Little A-tae improved wonderfully in health, and within five days after her mother's visit to Nan-woo announced that she was ready to set out for the sacred grove. Her parent did not content herself with sending only some fruit and tea, but added sweetmeats and sundry delicacies, including a little rock salt, which she packed in a neat bamboo basket, and gave her daughter, with many minute instructions as to her deportment.

It was a lovely autumnal day; and as the girl bent her steps towards the hill she mechanically sang a very old Chinese ditty called "The life of a leaf," while her thoughts, wandering more fleetly on, were already with her beloved Yung-Yung-Sho. Strange to say, after the first few stanzas she altered the words in a manner, which would have puzzled any Celestial who overheard her. The original song ran as follows:—

That is what she should have sung, but she altered it in this manner, for after uttering the words,

pouring her heart out in melody, she sang,

As she sang this her eyes sparkled, and a smile illuminated her face. Was she not going to meet her true love, her own Yung-Yung-Sho? Under those circumstances even a plain girl would have looked charming, and little A-tae appeared happy as a bird and bright as a diamond.

The girl proceeded at a brisk rate until she came to the entrance of the ravine, upon which she stopped and tormented herself with surmises. "He has fled. He was killed, for my mother did not mention him. I am devoured with affliction; I must go back," she thought, but after a while summoned courage, and walking up the pathway, found herself before the hole in the wall.

"Ahem!" said a voice, which she knew did not belong to Nan-woo.

A-tae blushed, cast down her eyes, and lifting the tribute basket placed it gently upon the ledge, but was too much agitated to speak.

"Ahem!" repeated the person inside.

"Sho," timidly whispered the girl, still looking at the ground; and ere she could raise her eyes the stone screen was pushed back, and Jerry, thrusting forth his arms, seized her, and lifting her up, imprinted a burning kiss upon her lips.

"O Sho, don't."

"You beauty, how I have longed to see you!" whispered the happy fellow. Of course his Chinese was not perfect by a long way, but he managed to make her understand, and what he could not utter with his tongue he expressed with his eyes, his only drawback being his inability to kiss her often, as the operation was not only awkward, but absolutely dangerous. After a delicious half-hour, during which he told her that she was the most beautiful woman in the world at least twenty times, she asked for Nan-woo.

"Oh, he's asleep."

"Wake him. Good-bye. I'll come again to-morrow, my lord," said she, kissing her hand in imitation of her lover; then, assuming a demure expression of countenance, awaited the awakening of the bonze.

After shaking the old gentleman until he began to fear he would dislocate his neck, the sailor succeeded in getting Nan-woo to open one eye, and to slowly utter "O-mi-tu-fuh," upon which the deputy bonze repeated the irritation until he got through a good many "O-mi-tu-fuh's;" then he informed him that a person wanted him, and added in his own language, "If I ketch you a winkin' at her I'll stop your rice, so mind." Not that the bonze was likely to be guilty of such a breach of discipline but the sailor was so love-stricken, that he would have quarrelled with A-tae's shadow from very jealousy.

After receiving the offering, Nan-woo glanced at the girl and observed, "Bring another to-morrow; go, you are better;" then squatting upon his mat recommenced his "O-mi—" refrain, assisted in the performance by his deputy, who growled out a deep bass, whistled, or sang a falsetto accompaniment, as the whim took him. Not that it mattered to the bonze what he did, provided he kept within the cell, as after Jerry had been with him a week, except when spoken to, he took no more notice of his disciple than he would of a tame kitten.

One of the police runners was related to A-tae's family; and being a cool, calculating scamp, who did not believe in the supernatural, could not make out how it was that Jerry had left the ravine. Knowing he would receive a large reward if he captured him, he communicated his suspicions to A-tae's brother, a rowdy named Hew-chaou, upon which they determined to keep an eye upon the Buddhist grove, particularly about the ravine; and as winter had set in, they searched diligently for footprints in the snow.

The girl returned every day, and upon some occasions had the inexpressible happiness of speaking to her lover, when one morning, to her astonishment, she found Jerry out of the cell, and waiting for her at the entrance of the ravine.

