in his heart feeling the deep pangs of sorrow that come
to the good son who sees his mother suffering for want of food and
clothing.

"Bless his good heart!" said the poor widow after he had gone. "No
mother ever had a better boy. I hope he is right in saying the gods will
provide. It has been getting so much worse these past few weeks that it
seems now as if my stomach were as empty as a rich man's brain. Why,
even the rats have deserted our cottage, and there's nothing left for
poor Tabby, while old Blackfoot is nearly dead from starvation."

When the old woman referred to the sorrows of her pets, her
remarks were answered by a pitiful mewing and woebegone barking
from the corner where the two unfed creatures were curled up together
trying to keep warm.

Just then there was a loud knocking at the gate. When the widow Wang
called out, "Come in!" she was surprised to see an old bald-headed
priest standing in the doorway. "Sorry, but we have nothing," she went
on, feeling sure the visitor had come in search of food. "We have fed on
scraps these two weeks--on scraps and scrapings--and now we are living
on the memories of what we used to have when my son's father was living.
Our cat was so fat she couldn't climb to the roof. Now look at her. You
can hardly see her, she's so thin. No, I'm sorry we can't help you,
friend priest, but you see how it is."

"I didn't come for alms," cried the clean-shaven one, looking at her
kindly, "but only to see what I could do to help you. The gods have
listened long to the prayers of your devoted son. They honour him
because he has not waited till you die to do sacrifice for you. They
have seen how faithfully he has served you ever since his illness, and
now, when he is worn out and unable to work, they are resolved to reward
him for his virtue. You likewise have been a good mother and shall
receive the gift I am now bringing."

"What do you mean?" faltered Mrs. Wang, hardly believing her ears at
hearing a priest speak of bestowing mercies. "Have you come here to
laugh at our misfortunes?"

"By no means. Here in my hand I hold a tiny golden beetle which you will
find has a magic power greater than any you ever dreamed of. I will
leave this precious thing with you, a present from the god of filial
conduct."

"Yes, it will sell for a good sum," murmured the other, looking closely
at the trinket, "and will give us millet for several days. Thanks, good
priest, for your kindness."

"