarins. His uncle was a personal noble, a prince, higher in rank than the best of the Mandarins, and directed the deliberations of the Ping-pu, the Council of War. Thus his station gave him access to all the best society. His career was a path of roses. He never knew a sorrow. All were friendly to him, even the jealous, because it was the fashion. The doors of the mighty opened at his approach, and the smiles of the noble greeted him. He lived in an atmosphere of adulation, and yet resisted the more intoxicating influences of his dangerous elevation. Young as he was, he had penetrated the social surface, and, marking its many uncertainties, had laid out for himself a system of diplomacy which he believed best calculated to fortify him in his agreeable position of master of modes and dictator of fashionable public opinion.

The course he adopted was thoroughly effective. His sway was never disputed for a moment. He knew his personal charms, and determined to enhance their value by displaying them sparingly. Accordingly, he began by refusing forty-nine out of every fifty public invitations,-his former habit having been to refuse but one in five. He appeared on the promenade only twice in three weeks, but on these occasions he always artfully contrived to throw the community into the wildest excitement. One day, he appeared arrayed from head to foot in yellow Nankin, a color always considered a special abomination in Pekin, but which was nevertheless instantly adopted by all the gallants about town,-a proceeding which caused so much scandal that an imperial edict had to be issued, forbidding the practice in future. Another time, he came out with an unparalleled twist to his tail, the construction of which had occupied his mind for some days, and which occasioned the death by suicide of three over-ambitious youths who found themselves unable to survive the mortification of an unsuccessful attempt to imitate it. Again, to the infinite horror of the Mandarins, he paraded himself one afternoon with decacuminated finger-nails, and came very near producing a riot by his unwillingness to permit them to grow again, besides calling forth another imperial decree, threatening ignominious death to all nobles throughout the empire who should encourage the practice. All these eccentricities served only to add to the consequence of the multipotent Mien-yaun. Then again, he was gifted with a bewitching smile; but he steadily refrained from making any use of it oftener than once a month, at which times the enthusiasm of his adherents knew no bounds, and it might have been supposed that all Pekin had administered unto itself a mild preparation of laughing-gas, so universal were the grimaces. On very rare and distinguished occasions, Mien-yaun permitted himself to be persuaded to sing ; but as ladies sometimes swooned under his melodious influence, the natural goodness of his heart prevented him from frequent indulgence in the exercise of this accomplishment.

It may naturally be supposed that the popular and fascinating young Chinese nobleman was the devoted object of much matrimonial speculation. Managing mammas and aspiring daughters gave the whole of their minds to him. To look forward to the possible hope of sharing through life his fortunes and his fame was the continual employment of many a high-born damsel. And they the more readily and unreservedly indulged these fancies, as nothing in the laws of China could prevent Mien-yaun from taking as many wives as he chose, provided he could support them all, and supply all their natural wants. But our hero knew his value. He was fully conscious that a member of the Tse, a son of an ex-censor of the highest board, a nephew of a personal noble and the Secretary of War, and, above all, the brightest ornament of aristocratic society, was by no means the sort of person to throw himself lightly away upon any woman or any set of women. He preferred to wait.

His family had high hopes of him. He was largely gifted with filial piety, which is everything in China. Politics, religion, literature, government, all rest upon the broad principle of filial piety. Being very filially pious, of course Mien-yaun was eminent in all these varied accomplishments. Consequently his family had a right to have high hopes of him. The great statesman, Kei-ying,-who has very recently terminated a life of devoted patriotism and heroic virtues by a sublime death on the scaffold,-undertook his instruction in Chinese politics. One lesson completed his education. “ Lie, cheat, steal, and honor your parents,” were the elementary principles which Kei-ying inculcated. The readiness with which Mien-yaun mastered them inspired his tutor with a lively confidence in the young man’s future greatness. He was pronounced a rising character. His popularity increased. His name was in everybody’s mouth. He shunned society more sedulously than ever, and assumed new and loftier airs. He was seized with fits of ambition, each of which lasted a day, and then gave place to some new aspiration. First, he would be a poet; but, after a few hours’ labor, be declared the exertion of hunting up rhymes too great an exertion, Next, he would be a moral philosopher, and commenced a work, to be completed in sixty volumes, on the Whole Duty of Chinamen ; but he never got beyond the elementary principles he had imbibed from Kei-ying. Again, he would become a great painter; but, having in an unguarded moment permitted the claims of perspective to be recognized, he was discouraged from this attempt by a deputation of the first artists of the empire, who waited upon him, and with great respect laid before him the appalling effects that would inevitably follow any public recognition of perspective in painting. Finally, he renounced all ambition but that of ruling his fellow-creatures with a rod more tyrannical than that of political authority, and more respected than the sceptre of government itself

II.

