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Page 68
With the last spoken word there came into the sight of those who were
collected together a person of stern yet engaging appearance. His
hands and face were the colour of mulberry stain by long exposure to
the sun, while his eyes looked forth like two watch-fires outside a
wolf-haunted camp. His long pigtail was tangled with the binding
tendrils of the forest, and damp with the dew of an open couch. His
apparel was in no way striking or brilliant, yet he strode with the
dignity and air of a high official, pushing before him a covered box
upon wheels.
"It is Tung Fel!" cried many who stood there watching his approach, in
tones which showed those who spoke to be inspired by a variety of
impressive emotions. "Undoubtedly this is the seventh day of the month
of Winged Dragons, and, as he specifically stated would be the case,
lo! he has come."
Few were the words of greeting which Tung Fel accorded even to the
most venerable of those who awaited him.
"This person has slept, partaken of fruit and herbs, and devoted an
allotted time to inward contemplation," he said briefly. "Other and
more weighty matters than the exchange of dignified compliments and
the admiration of each other's profiles remain to be accomplished.
What, for example, is the significance of the written parchment which
is displayed in so obtrusive a manner before our eyes? Bring it to
this person without delay."
At these words all those present followed Tung Fel's gaze with
astonishment, for conspicuously displayed upon the wall of the Temple
was a written notice which all joined in asserting had not been there
the moment before, though no man had approached the spot. Nevertheless
it was quickly brought to Tung Fel, who took it without any fear or
hesitation and read aloud the words which it contained.
"TO THE CUSTOM-RESPECTING PERSONS OF CHING-FOW.
"Truly the span of existence of any upon this earth is brief and
not to be considered; therefore, O unfortunate dwellers of
Ching-fow, let it not affect your digestion that your bodies are
in peril of sudden and most excruciating tortures and your Family
Temples in danger of humiliating disregard.
"Why do your thoughts follow the actions of the noble Mandarin
Ping Siang so insidiously, and why after each unjust exaction do
your eyes look redly towards the Yamen?
"Is he not the little finger of those at Peking, obeying their
commands and only carrying out the taxation which others have
devised? Indeed, he himself has stated such to be the fact. If,
therefore, a terrible and unforeseen fate overtook the usually
cautious and well-armed Ping Siang, doubtless--perhaps after the
lapse of some considerable time--another would be sent from Peking
for a like purpose, and in this way, after a too-brief period of
heaven-sent rest and prosperity, affairs would regulate themselves
into almost as unendurable a condition as before.
"Therefore ponder these things well, O passer-by. Yesterday the
only man-child of Huang the wood-carver was taken away to be sold
into slavery by the emissaries of the most just Ping Siang (who
would not have acted thus, we are assured, were it not for the
insatiable ones at Peking), as it had become plain that the very
necessitous Huang had no other possession to contribute to the
amount to be expended in coloured lights as a mark of public
rejoicing on the occasion of the moonday of the sublime Emperor.
The illiterate and prosaic-minded Huang, having in a most unseemly
manner reviled and even assailed those who acted in the matter,
has been effectively disposed of, and his wife now alternately
laughs and shrieks in the Establishment of Irregular Intellects.
"For this reason, gazer, and because the matter touches you more
closely than, in your self-imagined security, you are prone to
think, deal expediently with the time at your disposal. Look twice
and lingeringly to-night upon the face of your first-born, and
clasp the form of your favourite one in a closer embrace, for he
by whose hand the blow is directed may already have cast devouring
eyes upon their fairness, and to-morrow he may say to his armed
men: 'The time is come; bring her to me.'"
"From the last sentence of the well-intentioned and undoubtedly
moderately-framed notice this person will take two phrases," remarked
Tung Fel, folding the written paper and placing it among his garments,
"which shall serve him as the title of the lifelike and
accurately-represented play which it is his self-conceited intention
now to disclose to this select and unprejudiced gathering. The scene
represents an enlightened and well-merited justice overtaking an
arrogant and intolerable being who--need this person add?--existed
many dynasties ago, and the title is:
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