But as months went by and she heard of no one having offered to purchase her, Tuen forgot her fears, and came to think that she would always live in the yamen. It was now winter, and throughout the length and breadth of the vast Empire preparations were being made for the annual holiday. Before the festal day arrived, however, the home of the Viceroy became a house of mourning, for the little Tung-li lay dead. Despite prayers and amulets, the propitious words of the soothsayers, and the conjurations of the priests, "he had gone to wander among the genii," still wearing locked around his neck the string of coins it had been fondly hoped would lock him fast to[Pg 94] life. Clad in shimmering satin and embroidered crêpe, a fan in one hand and in the other a printed prayer, he lay all cold and calm upon the floor, and in the roof above him was a gaping hole made to allow the spirits inhabiting his body to escape, and through it had crept a wandering moonbeam that fell upon his placid face, and gave him the look of one who slept. Near him was a table filled with every delicacy to tempt the palate, that they who watched and mourned might also feast, and upon it burned incense and candles, filling the room with pungent smoke. In an adjoining room twelve priests bowed before an image made of brass, the god of the lower regions. This mocking thing they supplicated squatted solemnly upon a golden cloth strewn with rice, while the kneeling priests chanted prayers for the dead, and beat upon drums and cymbals, while above it all could be heard the shrill wailing of the women [Pg 95]waiting in the corridors. The Viceroy, clothed in spotless white (for that is the mourning color of the country), sat beside the body of his son, his expression one of profound grief. He had been so proud of this boy, his son and heir, and he had fondly thought that when he went away to join his fathers, Tung-li would be left to tend his grave and worship his tablet. Now he was left alone in his old age.

So, amid the noise made by the priests, and the shrill cries of the women, and the silent grief of the Viceroy, the night passed, and in the time that intervened between this and the last funeral rites, geomancers were kept busy finding a suitable resting place for the body, lest it be buried in an unlucky spot.

Although it is not customary to have any elaborate ceremonies when children die, the Viceroy had determined that Tung-li should be buried with all the honors befitting his high rank, and for[Pg 96] that reason the funeral procession was a most imposing one.

The body was put in a coffin of thick wood, ornamented with many gilt figures, and then placed in a richly decked gilt pavilion, covered with a canopy of bright colored silk. Thus, as if going to a festival was Tung-li borne through the city and to the hills beyond. Before him went an attendant, scattering paper money along the way to buy the good will of the wicked spirits who are doomed to wander over the earth and make mischief wherever they go, and behind him came the bearers of gay standards, fluttering banners and gilded figures, and the sacrifices to be offered at the grave. These were in turn followed by a long line of priests, while close behind the coffin were the mourners, clothed in white, their cries of anguish rising above the clamorous discord of the gongs and cymbals, while every now and then could be[Pg 97] heard the reverberating notes of the drum as three loud taps were sounded upon it.

Human nature is the same wherever you find it—in the East and in the West—and love for those who are near to us is strong in the breast of high and low, the ignorant and degraded and the wealthy aristocrat. No matter what the nationality of the Viceroy he was a father, and as he saw his only child given............