SATIATED with success, Mien-yaun at length became weary of the ceaseless round of flattering triumphs, and began to lament that no higher step on the social staircase remained for him to achieve. Alas that discontent should so soon follow the realization of our brightest hopes ! What, in this world, is enough? More than we have! Mienyaun felt all the pangs of anxious aspiration, without knowing how to alleviate them. He was only conscious of a deep desolation, for which none of the elementary principles he had learned from Kei-ying afforded the slightest consolation. He now avoided publicity from inclination, rather than from any systematic plan of action. He dressed mostly in blue, a sufficient sign of a perturbed spirit. He discarded the peacock’s feather, as an idle vanity, and always came forth among the world arrayed in ultramarine gowns and cerulean petticoats. His stockings, especially, were of the deepest, darkest, and most beautiful blue. The world of fashion saw, and was amazed ; but in less than a week all Pekin had the blues. Annoyed at what a few months before he would have delighted in as another convincing proof of his influential position, Mien-yaun fled the city, and sought relief in a cruise up and down the Peiho. in his private junk. As he neared the Gulf of Pe-tche-lee, the sea-breeze brought calm to his troubled spirit and imparted renewed vigor to his wearied mind. A degree of resolution, to which he had heretofore been a stranger, possessed him. His courage returned. He would go back to Pekin, He would renounce those vain pursuits in which he had passed his unworthy life. Henceforth he would strive for nobler aims. Something great and wonderful he certainly would accomplish,-the exact nature of which, however, he did not pause to consider.

As he reëntered the city, he was obliged to pass through that quarter which is inhabited by the Kung,-the working and manufacturing classes. His attention was suddenly arrested by feminine cries of distress ; and, turning a corner, he came upon a domestic scene so common in China that it would hardly have attracted his notice but for a peculiar circumstance. A matron, well advanced in years, was violently beating a young and beautiful girl with a bit of bamboo ; and the peculiar circumstance that enforced Mien-yaun’s interest was, that, as the maiden turned her fair face towards him, she smiled through her tears and telegraphed him a fragrant kiss, by means of her fair fingers. Naturally astounded, be paused, and gazed upon the pair. The younger female was the loveliest maid he had ever looked upon. She had the smallest eyes in the world, the most tempting, large, full, pouting lips, the blackest and most abundant hair, exquisitely plaited, and feet no bigger than her little finger. As these are the four characteristics of female beauty dearest to a Chinaman’s heart, it is no wonder that Mien-yaun thought her a paragon. The old woman, on the contrary, was hideously ugly. Her teeth were gone, and her eyes sought the comforting assistance of an ill-fitting pair of crystal spectacles. She had no hair, and her feet might have supported an elephant. As he rested his eyes wistfully upon them, the young woman discharged a second rapturous salute. His heart beat with singular turbulence, and be approached.

“ What has the child done ? ” he asked.

Now the law of China is, that parents shall not be: restrained from beating and abusing their children as often and as soundly as is convenient. The great principle of filial piety knows no reciprocity. Should a child occasionally be killed, the payment of a small fine will satisfy the accommodating spirit of the authorities. The ill-favored mother was not, therefore, in any way bound to answer this somewhat abrupt question ; but, observing the appearance of high gentility, and touched by the engaging manner of the interrogator, she answered, that her appetite had of late been uncertain, and that she was endeavoring to restore it by a little wholesome exercise.

So reasonable an explanation admitted of no reply ; and Mien-yaun was about to resume his way with a sigh, when the young lady insinuated a third osculatory hint, more penetrating than either of the others, and bestowed on him, besides, a most ravishing smile. He fluttered internally, but succeeded in preserving his outward immobility. He entered into conversation with the elderly female, observing that it was a fine day, and that it promised to continue so, although destiny was impenetrable, and clouds might overshadow the radiant face of Nature at any unexpected moment. To these and other equally profound and original remarks the old woman graciously assented, and finally invited the young gentleman to partake of a cup of seau-tcheou. Now seau-tcheou, which is the most ardent of Chinese spirits, was Mien-yaun’s abomination ; but he concealed his disgust, and quietly observed that he should prefer a cup of tea.

The old woman was delighted, and ran off to prepare the desired refreshment, so that Mien-yaun was at length rewarded by the opportunity of a few private words with the daughter.

“ Tell me, Miss,” said he,-“ why did the sweetest of lips perform their most delicate office, when the brightest of eyes first turned upon me?”

The young lady, confused and blushing, answered, that the brilliancy of the jewel which Mien-yaun wore in his hat had dazzled her vision, and that she mistook him for an intimate friend of her youth,-that was all.

He knew this was a lie ; but as lying was in exact accordance with the elementary principles laid down by the learned Kei-ying, he was rather pleased by it. Moreover, it was a very pretty lie, worthy of so pretty a girl; and Mienyaun, whose wits were fast leaving him, removed the jewel from his hat, and begged the maiden to accept it. She, declaring that she never could think of such a thing, deposited it in her bosom. Evidently the twain were on the brink of love ; a gentle push only was needed to submerge them.

