此開捲第一回也。作者自云：因曾歷過一番夢幻之後，故將真事隱去，而藉"通靈"之說，撰此《石頭記》一書也。故曰"甄士隱"雲雲。但書中所記何事何人？自又云：“今風塵碌碌，一事無成，忽念及當日所有之女子，一一細考較去，覺其行止見識，皆出於我之上。何我堂堂須眉，誠不若彼裙釵哉？實愧則有餘，悔又無益之大無可如何之日也！當此，則自欲將已往所賴天恩祖德，錦衣紈絝之時，飫甘饜肥之日，背父兄教育之恩，負師友規談之德，以至今日一技無成，半生潦倒之罪，編述一集，以告天下人：我之罪固不免，然閨閣中本自歷歷有人，萬不可因我之不肖，自護己短，一並使其泯滅也。雖今日之茅椽蓬牖，瓦竈繩床，其晨夕風露，階柳庭花，亦未有妨我之襟懷筆墨者。雖我未學，下筆無文，又何妨用假語村言，敷演出一段故事來，亦可使閨閣昭傳，復可悅世之目，破人愁悶，不亦宜乎？"故曰"賈雨村"雲雲。
　　此回中凡用“夢”用“幻”等字，是提醒閱者眼目，亦是此書立意本旨。
　　列位看官：你道此書從何而來？說起根由雖近荒唐，細按則深有趣味。待在下將此來歷註明，方使閱者瞭然不惑。
　　原來女媧氏煉石補天之時，於大荒山無稽崖練成高經十二丈，方經二十四丈頑石三萬六千五百零一塊。媧皇氏衹用了三萬六千五百塊，衹單單剩了一塊未用，便棄在此山青埂峰下。誰知此石自經煅煉之後，靈性已通，因見衆石俱得補天，獨自己無材不堪入選，遂自怨自嘆，日夜悲號慚愧。
　　一日，正當嗟悼之際，俄見一僧一道遠遠而來，生得骨骼不凡，豐神迥異，說說笑笑來至峰下，坐於石邊高談快論。先是說些雲山霧海神仙玄幻之事，後便說到紅塵中榮華富貴。此石聽了，不覺打動凡心，也想要到人間去享一享這榮華富貴，但自恨粗蠢，不得已，便口吐人言，嚮那僧道說道：“大師，弟子蠢物，不能見禮了。適聞二位談那人世間榮耀繁華，心切慕之。弟子質雖粗蠢，性卻稍通，況見二師仙形道體，定非凡品，必有補天濟世之材，利物濟人之德。如蒙發一點慈心，攜帶弟子得入紅塵，在那富貴場中，溫柔鄉裏受享幾年，自當永佩洪恩，萬劫不忘也。”二仙師聽畢，齊憨笑道：“善哉，善哉！那紅塵中有卻有些樂事，但不能永遠依恃，況又有‘美中不足，好事多魔’八個字緊相連屬，瞬息間則又樂極悲生，人非物換，究竟是到頭一夢，萬境歸空，倒不如不去的好。”這石凡心已熾，那裏聽得進這話去，乃復苦求再四。二仙知不可強製，乃嘆道：“此亦靜極慫級*，無中生有之數也。既如此，我們便攜你去受享受享，衹是到不得意時，切莫後悔。”石道：“自然，自然。”那僧又道：“若說你性靈，卻又如此質蠢，並更無奇貴之處。如此也衹好踮腳而已。也罷，我如今大施佛法助你助，待劫終之日，復還本質，以了此案。你道好否？"石頭聽了，感謝不盡。那僧便念咒書符，大展幻術，將一塊大石登時變成一塊鮮明瑩潔的美玉，且又縮成扇墜大小的可佩可拿。那僧托於掌上，笑道：“形體倒也是個寶物了！還衹沒有，實在的好處，須得再鎸上數字，使人一見便知是奇物方妙。然後攜你到那昌明隆盛之邦，詩禮簪纓之族，花柳繁華地，溫柔富貴鄉去安身樂業。”石頭聽了，喜不能禁，乃問：“不知賜了弟子那幾件奇處，又不知攜了弟子到何地方？望乞明示，使弟子不惑。”那僧笑道：“你且莫問，日後自然明白的。”說着，便袖了這石，同那道人飄然而去，竟不知投奔何方何捨。
　　後來，又不知過了幾世幾劫，因有個空空道人訪道求仙，忽從這大荒山無稽崖青埂峰下經過，忽見一大塊石上字跡分明，編述歷歷。空空道人乃從頭一看，原來就是無材補天，幻形入世，蒙茫茫大士，渺渺真人攜入紅塵，歷盡離合悲歡炎涼世態的一段故事。後面又有一首偈雲：
　　無材可去補蒼天，枉入紅塵若許年。
　　此係身前身後事，倩誰記去作奇傳？詩後便是此石墜落之鄉，投胎之處，親自經歷的一段陳跡故事。其中家庭閨閣瑣事，以及閑情詩詞倒還全備，或可適趣解悶，然朝代年紀，地輿邦國，卻反失落無考。
　　空空道人遂嚮石頭說道：“石兄，你這一段故事，據你自己說有些趣味，故編寫在此，意欲問世傳奇。據我看來，第一件，無朝代年紀可考，第二件，並無大賢大忠理朝廷治風俗的善政，其中衹不過幾個異樣女子，或情或癡，或小纔微善，亦無班姑，蔡女之德能。我縱抄去，恐世人不愛看呢。”石頭笑答道：“我師何太癡耶！若雲無朝代可考，今我師竟假藉漢唐等年紀添綴，又有何難？但我想，歷來野史，皆蹈一轍，莫如我這不藉此套者，反倒新奇別緻，不過衹取其事體情理罷了，又何必拘拘於朝代年紀哉！再者，市井俗人喜看理治之書者甚少，愛適趣閑文者特多。歷來野史，或訕謗君相，或貶人妻女，姦淫兇惡，不可勝數。更有一種風月筆墨，其淫穢污臭，屠毒筆墨，壞人子弟，又不可勝數。至若佳人才子等書，則又千部共出一套，且其中終不能不涉於淫濫，以致滿紙潘安，子建，西子，文君，不過作者要寫出自己的那兩首情詩豔賦來，故假擬出男女二人名姓，又必旁出一小人其間撥亂，亦如劇中之小醜然。且鬟婢開口即者也之乎，非文即理。故逐一看去，悉皆自相矛盾，大不近情理之話，竟不如我半世親睹親聞的這幾個女子，雖不敢說強似前代書中所有之人，但事跡原委，亦可以消愁破悶，也有幾首歪詩熟話，可以噴飯供酒。至若離合悲歡，興衰際遇，則又追蹤躡跡，不敢稍加穿鑿，徒為供人之目而反失其真傳者。今之人，貧者日為衣食所纍，富者又懷不足之心，縱然一時稍閑，又有貪淫戀色，好貨尋愁之事，那裏去有工夫看那理治之書？所以我這一段故事，也不願世人稱奇道妙，也不定要世人喜悅檢讀，衹願他們當那醉淫飽臥之時，或避世去愁之際，把此一玩，豈不省了些壽命筋力？就比那謀虛逐妄，卻也省了口舌是非之害，腿腳奔忙之苦。再者，亦令世人換新眼目，不比那些鬍牽亂扯，忽離忽遇，滿紙才人淑女，子建文君紅娘小玉等通共熟套之舊稿。我師意為何如？”
　　空空道人聽如此說，思忖半晌，將《石頭記》再檢閱一遍，因見上面雖有些指姦責佞貶惡誅邪之語，亦非傷時駡世之旨，及至君仁臣良父慈子孝，凡倫常所關之處，皆是稱功頌德，眷眷無窮，實非別書之可比。雖其中大旨談情，亦不過實錄其事，又非假擬妄稱，一味淫邀豔約，私訂偷盟之可比。因毫不干涉時世，方從頭至尾抄錄回來，問世傳奇。從此空空道人因空見色，由色生情，傳情入色，自色悟空，遂易名為情僧，改《石頭記》為《情僧錄》。東魯孔梅溪則題曰《風月寶鑒》。後因曹雪芹於悼紅軒中披閱十載，增刪五次，纂成目錄，分出章回，則題曰《金陵十二釵》。並題一絶雲：
　　滿紙荒唐言，一把辛酸淚！
　　都雲作者癡，誰解其中味？
　　出則既明，且看石上是何故事。按那石上書云：
　　當日地陷東南，這東南一隅有處曰姑蘇，有城曰閶門者，最是紅塵中一二等富貴風流之地。這閶門外有個十裏街，街內有個仁清巷，巷內有個古廟，因地方窄狹，人皆呼作葫蘆廟。廟旁住着一家乡宦，姓甄，名費，字士隱。嫡妻封氏，情性賢淑，深明禮義。傢中雖不甚富貴，然本地便也推他為望族了。因這甄士隱稟性恬淡，不以功名為念，每日衹以觀花修竹，酌酒吟詩為樂，倒是神仙一流人品。衹是一件不足：如今年已半百，膝下無兒，衹有一女，乳名喚作英蓮，年方三歲。
　　一日，炎夏永晝，士隱於書房閑坐，至手倦拋書，伏幾少憩，不覺朦朧睡去。夢至一處，不辨是何地方。忽見那廂來了一僧一道，且行且談。衹聽道人問道：“你攜了這蠢物，意欲何往？"那僧笑道：“你放心，如今現有一段風流公案正該了結，這一幹風流冤傢，尚未投胎入世。趁此機會，就將此蠢物夾帶於中，使他去經歷經歷。”那道人道：“原來近日風流冤孽又將造劫歷世去不成？但不知落於何方何處？"那僧笑道：“此事說來好笑，竟是千古未聞的罕事。衹因西方靈河岸上三生石畔，有絳珠草一株，時有赤瑕宮神瑛侍者，日以甘露灌溉，這絳珠草始得久延歲月。後來既受天地精華，復得雨露滋養，遂得脫卻草胎木質，得換人形，僅修成個女體，終日遊於離恨天外，饑則食蜜青果為膳，渴則飲灌愁海水為湯。衹因尚未酬報灌溉之德，故其五內便鬱結着一段纏綿不盡之意。恰近日這神瑛侍者凡心偶熾，乘此昌明太平朝世，意欲下凡造歷幻緣，已在警幻仙子案前挂了號。警幻亦曾問及，灌溉之情未償，趁此倒可了結的。那絳珠仙子道：‘他是甘露之惠，我並無此水可還。他既下世為人，我也去下世為人，但把我一生所有的眼淚還他，也償還得過他了。’因此一事，就勾出多少風流冤傢來，陪他們去了結此案。”那道人道：“果是罕聞。實未聞有還淚之說。想來這一段故事，比歷來風月事故更加瑣碎細膩了。”那僧道：“歷來幾個風流人物，不過傳其大概以及詩詞篇章而已，至家庭閨閣中一飲一食，總未述記。再者，大半風月故事，不過偷香竊玉，暗約私奔而已，並不曾將兒女之真情發泄一二。想這一幹人入世，其情癡色鬼，賢愚不肖者，悉與前人傳述不同矣。”那道人道：“趁此何不你我也去下世度脫幾個，豈不是一場功德？"那僧道：“正合吾意，你且同我到警幻仙子宮中，將蠢物交割清楚，待這一幹風流孽鬼下世已完，你我再去。如今雖已有一半落塵，然猶未全集。”道人道：“既如此，便隨你去來。”
　　卻說甄士隱俱聽得明白，但不知所云"蠢物"係何東西。遂不禁上前施禮，笑問道：“二仙師請了。”那僧道也忙答禮相問。士隱因說道：“適聞仙師所談因果，實人世罕聞者。但弟子愚濁，不能洞悉明白，若蒙大開癡頑，備細一聞，弟子則洗耳諦聽，稍能警省，亦可免沉倫之苦。”二仙笑道：“此乃玄機不可預泄者。到那時不要忘我二人，便可跳出火坑矣。”士隱聽了，不便再問。因笑道：“玄機不可預泄，但適雲‘蠢物’，不知為何，或可一見否？"那僧道：“若問此物，倒有一面之緣。”說着，取出遞與士隱。士隱接了看時，原來是塊鮮明美玉，上面字跡分明，鎸着"通靈寶玉"四字，後面還有幾行小字。正欲細看時，那僧便說已到幻境，便強從手中奪了去，與道人竟過一大石牌坊，上書四個大字，乃是"太虛幻境"。兩邊又有一幅對聯，道是：
