and no sooner had a man scrambled to his legs than down he fell again. At last, after a series of misfortunes, they came to a dead stop; and, on reconnoitring their ranks, they found that Chang and Pa were missing. Just then the wind stopped, and the heavens grew black; so they all made the best of their way home, barely escaping with their lives—holding their heads, and skulking off like rats. When they reached their own doors, and were just able to draw their breath again, they got together a number of stalwart labourers, whom they provided with torches, to go in search of the two missing ones. Arrived at the garden, the men soon heard a sort of moaning under a large plum-tree; and bringing a light to see what it was, they found the servant Pa, who, having tripped over the trunk of the tree, was lying there with a broken head, utterly unable to rise. Two of them, accordingly, picked him up and carried him home, while the rest hunted all over the garden to find Chang; but all was silent—not a sound was to be heard nor a form to be seen. They discovered, however, to their amazement, that the moutan-flowers were blooming again as brilliantly as ever; not one was on the ground. Then they came to where the plates and dishes had been left; and there they were, all in the greatest possible confusion, while the wine was spilt in every direction—at which they all put their tongues out in astonishment. Some of them set themselves to clearing the things up, and the others resumed their search for Chang. But not a sign of him did they discover. "How can such a thing be possible?" they exclaimed; "the garden is not a large one, and yet we've been round it four or five times without finding so much as his