Mien-yaun speedily learned that his fair friend’s name was Ching-ki-pin ; that she was the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer, named Tching-whang, who owned extensive porcelain-factories at the North, and was besides a considerable tobacco-planter; that her father was very kind to her, but that the old woman, who was not her own mother, treated her very cruelly ; that her father married this ancient virago for her wealth, and now repented the rash step, but found it impossible to retrace it, as the law of China allows no divorces excepting when the wife has parents living to receive and shelter her; and the obnoxious woman being nearly a hundred years old herself, this was out of the question. When he had learned so much, they were interrupted by the reappearance of the Antique, who brought with her the cup of tea, most carefully prepared. In deep abstraction, Mienyaun seized it, and, instead of drinking the boiling beverage, poured it upon the old woman’s back, scalding her to such a degree that her shrieks resounded through the neighborhood. Then dropping the cup upon the ground, he put his heel into it, and, with a burning glance of love at Ching-ki-pin, strode, melancholy, away.

III.

ALL that night, Mien-yaun’s heart was troubled. The tranquillizing finger of Sleep never touched his eyelids. At earliest dawn he arose, and devoted some hours to the consideration of his costume. Never before had he murmured at his wardrobe ; now everything seemed unworthy of the magnitude of the occasion. Finally, after many doubts and inward struggles, and much bewilderment and desperation, the thing was done. He issued forth in a blaze of splendor, preceded by two servants bearing rare and costly presents. His raiment was a masterpiece of artistic effect. He wore furs from Russia, and cotton from Bombay ; his breast sparkled with various orders of nobility; his slippers glistened with gems; his hat was surmounted with the waving feather of the peacock. Turning neither to the right nor to the left, he made his way to the residence of Tching-whang. At the portal he paused, and sent in before him his card,-a sheet of bright red paper,-with a list of the presents he designed to offer the family whose acquaintance he desired to cultivate.

As he had expected, his reception was most cordial. Though his person was unknown, the magic of his name was not unfelt, even in the regions of the Kung. A prince of the peacock’s feather was no common visitor to the home of a plebeian manufacturer; and when that prince was found to be in addition the leader of the fashions and the idol of the aristocracy, the marvel assumed a miraculous character. The guest was ushered in with many low obeisances. How the too gay Ching-ki-pin regretted those unlucky telegraphic kisses! What would he think of her? She, too, had passed a most unquiet night, but had been able to relieve her feelings to some extent at the sewing-circle, which had met at her home, and at which she poured into the eager ears of her young companions rapturous accounts of the beauty, elegance, dignity, and tenderness of the enchanting stranger, and displayed before their dazzled eyes the lustrous jewel he had presented to her. Having excited a great deal of envy and jealousy, she was able to rest more in peace than would otherwise have been possible. But she had never dreamed ot the real rank of her admirer. It came upon her like a lightning-flash, and almost reduced her to a condition of temporary distraction. As for the mother-in-law, she would infallibly have gone off into hysterics, but for the pain in her back, which the barbers -who are also the physicians in China -had not been able to allay. But the sight of a peacock’s feather under her roof was better than balm to her tortured spine. Tehing-whang lost his presence of mind altogether, and violated the common decencies of life by receiving his

visitor with his hat off, and taking the proffered presents with one hand,-the other being occupied in pulling his ear, to assure himself he was not dreaming.

Mien-yaun spoke. His voice fell like soft music on the ears of his hosts, and went straight to the innermost core of Ching-ki-pin’s heart. He had come, he said, to give utterance to his deep grief at the mishap of yesterday, the recollection of which had harrowed his soul. The thought of that venerable blistered back had taken away his repose, and seriously interfered with his appetite. At the same time he could not forget his own great loss, occasioned by the unlucky spilling of the precious cup. He was sure that Madam, in the kindness of her heart, would overlook his fault, and consent to bestow on him another cheering, but not inebriating draught.

The Antique was overcome by so much condescension. She could not say a word. Tching-whang, too, remained paralyzed. But the beauteous Ching-kipin, who had recovered her composure, answered with the sweetest air imaginable, and succeeded in winding another amorous chain around the already sufficiently-enslaved heart of her lover.

Presently the ice of constraint was broken, and the Antique, having once put her foot in it, plunged off into conversation with remarkable vigor. She entertained Mien-yaun with a detailed account of her family trials, so interminable, that, with all his politeness, the young noble could not avoid gaping desperately. Tching-whang, observing his visitor’s strait, interposed.

“What the women have lost in their feet, they have added to their tongues,” said he, quoting a Chinese proverb of great popularity.

As the Antique persisted, her husband gently reminded her that excessive talkativeness is an allowed ground for divorce in China, and, by suggesting the idea that she might possibly become the dismembered fragment of a shattered union, at length succeeded in shaming her into silence.

This Tclling-whang was a fine old fellow. He was not a bit fashionable, and Mien-yaun liked him the better for it. He had been educated by the bamboo, and not by masters in the arts of courtesy. But he was a shrewd, cunning, jolly old Chinaman, and was evidently perfectly familiar with the elementary principles according to Kei-ying. After an animated discussion of some ten minutes, it would have been difficult to determine which of the two gentlemen was most deeply imbued with a sense of the righteousness of the elementary principles.

