If the flower has not rain or dew, that also will wither.

And shall not I, a fair young woman, who does not see her husband, do so too?

Tenth Month.

'Tis the tenth month; "Hsiao-yang-chun."

Earth and sky are cold, and the snow falls fast and thickly. My husband is at the frontiers.

There is no one to inquire if he is cold or hot.

The mountains are high and the waters are deep that sepa

rate us.

I am sorrowful for your sake, and my spirits are diminishing. If you forget my love, Heaven will be wroth with you!

I remember one of the ancient women, "Mêng-chêng," went

to seek her husband.

Everyone has heard of it.

How in tears, fatigue and hardship, she struggled over a thousand li to the great wall, to take warm clothing to

her husband.

Her heart was like mine!

But persons' hearts now are not the same as the ancients'.

If I went to seek my husband, I am afraid people would only ridicule me.

Eleventh Month.

The eleventh month has arrived.

The dropping water becomes ice, and the snow flakes whirl

about in the air.

I light a hand-stove and embrace it instead of my husband. This melancholy is grievous for a young woman.

Who could be so affectionate to me as my husband?

The hand-stove is warm, but not so warm or affectionate as

he.

Who is that knocking at the door?

It is the letter-carrier; he calls out "Madam !"

And I receive in my two hands a welcome letter.

I break open the seal and look.

In it is written: "Worthy wife, do not be unhappy, take care of your domestic affairs, I shall certainly arrive at the end of the year."

Twelfth Month.

The twelfth month is here.

Last night the lamp-wick formed a beautiful lotus flower.

The magpies chattered; I think I must soon see him again. There is an uproar outside the door.

My husband has returned home!

He quits the saddle! He alights from the horse!

He is a good one! He did not break his word!

He is a real, genuine husband!

The broken mirror is again united.

This is not merely my husband returned to his home from

afar,

It is evidently the sharp sword of the "Dragon of the foun

tain" to cut off my love-sickness.

I am too delighted to speak!

Within the golden embroidered curtains we mutually relate our hearts' thoughts.

Well may the common saying be,

"There is more pleasure in one returning from afar, than in

a new marriage."

CROSSING THE FERRY, OR PICKABACK

LOVE.

YOUNG Wang sat idly by a stream,

His bare feet dangling in the water;
Indulging in a mid-day dream

Of love, and neighbour Li's fair daughter.

1 It would seem as if this song had its origin in a very old tale of a young scholar named Hsü, who was out walking one day when he came to a stream; perceiving the water to be shallow, and desiring to cross it, he sat down and began to remove his shoes and stockings. While thus employed a beautiful girl suddenly appeared before him, and seemed by her manner to wish to cross the stream, but was disappointed because there was no means of doing so.

Hsü perceiving this, said to her, "Fair girl, do you wish to pass over the stream?" The girl smiled. Hsü again said, "What a pity

to soil your shoes and stockings by wading through it.

Let my back

be used as a ferry-boat." The girl blushing and confused got on his back. When in the centre of the stream, Hsu saw her beauty reflected in the stream and sang :

“The beautiful girl crosses the silver river;

The red petticoat covers the green waves."

Scarcely had he concluded the couplet before he reached the opposite

Why was he staying?

What was he saying?

He inwardly murmured, "She must come this way.

"Can I, or can't I,

"Shall I, or sha'n't I,

"Pluck up a spirit and tell her to-day ?"

What made his heart thus wildly beat,
And caused his eyes to beam so brightly;
From the cool stream withdraw his feet,
And spring up from the ground so lightly?

There stood at the head of the willow-fringed road,
Like a beautiful picture enshrined in its frame,

A girl whose fair features with exercise glowed,—
She paused for a moment-then onward she came.

bank; the girl then got off his back, and completed a stanza with the following two lines :-

"Only for these two sentences of poetry

You shall be deprived of first-class scholarship in examination."

The girl immediately disappeared, and Hsü never attained to the coveted scholarship, although eventually he rose to very high rank. This he ascribed to the influence of the fairy he had assisted to cross the river, but whom he had offended by his impertinence.