It was with no little distress of mind that Chow, who now loved Nicholas as a brother, parted with him at the gates of the prison. He tore his hair, beat his breast, and roared and capered as if in bodily as well as mental agony. Never should he see his noble master again; the wicked viceroy would kill him. O that he had not been a Christian, or so unwise as to admit it! These, and many other foolish things, passed through his mind, till he became wearied and fatigued. When more calm, he began to upbraid himself with folly and cowardice, for giving way to useless grief instead of setting his wits to work to aid him.

Like most Chinese, Chow believed, or at least followed, the mongrel creed of the country, and he proposed to himself to seek the aid of the gods; although even his faith in their powers had become weakened by the exhibition of the morning; at length, however, it occurred to him to seek the innkeeper, who being well to do, and an old inhabitant of Hang-tcheou, could if willing, give material assistance; if not willing, thought Chow, he must be the most ungrateful of human beings. So he went off to Sing, who was not only glad to see him, but invited him to live at the inn until they could hit upon some good scheme to rescue Nicholas; and so, that night, they talked and talked the matter over, till, becoming tired, they went to bed to sleep on it.

The next morning they compared notes as to their sleeping thoughts. The result of Chow's was to get a mob together to burst open the prison gates; at which very wise suggestion Sing laughed loudly, greatly to the disgust of Chow, who became very angry, as he fancied the innkeeper doubted his courage; but when Sing explained a little plan of his own he capered about joyfully, and begged that they might commence immediately.

"Let us first ask the gods for a fortunate day," said Sing.

"Then will not the worthy Sing seek a temple at once?" said Chow.

This being agreed to, they started off to the suburbs, where, in a retired spot, near the great lake, they found a divining temple.

These temples, which are sprinkled through the country, are always open for the convenience of the people, who enter upon nothing of importance, whether it be marrying, burying, buying, selling, house-building, party-giving, or setting out upon a journey, without first seeking to discover in the cup of destiny a fortunate day or hour for the proposed undertaking.

Upon the altar stood a large wooden cup, filled with small sticks, marked with certain mystic characters, representing both good and ill luck. Taking up this cup, Sing began to give it sharp quick jerks, while Chow, taking hold of a book that was hanging to the wall, searched for marks to correspond with those upon the sticks which might be thrown to the ground by Sing's jerking. With serious countenances they went through this performance, Sing believing that by a peculiar scientific twist of his wrist he could jerk out a few sticks of luck. For some time, however, the sticks were obstinate, and would not move; then a sharper jerk and one jumped out, then another, and another, three in all; and Chow, having examined the luck spots very earnestly, groaned with despair, for neither bore the required mark. Then, to propitiate the god of wood, paint, and gold leaf, they burned incense and tinsel paper, and, by way of reaching the cupidity of the deity, for it is difficult to made a Chinese believe that even a god will "do something for nothing," they placed some copper coins upon the altar, enough, I suppose, to satisfy his greedy godship; for when, at the risk of spraining his wrist, Sing gave the next jerk, out jumped two of the lucky spotted sticks, and the oblique eyes of Chow began to smile so satisfactorily that there really appeared to be some danger of their meeting across his nose and melting into one big orb in the middle of his forehead. Holding the sticks above his head, the boy capered about with delight, crying, "Thanks to Tien, the day will be fortunate, for the god has promised, and there is no rogue of a bonze present to persuade him from his good intentions."

As for Sing, he was no less pleased, for, notwithstanding his previous experience, his faith was entire in the cup of destiny, as it was, indeed, in the gods.

Chow's delight was almost as great as if his master had been already rescued. However, as soon as the first ebullition had subsided he began to think how he should commence operations, and so, puzzling his brains, he walked by the side of Sing, who was also quietly endeavoring to think out some grand plan of proceeding. Thus they proceeded till they came near the walls of the city, when their attention was aroused by a terrible discord. Not a dozen yards from them was a small house (like all Chinese habitations, one story high), before which stood the wall of respect, so called, because like a brick curtain it hides the domicile from the gaze of strangers. Near the doorway stood an elderly man with two pieces of metal, which he kept clanging against each other, stopping only at intervals to fulminate at the very compass of his voice, many fearful curses and maledictions against thieves who had plundered his house, fully believing that by the agency of the gods these curses would reach and crush the thieves, wherever they might be.