After a proper time had elapsed, Mienyaun was permitted the luxury of a private chat with his charmer. What sighs, what smiles, what pleasing tremors, what soft murmurings, what pressings of the hand and throbbings of the heart were there ! The Antique, who watched the course of proceedings through a contiguous keyhole, subsequently declared that she had never in all her life witnessed so affecting a spectacle, and she was prevented from giving way to her excessive agitation only by the thought that the interruption might seriously endanger her daughter-in-law’s prospects. The lovers, unconscious of scrutiny, made great, progress. Some doubt appeared at one time to exist as to which had first experienced the budding passion which had now blossomed so profusely; but in due time it was settled that, both had suffered love at precisely the same moment, and that the first gleam of the other’s eye had kindled the flame in the bosom of each.

Towards evening, the Antique came in with a cup of tea worthy to excite a poet’s inspiration, - and poets in China have sung the delights of tea, and written odes to teacups, too, before now. Mien-yaun sipped it with an air of high-breeding that neither Ching-ki-pin nor her respectable mother-in-law had ever seen before. Soon after, the enamored couple parted, with many fond protestations of faith, avowed and betrothed lovers.

Mien-yaun went home in an amatory ecstasy, and immediately exploded four bunches of crackers and blazed a Bengal light, as a slight token of his infinite happiness.

IV.

ALL Pekin was in an uproar. That is to say, the three thousand eminent individuals who composed the aristocracy had nearly lost their wits. The million and a half of common people were, of course, of no account. Mien-yaun had given out that he was about to be married ; but to whom, or to how many, remained a mystery. No further intelligence passed his lips. Consequently, in less than twenty-four hours there were four hundred and fifty persons who knew the lady’s name, as many more who had conversed with her upon the subject, twice as many who knew the day on which the ceremony was to take place, at least one thousand who had been invited to assist, and an infinitely greater number who simply shook their heads. In two days the names of some hundreds of young and comely damsels were popularly accepted as the chosen future partner of the glass of fashion and the mould of form. Fifty different days and hours were fixed as the appointed time. All the most noted bonzes in Pekin were in turn declared to be the fortunate sacred instrument by which the union was to be effected. In the course of a week, public feeling reached such a height that business was neglected and property declined in value. A panic was feared. Mien-yaun shut himself up, and did not stir abroad for a month, lest he should be tracked, and his secret discovered. He contrived, however, to maintain a constant correspondence with the light of his soul.

He was a little disturbed to find that his much revered father, the ex-censor of the highest board, took no notice of what was going on, and never alluded to the subject in any manner. Mienyaun was too deeply impressed with a sense of filial obligation, to intrude his humble affairs upon the old gentleman’s distinguished notice; so he let matters take their course, and said nothing.

V.

THE New Year drew nigh,-season of unrestrained pleasure, festival-time of the nation. ’Twas the custom of the aristocratic denizens of Pekin to celebrate the New Year in a very peculiar manner,- a manner which the most eccentric people in the world alone could have devised. The women were all constrained to stay at home and prepare feasts of every delicacy and variety for the men, who were accustomed to rise from their beds at an early hour in the morning, and start incontinently upon a distracted course of visiting, which occupied them until nearly midnight. To remain more than thirty seconds in one house was the grossest breach of decorum, and to make, less than one hundred calls during the day was a sign of utter disregard for the regulations of society. Moreover, at each call, it was considered an imperative duty to devour a morsel of food and to swallow a hasty cup of sam-shu. In consequence of these habits, the men who went out empty in the morning found themselves before evening stuffed more tremendously than were the early French missionaries who undertook to write veracious accounts of Chinese morals and manners; and those few who possessed any wits at the start contrived to scatter them broadcast in a very few hours. One hundred or more cups of sam-shu, drunk at regular intervals throughout the day, had the inevitable effect of reducing everybody to a common level of intoxication, from which it was considered impolite to recover in less than two days; so that the New Year’s sports were, in fact, consecrated to Bacchus, or the corresponding Chinese deity, and the Feast of Lanterns, by which name this annual merry-making is usually designated, was nothing more than a universal national frolic. Some distinguished ethnologists, indeed, have discovered a singular coincidence in the fact, that the immense lanterns used by the Chinese in these orgies are made entirely of horn, and insist that the proverbial phrase of taking a horn had its origin in this custom, the prelude, as it always is, of measureless sam-shu. A paper on this subject has been prepared by a certain learned doctor, who steadily refuses to make it public until the meeting of the next Scientific Congress, lest, as he says, the envious and unscrupulous professors of a neighboring college should avail themselves of his ideas, as they have before done, and cheat him out of a well-deserved immortality.

Mien-yaun’s refined tastes revolted at this degrading manner of commemorating the birth of the New Year. He resolved to put his great popularity and influence to the test, and use his best endeavors to turn aside his countrymen from their foolish ways. Ah, more foolish Mienyaun ! you may uproot a nation’s prejudices, soften its passions, upset its polities,- anything but make it sensible of its follies. That you can never do. For a time, perhaps, your counsels may prevail ; but the returning tide will sweep alike your influence and yourself away. But Mien-yaun’s hopes were high. He had never suffered a reverse, and he never doubted his ability to accomplish all that he might undertake.