"Oh, my lord! O Sho! Hie thee back. If they see you we are lost."

"Nonsense. I've been cooped up long enough, and mean to have a cruise. I can't stand it any longer; besides, Nan-woo's asleep—he spends half his time so now; I think he won't live long. But what makes you look so pale?"

"My lord Sho, for ten days, in fact, since the snow first fell, I have been watched by two men,—one is my brother Hew-chaou, and the other the police runner who hunted you. Oh, do not expose yourself to these wolves. My brother is a bad man, and would sell your head for a sapeck, and the runner is a tiger."

"I don't fear them, A-tae, but I'm getting lonely and am half-starved. Will you leave this place and go with me?"

"I can't," she sobbed.

"Why not?"

"We should not get ten li before they would track us. Then what would become of you, my lord Sho?"

They had walked up the ravine and were now just outside the cell, when suddenly the head of the old bonze protruded from the hole, his eyes wide open with astonishment and terror.

"O-mi—come in you fool! O-mi-tu-fuh, you blind idiot, come in!" saying which he threw his arms about, and behaved in such a ridiculously frantic manner, that out of compassion Jerry kissed A-tae, and wriggled through the hole into the cell.

Nan-woo was a very proper old man, and the sailor's proceedings quite scandalized him, but after a few hours he relapsed into his vegetable state, and things went on as before. One night in the depth of winter the deputy was awakened by the moans of the old fellow, and hastened to his assistance, but after having made him some tea he retired again to his mat, imagining the malady allayed by the warm drink. However, when day broke he found his senior would soon repeat his last "O-mi," as he was going fast. Thinking the case required religious consolation, he did his best under the circumstances, and as, with all his faults, Thompson was not without some sort of religion, he managed to remember a prayer or two, which he repeated to the dying bonze, winding up by way of a hymn with

repeated slowly. Nan-woo looked at him with a stony expression of countenance, and about eleven A.M., after a faint struggle, with a half-uttered "O-mi-t—" upon his lips, the old bonze breathed his last, "saluting heaven" from the arms of his sorrowing companion.

"Here's a fix. On a lee shore, skipper gone, and nothing but breakers all round. Well, poor old buffer, you saved my life and put up with me, and now you're gone. I'll bury you decently;" saying which he pushed the body through the hole, and having taken it out of the ravine succeeded in burying it in a snow-drift, where the mortal remains were found in the spring, and interred by a brother bonze.

After the death of Nan-woo the sailor set to work and pulled down the rocks which had been piled up in front of the cell fifty years before, when the old bonze entered it, the occupation tending to keep his blood in circulation, and preventing him from thinking of his loneliness. He knew none of the old women who frequented the place in fine weather would be likely to visit him then, and it was not until his companion had been dead a week that A-tae again made her appearance. Before the snowy weather set in the girl had managed to bring him several articles of warm clothing, and a number of bundles of rice-straw, which he formed into a bed, so his situation was not quite so forlorn as might have been imagined, his great trouble being a fear of starvation; and when A-tae came pattering up the path he gave a cheer, and rushing out caught her in his embrace.

"Please, Sho!—my lord—don't!"

"I'm so glad to see you; you can't tell how lonely I have been. The old man is dead, and, but for you, I would have left and risked capture."

"Hist! Did you hear a noise?"

"Nonsense! It is your imagination."

"I fear my brother has followed me. He is very suspicious, and wanted my mother to prevent my coming, but I said I must, or I should never have any luck. Hist!—I hear it again; 'tis some one moving. Let us hide."

"Who would hurt you?"

"My brother would kill me if he found me with you. I know his passionate nature."

"Stay here until night falls, and then we will dress in the old bonze's clothes, and leave the place. In his winter hoods no one will be able to know who we are, and once at Hang-Chow, there are a thousand chances to reach the sea, where I can ship in a junk, and take you as my wife."

After much persuasion the girl agreed to remain with him, observing that death would be preferable to such misery as they had endured for the last few days.

The words had hardly passed her lips before her brother suddenly sprang from behind a rock, and, drawing a short sword, plunged it into her body.