　　假作真時真亦假，無為有處有還無。士隱意欲也跟了過去，方舉步時，忽聽一聲霹靂，有若山崩地陷。士隱大叫一聲，定睛一看，衹見烈日炎炎，芭蕉冉冉，所夢之事便忘了大半。又見奶母正抱了英蓮走來。士隱見女兒越發生得粉妝玉琢，乖覺可喜，便伸手接來，抱在懷內，鬥他頑耍一回，又帶至街前，看那過會的熱鬧。方欲進來時，衹見從那邊來了一僧一道：那僧則癩頭跣腳，那道則跛足蓬頭，瘋瘋癲癲，揮霍談笑而至。及至到了他門前，看見士隱抱着英蓮，那僧便大哭起來，又嚮士隱道：“施主，你把這有命無運，纍及爹娘之物，抱在懷內作甚？"士隱聽了，知是瘋話，也不去睬他。那僧還說：“捨我罷，捨我罷！"士隱不耐煩，便抱女兒撤身要進去，那僧乃指着他大笑，口內念了四句言詞道：
　　慣養嬌生笑你癡，菱花空對雪澌澌。
　　好防佳節元宵後，便是煙消火滅時。士隱聽得明白，心下猶豫，意欲問他們來歷。衹聽道人說道：“你我不必同行，就此分手，各幹營生去罷。三劫後，我在北邙山等你，會齊了同往太虛幻境銷號。”那僧道：“最妙，最妙！"說畢，二人一去，再不見個蹤影了。士隱心中此時自忖：這兩個人必有來歷，該試一問，如今悔卻晚也。
　　這士隱正癡想，忽見隔壁葫蘆廟內寄居的一個窮儒-姓賈名化，表字時飛，別號雨村者走了出來。這賈雨村原係鬍州人氏，也是詩書仕宦之族，因他生於末世，父母祖宗根基已盡，人口衰喪，衹剩得他一身一口，在家乡無益，因進京求取功名，再整基業。自前歲來此，又淹蹇住了，暫寄廟中安身，每日賣字作文為生，故士隱常與他交接。當下雨村見了士隱，忙施禮陪笑道：“老先生倚門伫望，敢是街市上有甚新聞否？"士隱笑道：“非也。適因小女啼哭，引他出來作耍，正是無聊之甚，兄來得正妙，請入小齋一談，彼此皆可消此永晝。”說着，便令人送女兒進去，自與雨村攜手來至書房中。小童獻茶。方談得三五句話，忽傢人飛報：“嚴老爺來拜。”士隱慌的忙起身謝罪道：“恕誑駕之罪，略坐，弟即來陪。”雨村忙起身亦讓道：“老先生請便。晚生乃常造之客，稍候何妨。”說着，士隱已出前廳去了。
　　這裏雨村且翻弄書籍解悶。忽聽得窗外有女子嗽聲，雨村遂起身往窗外一看，原來是一個丫鬟，在那裏擷花，生得儀容不俗，眉目清明，雖無十分姿色，卻亦有動人之處。雨村不覺看的呆了。那甄傢丫鬟擷了花，方欲走時，猛擡頭見窗內有人，敝巾舊服，雖是貧窘，然生得腰圓背厚，面闊口方，更兼劍眉星眼，直鼻權腮。這丫鬟忙轉身回避，心下乃想：“這人生的這樣雄壯，卻又這樣襤褸，想他定是我傢主人常說的什麽賈雨村了，每有意幫助周濟，衹是沒甚機會。我傢並無這樣貧窘親友，想定是此人無疑了。怪道又說他必非久睏之人。”如此想來，不免又回頭兩次。雨村見他回了頭，便自為這女子心中有意於他，便狂喜不盡，自為此女子必是個巨眼英雄，風塵中之知己也。一時小童進來，雨村打聽得前面留飯，不可久待，遂從夾道中自便出門去了。士隱待客既散，知雨村自便，也不去再邀。
　　一日，早又中秋佳節。士隱傢宴已畢，乃又另具一席於書房，卻自己步月至廟中來邀雨村。原來雨村自那日見了甄傢之婢曾回顧他兩次，自為是個知己，便時刻放在心上。今又正值中秋，不免對月有懷，因而口占五言一律雲：
　　未卜三生願，頻添一段愁。
　　悶來時斂額，行去幾回頭。
　　自顧風前影，誰堪月下儔？
　　蟾光如有意，先上玉人樓。
　　雨村吟罷，因又思及平生抱負，苦未逢時，乃又搔首對天長嘆，復高吟一聯曰：
　　玉在匣中求善價，釵於奩內待時飛。
　　恰值士隱走來聽見，笑道：“雨村兄真抱負不淺也！"雨村忙笑道：“不過偶吟前人之句，何敢狂誕至此。”因問：“老先生何興至此？"士隱笑道：“今夜中秋，俗謂‘團圓之節’，想尊兄旅寄僧房，不無寂寥之感，故特具小酌，邀兄到敝齋一飲，不知可納芹意否？"雨村聽了，並不推辭，便笑道：“既蒙厚愛，何敢拂此盛情。”說着，便同士隱復過這邊書院中來。須臾茶畢，早已設下杯盤，那美酒佳餚自不必說。二人歸坐，先是款斟漫飲，次漸談至興濃，不覺飛觥限起來。當時街坊上傢傢簫管，戶戶弦歌，當頭一輪明月，飛彩凝輝，二人愈添豪興，酒到杯幹。雨村此時已有七八分酒意，狂興不禁，乃對月寓懷，口號一絶雲：
　　時逢三五便團圓，滿把晴光護玉欄。
　　天上一輪纔捧出，人間萬姓仰頭看。士隱聽了，大叫：“妙哉！吾每謂兄必非久居人下者，今所吟之句，飛騰之兆已見，不日可接履于云霓之上矣。可賀，可賀！"乃親斟一鬥為賀。雨村因幹過，嘆道：“非晚生酒後狂言，若論時尚之學，晚生也或可去充數沽名，衹是目今行囊路費一概無措，神京路遠，非賴賣字撰文即能到者。”士隱不待說完，便道：“兄何不早言。愚每有此心，但每遇兄時，兄並未談及，愚故未敢唐突。今既及此，愚雖不纔，‘義利’二字卻還識得。且喜明歲正當大比，兄宜作速入都，春闈一戰，方不負兄之所學也。其盤費餘事，弟自代為處置，亦不枉兄之謬識矣！"當下即命小童進去，速封五十兩白銀，並兩套鼕衣。又云：“十九日乃黃道之期，兄可即買舟西上，待雄飛高舉，明鼕再晤，豈非大快之事耶！"雨村收了銀衣，不過略謝一語，並不介意，仍是吃酒談笑。那天已交了三更，二人方散。士隱送雨村去後，回房一覺，直至紅日三竿方醒。因思昨夜之事，意欲再寫兩封薦書與雨村帶至神都，使雨村投謁個仕宦之傢為寄足之地。因使人過去請時，那傢人去了回來說：“和尚說，賈爺今日五鼓已進京去了，也曾留下話與和尚轉達老爺，說‘讀書人不在黃道黑道，總以事理為要，不及面辭了。’"士隱聽了，也衹得罷了。真是閑處光陰易過，倏忽又是元霄佳節矣。士隱命傢人霍啓抱了英蓮去看社火花燈，半夜中，霍啓因要小解，便將英蓮放在一傢門檻上坐着。待他小解完了來抱時，那有英蓮的蹤影？急得霍啓直尋了半夜，至天明不見，那霍啓也就不敢回來見主人，便逃往他鄉去了。那士隱夫婦，見女兒一夜不歸，便知有些不妥，再使幾人去尋找，回來皆云連音響皆無。夫妻二人，半世衹生此女，一旦失落，豈不思想，因此晝夜啼哭，幾乎不曾尋死。看看的一月，士隱先就得了一病，當時封氏孺人也因思女構疾，日日請醫療治。
　　不想這日三月十五，葫蘆廟中炸供，那些和尚不加小心，致使油鍋火逸，便燒着窗紙。此方人傢多用竹籬木壁者，大抵也因劫數，於是接二連三，牽五挂四，將一條街燒得如火焰山一般。彼時雖有軍民來救，那火已成了勢，如何救得下？直燒了一夜，方漸漸的熄去，也不知燒了幾傢。衹可憐甄傢在隔壁，早已燒成一片瓦礫場了。衹有他夫婦並幾個傢人的性命不曾傷了。急得士隱惟跌足長嘆而已。衹得與妻子商議，且到田莊上去安身。偏值近年水旱不收，鼠盜蜂起，無非搶田奪地，鼠竊狗偷，民不安生，因此官兵剿捕，難以安身。士隱衹得將田莊都折變了，便攜了妻子與兩個丫鬟投他嶽丈傢去。
　　他嶽丈名喚封肅，本貫大如州人氏，雖是務農，傢中都還殷實。今見女婿這等狼狽而來，心中便有些不樂。幸而士隱還有折變田地的銀子未曾用完，拿出來托他隨分就價薄置些須房地，為後日衣食之計。那封肅便半哄半賺，些須與他些薄田朽屋。士隱乃讀書之人，不慣生理稼穡等事，勉強支持了一二年，越覺窮了下去。封肅每見面時，便說些現成話，且人前人後又怨他們不善過活，衹一味好吃懶作等語。士隱知投人不着，心中未免悔恨，再兼上年驚唬，急忿怨痛，已有積傷，暮年之人，貧病交攻，竟漸漸的露出那下世的光景來。
　　可巧這日拄了拐杖掙挫到街前散散心時，忽見那邊來了一個跛足道人，瘋癲落脫，麻屣鶉衣，口內念着幾句言詞，道是：
　　世人都曉神仙好，惟有功名忘不了！
　　古今將相在何方？荒塚一堆草沒了。
　　世人都曉神仙好，衹有金銀忘不了！
　　終朝衹恨聚無多，及到多時眼閉了。
　　世人都曉神仙好，衹有姣妻忘不了！
　　君生日日說恩情，君死又隨人去了。
　　世人都曉神仙好，衹有兒孫忘不了！
　　癡心父母古來多，孝順兒孫誰見了？
　　士隱聽了，便迎上來道：“你滿口說些什麽？衹聽見些‘好’‘了’‘好’‘了’。那道人笑道：“你若果聽見‘好’‘了’二字，還算你明白。可知世上萬般，好便是了，了便是好。若不了，便不好，若要好，須是了。我這歌兒，便名《好了歌》"士隱本是有宿慧的，一聞此言，心中早已徹悟。因笑道：“且住！待我將你這《好了歌》解註出來何如？"道人笑道：“你解，你解。”士隱乃說道：
　　陋室空堂，當年笏滿床，衰草枯楊，曾為歌舞場。蛛絲兒結滿雕梁，緑紗今又糊在蓬窗上。說什麽脂正濃、粉正香，如何兩鬢又成霜？昨日黃土隴頭送白骨，今宵紅燈帳底臥鴛鴦。金滿箱，銀滿箱，展眼乞丐人皆謗。正嘆他人命不長，那知自己歸來喪！訓有方，保不定日後作強梁。擇膏粱，誰承望流落在煙花巷！因嫌紗帽小，致使鎖枷杠，昨憐破襖寒，今嫌紫蟒長：亂烘烘你方唱罷我登場，反認他鄉是故鄉。甚荒唐，到頭來都是為他人作嫁衣裳！
　　那瘋跛道人聽了，拍掌笑道：“解得切，解得切！"士隱便說一聲"走罷！"將道人肩上褡褳搶了過來背着，竟不回傢，同了瘋道人飄飄而去。當下烘動街坊，衆人當作一件新聞傳說。封氏聞得此信，哭個死去活來，衹得與父親商議，遣人各處訪尋，那討音信？無奈何，少不得依靠着他父母度日。幸而身邊還有兩個舊日的丫鬟伏侍，主僕三人，日夜作些針綫發賣，幫着父親用度。那封肅雖然日日抱怨，也無可奈何了。
　　這日，那甄傢大丫鬟在門前買綫，忽聽街上喝道之聲，衆人都說新太爺到任。丫鬟於是隱在門內看時，衹見軍牢快手，一對一對的過去，俄而大轎擡着一個烏帽猩袍的官府過去。丫鬟倒發了個怔，自思這官好面善，倒象在那裏見過的。於是進入房中，也就丟過不在心上。至晚間，正待歇息之時，忽聽一片聲打的門響，許多人亂嚷，說：“本府太爺差人來傳人問話。”封肅聽了，唬得目瞪口呆，不知有何禍事。

　　Chen Shih-yin, in a vision, apprehends perception and spirituality. Chia Yue-ts'un, in the (windy and dusty) world, cherishes fond thoughts of a beautiful maiden.