Three days before the Feast of Lanterns, when all Pekin was laying in great stores of eatables and drinkables, and speculating largely on the prospective delights of unlimited sam-shu and soup, Mien-yaun issued invitations for his wedding. Ten secretaries had been employed the whole of the previous night in transcribing the notes on delicate red paper tinged with gold. Upwards of a thousand guests were expected; for who, that could be present, would fail to witness so important an event as the nuptials of the reigning prince of fashion ? The ceremony was to take place in the magnificent gardens attached to the residence of Mien-yaun’s father, where many a festival had before been held. But this was to outshine them all in splendor. There were lanterns without number, and of the largest size; there were the richest and most luxurious couches disposed about for the general comfort; there were consultations of cooks, headed by a professor from Ning-po, a city famed throughout China for its culinary perfection, with a view to producing an unrivalled gastronomic sensation ; there were tailors who tortured their inventive brains to realize the ideal raiment which Mienyaun desired to appear in. The panic ceased as suddenly as it had arisen. A little while ago, and there was a surplus of supply and no demand; now, the demand far exceeded the supply. Artists in apparel were driven frantic. In three days the entire fashionable world of Pekin had to be new clad, and well clad, for the great occasion. One tailor, in despair at his inability to execute more than the tenth of his commissions, went and drowned himself in the Peiho River, a proceeding which did not at all diminish the public distress. The loss of the tailor was nothing, to be sure, but his death was a fatal blow to the hopes of at least a hundred of the first families. As for the women, they were beside themselves, and knew not which way to turn. It was evident that nothing had occurred within a half-century to create anything like the excitement that existed. Mienyaun’s prospects of eternal potency never seemed so cheering.

All this time, our hero’s father, the excensor of the highest board, preserved a profound silence.

VI.

THE three days passed so rapidly, that even Mien-yaun’s anxiety, great as it was, could hardly keep pace with the swift hours. The morning of the New Year came. For the first time in his life, the dictator of fashion lost his mind. His head whirled like a tee-to-tum, and his pulses beat sharp and irregular as the detonations of a bundle of crackers. He was obliged to resign himself to fate and his valet, and felt compelled to have recourse to many cups of tea to calm his fevered senses. At length it became necessary for him to descend to the gardens. Nerving himself by a powerful effort, he advanced among his guests.

What a gorgeous array of rank and beauty was there! The customary calls of the New Year had been forgotten. Curiosity had alike infected all, and the traditionary commemoration of two thousand years was for the first time neglected. Why this tremor at our hero's heart? Was he not lord of all that he surveyed ? Reigned he not yet with undisputed sway ? Or was it that an undefined presentiment of dire misfortune had settled upon him ? He strove to banish his melancholy, but with slight success.

His troubled air did not escape the scrutinizing eyes of the company. The women whispered; the men shook their heads. But all greeted him with enthusiasm, and asked, after his bride with eagerness.

A crash of gongs was heard. The gates of a pavilion flew open, and the beauteous Ching-ki-pin stepped forth, glowing with loveliness and hope. As she stood an instant timidly on the portal, she seemed almost a divinity,-at least, Mien-yaun thought so. Her sweet face was surmounted by a heavy coronet of black hair, plaited to perfection, and glistening with gum. Her little eyes beamed lovingly on her betrothed, and a flush of expectancy overspread her countenance. Her costume was in the best Chinese taste. An embroidered tunic of silk fell from her neck almost to her ankles, and just temptingly revealed the spangled trowsers and the richly jewelled slippers. A murmur of admiration diffused itself around. Then followed many anxious inquiries. Who was she ? Whence came she ? To whom belonged she ? Her face was strange to all that highborn throng. In a minute, however, her father appeared, bearing on his arm the Antique, who looked more hideous than ever. A flash of intelligence quivered through the multitude. Many of the nobility purchased their porcelain and tobacco of Tching-whang, and recognized him immediately. It is astonishing how like lightning unpleasant facts do fly. In less than two minutes, every soul in the gardens knew that Mienyaun, the noble, the princely, the loftilydescended, the genteel, was going to marry a tradesman’s daughter.

Now that the great secret was out, everybody had thought so. Some had been sure of it. Others had told you so. It was the most natural thing in the world. Where there was so much mystery, there must, of necessity, be some peculiar reason for it. A great many had always thought him a little crazy. In fact, the whole tide of public sentiment instantly turned. Mien-yaun, without knowing it, was dethroned. Upstarts, who that morning had trembled at his frown, and had very properly deemed themselves unworthy to braid his tail, now swept by him with swaggering insolence, as if to compensate in their new-found freedom for the years of social enslavement they had been subjected to. Leers and shrugs and spiteful whispers circulated extensively. But the enraptured Mien-yaun, blind to everything except his own overwhelming happiness, saw and heard them not.