With a cry like that of a wounded tiger, the sailor jumped at Hew-chaou, and seizing the sword, delivered cut after cut until the rowdy was covered with wounds. After a desperate struggle, during which both fought like demons, the Chinaman, in endeavouring to pick up a stone, received a blow upon the nape of the neck, which stretched him dead. Seeing this Thompson gently lifted up the body of A-tae, and carrying it into the cell, endeavoured to bring her back to life. When she became conscious he asked her where she was wounded, upon which she motioned to her side, and again closed her eyes, as if in great pain.

"Poor little thing—my curse on the brute who did it. How could any one with a heart do such a cruel deed?" he observed in his own language. Then added in Chinese, "Fear not, A-tae, you will soon be well."

The girl opened her eyes upon hearing his voice, and thrilling faintly, begged him not to sorrow for her, she was so happy resting in his arms.

Thompson gazed upon the loving face, but in spite of vain endeavours to restrain his emotion, his lips quivered, and big tears coursed down his cheeks.

"Don't weep, Yung-Yung-Sho."

"God—help—me. I deserve to lose you, as a punishment for my sins."

"Speak my own language."

"A-tae, my heart is broken, and would I were in your place. I have not loved you as I should. I am not worthy of such love as yours, you pure lily."

Upon hearing this the poor girl lifted her head, laid her cheek upon his, and kissing him gently, said, "Yung-Yung-Sho, I'm—so—happy!" then dropped upon his shoulder, and giving him a look of ineffable love, closed her eyes, and in a short time all her earthly troubles were over.

When he found that she was dead he clasped her to his heart, and lavished the most endearing epithets upon her—"Open your eyes once more! O darling A-tae! Look at me again! Your heart still beats." But the light of the beautiful eyes was dimmed for ever, and the loving little heart would never beat for him again. All day he held her in his arms, and when evening came he lit a lamp—which had been her present—and watched her body through the long winter night. At times, fancying she smiled at him, he would bend over her and listen—but to hear the beating of his own heart,—then he would gently kiss her lips, and resume his lonely watch.

There, in the presence of a woman who had shown by her every action how tenderly and dearly she had loved him, the sailor looked back upon his past life, and contrasted the conduct of the girl before him with that of his former loves. "None of them were half as good as she," he thought, and he vowed henceforth to shun the society of the opposite sex.

At day break he took her once more in his arms, and buried her in the snow near the entrance of the ravine, taking care to arch stones over her in such a manner that no wild animal could get at the body. The snow was falling fast when he did this, and in a short time the tumulus was completely hidden with a veil of spotless purity; then he returned to the hermitage, and having dressed in the winter suit of the bonze, left the ravine. As he passed the place where his lost love lay so silent, he knelt reverently and prayed that she might be in a happier state, where she would never have a sorrow; then, with a heavy heart, he wandered forth, going he cared not whither.

After walking for about five tours, he came to a small village, where he met with a party of actors about to start for Hang-chow; as he wished to disguise himself, he slipped into a room and pulled off his bonze's dress, under which he still wore his old one; then sought out the manager of the company, and having informed him that he was a first-rate "fool," was offered by the impressario a salary of a hundred and fifty sapecks per month, with board and lodging. As salary was no object, he at once closed with the offer.

His employer gave him a cat-skin robe, directing him to put it on and go into the public room, where he could give them a specimen of his powers. After rigging himself in the costume he suddenly darted into the large hall, which was then full of company, and falling upon his hands and knees, aped the manner and melody of a tom-cat to such perfection that, upon his return to the manager, the latter "chin-chinned" him, and made up his mind that when they arrived at Hang-chow he would bring out his new actor as a star of the first magnitude. As they performed at all the principal towns upon the road, and were sometimes delayed by heavy falls of snow, the company did not arrive at their journey's end as soon as they anticipated, but the delay gave Jerry an opportunity of perfecting himself in his part, and when he kow-tow'd to the audience in the "Theatre of the Gods" at Hang-chow he received a perfect ovation.

He now desired to earn enough money to take him to Ning-po, as he had overheard a boatman say that there was an English ship-of-war wintering there, and in justice to him, it must be said that, although surrounded by pretty girls who would willingly have become Mrs. Lew (that being his theatrical name), he never even smiled upon one of them; indeed, it was months before he spoke to a woman, and the once susceptible sailor was now as distant as he had formerly been free with the fair sex.