　　
　　This is the opening section; this the first chapter. Subsequent to the visions of a dream which he had, on some previous occasion, experienced, the writer personally relates, he designedly concealed the true circumstances, and borrowed the attributes of perception and spirituality to relate this story of the Record of the Stone. With this purpose, he made use of such designations as Chen Shih-yin (truth under the garb of fiction) and the like. What are, however, the events recorded in this work? Who are the dramatis personae?
　　
　　Wearied with the drudgery experienced of late in the world, the author speaking for himself, goes on to explain, with the lack of success which attended every single concern, I suddenly bethought myself of the womankind of past ages. Passing one by one under a minute scrutiny, I felt that in action and in lore, one and all were far above me; that in spite of the majesty of my manliness, I could not, in point of fact, compare with these characters of the gentle sex. And my shame forsooth then knew no bounds; while regret, on the other hand, was of no avail, as there was not even a remote possibility of a day of remedy.
　　
　　On this very day it was that I became desirous to compile, in a connected form, for publication throughout the world, with a view to (universal) information, how that I bear inexorable and manifold retribution; inasmuch as what time, by the sustenance of the benevolence of Heaven, and the virtue of my ancestors, my apparel was rich and fine, and as what days my fare was savory and sumptuous, I disregarded the bounty of education and nurture of father and mother, and paid no heed to the virtue of precept and injunction of teachers and friends, with the result that I incurred the punishment, of failure recently in the least trifle, and the reckless waste of half my lifetime. There have been meanwhile, generation after generation, those in the inner chambers, the whole mass of whom could not, on any account, be, through my influence, allowed to fall into extinction, in order that I, unfilial as I have been, may have the means to screen my own shortcomings.
　　
　　Hence it is that the thatched shed, with bamboo mat windows, the bed of tow and the stove of brick, which are at present my share, are not sufficient to deter me from carrying out the fixed purpose of my mind. And could I, furthermore, confront the morning breeze, the evening moon, the willows by the steps and the flowers in the courtyard, methinks these would moisten to a greater degree my mortal pen with ink; but though I lack culture and erudition, what harm is there, however, in employing fiction and unrecondite language to give utterance to the merits of these characters? And were I also able to induce the inmates of the inner chamber to understand and diffuse them, could I besides break the weariness of even so much as a single moment, or could I open the eyes of my contemporaries, will it not forsooth prove a boon?
　　
　　This consideration has led to the usage of such names as Chia Yue-ts'un and other similar appellations.
　　
　　More than any in these pages have been employed such words as dreams and visions; but these dreams constitute the main argument of this work, and combine, furthermore, the design of giving a word of warning to my readers.
　　
　　Reader, can you suggest whence the story begins?
　　
　　The narration may border on the limits of incoherency and triviality, but it possesses considerable zest. But to begin.
　　
　　The Empress Nue Wo, (the goddess of works,) in fashioning blocks of stones, for the repair of the heavens, prepared, at the Ta Huang Hills and Wu Ch'i cave, 36,501 blocks of rough stone, each twelve chang in height, and twenty-four chang square. Of these stones, the Empress Wo only used 36,500; so that one single block remained over and above, without being turned to any account. This was cast down the Ch'ing Keng peak. This stone, strange to say, after having undergone a process of refinement, attained a nature of efficiency, and could, by its innate powers, set itself into motion and was able to expand and to contract.
　　
　　When it became aware that the whole number of blocks had been made use of to repair the heavens, that it alone had been destitute of the necessary properties and had been unfit to attain selection, it forthwith felt within itself vexation and shame, and day and night, it gave way to anguish and sorrow.
　　
　　One day, while it lamented its lot, it suddenly caught sight, at a great distance, of a Buddhist bonze and of a Taoist priest coming towards that direction. Their appearance was uncommon, their easy manner remarkable. When they drew near this Ch'ing Keng peak, they sat on the ground to rest, and began to converse. But on noticing the block newly-polished and brilliantly clear, which had moreover contracted in dimensions, and become no larger than the pendant of a fan, they were greatly filled with admiration. The Buddhist priest picked it up, and laid it in the palm of his hand.
　　
　　"Your appearance," he said laughingly, "may well declare you to be a supernatural object, but as you lack any inherent quality it is necessary to inscribe a few characters on you, so that every one who shall see you may at once recognise you to be a remarkable thing. And subsequently, when you will be taken into a country where honour and affluence will reign, into a family cultured in mind and of official status, in a land where flowers and trees shall flourish with luxuriance, in a town of refinement, renown and glory; when you once will have been there..."
　　
　　The stone listened with intense delight.
　　
　　"What characters may I ask," it consequently inquired, "will you inscribe? and what place will I be taken to? pray, pray explain to me in lucid terms." "You mustn't be inquisitive," the bonze replied, with a smile, "in days to come you'll certainly understand everything." Having concluded these words, he forthwith put the stone in his sleeve, and proceeded leisurely on his journey, in company with the Taoist priest. Whither, however, he took the stone, is not divulged. Nor can it be known how many centuries and ages elapsed, before a Taoist priest, K'ung K'ung by name, passed, during his researches after the eternal reason and his quest after immortality, by these Ta Huang Hills, Wu Ch'i cave and Ch'ing Keng Peak. Suddenly perceiving a large block of stone, on the surface of which the traces of characters giving, in a connected form, the various incidents of its fate, could be clearly deciphered, K'ung K'ung examined them from first to last. They, in fact, explained how that this block of worthless stone had originally been devoid of the properties essential for the repairs to the heavens, how it would be transmuted into human form and introduced by Mang Mang the High Lord, and Miao Miao, the Divine, into the world of mortals, and how it would be led over the other bank (across the San Sara). On the surface, the record of the spot where it would fall, the place of its birth, as well as various family trifles and trivial love affairs of young ladies, verses, odes, speeches and enigmas was still complete; but the name of the dynasty and the year of the reign were obliterated, and could not be ascertained.
　　
　　On the obverse, were also the following enigmatical verses:
　　
　　Lacking in virtues meet the azure skies to mend, In vain the mortal world full many a year I wend, Of a former and after life these facts that be, Who will for a tradition strange record for me?
　　
　　K'ung K'ung, the Taoist, having pondered over these lines for a while, became aware that this stone had a history of some kind.
　　
　　"Brother stone," he forthwith said, addressing the stone, "the concerns of past days recorded on you possess, according to your own account, a considerable amount of interest, and have been for this reason inscribed, with the intent of soliciting generations to hand them down as remarkable occurrences. But in my own opinion, they lack, in the first place, any data by means of which to establish the name of the Emperor and the year of his reign; and, in the second place, these constitute no record of any excellent policy, adopted by any high worthies or high loyal statesmen, in the government of the state, or in the rule of public morals. The contents simply treat of a certain number of maidens, of exceptional character; either of their love affairs or infatuations, or of their small deserts or insignificant talents; and were I to transcribe the whole collection of them, they would, nevertheless, not be estimated as a book of any exceptional worth."
　　
　　"Sir Priest," the stone replied with assurance, "why are you so excessively dull? The dynasties recorded in the rustic histories, which have been written from age to age, have, I am fain to think, invariably assumed, under false pretences, the mere nomenclature of the Han and T'ang dynasties. They differ from the events inscribed on my block, which do not borrow this customary practice, but, being based on my own experiences and natural feelings, present, on the contrary, a novel and unique character. Besides, in the pages of these rustic histories, either the aspersions upon sovereigns and statesmen, or the strictures upon individuals, their wives, and their daughters, or the deeds of licentiousness and violence are too numerous to be computed. Indeed, there is one more kind of loose literature, the wantonness and pollution in which work most easy havoc upon youth.
　　
　　"As regards the works, in which the characters of scholars and beauties is delineated their allusions are again repeatedly of Wen Chuen, their theme in every page of Tzu Chien; a thousand volumes present no diversity; and a thousand characters are but a counterpart of each other. What is more, these works, throughout all their pages, cannot help bordering on extreme licence. The authors, however, had no other object in view than to give utterance to a few sentimental odes and elegant ballads of their own, and for this reason they have fictitiously invented the names and surnames of both men and women, and necessarily introduced, in addition, some low characters, who should, like a buffoon in a play, create some excitement in the plot.
　　
　　"Still more loathsome is a kind of pedantic and profligate literature, perfectly devoid of all natural sentiment, full of self-contradictions; and, in fact, the contrast to those maidens in my work, whom I have, during half my lifetime, seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. And though I will not presume to estimate them as superior to the heroes and heroines in the works of former ages, yet the perusal of the motives and issues of their experiences, may likewise afford matter sufficient to banish dulness, and to break the spell of melancholy.
　　
　　"As regards the several stanzas of doggerel verse, they may too evoke such laughter as to compel the reader to blurt out the rice, and to spurt out the wine.
　　
　　"In these pages, the scenes depicting the anguish of separation, the bliss of reunion, and the fortunes of prosperity and of adversity are all, in every detail, true to human nature, and I have not taken upon myself to make the slightest addition, or alteration, which might lead to the perversion of the truth.
　　
　　"My only object has been that men may, after a drinking bout, or after they wake from sleep or when in need of relaxation from the pressure of business, take up this light literature, and not only expunge the traces of antiquated books, and obtain a new kind of distraction, but that they may also lay by a long life as well as energy and strength; for it bears no point of similarity to those works, whose designs are false, whose course is immoral. Now, Sir Priest, what are your views on the subject?"