Little time was afforded for these private expressions of amiable feeling. The grand repast was declared ready, and the importance of this announcement overweighed, for a short period, the claims of scandal and ill-nature. The company quickly found their way to the tables, which, as the “Pekin Gazette” of the next morning said, in describing the fête, “ literally groaned beneath the weight of the delicacies with which they were loaded.” The consultations of the Ning-po cook and his confederates had produced great results. The guests seated themselves, and delicately tasted the slices of goose and shell-fish, and the pickled berries, and prawns, and preserves, which always compose the prefatory course of a Chinese dinner of high degree. Then porcelain plates and spoons of the finest quality, and ivory chopsticks tipped with pearl, were distributed about, and the birds’-nest soup was brought on. After a sufficient indulgence in this luxury, came sea-slugs, and shark stews, and crab salad, all served with rich and gelatinous sauces, and cooked to a charm. Ducks’ tongues and deers’ tendons, from Tartary, succeeded, with stewed fruits and mucilaginous gravy. Every known and some unknown luxuries were lavishly provided. The Ning-po cook had invented a new dish expressly for the occasion, -“ Baked ice à la Ching-ki-pin,”-which was highly esteemed. The ice was enveloped in a crust of fine pastry, and introduced into the oven; the paste being baked before the ice-thus protected from the heat - had melted, the astonished visitors had the satisfaction of biting through a burning crust, and instantly cooling their palates with the grateful contents. The Chinese never cook except on substantial principles ; and it was the principle of contrast which regulated this sublime chef-d'œuvre of the Ning-po artist.

Of course, the rarest beverages were not wanting. A good dinner without good wine is nought. Useless each without the other. Those whose fancy rested upon medicated liqueurs found them in every variety. Those who placed a higher value upon plain light wines had no reason to complain of the supply set before them. Those whose unconquerable instinct impelled them to the more invigorating sam-shu had only to make known their natural desires. As the feast progressed, and the spirits of the company rose, the charms of music were added to the delights of appetite. A band of singsong girls gently beat their tom-toms, and carolled in soft and soothing strains. As they finished, a general desire to hear Mien-yaun was expressed. Willing, indeed, he was, and, after seven protestations that he could not think upon it, each fainter than the other, he suffered himself to be prevailed over, and, casting a fond look upon his betrothed, he rose, and sang the following verses from the Shee-king,- a collection of odes four thousand years old, and, consequently, of indisputable beauty :-

VII.

THE festivities were at their height, the sam-shu was spreading its benign influences over the guests, the deep delight of satiated appetite possessed their bosoms, when the entrance of a stern and fat old gentleman arrested universal attention. It was the respected father of Mien-yaun, the ex-censor of the highest board, and Councillor of the Empire. The company rose to greet him ; but he, with gracious suavity, begged them not to discompose themselves. Approaching that part of the table occupied by the bridal party, he laid his hand upon his heart, and assured Tching-whang that he was unable to express the joy he felt at seeing him and his family.

Mien-yaun’s father was a perfect master of the elementary principles.

Turning then to his son, he pleasantly requested him to excuse himself to the assemblage, and follow him for a few minutes to a private apartment.

As soon as they were alone, the adipose ex-censor of the highest board said :- “ My son, have you thought of wedding this maiden ? ”

“ Nothing shall divert me from that purpose, O my father,” confidently answered Mien-yaun.

“ Nothing but my displeasure,” said

the ex-censor of the highest board. “ You will not marry her.”

Mien-yaun was thunderstruck. When he had said that nothing should awe him from the career of his humor, he had never contemplated the appalling contingency of the interposition of paternal authority. He wept, he prayed, he raved, he gnashed his teeth, he tore out as much of his hair as was consistent with appearances, He went through all the various manifestations of despair, but without producing the slightest effect upon the inexorable ex-censor of the highest board. That worthy official briefly explained his objections to a union between his son, the pride and joy of the Tse, and a daughter of one of the Kung, and then, taking the grief-stricken lover by the hand, he led him back to the gardens.

“ Good friends,” said he, “ my son has just conveyed to me his lively appreciation of the folly he was about to commit. He renounces all connection with the black-haired daughter of the Kung, whom he now wishes a very good evening.”

And the ex-censor of the highest board gravely and gracefully bowed the family of Tching-whang out of the premises. The moment they crossed the threshold, Mien-yaun and Ching-ki-pin went into a simultaneous fit.

VIII.

MIEN-YAUN now abandoned himself to grief. He laid away the peacock’s feather on a lofty shelf, and took to cotton breeches. Mien-yaun in cotton breeches ! What stronger confirmation could be needed of his utter desolation ? As he kept himself strictly secluded, he knew nothing of the storm of ridicule that was sweeping his once illustrious name disgracefully through the city. He knew not that a popular but unscrupulous novelist had caught up the sad story and wrought it into three thrilling volumes,-nor that an enterprising dramatist had constructed a closely-written play in five acts, founded on the event, and called “ The Judgment of Taoli, or Vanity Rebuked,” which had been prepared, rehearsed, and put upon the stage by the second night after the occurrence. He would gladly have abdicated the throne of fashion; he cared nothing for that;-but it was well that he was spared the humiliation of seeing his Ching-kipin’s name held up to public scorn ; that would have destroyed the feeble remains of intellect which yet inhabited his bewildered brain.