After delighting large audiences in the "City of fair women," the manager announced his intention of proceeding to Ning-po. When he asked Jerry to accompany him, the sailor at once agreed. As the party was now a large one, having received several additions to their number, they determined to go by sea; so Ch'un making a bargain with a captain, they proceeded to the port and embarked on board the Roaring Tiger, a large junk used in the fish-trade. When they got to sea, Thompson showed the actors that he was a good sailor; and, although feeling thoroughly miserable himself, he kept them in a continual state of merriment by his absurd antics. They succeeded in reaching Chin-hae without having encountered a gale; and as the ship had been directed to anchor there, until examined by the custom-house officials, the passengers proceeded up the river in boats, the manager engaging one to convey his troupe. Upon nearing Ning-po Jerry saw, towering above the masts of the junks at anchor below the city, the lofty spars of a man-of-war, which, upon a nearer approach, proved to be the Stinger.

"There she is! there she is! there she is!" he cried in his native language. Upon which his companions shook their heads, and observed to each other that the fool was going crazy.

When their boat passed the man-of-war he could contain himself no longer, but shouted to Tom Clare, who was arranging the yoke in the captain's gig, then waiting for the commander at the gangway.

"Tom! Tom Clare!" he bawled, "here! look here!"

As Clare, upon looking up, only saw a Chinese passenger-boat, he merely glanced at it, then resumed his occupation, imagining he had been called by some one on board, little dreaming it was his old friend Thompson come to life again. His non-recognition by Clare seemed to alter all his plans; and instead of burning to return to his ship and old associates, he suddenly determined to remain as he was. "Why should I go aboard that hooker where all have forgotten me, to be flogged like a dog, when I can always earn a living here? No, I'll not make myself known agin. They soon forgets one, anyhow." He did not consider that they all believed him dead, and that his Chinese costume and shaven head completely disguised him.

Having landed, the manager escorted them to a small inn, where they settled down for the night, and the next day he directed Jerry and his leading tragedian to put on their best costumes, as he wished them to give a specimen of their ability before a very rich man, who often entertained his neighbours with dramatic performances; so about noon, having enveloped his body in the skin-dress, fastened on his cat-faced mask, and adjusted the strings of his tail, the sailor proceeded with his companions to call upon Mr. Ah-mu-chow.

Their journey through the streets was a good advertisement for the company, as the manager would stop at every few paces, and announce the number of his troupe, and the beauty of their dresses. After a long walk they arrived at the residence of the great man, who, they were told, was still in bed. Upon being shown into the vestibule Jerry created a roar of laughter by crawling about with a bundle in his mouth, in the same manner as a cat conveys her kitten, and it was with difficulty that his master succeeded in preventing him from entering the adjoining chamber where the great one was taking his "pick-me-up," preparatory to his undergoing the fatigues of giving audience to the toadies, who were waiting his appearance in the "chamber of conversation." At last a gong sounded, when, with measured strides, and contempt expressed in every line of his face, the mighty Ah-mu-chow entered the apartment, upon which the obsequious ones fell upon their knees and kow-tow'd, as if they were driving nails in the floor with their heads; Jerry, who did not relish such grovelling, standing in a perfectly rigid attitude, with his tail as straight as a bamboo.

Without glancing at the prostrate forms, the haughty Ah-mu walked to the end of the vestibule, where, assisted by his servants, he seated himself on a stool, and posed according to the method prescribed in the "Book of Rites," after which he announced to his secretary that "the dogs might speak," whereupon the manager advanced upon his knees and handed in his petition, which ran as follows:—

"An humble petition to his Lordship, his Mightiness, his stupendous and awful Greatness, whom the gods call Ah-mu-chow.

"I Ch'un-foo, before you, being but dirt, scum, dross, and rubbish, humbly (timidly) raise my eyes, and beg you will deign to cast a glance (sideways) upon my appeal.

