He was handsome,—and might have been thirty or more ; The garb of a Taoist he tastefully wore ;

His kind manner soon put her quite at her ease,

So she answered demurely, "Listen, Sir, if you please,
And I'll tell you the reason I'm fanning this grave.

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My husband, alas! whom I now (sob, sob) mourn, A short time since (sob) to this grave (sob) was borne ; And (sob) he lies buried in this (seb, sob) grave.” (Here she bitterly wept.) "Ere my (sob) husband died, He called me (sob) once more (sob, sob) to his side, And grasping my (sob),—with his dying lips said, 'When I'm gone (sob, sob) promise (sob) never to wed,

Till the mould is (sob) dry on the top of my grave.'

"I come hither daily to (sob) and to weep,

For the promise I gave (sob) I'll faithfully keep,

I'll not wed till the mould is (sob) dry on his grave.

I don't want to marry again (sob) I'm sure,

But poverty (sob) is so hard to endure,

And, oh! I'm so lonely, that I come (sob) to try
If I can't with my fan help the mould (sob) to dry;
And that is the reason I'm fanning his grave."

Hearing this, Chuang exclaimed, " Madam, give me the fan. I'll willingly help you as much as I can

In drying the mould on your poor husband's grave."

She readily handed the fan up to Chuang,

(Who in magic was skilled, -as he proved before long) For he muttered some words in a low under-tone, Flicked the fan, and the grave was as dry as a bone;

"There," said he, "the mould's dry on the top of the grave."

Joy plainly was seen on the poor woman's face,
As she hastily thanked him—ere quitting the place,
For helping her dry up the mould on the grave.
Chuang watched her go off with a cynical sigh,
Thought he, "Now suppose I myself were to die,
How long would my wife in her weeds mourn my fate?
Would she, like this woman, have patience to wait

Till the mould was well dry on her poor husbana's

grave?"

THE WIFE TESTED.

(SEQUEL TO "FANNING THE Grave.")

On this curious grave-fanning scene
Chuang pondered as homeward he strolled;

At once told his wife where he'd been,
And the morning's adventure too told.

His wife, when the tale she had heard,

Screwed her brows up, and lengthened her face; word!

"That woman," said she-"6
-"'pon my

Beats all that is wicked and base!"

66

Oh," said Chuang, "what is it to us

If she chooses to marry again?

Don't let this talk worry you thus,

Or cause you a moment of pain.

What may happen there's no one can tell,—

But I should quite satisfied be

Were you to do equally well,

If anything happened to me."

His wife cried, "I'd have you to know
That my family bears a good name;

Do you think I could sink down so low
As to stain it by falsehood or shame?
Should you, alas, from me be torn,
Could I ever another one love?

Till death I'd your memory mourn,
If I lie, there's a Heaven above!"

As 'twas said once before,

Chuang in magical lore

Was skilled, so he thought he would test her ; And with consummate skill,

He feigned to be ill:

In lugubrious tones thus addressed her :

"My love, smooth that brow,

Let us have no more row,

What I just said was only in frolic;

But, oh! (here he winced,)

Ai ya ! I'm convinced

I've got a slight touch of the colic."

He groaned himself hoarse

His wife too, of course,

As in duty bound, burst out a crying;

"Fetch a doctor, my dear,

For I feel deuced queer ;

I'm blest, if I don't think I'm dying!"

She went off in a crack,

And a doctor brought back :

They found poor Chuang kicking and sprawling ; As he writhed on the floor,

Sweat streamed from each pore,

And his groans they were truly appalling.

Bolus looked at the case,

Pulled a very long face,—

Said he while a strong draught he gave him,

"Let me do what I will,

He's beyond earthly skill,

All the drugs in the world wouldn't save him."

Chuang, at this rolled his eyes

And his wife's bitter cries

When she heard it were truly heart-rending;
With a horrified mug

Chuang gave a slight shrug,

For he knew she was only pretending.