　　
　　K'ung K'ung having pondered for a while over the words, to which he had listened intently, re-perused, throughout, this record of the stone; and finding that the general purport consisted of nought else than a treatise on love, and likewise of an accurate transcription of facts, without the least taint of profligacy injurious to the times, he thereupon copied the contents, from beginning to end, to the intent of charging the world to hand them down as a strange story.
　　
　　Hence it was that K'ung K'ung, the Taoist, in consequence of his perception, (in his state of) abstraction, of passion, the generation, from this passion, of voluptuousness, the transmission of this voluptuousness into passion, and the apprehension, by means of passion, of its unreality, forthwith altered his name for that of "Ch'ing Tseng" (the Voluptuous Bonze), and changed the title of "the Memoir of a Stone" (Shih-t'ou-chi,) for that of "Ch'ing Tseng Lu," The Record of the Voluptuous Bonze; while K'ung Mei-chi of Tung Lu gave it the name of "Feng Yueeh Pao Chien," "The Precious Mirror of Voluptuousness." In later years, owing to the devotion by Tsao Hsueeh-ch'in in the Tao Hung study, of ten years to the perusal and revision of the work, the additions and modifications effected by him five times, the affix of an index and the division into periods and chapters, the book was again entitled "Chin Ling Shih Erh Ch'ai," "The Twelve Maidens of Chin Ling." A stanza was furthermore composed for the purpose. This then, and no other, is the origin of the Record of the Stone. The poet says appositely:--
　　
　　Pages full of silly litter, Tears a handful sour and bitter; All a fool the author hold, But their zest who can unfold?
　　
　　You have now understood the causes which brought about the Record of the Stone, but as you are not, as yet, aware what characters are depicted, and what circumstances are related on the surface of the block, reader, please lend an ear to the narrative on the stone, which runs as follows:--
　　
　　In old days, the land in the South East lay low. In this South-East part of the world, was situated a walled town, Ku Su by name. Within the walls a locality, called the Ch'ang Men, was more than all others throughout the mortal world, the centre, which held the second, if not the first place for fashion and life. Beyond this Ch'ang Men was a street called Shih-li-chieh (Ten _Li_ street); in this street a lane, the Jen Ch'ing lane (Humanity and Purity); and in this lane stood an old temple, which on account of its diminutive dimensions, was called, by general consent, the Gourd temple. Next door to this temple lived the family of a district official, Chen by surname, Fei by name, and Shih-yin by style. His wife, nee Feng, possessed a worthy and virtuous disposition, and had a clear perception of moral propriety and good conduct. This family, though not in actual possession of excessive affluence and honours, was, nevertheless, in their district, conceded to be a clan of well-to-do standing. As this Chen Shih-yin was of a contented and unambitious frame of mind, and entertained no hankering after any official distinction, but day after day of his life took delight in gazing at flowers, planting bamboos, sipping his wine and conning poetical works, he was in fact, in the indulgence of these pursuits, as happy as a supernatural being.
　　
　　One thing alone marred his happiness. He had lived over half a century and had, as yet, no male offspring around his knees. He had one only child, a daughter, whose infant name was Ying Lien. She was just three years of age. On a long summer day, on which the heat had been intense, Shih-yin sat leisurely in his library. Feeling his hand tired, he dropped the book he held, leant his head on a teapoy, and fell asleep.
　　
　　Of a sudden, while in this state of unconsciousness, it seemed as if he had betaken himself on foot to some spot or other whither he could not discriminate. Unexpectedly he espied, in the opposite direction, two priests coming towards him: the one a Buddhist, the other a Taoist. As they advanced they kept up the conversation in which they were engaged. "Whither do you purpose taking the object you have brought away?" he heard the Taoist inquire. To this question the Buddhist replied with a smile: "Set your mind at ease," he said; "there's now in maturity a plot of a general character involving mundane pleasures, which will presently come to a denouement. The whole number of the votaries of voluptuousness have, as yet, not been quickened or entered the world, and I mean to avail myself of this occasion to introduce this object among their number, so as to give it a chance to go through the span of human existence." "The votaries of voluptuousness of these days will naturally have again to endure the ills of life during their course through the mortal world," the Taoist remarked; "but when, I wonder, will they spring into existence? and in what place will they descend?"
　　
　　"The account of these circumstances," the bonze ventured to reply, "is enough to make you laugh! They amount to this: there existed in the west, on the bank of the Ling (spiritual) river, by the side of the San Sheng (thrice-born) stone, a blade of the Chiang Chu (purple pearl) grass. At about the same time it was that the block of stone was, consequent upon its rejection by the goddess of works, also left to ramble and wander to its own gratification, and to roam about at pleasure to every and any place. One day it came within the precincts of the Ching Huan (Monitory Vision) Fairy; and this Fairy, cognizant of the fact that this stone had a history, detained it, therefore, to reside at the Ch'ih Hsia (purple clouds) palace, and apportioned to it the duties of attendant on Shen Ying, a fairy of the Ch'ih Hsia palace.
　　
　　"This stone would, however, often stroll along the banks of the Ling river, and having at the sight of the blade of spiritual grass been filled with admiration, it, day by day, moistened its roots with sweet dew. This purple pearl grass, at the outset, tarried for months and years; but being at a later period imbued with the essence and luxuriance of heaven and earth, and having incessantly received the moisture and nurture of the sweet dew, divested itself, in course of time, of the form of a grass; assuming, in lieu, a human nature, which gradually became perfected into the person of a girl.
　　
　　"Every day she was wont to wander beyond the confines of the Li Hen (divested animosities) heavens. When hungry she fed on the Pi Ch'ing (hidden love) fruit--when thirsty she drank the Kuan ch'ou (discharged sorrows,) water. Having, however, up to this time, not shewn her gratitude for the virtue of nurture lavished upon her, the result was but natural that she should resolve in her heart upon a constant and incessant purpose to make suitable acknowledgment.
　　
　　"I have been," she would often commune within herself, "the recipient of the gracious bounty of rain and dew, but I possess no such water as was lavished upon me to repay it! But should it ever descend into the world in the form of a human being, I will also betake myself thither, along with it; and if I can only have the means of making restitution to it, with the tears of a whole lifetime, I may be able to make adequate return."
　　
　　"This resolution it is that will evolve the descent into the world of so many pleasure-bound spirits of retribution and the experience of fantastic destinies; and this crimson pearl blade will also be among the number. The stone still lies in its original place, and why should not you and I take it along before the tribunal of the Monitory Vision Fairy, and place on its behalf its name on record, so that it should descend into the world, in company with these spirits of passion, and bring this plot to an issue?"
　　
　　"It is indeed ridiculous," interposed the Taoist. "Never before have I heard even the very mention of restitution by means of tears! Why should not you and I avail ourselves of this opportunity to likewise go down into the world? and if successful in effecting the salvation of a few of them, will it not be a work meritorious and virtuous?"
　　
　　"This proposal," remarked the Buddhist, "is quite in harmony with my own views. Come along then with me to the palace of the Monitory Vision Fairy, and let us deliver up this good-for-nothing object, and have done with it! And when the company of pleasure-bound spirits of wrath descend into human existence, you and I can then enter the world. Half of them have already fallen into the dusty universe, but the whole number of them have not, as yet, come together."
　　
　　"Such being the case," the Taoist acquiesced, "I am ready to follow you, whenever you please to go."
　　
　　But to return to Chen Shih-yin. Having heard every one of these words distinctly, he could not refrain from forthwith stepping forward and paying homage. "My spiritual lords," he said, as he smiled, "accept my obeisance." The Buddhist and Taoist priests lost no time in responding to the compliment, and they exchanged the usual salutations. "My spiritual lords," Shih-yin continued; "I have just heard the conversation that passed between you, on causes and effects, a conversation the like of which few mortals have forsooth listened to; but your younger brother is sluggish of intellect, and cannot lucidly fathom the import! Yet could this dulness and simplicity be graciously dispelled, your younger brother may, by listening minutely, with undefiled ear and careful attention, to a certain degree be aroused to a sense of understanding; and what is more, possibly find the means of escaping the anguish of sinking down into Hades."
　　
　　The two spirits smiled, "The conversation," they added, "refers to the primordial scheme and cannot be divulged before the proper season; but, when the time comes, mind do not forget us two, and you will readily be able to escape from the fiery furnace."
　　
　　Shih-yin, after this reply, felt it difficult to make any further inquiries. "The primordial scheme," he however remarked smiling, "cannot, of course, be divulged; but what manner of thing, I wonder, is the good-for-nothing object you alluded to a short while back? May I not be allowed to judge for myself?"
　　
　　"This object about which you ask," the Buddhist Bonze responded, "is intended, I may tell you, by fate to be just glanced at by you." With these words he produced it, and handed it over to Shih-yin.
　　
　　Shih-yin received it. On scrutiny he found it, in fact, to be a beautiful gem, so lustrous and so clear that the traces of characters on the surface were distinctly visible. The characters inscribed consisted of the four "T'ung Ling Pao Yue," "Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception." On the obverse, were also several columns of minute words, which he was just in the act of looking at intently, when the Buddhist at once expostulated.
　　
　　"We have already reached," he exclaimed, "the confines of vision." Snatching it violently out of his hands, he walked away with the Taoist, under a lofty stone portal, on the face of which appeared in large type the four characters: "T'ai Hsue Huan Ching," "The Visionary limits of the Great Void." On each side was a scroll with the lines:
　　
　　When falsehood stands for truth, truth likewise becomes false, Where naught be made to aught, aught changes into naught.
　　
　　Shih-yin meant also to follow them on the other side, but, as he was about to make one step forward, he suddenly heard a crash, just as if the mountains had fallen into ruins, and the earth sunk into destruction. As Shih-yin uttered a loud shout, he looked with strained eye; but all he could see was the fiery sun shining, with glowing rays, while the banana leaves drooped their heads. By that time, half of the circumstances connected with the dream he had had, had already slipped from his memory.
　　
　　He also noticed a nurse coming towards him with Ying Lien in her arms. To Shih-yin's eyes his daughter appeared even more beautiful, such a bright gem, so precious, and so lovable. Forthwith stretching out his arms, he took her over, and, as he held her in his embrace, he coaxed her to play with him for a while; after which he brought her up to the street to see the great stir occasioned by the procession that was going past.
　　
　　He was about to come in, when he caught sight of two priests, one a Taoist, the other a Buddhist, coming hither from the opposite direction. The Buddhist had a head covered with mange, and went barefooted. The Taoist had a limping foot, and his hair was all dishevelled.
　　
　　Like maniacs, they jostled along, chattering and laughing as they drew near.
　　
　　As soon as they reached Shih-yin's door, and they perceived him with Ying Lien in his arms, the Bonze began to weep aloud.
　　
　　Turning towards Shih-yin, he said to him: "My good Sir, why need you carry in your embrace this living but luckless thing, which will involve father and mother in trouble?"
　　
　　These words did not escape Shih-yin's ear; but persuaded that they amounted to raving talk, he paid no heed whatever to the bonze.
　　
　　"Part with her and give her to me," the Buddhist still went on to say.
　　
　　Shih-yin could not restrain his annoyance; and hastily pressing his daughter closer to him, he was intent upon going in, when the bonze pointed his hand at him, and burst out in a loud fit of laughter.
　　
　　He then gave utterance to the four lines that follow:
　　
　　You indulge your tender daughter and are laughed at as inane; Vain you face the snow, oh mirror! for it will evanescent wane, When the festival of lanterns is gone by, guard 'gainst your doom, 'Tis what time the flames will kindle, and the fire will consume.