Occasionally he would address the most piteous entreaties to his cruel parent, but always unavailingly. He had not the spirit to show resentment, even if the elementary principles would have permitted it. The reaction of his life had come. This first great sorrow had completely overwhelmed him, and, like most young persons in the agony of a primal disappointment. he believed that the world had now no charms for him, and that in future his existence would be little better than a long sad bore. He looked back upon his career of gaudy magnificence without regret, and felt like a blasé butterfly, who would gladly return to the sober obscurity of the chrysalis. He found that wealth and station, though they might command the admiration of the world, could not insure him happiness ; and he thought how readily he would resign all the gifts and glories which Fortune had showered on him for the joyous hope, could he dare to indulge it, of a cottage on the banks of the Grand Canal, with his darling Ching-ki-pin at his side.

Thus passed away some months. At last, one day, he ventured forth, in hope of meeting some former friend, in whose confiding car he might whisper his many sorrows. He had not proceeded twenty paces before a group of young gallants, who in earlier days had been the humblest of his satellites, brushed rudely by him, without, acknowledging his courteous salutation. Thinking that anguish might have changed his features beyond recognition, he walked on, and soon met one with whom his intimacy had been unlimited. He paused, and accosted him.

The other stared coldly upon him, said he had a faint remembrance of Mienyaun, but Mien-yaun was passe now, since that affair with old Tching-whang's daughter, and he must really be excused from entering into conversation with any one so excessively behind the fashionable times.

Mien-yaun seized the offender by the tail, whirled him violently to the ground, and strode haughtily back to his home, whence he could not be persuaded to stir, until after the occurrence of a very remarkable event.

IX.

WHEN Mien-yaun had pined nearly half away, and was considering within himself whether it was expedient to commence upon the other half, word was brought to him, one day, that his father, whom he had not seen for some weeks, had met with an accident. Further inquiry revealed the fact, that the worthy ex-censor of the highest board had so far forgotten himself as to sneeze in the presence of the Emperor; and as nothing in the elementary principles could be found to justify so gross a breach of etiquette, the ex-censor’s head had been struck off by the public executioner, and his property, which was immense, had been confiscated to the state. Some of Mien-yaun’s friends, who had sedulously shunned him for six months, lost no time in hastening to him with the agreeable intelligence that he was an orphan and a pauper. After kicking them out of doors, he sat down and pondered upon the matter.

On the whole, he saw no great cause for grief. The Chinese law, which is strict in the enforcement of all duties of a son to a living parent, does not compel excessive lamentation for the dead. Mien-yaun could not but perceive that the only obstacle to his union with Chingki-pin was now removed. The sudden flood of joy which this thought gave rise to came very near upsetting him again, and he had to resort to an opium-pipo to quiet his nerves. He attended personally to the ceremonies of interring the decollated deceased, and then shut himself up for a week, to settle his mind.

At the expiration of this time, he started out, one early morning, alone and in humble garb, to seek his lost love. He threaded the familiar streets, and, with heart beating high in delightful expectation, he stood before the door of Tching-whang’s mansion. He entered, and found the Antique alone.

Then followed a woful scene. The Antique began by informing him that Mien-yaun rich and famous, and Mien-yaun poor and in disgrace, were two very different persons. She went on to show that things were not now as they used to be,-that, though her daughterin-law had permitted his addresses when he was in prosperity, she could not think of listening to them under the present circumstances. Pei was one thing, and pin was another. She concluded by recommending him, as he seemed in distress, to take a dose of gin-seng and go to bed. After which she opened the door, and gently eliminated him.

X.

DEEPER than ever plummet sounded was Mien-vaun's wretchedness now. Desperation took possession of him. Nothing prevented him from severing his carotid artery but the recollection that only the vulgar thus disposed of themselves. He thought of poison, whose sale was present death in Pekin, according to established law. Suicide by poison being a forbidden luxury, it recommended itself nimbly unto Mien-yaun’s senses. He did remember an apothecary whose poverty, if not his will, would consent to let him have a dram of poison. He was about acting on this inspiration, when a message was brought to him from Tching-whang, that, at his daughter’s most earnest prayer, one solitary interview would be permitted the lovers.

Like an arrow, Mien-yaun flew to the arms of Ching-ki-pin. She was, then, true to him. She told him so; she swore it. Hope revived. He thought no longer of the apothecary. Since Ching-ki-pin was faithful, he asked no higher bliss.

A hundred plans were discussed, and all declared ineffectual to accomplish their union. Still they suggested impracticabilities.

“ Let us run away,” said Mien-yaun.

“ Think of my feet,” said Clung-ki-pin, reproachfully;-“am I a Hong-Kong woman, that I should run ? ”

It is only in Hong-Kong that the Chinese women permit their feet to grow.

Mien-yaun was full of heroic resolutions. Hitherto, besides being born great, he had had greatness thrust upon him. Now he would achieve greatness. He would secure not only wealth, but also a more enduring fame than he had before enjoyed. He saw many avenues to eminence opening before him. He would establish a periodical devoted to pictorial civilization. If civilization did not bring it success, he would illustrate great crimes and deadly horrors, in the highest style of Art, and thus command the attention of the world. Or he would establish a rival theatre. Two playhouses already existed in Pekin, each controlled by men of high integrity, great tact, and undenied claims to public support. He would overturn all that. He would start without capital, sink immense sums, pay nobody, ruin his company, and retire in triumph. Or he would become a successful politician, which was easier than all, for nothing was needed in this career but strong lungs and a cyclopædia. Many other methods achieving renown did he rehearse, all of which seemed feasible.

