and there asked for old Wang. The latter
just happened to be standing in his drug-shop, mixing herbs. When the
son explained his errand he said: "The money is ready. But is your hat
genuine?" And he took the hat and examined it. A young girl came from
an inner room and said: "I wove the hat for Old Dschang myself. There
must be a red thread in it." And sure enough, there was. Then old Wang
gave young We the ten million pieces of copper, and the latter now
believed that Old Dschang was really a saint. So he once more went
over the hills to look for him. He asked the forest-keepers, but they
could tell him naught. Sadly he retraced his steps and decided to
inquire of old Wang, but he had also disappeared.

When several years had passed he once more came to Yangdschou, and was
walking in the meadow before the city gate. There he met Old Dschang's
plow-boy. The latter cried out: "How are you? How are you?" and drew
out ten pounds of gold, which he gave to him, saying: "My mistress
told me to give you this. My master is this very moment drinking tea
with old Wang in the inn." Young We followed the plow-boy, intending
to greet his brother-in-law. But when he reached the inn there was no
one in sight. And when he turned around the plow-boy had disappeared
as well. And since that time no one ever heard from Old Dschang again.

Note: The match-maker, according to Chinese custom--and
the custom of other oriental peoples--is an absolutely
necessary mediator between the two families. There are
old women who make their living at this profession.

XXXVIII

THE KINDLY MAGICIAN

Once upon a time there was a man named Du Dsi Tschun. In his youth he
was a spendthrift and paid no heed to his property. He was given to
drink and idling. When he had run through all his money, his relatives
cast him out. One winter day he was walking barefoot about the city,
with an empty stomach and torn clothes. Evening came on and still he
had not found any food. Without end or aim he wandered about the
market place. He was hungry, and the cold seemed well nigh
unendurable. So he turned his eyes upward and began to lament aloud.

Suddenly an ancient man stood before him, leaning on a staff, who
said: "What do you lack since you complain so?"

"I am dying of hunger," replied Du Dsi Tschun, "and not a soul will
take pity on me!"

The ancient man said: "How much money would you need in order to live
in all comfort?"

"If I