　　
　　Shih-yin understood distinctly the full import of what he heard; but his heart was still full of conjectures. He was about to inquire who and what they were, when he heard the Taoist remark,--"You and I cannot speed together; let us now part company, and each of us will be then able to go after his own business. After the lapse of three ages, I shall be at the Pei Mang mount, waiting for you; and we can, after our reunion, betake ourselves to the Visionary Confines of the Great Void, there to cancel the name of the stone from the records."
　　
　　"Excellent! first rate!" exclaimed the Bonze. And at the conclusion of these words, the two men parted, each going his own way, and no trace was again seen of them.
　　
　　"These two men," Shih-yin then pondered within his heart, "must have had many experiences, and I ought really to have made more inquiries of them; but at this juncture to indulge in regret is anyhow too late."
　　
　　While Shih-yin gave way to these foolish reflections, he suddenly noticed the arrival of a penniless scholar, Chia by surname, Hua by name, Shih-fei by style and Yue-ts'un by nickname, who had taken up his quarters in the Gourd temple next door. This Chia Yue-ts'un was originally a denizen of Hu-Chow, and was also of literary and official parentage, but as he was born of the youngest stock, and the possessions of his paternal and maternal ancestors were completely exhausted, and his parents and relatives were dead, he remained the sole and only survivor; and, as he found his residence in his native place of no avail, he therefore entered the capital in search of that reputation, which would enable him to put the family estate on a proper standing. He had arrived at this place since the year before last, and had, what is more, lived all along in very straitened circumstances. He had made the temple his temporary quarters, and earned a living by daily occupying himself in composing documents and writing letters for customers. Thus it was that Shih-yin had been in constant relations with him.
　　
　　As soon as Yue-ts'un perceived Shih-yin, he lost no time in saluting him. "My worthy Sir," he observed with a forced smile; "how is it you are leaning against the door and looking out? Is there perchance any news astir in the streets, or in the public places?"
　　
　　"None whatever," replied Shih-yin, as he returned the smile. "Just a while back, my young daughter was in sobs, and I coaxed her out here to amuse her. I am just now without anything whatever to attend to, so that, dear brother Chia, you come just in the nick of time. Please walk into my mean abode, and let us endeavour, in each other's company, to while away this long summer day."
　　
　　After he had made this remark, he bade a servant take his daughter in, while he, hand-in-hand with Yue-ts'un, walked into the library, where a young page served tea. They had hardly exchanged a few sentences, when one of the household came in, in flying haste, to announce that Mr. Yen had come to pay a visit.
　　
　　Shih-yin at once stood up. "Pray excuse my rudeness," he remarked apologetically, "but do sit down; I shall shortly rejoin you, and enjoy the pleasure of your society." "My dear Sir," answered Yue-ts'un, as he got up, also in a conceding way, "suit your own convenience. I've often had the honour of being your guest, and what will it matter if I wait a little?" While these apologies were yet being spoken, Shih-yin had already walked out into the front parlour. During his absence, Yue-ts'un occupied himself in turning over the pages of some poetical work to dispel ennui, when suddenly he heard, outside the window, a woman's cough. Yue-ts'un hurriedly got up and looked out. He saw at a glance that it was a servant girl engaged in picking flowers. Her deportment was out of the common; her eyes so bright, her eyebrows so well defined. Though not a perfect beauty, she possessed nevertheless charms sufficient to arouse the feelings. Yue-ts'un unwittingly gazed at her with fixed eye. This waiting-maid, belonging to the Chen family, had done picking flowers, and was on the point of going in, when she of a sudden raised her eyes and became aware of the presence of some person inside the window, whose head-gear consisted of a turban in tatters, while his clothes were the worse for wear. But in spite of his poverty, he was naturally endowed with a round waist, a broad back, a fat face, a square mouth; added to this, his eyebrows were swordlike, his eyes resembled stars, his nose was straight, his cheeks square.
　　
　　This servant girl turned away in a hurry and made her escape.
　　
　　"This man so burly and strong," she communed within herself, "yet at the same time got up in such poor attire, must, I expect, be no one else than the man, whose name is Chia Yue-ts'un or such like, time after time referred to by my master, and to whom he has repeatedly wished to give a helping hand, but has failed to find a favourable opportunity. And as related to our family there is no connexion or friend in such straits, I feel certain it cannot be any other person than he. Strange to say, my master has further remarked that this man will, for a certainty, not always continue in such a state of destitution."
　　
　　As she indulged in this train of thought, she could not restrain herself from turning her head round once or twice.
　　
　　When Yue-ts'un perceived that she had looked back, he readily interpreted it as a sign that in her heart her thoughts had been of him, and he was frantic with irrepressible joy.
　　
　　"This girl," he mused, "is, no doubt, keen-eyed and eminently shrewd, and one in this world who has seen through me."
　　
　　The servant youth, after a short time, came into the room; and when Yue-ts'un made inquiries and found out from him that the guests in the front parlour had been detained to dinner, he could not very well wait any longer, and promptly walked away down a side passage and out of a back door.
　　
　　When the guests had taken their leave, Shih-yin did not go back to rejoin Yue-ts'un, as he had come to know that he had already left.
　　
　　In time the mid-autumn festivities drew near; and Shih-yin, after the family banquet was over, had a separate table laid in the library, and crossed over, in the moonlight, as far as the temple and invited Yue-ts'un to come round.
　　
　　The fact is that Yue-ts'un, ever since the day on which he had seen the girl of the Chen family turn twice round to glance at him, flattered himself that she was friendly disposed towards him, and incessantly fostered fond thoughts of her in his heart. And on this day, which happened to be the mid-autumn feast, he could not, as he gazed at the moon, refrain from cherishing her remembrance. Hence it was that he gave vent to these pentameter verses:
　　
　　Alas! not yet divined my lifelong wish, And anguish ceaseless comes upon anguish I came, and sad at heart, my brow I frowned; She went, and oft her head to look turned round. Facing the breeze, her shadow she doth watch, Who's meet this moonlight night with her to match? The lustrous rays if they my wish but read Would soon alight upon her beauteous head!
　　
　　Yue-ts'un having, after this recitation, recalled again to mind how that throughout his lifetime his literary attainments had had an adverse fate and not met with an opportunity (of reaping distinction), went on to rub his brow, and as he raised his eyes to the skies, he heaved a deep sigh and once more intoned a couplet aloud:
　　
　　The gem in the cask a high price it seeks, The pin in the case to take wing it waits.
　　
　　As luck would have it, Shih-yin was at the moment approaching, and upon hearing the lines, he said with a smile: "My dear Yue-ts'un, really your attainments are of no ordinary capacity."
　　
　　Yue-ts'un lost no time in smiling and replying. "It would be presumption in my part to think so," he observed. "I was simply at random humming a few verses composed by former writers, and what reason is there to laud me to such an excessive degree? To what, my dear Sir, do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he went on to inquire. "Tonight," replied Shih-yin, "is the mid-autumn feast, generally known as the full-moon festival; and as I could not help thinking that living, as you my worthy brother are, as a mere stranger in this Buddhist temple, you could not but experience the feeling of loneliness. I have, for the express purpose, prepared a small entertainment, and will be pleased if you will come to my mean abode to have a glass of wine. But I wonder whether you will entertain favourably my modest invitation?" Yue-ts'un, after listening to the proposal, put forward no refusal of any sort; but remarked complacently: "Being the recipient of such marked attention, how can I presume to repel your generous consideration?"
　　
　　As he gave expression to these words, he walked off there and then, in company with Shih-yin, and came over once again into the court in front of the library. In a few minutes, tea was over.
　　
　　The cups and dishes had been laid from an early hour, and needless to say the wines were luscious; the fare sumptuous.
　　
　　The two friends took their seats. At first they leisurely replenished their glasses, and quietly sipped their wine; but as, little by little, they entered into conversation, their good cheer grew more genial, and unawares the glasses began to fly round, and the cups to be exchanged.
　　
　　At this very hour, in every house of the neighbourhood, sounded the fife and lute, while the inmates indulged in music and singing. Above head, the orb of the radiant moon shone with an all-pervading splendour, and with a steady lustrous light, while the two friends, as their exuberance increased, drained their cups dry so soon as they reached their lips.
　　
　　Yue-ts'un, at this stage of the collation, was considerably under the influence of wine, and the vehemence of his high spirits was irrepressible. As he gazed at the moon, he fostered thoughts, to which he gave vent by the recital of a double couplet.
　　
　　'Tis what time three meets five, Selene is a globe! Her pure rays fill the court, the jadelike rails enrobe! Lo! in the heavens her disk to view doth now arise, And in the earth below to gaze men lift their eyes.
　　
　　"Excellent!" cried Shih-yin with a loud voice, after he had heard these lines; "I have repeatedly maintained that it was impossible for you to remain long inferior to any, and now the verses you have recited are a prognostic of your rapid advancement. Already it is evident that, before long, you will extend your footsteps far above the clouds! I must congratulate you! I must congratulate you! Let me, with my own hands, pour a glass of wine to pay you my compliments."
　　
　　Yue-ts'un drained the cup. "What I am about to say," he explained as he suddenly heaved a sigh, "is not the maudlin talk of a man under the effects of wine. As far as the subjects at present set in the examinations go, I could, perchance, also have well been able to enter the list, and to send in my name as a candidate; but I have, just now, no means whatever to make provision for luggage and for travelling expenses. The distance too to Shen Ching is a long one, and I could not depend upon the sale of papers or the composition of essays to find the means of getting there."
　　
　　Shih-yin gave him no time to conclude. "Why did you not speak about this sooner?" he interposed with haste. "I have long entertained this suspicion; but as, whenever I met you, this conversation was never broached, I did not presume to make myself officious. But if such be the state of affairs just now, I lack, I admit, literary qualification, but on the two subjects of friendly spirit and pecuniary means, I have, nevertheless, some experience. Moreover, I rejoice that next year is just the season for the triennial examinations, and you should start for the capital with all despatch; and in the tripos next spring, you will, by carrying the prize, be able to do justice to the proficiency you can boast of. As regards the travelling expenses and the other items, the provision of everything necessary for you by my own self will again not render nugatory your mean acquaintance with me."
　　
　　Forthwith, he directed a servant lad to go and pack up at once fifty taels of pure silver and two suits of winter clothes.
　　
　　"The nineteenth," he continued, "is a propitious day, and you should lose no time in hiring a boat and starting on your journey westwards. And when, by your eminent talents, you shall have soared high to a lofty position, and we meet again next winter, will not the occasion be extremely felicitous?"
　　
　　Yue-ts'un accepted the money and clothes with but scanty expression of gratitude. In fact, he paid no thought whatever to the gifts, but went on, again drinking his wine, as he chattered and laughed.
　　
　　It was only when the third watch of that day had already struck that the two friends parted company; and Shih-yin, after seeing Yue-ts'un off, retired to his room and slept, with one sleep all through, never waking until the sun was well up in the skies.
　　
　　Remembering the occurrence of the previous night, he meant to write a couple of letters of recommendation for Yue-ts'un to take along with him to the capital, to enable him, after handing them over at the mansions of certain officials, to find some place as a temporary home. He accordingly despatched a servant to ask him to come round, but the man returned and reported that from what the bonze said, "Mr. Chia had started on his journey to the capital, at the fifth watch of that very morning, that he had also left a message with the bonze to deliver to you, Sir, to the effect that men of letters paid no heed to lucky or unlucky days, that the sole consideration with them was the nature of the matter in hand, and that he could find no time to come round in person and bid good-bye."
　　
　　Shih-yin after hearing this message had no alternative but to banish the subject from his thoughts.