Ching-ki-pin, too, thought she might do something to acquire wealth. She painted beautifully, with no sign of perspective to mar her artistic productions. Site warbled like a nightingale. She understood botany better than the great Chin-nong, who discovered in one day no less than seventy poisonous plants, and their seventy antidotes. Could she not give lessons to select classes of young ladies in all these several accomplishments ? She was dying to do something to help defeat the machinations of their evil Quei-shin, the mother-in-law.

Finally, without coming to any particular conclusion, and after interchanging eternal vows, they parted much comforted, and looking forward to a brighter future.

XI.

MIEN-YAUN went to his home, - no longer the splendid mansion of his early days, but a poor cottage, in an obscure quarter of the city. As he threw himself upon a bench, a sharp bright thought flashed across his mind. His brain expanded with a sudden poetic ecstasy. He seized upon a fresh white sheet, and quickly covered it with the mute symbols of his fancy. Another sheet, and yet another. Faster than his hand could record them, the burning thoughts crowded upon him. No hesitation now, as in his former efforts to effect his rhymes. Experience had taught him how to think, and much suffering had filled his bosom with emotions that longed to be expressed. Still he wrote on. Towards midnight he kicked off his shoes, and wrote on, throwing the pages over his shoulder as fast as they were finished. Morning dawned, and found him still at his task. He continued writing with desperate haste until noon, and then flung away his last sheet; his poem was done.

He rose, and moistened his lips with a cup of fragrant Hyson, which, according to the great Kian-lung, who was both a poet and an emperor, and therefore undoubted authority on all subjects, drives away all the five causes of disquietude which come to trouble us. Then he walked up and down his narrow apartment many times, carefully avoiding the piles of eloquence that lay scattered around. Then he sat down, and, gathering up the disordered pages, resigned himself to the dire necessity-that curse of authorship-of revising and correcting his verses. By nightfall, this, too, was completed.

In the morning, he ran to the nearest publisher. His poem was enthusiastically accepted. In a week, it was issued anonymously, although the author’s name was universally known the same day.

As Mien-yaun himself was afterwards accustomed to say,-after six months of ignominious obscurity, he awoke one morning and found himself famous !

In two days the first edition was exhausted, and a second, with illustrations, was called for. In two more, it became necessary to issue a third, with a biography of the author, in which it was shown that Mien-yaun was the worst-abused individual in the world, and that Pekin had forever dishonored itself by ill-treating the greatest genius that city had ever produced. In the fourth edition, which speedily followed, the poet’s portrait appeared.

It was soon found that Mien-yaun’s poem was a versified narration of his own experiences. There was the romantic youth, the beautiful maiden, the obdurate papa, the villanous mother-inlaw, and the shabby public. This discovery augmented its popularity, and ten editions were disposed of in a month.

At length the Emperor was induced to read it. He underwent a new sensation, and, in the exuberance of his delight, summoned the author to a grand feast. When the Antique heard of this, she swallowed her chopsticks in a fit of rage and spite, and died of suffocation. Mien-yaun was then satisfied. He went to the dinner. The noble and the mighty again lavished their attentions upon him, but he turned from them with disgust. He saw through the flimsy tissue of flattery they would fain cast over his eyes. The most appetizing delicacies were set before him, but, like a true poet, he refused to take anything but biscuits and soda-water. As neither of these articles had been provided, he consented to regale himself with a single duck's tongue. In short, he behaved so singularly, and gave himself so many airs, that everybody present, from the Emperor to the cook, was ready to bow down and worship him.

At the close of the repast, the Emperor begged to be informed in what way he could be permitted to testify his appreciation of the towering talents of his gifted subject.

“ Son of Heaven,” answered Mien-yaun, “grant me only the hand in marriage of my beauteous Ching-ki-pin. No other ambition have I.”

The Emperor was provoked at the modesty of the demand. In truth, he would have been glad to see the young poet united to one of his own daughters. But his imperial word was pledged,- and as Mien-yauu willed it, so it was.

XII.

THEIR home is a little cottage on the bank of the Peiho ; finery never enters it, and neatness never leaves it. The singing of birds, the rustling of the breeze, the murmuring of the waters are the only sounds that they hear. Their window will shut, and their door open,-but to wise men only; the wicked shun it. Truth dwells in their hearts, innocence guides their actions. Glory has no more charms for them than wealth, and all the pleasures of the world cost them not a single wish. The enjoyment of case and solitude is their chief concern. Leisure surrounds them, and discord shuns them. They contemplate the heavens and are fortified. They look on the earth and are comforted. They remain in the world without being of it. One day leads on another, and one year is followed by another ; the last will conduct them safe to their eternal rest, and they will have lived for one another.²