ng, and in every kind of
poetical composition. Busanshi presently fell in love with her, and
thought only of how to please her. When scholar-friends or other
visitors of importance came to the house, he would send for the new
maid that she might entertain and wait upon his guests; and all who
saw her were amazed by her grace and charm.

One day Busanshi received a visit from the great Teki-Shin-Ketsu, a
famous teacher of moral doctrine; and the maid did not respond to her
master's call. Busanshi went himself to seek her, being desirous that
Teki-Shin-Ketsu should see her and admire her; but she was nowhere to
be found. After having searched the whole house in vain, Busanshi was
returning to the guest-room when he suddenly caught sight of the maid,
gliding soundlessly before him along a corridor. He called to her, and
hurried after her. Then she turned half-round, and flattened herself
against the wall like a spider; and as he reached her she sank
backwards into the wall, so that there remained of her nothing visible
but a colored shadow,--level like a picture painted on the plaster.
But the shadow moved its lips and eyes, and spoke to him in a whisper,
saying:--

"Pardon me that I did not obey your august call!... I am not a
mankind-person;--I am only the Soul of a Peony. Because you loved
peonies so much, I was able to take human shape, and to serve you.
But now this Teki-Shin-Ketsu has come,--and he is a person of dreadful
propriety,--and I dare not keep this form any longer.... I must return
to the place from which I came."

Then she sank back into the wall, and vanished altogether: there was
nothing where she had been except the naked plaster. And Busanshi
never saw her again.

This story is written in a Chinese book which the Japanese call
"Kai-ten-i-ji."

"ULTIMATE QUESTIONS"

A memory of long ago.... I am walking upon a granite pavement that
rings like iron, between buildings of granite bathed in the light of
a cloudless noon. Shadows are short and sharp: there is no stir in
the hot bright air; and the sound of my footsteps, strangely loud, is
the only sound in the street.... Suddenly an odd feeling comes to me,
with a sort of tingling shock,--a feeling, or suspicion, of universal
illusion. The pavement, the bulks of hewn stone, the iron rails,
and all things visible, are dreams! Light, color, form, weight,
solidity--all sensed existences--are but phantoms of being,
manifestations only of one inf