one after another in panorama before him, the warm glow proceeded up his throat, and entering the brain, issued out at the top of his head like smoke from a chimney. By-and-by Mr. T‘ang's soul escaped from his body by the same aperture, and wandered far away, forgetting all about the tenement it had left behind. Just at that moment a huge giant came along, and seizing the soul, thrust it into his sleeve, where it remained cramped and confined, huddled up with a crowd of others, until existence was almost unbearable. Suddenly Mr. T‘ang reflected that Buddha alone could save him from this horrible state, and forthwith he began to call on his holy name. At the third or fourth invocation he fell out of the giant’s sleeve, whereupon the giant picked him up and put him back; but this happened several times, and at length the giant, wearied of picking him up, let him lie where he was. The soul lay there for some time, not knowing in which direction to proceed; however, it soon recollected that the land of Buddha was in the west, and westwards accordingly it began to shape its course. In a little while the soul came upon a Buddhist priest sitting by the roadside, and hastening forwards, respectfully inquired of him which was the right way. “The Book of Life and Death for scholars,” replied the priest, “is in the hands of the God of Literature and Confucius; any application must receive the consent of both.” The priest then directed Mr. T‘ang on his way, and the latter journeyed along until he reached a Confucian temple, in which the Sage was sitting with his face to the south. On hearing his business, Confucius referred him to the God of Literature; and proceeding onwards in the direction indicated, Mr. T‘ang by-and-by arrived at what seemed to be the palace of a king, within which sat the God of Literature precisely as we depict him on earth. “You are an upright man,” replied the God, in reply to Mr. T‘ang's prayer, “and are certainly entitled to a longer span of life; but by this time your mortal body has become decomposed, and unless you can secure the assistance of a Bôdhisatva, I can give you no aid.” So Mr. T‘ang set off once more, and hurried along until he came to a magnificent shrine standing in a thick grove of tall bamboos;