　　
　　In comfortable circumstances, time indeed goes by with easy stride. Soon drew near also the happy festival of the 15th of the 1st moon, and Shih-yin told a servant Huo Ch'i to take Ying Lien to see the sacrificial fires and flowery lanterns.
　　
　　About the middle of the night, Huo Ch'i was hard pressed, and he forthwith set Ying Lien down on the doorstep of a certain house. When he felt relieved, he came back to take her up, but failed to find anywhere any trace of Ying Lien. In a terrible plight, Huo Ch'i prosecuted his search throughout half the night; but even by the dawn of day, he had not discovered any clue of her whereabouts. Huo Ch'i, lacking, on the other hand, the courage to go back and face his master, promptly made his escape to his native village.
　　
　　Shih-yin--in fact, the husband as well as the wife--seeing that their child had not come home during the whole night, readily concluded that some mishap must have befallen her. Hastily they despatched several servants to go in search of her, but one and all returned to report that there was neither vestige nor tidings of her.
　　
　　This couple had only had this child, and this at the meridian of their life, so that her sudden disappearance plunged them in such great distress that day and night they mourned her loss to such a point as to well nigh pay no heed to their very lives.
　　
　　A month in no time went by. Shih-yin was the first to fall ill, and his wife, Dame Feng, likewise, by dint of fretting for her daughter, was also prostrated with sickness. The doctor was, day after day, sent for, and the oracle consulted by means of divination.
　　
　　Little did any one think that on this day, being the 15th of the 3rd moon, while the sacrificial oblations were being prepared in the Hu Lu temple, a pan with oil would have caught fire, through the want of care on the part of the bonze, and that in a short time the flames would have consumed the paper pasted on the windows.
　　
　　Among the natives of this district bamboo fences and wooden partitions were in general use, and these too proved a source of calamity so ordained by fate (to consummate this decree).
　　
　　With promptness (the fire) extended to two buildings, then enveloped three, then dragged four (into ruin), and then spread to five houses, until the whole street was in a blaze, resembling the flames of a volcano. Though both the military and the people at once ran to the rescue, the fire had already assumed a serious hold, so that it was impossible for them to afford any effective assistance for its suppression.
　　
　　It blazed away straight through the night, before it was extinguished, and consumed, there is in fact no saying how many dwelling houses. Anyhow, pitiful to relate, the Chen house, situated as it was next door to the temple, was, at an early part of the evening, reduced to a heap of tiles and bricks; and nothing but the lives of that couple and several inmates of the family did not sustain any injuries.
　　
　　Shih-yin was in despair, but all he could do was to stamp his feet and heave deep sighs. After consulting with his wife, they betook themselves to a farm of theirs, where they took up their quarters temporarily. But as it happened that water had of late years been scarce, and no crops been reaped, robbers and thieves had sprung up like bees, and though the Government troops were bent upon their capture, it was anyhow difficult to settle down quietly on the farm. He therefore had no other resource than to convert, at a loss, the whole of his property into money, and to take his wife and two servant girls and come over for shelter to the house of his father-in-law.
　　
　　His father-in-law, Feng Su, by name, was a native of Ta Ju Chou. Although only a labourer, he was nevertheless in easy circumstances at home. When he on this occasion saw his son-in-law come to him in such distress, he forthwith felt at heart considerable displeasure. Fortunately Shih-yin had still in his possession the money derived from the unprofitable realization of his property, so that he produced and handed it to his father-in-law, commissioning him to purchase, whenever a suitable opportunity presented itself, a house and land as a provision for food and raiment against days to come. This Feng Su, however, only expended the half of the sum, and pocketed the other half, merely acquiring for him some fallow land and a dilapidated house.
　　
　　Shih-yin being, on the other hand, a man of books and with no experience in matters connected with business and with sowing and reaping, subsisted, by hook and by crook, for about a year or two, when he became more impoverished.
　　
　　In his presence, Feng Su would readily give vent to specious utterances, while, with others, and behind his back, he on the contrary expressed his indignation against his improvidence in his mode of living, and against his sole delight of eating and playing the lazy.
　　
　　Shih-yin, aware of the want of harmony with his father-in-law, could not help giving way, in his own heart, to feelings of regret and pain. In addition to this, the fright and vexation which he had undergone the year before, the anguish and suffering (he had had to endure), had already worked havoc (on his constitution); and being a man advanced in years, and assailed by the joint attack of poverty and disease, he at length gradually began to display symptoms of decline.
　　
　　Strange coincidence, as he, on this day, came leaning on his staff and with considerable strain, as far as the street for a little relaxation, he suddenly caught sight, approaching from the off side, of a Taoist priest with a crippled foot; his maniac appearance so repulsive, his shoes of straw, his dress all in tatters, muttering several sentiments to this effect:
　　
　　All men spiritual life know to be good, But fame to disregard they ne'er succeed! From old till now the statesmen where are they? Waste lie their graves, a heap of grass, extinct. All men spiritual life know to be good, But to forget gold, silver, ill succeed! Through life they grudge their hoardings to be scant, And when plenty has come, their eyelids close. All men spiritual life hold to be good, Yet to forget wives, maids, they ne'er succeed! Who speak of grateful love while lives their lord, And dead their lord, another they pursue. All men spiritual life know to be good, But sons and grandsons to forget never succeed! From old till now of parents soft many, But filial sons and grandsons who have seen?
　　
　　Shih-yin upon hearing these words, hastily came up to the priest, "What were you so glibly holding forth?" he inquired. "All I could hear were a lot of hao liao (excellent, finality.")
　　
　　"You may well have heard the two words 'hao liao,'" answered the Taoist with a smile, "but can you be said to have fathomed their meaning? You should know that all things in this world are excellent, when they have attained finality; when they have attained finality, they are excellent; but when they have not attained finality, they are not excellent; if they would be excellent, they should attain finality. My song is entitled Excellent-finality (hao liao)."
　　
　　Shih-yin was gifted with a natural perspicacity that enabled him, as soon as he heard these remarks, to grasp their spirit.
　　
　　"Wait a while," he therefore said smilingly; "let me unravel this excellent-finality song of yours; do you mind?"
　　
　　"Please by all means go on with the interpretation," urged the Taoist; whereupon Shih-yin proceeded in this strain:
　　
　　Sordid rooms and vacant courts, Replete in years gone by with beds where statesmen lay; Parched grass and withered banian trees, Where once were halls for song and dance! Spiders' webs the carved pillars intertwine, The green gauze now is also pasted on the straw windows! What about the cosmetic fresh concocted or the powder just scented; Why has the hair too on each temple become white like hoarfrost! Yesterday the tumulus of yellow earth buried the bleached bones, To-night under the red silk curtain reclines the couple! Gold fills the coffers, silver fills the boxes, But in a twinkle, the beggars will all abuse you! While you deplore that the life of others is not long, You forget that you yourself are approaching death! You educate your sons with all propriety, But they may some day, 'tis hard to say become thieves; Though you choose (your fare and home) the fatted beam, You may, who can say, fall into some place of easy virtue! Through your dislike of the gauze hat as mean, You have come to be locked in a cangue; Yesterday, poor fellow, you felt cold in a tattered coat, To-day, you despise the purple embroidered dress as long! Confusion reigns far and wide! you have just sung your part, I come on the boards, Instead of yours, you recognise another as your native land; What utter perversion! In one word, it comes to this we make wedding clothes for others! (We sow for others to reap.)
　　
　　The crazy limping Taoist clapped his hands. "Your interpretation is explicit," he remarked with a hearty laugh, "your interpretation is explicit!"
　　
　　Shih-yin promptly said nothing more than,--"Walk on;" and seizing the stole from the Taoist's shoulder, he flung it over his own. He did not, however, return home, but leisurely walked away, in company with the eccentric priest.
　　
　　The report of his disappearance was at once bruited abroad, and plunged the whole neighbourhood in commotion; and converted into a piece of news, it was circulated from mouth to mouth.
　　
　　Dame Feng, Shih-yin's wife, upon hearing the tidings, had such a fit of weeping that she hung between life and death; but her only alternative was to consult with her father, and to despatch servants on all sides to institute inquiries. No news was however received of him, and she had nothing else to do but to practise resignation, and to remain dependent upon the support of her parents for her subsistence. She had fortunately still by her side, to wait upon her, two servant girls, who had been with her in days gone by; and the three of them, mistress as well as servants, occupied themselves day and night with needlework, to assist her father in his daily expenses.
　　
　　This Feng Su had after all, in spite of his daily murmurings against his bad luck, no help but to submit to the inevitable.
　　
　　On a certain day, the elder servant girl of the Chen family was at the door purchasing thread, and while there, she of a sudden heard in the street shouts of runners clearing the way, and every one explain that the new magistrate had come to take up his office.
　　
　　The girl, as she peeped out from inside the door, perceived the lictors and policemen go by two by two; and when unexpectedly in a state chair, was carried past an official, in black hat and red coat, she was indeed quite taken aback.
　　
　　"The face of this officer would seem familiar," she argued within herself; "just as if I had seen him somewhere or other ere this."
　　
　　Shortly she entered the house, and banishing at once the occurrence from her mind, she did not give it a second thought. At night, however, while she was waiting to go to bed, she suddenly heard a sound like a rap at the door. A band of men boisterously cried out: "We are messengers, deputed by the worthy magistrate of this district, and come to summon one of you to an enquiry."
　　
　　Feng Su, upon hearing these words, fell into such a terrible consternation that his eyes stared wide and his mouth gaped.
　　
　　What calamity was impending is not as yet ascertained, but, reader, listen to the explanation contained in the next chapter.