"It is only old Hoang, the retired innkeeper," said Sing cooly, as if not at all regretting the misfortunes of his successful rival. He could not, however, have possessed any such paltry feeling, for he added, "Will the venerable Hoang permit his younger brother to assist him in discovering these rogues?"

"The offer of the worthy Sing is good and grateful to his mean brother, but alas! nothing can avail old Hoang, for the Fong-Choui is his enemy, and will not be satisfied till his house is destroyed," was the reply.

To explain what I must tell you, that it is one of the most remarkable and foolish beliefs of the Celestials, that, apart from sanitary reasons, the situation of a house may effect the happiness and fortunes not only of its owner, but his descendants for several generations. The demon who exercises this baneful influence is the Fong-Choui, or wind and water. Thus, if a neighbor (it had been Hoang's case) builds his house in a contrary direction and so that one of its corners is placed opposite your own, your destiny is fixed, your only remedy being to have it immediately pulled down. To obtain the removal of the house in question, Hoang had applied to the mandarin, but as that officer had received a larger bribe from the neighbor than he could afford, the official recommended the old man to pull down his own house; but as this would have ruined him, he had had recourse to the only other remedy, which was, to erect upon the roof of his house a monster with a dragon's head and a large forked tongue, so pointed at the unfortunate corner that it would frighten away the Fong-Choui. That wind and watery personage, however, was not so easily frightened, for the next day some thieves entered his house and effected a very clever robbery.

By the aid of a mysterious engine (known, I suppose, only to the thieves of China), which will burn great holes in the thickest wood without causing either scent or flame, the rogues had entered Hoang's dwelling in the night so quietly that when the old gentleman awoke in the morning he found his bed without curtains or coverlid, and the room without furniture, all of which, besides other things of value, had been taken from the house.

"Surely thy dogs of servants must have been accomplices," said Chow.

"Not so, youth, for although I slept deep into the day, when I arose the servants were all in such a deep slumber that I believed them in the sleep of death."

"Surely my elder brother will seek the mandarin, and have the dogs' heads searched for," said Sing.

"Alas! O worthy Sing, thy unhappy servant is under the baneful influence of the Fong-Choui, and the mandarin dares not interfere."

Feeling deeply for the poor man, and not liking the idea of the thieves escaping so easily, Chow asked, "Has the worthy and honorable Hoang sought the mandarin?"

"It would be useless youth, without, indeed, a stranger would interfere, and break the charm of the Fong-Choui."

"With the will of the venerable Hoang, his younger brother will seek the tribunal of police," said Chow.

Delighted with the offer, Hoang led them through the rooms of his house, which Chow examined with the talent of a detective police officer, and after pacing about for some time he stumbled. Looking to see the cause, he saw it was a small square box. "See," he said, "the robbers in their flight have dropped some of their plunder."

"Surely that box must belong to the villains, for it has never before darkened my eyes," said Hoang.

"Then by the toe of the Son of Heaven we have some clue to the way in which the robbery was effected," said Chow, as he opened the box and took out a little pyramid, resembling our own pastiles. Placing one to his nose he said, "It is the baneful drug of Setchuen. Light but one and place it near the nostrils of a sleeper, and it will be many hours before he can be awakened. In this manner, O venerable friend, has the house been robbed,—its inmates were under the influence of the drug."

"Thy discovery is great, and may lead to the capture of the thieves. Would that so poor a man could reward such a benafactor."

However, as time was an object to Chow for the success of some plan, which from the cunning brightness that flitted through his eye seemed just then to have crossed his mind, he stopped the garrulous gratitude of the old gentleman by begging the box of pastiles as his reward. This being granted, he took a very formal leave, promising not to rest till he had seen the mandarin himself.