"Hearing you (out of your boundless wealth) often patronize such scum as us actors, I venture to beg you will allow me to introduce, for your honourable amusement, two members of my corps—Lew, of the cat-like form, and Tsew, who can repeat dramas by the hour."

[Trembling, and with bowed head.

After hearing the foregoing read by his secretary, the haughty Ah-mu (a wealthy ship's comprador, who had made money during the war) condescended to look at the actors, whereupon the cat advanced, and performed some absurd antics, which drew from him a smile of approval. Having gone through his principal feats, although the manager asserted they were poor when compared to what he could do upon the stage, Lew retired, upon which the sombre Tsew stepped forward, and thus spoke:—

"Before the great dragon had encircled with his mighty coil the imperfect matter from which sprang—"

"There! there—go to—I don't understand YOU," said the haughty one, with a frown. "I'd rather see 'Lew-of-the-cat-like-form' than hear your sombre and long-winded orations. There—stop."

Upon being thus rebuffed, the great tragedian looked daggers at the shoddyite, whom he regarded as very small potatoes, although at first he had been civil to him from motives of policy; and folding his arms, strutted out of the apartment.

"You, Ch'un-foo, listen. I like the performance of your cat, who is very amusing, but at present I do not intend giving a theatrical treat to my numerous friends in this part of the city; however, if you will perform on board a Fanqui ship which is now lying off this port, I will give you a thousand cash, and provide you with boats and refreshment for the night. You may get ready to do this on the second day of the next moon, when a grand sing-song is to be given to the head man of the Western barbarians, who permanently resides in our beautiful city."

Upon hearing this, Ch'un-foo, finding the great one meant business, at once dropped his supplicating air, and, after much squabbling about terms, agreed to perform before the Fanquis upon the appointed night for the sum of three thousand cash; then, having kow-tow'd in a business-like manner, left the presence, without for a moment taking notice of the black looks cast upon him by the assembled toadies, who were much enraged to find such a large sum squandered upon a low actor. When he reached the inn he found Tsew packing his baggage, swearing he would leave a city where the burlesque antics of a clown were preferred to the legitimate drama. In vain Ch'un-foo argued it was only one man's opinion, and that thousands of the Ningpooians were dying with anxiety to hear him; nothing availed, go he would, and, to the manager's indignation, set-out for Hang-chow, without waiting for an offer or cumshaw (a present) which might have been proffered him, had the impetuous tragedian not been so precipitate. It will thus be seen that even in China the legitimate drama is sometimes thrust to the wall, and for a time compelled to give place to burlesque.

After performing to crowded houses, and creating quite a sensation in the city, the company announced they would close their theatre for one night, having been commanded by a wealthy person to enlighten the Western barbarians with their unique exhibition, and upon the second day of the tenth moon they rehearsed a new piece, and arranged the programme for the night.

About eight o'clock the party presented themselves on board the Stinger, and with the rest Jerry was conducted abaft, and desired to remain upon the monkey-poop until they were required. The port side of the quarter-deck had been turned into a fine theatre, while forward seats were arranged, tier upon tier, each swarming with sailors and marines, all eager to witness the theatrical performance, which had just commenced when the Chinese arrived on board.

The sailor chatted with his companions, shutting his ears to tunes which, at any other time, would have quickened his pulses and made him merry, for the feeling of resentment at being forgotten by Clare was so strong within him, that he steeled himself to meet his shipmates, and imagined, in the bitterness of his heart, that he could now look upon them with indifference.

Lieutenant Russell, who was foremost in all that could make his men happy, was chatting with the comprador Ah-mu, who had begged that officer would allow him to introduce a band of actors for the amusement of his good patrons, the Stingers; and no one would have recognized the "haughty one" in the sneaking, fawning, bum-boat man, who watched every action of the lieutenant as a dog does his master.

"Would any of your men like a glass of grog?" observed Russell to the manager, in Chinese. Thompson was about to reply for his leader, but, remembering he was forgotten, held his tongue; however, in a few moments the captain's steward came aft, and gave each of the troupe a glass of rum, upon drinking which Jerry began to relent; but before he had time to think, the bell rang for them to make their bow upon the stage.