　　詩云
　　一局輸贏料不真，香銷茶盡尚逡巡。欲知目下興衰兆，須問旁觀冷眼人。
　　卻說封肅因聽見公差傳喚，忙出來陪笑啓問。那些人衹嚷：“快請出甄爺來！"封肅忙陪笑道：“小人姓封，並不姓甄。衹有當日小婿姓甄，今已出傢一二年了，不知可是問他？"那些公人道：“我們也不知什麽‘真’‘假’，因奉太爺之命來問，他既是你女婿，便帶了你去親見太爺面稟，省得亂跑。”說着，不容封肅多言，大傢推擁他去了。封傢人個個都驚慌，不知何兆。
　　那天約二更時，衹見封肅方回來，歡天喜地。衆人忙問端的。他乃說道：“原來本府新升的太爺姓賈名化，本貫鬍州人氏，曾與女婿舊日相交。方纔在咱門前過去，因見嬌杏那丫頭買綫，所以他衹當女婿移住於此。我一一將原故回明，那太爺倒傷感嘆息了一回，又問外孫女兒，我說看燈丟了。太爺說：‘不妨，我自使番役務必探訪回來。’說了一回話，臨走倒送了我二兩銀子。”甄傢娘子聽了，不免心中傷感。一宿無話。至次日，早有雨村遣人送了兩封銀子，四匹錦緞，答謝甄傢娘子，又寄一封密書與封肅，轉托問甄傢娘子要那嬌杏作二房。封肅喜的屁滾尿流，巴不得去奉承，便在女兒前一力攛掇成了，乘夜衹用一乘小轎，便把嬌杏送進去了。雨村歡喜，自不必說，乃封百金贈封肅，外謝甄傢娘子許多物事，令其好生養贍，以待尋訪女兒下落。封肅回傢無話。
　　卻說嬌杏這丫鬟，便是那年回顧雨村者。因偶然一顧，便弄出這段事來，亦是自己意料不到之奇緣。誰想他命運兩濟，不承望自到雨村身邊，衹一年便生了一子，又半載，雨村嫡妻忽染疾下世，雨村便將他扶側作正室夫人了。正是：
　　偶因一着錯，便為人上人。
　　原來，雨村因那年士隱贈銀之後，他於十六日便起身入都，至大比之期，不料他十分得意，已會了進士，選入外班，今已升了本府知府。雖才幹優長，未免有些貪酷之弊，且又恃纔侮上，那些官員皆側目而視。不上一年，便被上司尋了個空隙，作成一本，參他生情狡猾，擅纂禮儀，大怒，即批革職。該部文書一到，本府官員無不喜悅。那雨村心中雖十分慚恨，卻面上全無一點怨色，仍是嘻笑自若，交代過公事，將歷年做官積的些資本並傢小人屬送至原籍，安排妥協，卻是自己擔風袖月，遊覽天下勝跡。
　　那日，偶又遊至維揚地面，因聞得今歲鹺政點的是林如海。這林如海姓林名海，表字如海，乃是前科的探花，今已升至蘭臺寺大夫，本貫姑蘇人氏，今欽點出為巡????御史，到任方一月有餘。原來這林如海之祖，曾襲過列侯，今到如海，業經五世。起初時，衹封襲三世，因當今隆恩盛德，遠邁前代，額外加恩，至如海之父，又襲了一代；至如海，便從科第出身。雖係鐘鼎之傢，卻亦是書香之族。衹可惜這林傢支庶不盛，子孫有限，雖有幾門，卻與如海俱是堂族而已，沒甚親支嫡派的。今如海年已四十，衹有一個三歲之子，偏又於去歲死了。雖有幾房姬妾，奈他命中無子，亦無可如何之事。今衹有嫡妻賈氏，生得一女，乳名黛玉，年方五歲。夫妻無子，故愛如珍寶，且又見他聰明清秀，便也欲使他讀書識得幾個字，不過假充養子之意，聊解膝下荒涼之嘆。
　　雨村正值偶感風寒，病在旅店，將一月光景方漸愈。一因身體勞倦，二因盤費不繼，也正欲尋個合式之處，暫且歇下。幸有兩個舊友，亦在此境居住，因聞得鹺政欲聘一西賓，雨村便相托友力，謀了進去，且作安身之計。妙在衹一個女學生，並兩個伴讀丫鬟，這女學生年又小，身體又極怯弱，工課不限多寡，故十分省力。堪堪又是一載的光陰，誰知女學生之母賈氏夫人一疾而終。女學生侍湯奉藥，守喪盡哀，遂又將辭館別圖。林如海意欲令女守製讀書，故又將他留下。近因女學生哀痛過傷，本自怯弱多病的，觸犯舊癥，遂連日不曾上學。雨村閑居無聊，每當風日晴和，飯後便出來閑步。
　　這日，偶至郭外，意欲賞鑒那村野風光。忽信步至一山環水旋，茂林深竹之處，隱隱的有座廟宇，門巷傾頽，墻垣朽敗，門前有額，題着"智通寺"三字，門旁又有一副舊破的對聯，曰
　　身後有餘忘縮手，眼前無路想回頭。雨村看了，因想到：“這兩句話，文雖淺近，其意則深。我也曾遊過些名山大剎，倒不曾見過這話頭，其中想必有個翻過筋鬥來的亦未可知，何不進去試試。”想着走入，衹有一個竜鐘老僧在那裏煮粥。雨村見了，便不在意。及至問他兩句話，那老僧既聾且昏，齒落舌鈍，所答非所問。
　　雨村不耐煩，便仍出來，意欲到那村肆中沽飲三杯，以助野趣，於是款步行來。將入肆門，衹見座上吃酒之客有一人起身大笑，接了出來，口內說：“奇遇，奇遇。”雨村忙看時，此人是都中在古董行中貿易的號冷子興者，舊日在都相識。雨村最贊這冷子興是個有作為大本領的人，這子興又藉雨村斯文之名，故二人說話投機，最相契合。雨村忙笑問道：“老兄何日到此？弟竟不知。今日偶遇，真奇緣也。”子興道：“去年歲底到傢，今因還要入都，從此順路找個敝友說一句話，承他之情，留我多住兩日。我也無緊事，且盤桓兩日，待月半時也就起身了。今日敝友有事，我因閑步至此，且歇歇腳，不期這樣巧遇！"一面說，一面讓雨村同席坐了，另整上酒餚來。二人閑談漫飲，敘些別後之事。
　　雨村因問：“近日都中可有新聞沒有？"子興道：“倒沒有什麽新聞，倒是老先生你貴同宗傢，出了一件小小的異事。”雨村笑道：“弟族中無人在都，何談及此？"子興笑道：“你們同姓，豈非同宗一族？"雨村問是誰傢。子興道：“榮國府賈府中，可也玷辱了先生的門楣麽？"雨村笑道：“原來是他傢。若論起來，寒族人丁卻不少，自東漢賈復以來，支派繁盛，各省皆有，誰逐細考查得來？若論榮國一支，卻是同譜。但他那等榮耀，我們不便去攀扯，至今故越發生疏難認了。”子興嘆道：“老先生休如此說。如今的這寧榮兩門，也都蕭疏了，不比先時的光景。”雨村道：“當日寧榮兩宅的人口也極多，如何就蕭疏了？"冷子興道：“正是，說來也話長。”雨村道：“去歲我到金陵地界，因欲遊覽六朝遺跡，那日進了石頭城，從他老宅門前經過。街東是寧國府，街西是榮國府，二宅相連，竟將大半條街占了。大門前雖冷落無人，隔着圍墻一望，裏面廳殿樓閣，也還都崢嶸軒峻，就是後一帶花園子裏面樹木山石，也還都有蓊蔚洇潤之氣，那裏象個衰敗之傢？"冷子興笑道：“虧你是進士出身，原來不通！古人有雲：‘百足之蟲，死而不僵。’如今雖說不及先年那樣興盛，較之平常仕宦之傢，到底氣象不同。如今生齒日繁，事務日盛，主僕上下，安富尊榮者盡多，運籌謀畫者無一，其日用排場費用，又不能將就省儉，如今外面的架子雖未甚倒，內囊卻也盡上來了。這還是小事。更有一件大事：誰知這樣鐘鳴鼎食之傢，翰墨詩書之族，如今的兒孫，竟一代不如一代了！"雨村聽說，也納罕道：“這樣詩禮之傢，豈有不善教育之理？別門不知，衹說這寧，榮二宅，是最教子有方的。”
　　子興嘆道：“正說的是這兩門呢。待我告訴你：當日寧國公與榮國公是一母同胞弟兄兩個。寧公居長，生了四個兒子。寧公死後，賈代化襲了官，也養了兩個兒子：長名賈敷，至八九歲上便死了，衹剩了次子賈敬襲了官，如今一味好道，衹愛燒丹煉汞，餘者一概不在心上。幸而早年留下一子，名喚賈珍，因他父親一心想作神仙，把官倒讓他襲了。他父親又不肯回原籍來，衹在都中城外和道士們鬍羼。這位珍爺倒生了一個兒子，今年纔十六歲，名叫賈蓉。如今敬老爹一概不管。這珍爺那裏肯讀書，衹一味高樂不了，把寧國府竟翻了過來，也沒有人敢來管他。再說榮府你聽，方纔所說異事，就出在這裏。自榮公死後，長子賈代善襲了官，娶的也是金陵世勳史侯傢的小姐為妻，生了兩個兒子：長子賈赦，次子賈政。如今代善早已去世，太夫人尚在，長子賈赦襲着官，次子賈政，自幼酷喜捕潦*，祖父最疼，原欲以科甲出身的，不料代善臨終時遺本一上，皇上因恤先臣，即時令長子襲官外，問還有幾子，立刻引見，遂額外賜了這政老爹一個主事之銜，令其入部習學，如今現已升了員外郎了。這政老爹的夫人王氏，頭胎生的公子，名喚賈珠，十四歲進學，不到二十歲就娶了妻生了子，一病死了。第二胎生了一位小姐，生在大年初一，這就奇了，不想後來又生一位公子，說來更奇，一落胎胞，嘴裏便銜下一塊五彩晶瑩的玉來，上面還有許多字跡，就取名叫作寶玉。你道是新奇異事不是？”
　　雨村笑道：“果然奇異。衹怕這人來歷不小。”子興冷笑道：“萬人皆如此說，因而乃祖母便先愛如珍寶。那年周歲時，政老爹便要試他將來的志嚮，便將那世上所有之物擺了無數，與他抓取。誰知他一概不取，伸手衹把些脂粉釵環抓來。政老爹便大怒了，說：“‘將來酒色之徒耳！’因此便大不喜悅。獨那史老太君還是命根一樣。說來又奇，如今長了七八歲，雖然淘氣異常，但其聰明乖覺處，百個不及他一個。說起孩子話來也奇怪，他說：‘女兒是水作的骨肉，男人是泥作的骨肉。我見了女兒，我便清爽，見了男子，便覺濁臭逼人。’你道好笑不好笑？將來色鬼無疑了！"雨村罕然厲色忙止道：“非也！可惜你們不知道這人來歷。大約政老前輩也錯以淫魔色鬼看待了。若非多讀書識事，加以致知格物之功，悟道參玄之力，不能知也。”
　　子興見他說得這樣重大，忙請教其端。雨村道：“天地生人，除大仁大惡兩種，餘者皆無大異。若大仁者，則應運而生，大惡者，則應劫而生。運生世治，劫生世危。堯，舜，禹，湯，文，武，周，召，孔，孟，董，韓，周，程，張，朱，皆應運而生者。蚩尤，共工，桀，紂，始皇，王莽，曹操，桓溫，安祿山，秦檜等，皆應劫而生者。大仁者，修治天下，大惡者，撓亂天下。清明靈秀，天地之正氣，仁者之所秉也，殘忍乖僻，天地之邪氣，惡者之所秉也。今當運隆祚永之朝，太平無為之世，清明靈秀之氣所秉者，上至朝廷，下及草野，比比皆是。所餘之秀氣，漫無所歸，遂為甘露，為和風，洽然溉及四海。彼殘忍乖僻之邪氣，不能蕩溢於光天化日之中，遂凝結充塞於深溝大壑之內，偶因風蕩，或被雲催，略有搖動感發之意，一絲半縷誤而泄出者，偶值靈秀之氣適過，正不容邪，邪復妒正，兩不相下，亦如風水雷電，地中既遇，既不能消，又不能讓，必至搏擊掀發後始盡。故其氣亦必賦人，發泄一盡始散。使男女偶秉此氣而生者，在上則不能成仁人君子，下亦不能為大兇大惡。置之於萬萬人中，其聰俊靈秀之氣，則在萬萬人之上，其乖僻邪謬不近人情之態，又在萬萬人之下。若生於公侯富貴之傢，則為情癡情種，若生於詩書清貧之族，則為逸士高人，縱再偶生於薄祚寒門，斷不能為走卒健僕，甘遭庸人驅製駕馭，必為奇優名倡。如前代之許由，陶潛，阮籍，嵇康，劉伶，王謝二族，顧虎頭，陳後主，唐明皇，宋徽宗，劉庭芝，溫飛卿，米南宮，石曼卿，柳耆卿，秦少遊，近日之倪雲林，唐伯虎，祝枝山，再如李龜年，黃幡綽，敬新磨，卓文君，紅拂，薛濤，崔鶯，朝雲之流，此皆易地則同之人也。”
　　子興道：“依你說，‘成則王侯敗則賊了。’"雨村道：“正是這意。你還不知，我自革職以來，這兩年遍遊各省，也曾遇見兩個異樣孩子。所以，方纔你一說這寶玉，我就猜着了八九亦是這一派人物。不用遠說，衹金陵城內，欽差金陵省體仁院總裁甄傢，你可知麽？"子興道：“誰人不知！這甄府和賈府就是老親，又係世交。兩傢來往，極其親熱的。便在下也和他傢來往非止一日了。”
　　雨村笑道：“去歲我在金陵，也曾有人薦我到甄府處館。我進去看其光景，誰知他傢那等顯貴，卻是個富而好禮之傢，倒是個難得之館。但這一個學生，雖是啓蒙，卻比一個舉業的還勞神。說起來更可笑，他說：‘必得兩個女兒伴着我讀書，我方能認得字，心裏也明白，不然我自己心裏糊塗。’又常對跟他的小廝們說：‘這女兒兩個字，極尊貴，極清淨的，比那阿彌陀佛，元始天尊的這兩個寶號還更尊榮無對的呢！你們這濁口臭舌，萬不可唐突了這兩個字，要緊。但凡要說時，必須先用清水香茶漱了口才可，設若失錯，便要鑿牙穿腮等事。’其暴虐浮躁，頑劣憨癡，種種異常。衹一放了學，進去見了那些女兒們，其溫厚和平，聰敏文雅，竟又變了一個。因此，他令尊也曾下死笞楚過幾次，無奈竟不能改。每打的吃疼不過時，他便‘姐姐’‘妹妹’亂叫起來。後來聽得裏面女兒們拿他取笑：‘因何打急了衹管叫姐妹做甚？莫不是求姐妹去說情討饒？你豈不愧些！’他回答的最妙。他說：‘急疼之時，衹叫‘姐姐’妹妹’字樣，或可解疼也未可知，因叫了一聲，便果覺不疼了，遂得了秘法：每疼痛之極，便連叫姐妹起來了。’你說可笑不可笑？也因祖母溺愛不明，每因孫辱師責子，因此我就辭了館出來。如今在這巡????御史林傢做館了。你看，這等子弟，必不能守祖父之根基，從師長之規諫的。衹可惜他傢幾個姊妹都是少有的。”
　　子興道：“便是賈府中，現有的三個也不錯。政老爹的長女，名元春，現因賢孝纔德，選入宮作女史去了。二小姐乃赦老爹之妾所出，名迎春，三小姐乃政老爹之庶出，名探春，四小姐乃寧府珍爺之胞妹，名喚惜春。因史老夫人極愛孫女，都跟在祖母這邊一處讀書，聽得個個不錯。雨村道：“更妙在甄傢的風俗，女兒之名，亦皆從男子之名命字，不似別傢另外用這些‘春’‘紅’‘香’‘玉’等豔字的。何得賈府亦樂此俗套？"子興道：“不然。衹因現今大小姐是正月初一日所生，故名元春，餘者方從了‘春’字。上一輩的，卻也是從兄弟而來的。現有對證：目今你貴東傢林公之夫人，即榮府中赦，政二公之胞妹，在傢時名喚賈敏。不信時，你回去細訪可知。”雨村拍案笑道：“怪道這女學生讀至凡書中有‘敏’字，皆念作‘密’字，每每如是，寫字遇着‘敏’字，又減一二筆，我心中就有些疑惑。今聽你說的，是為此無疑矣。怪道我這女學生言語舉止另是一樣，不與近日女子相同，度其母必不凡，方得其女，今知為榮府之孫，又不足罕矣，可傷上月竟亡故了。”子興嘆道：“老姊妹四個，這一個是極小的，又沒了。長一輩的姊妹，一個也沒了。衹看這小一輩的，將來之東床如何呢。”
　　雨村道：“正是。方纔說這政公，已有銜玉之兒，又有長子所遺一個弱孫。這赦老竟無一個不成？"子興道：“政公既有玉兒之後，其妾又生了一個，倒不知其好歹。衹眼前現有二子一孫，卻不知將來如何。若問那赦公，也有二子，長名賈璉，今已二十來往了，親上作親，娶的就是政老爹夫人王氏之內侄女，今已娶了二年。這位璉爺身上現捐的是個同知，也是不肯讀書，於世路上好機變，言談去的，所以如今衹在乃叔政老爺傢住着，幫着料理些傢務。誰知自娶了他令夫人之後，倒上下無一人不稱頌他夫人的，璉爺倒退了一射之地：說模樣又極標緻，言談又爽利，心機又極深細，竟是個男人萬不及一的。”
　　雨村聽了，笑道：“可知我前言不謬。你我方纔所說的這幾個人，都衹怕是那正邪兩賦而來一路之人，未可知也。”子興道：“邪也罷，正也罷，衹顧算別人傢的帳，你也吃一杯酒纔好。”雨村道：“正是，衹顧說話，竟多吃了幾杯。”子興笑道：“說着別人傢的閑話，正好下酒，即多吃幾杯何妨。”雨村嚮窗外看道：“天也晚了，仔細關了城。我們慢慢的進城再談，未為不可。”於是，二人起身，算還酒帳。方欲走時，又聽得後面有人叫道：“雨村兄，恭喜了！特來報個喜信的。”雨村忙回頭看時-

　　The spirit of Mrs. Chia Shih-yin departs from the town of Yang Chou. Leng Tzu-hsing dilates upon the Jung Kuo Mansion.
　　
　　To continue. Feng Su, upon hearing the shouts of the public messengers, came out in a flurry and forcing a smile, he asked them to explain (their errand); but all these people did was to continue bawling out: "Be quick, and ask Mr. Chen to come out."
　　
　　"My surname is Feng," said Feng Su, as he promptly forced himself to smile; "It is'nt Chen at all: I had once a son-in-law whose surname was Chen, but he has left home, it is now already a year or two back. Is it perchance about him that you are inquiring?"
　　
　　To which the public servants remarked: "We know nothing about Chen or Chia (true or false); but as he is your son-in-law, we'll take you at once along with us to make verbal answer to our master and have done with it."