Upon following the lad who called them, the sailor and his party found themselves upon a well-built stage, before which a green curtain was suspended, and it was with difficulty he repressed his desire to speak to the men stationed with blue fire at the wings, who turned out to be two of his old messmates, but the bell went again; so following the example of the others, he threw himself upon his knees, and when the curtain rose, the audience discovered a row of Chinese kow-towing behind the foot-lights. Upon seeing this the crew gave three hearty cheers, and prepared to witness wonders.

At a signal from Ch'un-foo, who knelt a few paces behind the party, the actors arose, and then Jerry saw before him many well-known faces, but they all looked at him in a distant manner, and there was no kind greeting or any expression but expectation upon the faces of those present. As he glanced round the assembly he missed Captain Puffeigh and Crushe, as well as some few others, while he wondered how long Captain Woodward had been in command. He had ample opportunity of scrutinizing his old shipmates' faces, as the manager opened the exercises by delivering a long oration in Chinese, during which he lauded Lew-the-cat to the skies. The sailor was very much amused at noticing the great Ah-mu standing respectfully behind the first lieutenant's chair, he being allowed at the performance upon sufferance, as he had provided the Celestial actors, Russell knowing that the comprador would soon squeeze enough profit out of the ship to defray all his outlay upon that head.

Finding Ch'un-foo's oration was rather a long one, the first lieutenant directed his band to play, by way of putting a stop to his loquacity, upon which they struck up "Auld Lang Syne," but ere they had fairly started the manager ceased speaking, and Jerry advanced, and was about to address them preparatory to commencing his performance, when, thinking he was going to favour them with a speech in the same style as the manager, Russell nodded to the band to "go ahead." As the tone fell upon his ear, a change came over his heart, and the "Cat," after vainly endeavouring to control his feelings, burst into tears, seeing which the first lieutenant stopped the tune, being unwilling to mortify a man, who he imagined was only going through his usual performance, and, like many other professional gentlemen, could not brook being thwarted; for otherwise tears from a Chinaman would have been quite incomprehensible.

A dead pause succeeded, during which the sailor, to the astonishment of the audience and horror of his manager, coolly tore off his disguise, and stood before the assembly in the common wide trousers and jacket of the country, then putting his hand to his forehead, fumbled for a lock of hair, but shook his head when he recollected it was shaven, and after a great effort cried out,

"Don't you know me, shipmates?"

Of course there was a tremendous excitement among the audience, but none of them recognized him, for they all believed him dead months ago. They, however, cheered the Chinaman who spoke English, and then waited for him to go on.

With the tears trickling down his painted cheeks, he stepped off the stage, and pointing to Tom Clare, who was in attendance upon the captain, cried, "Tom Clare, don't you know me? I'm Jerry Thompson!" and in an instant thrust his way through the crowd, and seizing his old friend, hugged him as a woman would her child.

The uproar which followed was deafening. Some shouted, while others laughed in a delirious sort of way; but at length when every one of the officers and crew had shaken him by the hand at least ten times, and all knew that the dead Jerry had come to life again, he requested the captain would order the boatswain to "pipe belay;" then stepping upon the stage and kow-towing in the orthodox Chinese style he proceeded to give his delighted audience a short account of his wonderful adventures, after which he took his seat between two of his old friends, until the performance was concluded.

The next day Thompson was formally re-entered upon the books of the Stinger, and as the captain did not rate two coxswains, he appointed Jerry captain of the forecastle, and within a week after his return, he fell into his old ways, and was as much at home on board the man-of-war as ever.

When he confided his story to Clare, who was greatly moved by his recital of A-tae's death, the latter asked him if he intended writing to Mary Ann. For a few moments he seemed buried in thought, but after a while he informed his friend that, under the circumstances, he thought he would wait until he got over the loss of A-tae before he renewed his correspondence with his former love, adding, "She'll keep until I gets home, and I don't feel like writing just now."

Evidently Jerry looked upon Mary Ann's love as a connoisseur does wine,—imagining it would improve as it grew older. A-tae had spoilt him for ordinary affection, and he could not so soon forget the "pale lily" lying beneath the snow, near the entrance of a ravine far away in the Che-keang district.