　　
　　And forthwith the whole bevy of public servants hustled Feng Su on, as they went on their way back; while every one in the Feng family was seized with consternation, and could not imagine what it was all about.
　　
　　It was no earlier than the second watch, when Feng Su returned home; and they, one and all, pressed him with questions as to what had happened.
　　
　　"The fact is," he explained, "the newly-appointed Magistrate, whose surname is Chia, whose name is Huo and who is a native of Hu-chow, has been on intimate terms, in years gone by, with our son-in-law; that at the sight of the girl Chiao Hsing, standing at the door, in the act of buying thread, he concluded that he must have shifted his quarters over here, and hence it was that his messengers came to fetch him. I gave him a clear account of the various circumstances (of his misfortunes), and the Magistrate was for a time much distressed and expressed his regret. He then went on to make inquiries about my grand-daughter, and I explained that she had been lost, while looking at the illuminations. 'No matter,' put in the Magistrate, 'I will by and by order my men to make search, and I feel certain that they will find her and bring her back.' Then ensued a short conversation, after which I was about to go, when he presented me with the sum of two taels."
　　
　　The mistress of the Chen family (Mrs. Chen Shih-yin) could not but feel very much affected by what she heard, and the whole evening she uttered not a word.
　　
　　The next day, at an early hour, Yue-ts'un sent some of his men to bring over to Chen's wife presents, consisting of two packets of silver, and four pieces of brocaded silk, as a token of gratitude, and to Feng Su also a confidential letter, requesting him to ask of Mrs. Chen her maid Chiao Hsing to become his second wife.
　　
　　Feng Su was so intensely delighted that his eyebrows expanded, his eyes smiled, and he felt eager to toady to the Magistrate (by presenting the girl to him). He hastened to employ all his persuasive powers with his daughter (to further his purpose), and on the same evening he forthwith escorted Chiao Hsing in a small chair to the Yamen.
　　
　　The joy experienced by Yue-ts'un need not be dilated upon. He also presented Feng Su with a packet containing one hundred ounces of gold; and sent numerous valuable presents to Mrs. Chen, enjoining her "to live cheerfully in the anticipation of finding out the whereabouts of her daughter."
　　
　　It must be explained, however, that the maid Chi'ao Hsing was the very person, who, a few years ago, had looked round at Yue-ts'un and who, by one simple, unpremeditated glance, evolved, in fact, this extraordinary destiny which was indeed an event beyond conception.
　　
　　Who would ever have foreseen that fate and fortune would both have so favoured her that she should, contrary to all anticipation, give birth to a son, after living with Yue-ts'un barely a year, that in addition to this, after the lapse of another half year, Yue-ts'un's wife should have contracted a sudden illness and departed this life, and that Yue-ts'un should have at once raised her to the rank of first wife. Her destiny is adequately expressed by the lines:
　　
　　Through but one single, casual look Soon an exalted place she took.
　　
　　The fact is that after Yue-ts'un had been presented with the money by Shih-yin, he promptly started on the 16th day for the capital, and at the triennial great tripos, his wishes were gratified to the full. Having successfully carried off his degree of graduate of the third rank, his name was put by selection on the list for provincial appointments. By this time, he had been raised to the rank of Magistrate in this district; but, in spite of the excellence and sufficiency of his accomplishments and abilities, he could not escape being ambitious and overbearing. He failed besides, confident as he was in his own merits, in respect toward his superiors, with the result that these officials looked upon him scornfully with the corner of the eye.
　　
　　A year had hardly elapsed, when he was readily denounced in a memorial to the Throne by the High Provincial authorities, who represented that he was of a haughty disposition, that he had taken upon himself to introduce innovations in the rites and ceremonies, that overtly, while he endeavoured to enjoy the reputation of probity and uprightness, he, secretly, combined the nature of the tiger and wolf; with the consequence that he had been the cause of much trouble in the district, and that he had made life intolerable for the people.
　　
　　The Dragon countenance of the Emperor was considerably incensed. His Majesty lost no time in issuing commands, in reply to the Memorial, that he should be deprived of his official status.
　　
　　On the arrival of the despatch from the Board, great was the joy felt by every officer, without exception, of the prefecture in which he had held office. Yue-ts'un, though at heart intensely mortified and incensed, betrayed not the least outward symptom of annoyance, but still preserved, as of old, a smiling and cheerful countenance.
　　
　　He handed over charge of all official business and removed the savings which he had accumulated during the several years he had been in office, his family and all his chattels to his original home; where, after having put everything in proper order, he himself travelled (carried the winds and sleeved the moon) far and wide, visiting every relic of note in the whole Empire.
　　
　　As luck would have it, on a certain day while making a second journey through the Wei Yang district, he heard the news that the Salt Commissioner appointed this year was Lin Ju-hai. This Lin Ju-hai's family name was Lin, his name Hai and his style Ju-hai. He had obtained the third place in the previous triennial examination, and had, by this time, already risen to the rank of Director of the Court of Censors. He was a native of Ku Su. He had been recently named by Imperial appointment a Censor attached to the Salt Inspectorate, and had arrived at his post only a short while back.
　　
　　In fact, the ancestors of Lin Ju-hai had, from years back, successively inherited the title of Marquis, which rank, by its present descent to Ju-hai, had already been enjoyed by five generations. When first conferred, the hereditary right to the title had been limited to three generations; but of late years, by an act of magnanimous favour and generous beneficence, extraordinary bounty had been superadded; and on the arrival of the succession to the father of Ju-hai, the right had been extended to another degree. It had now descended to Ju-hai, who had, besides this title of nobility, begun his career as a successful graduate. But though his family had been through uninterrupted ages the recipient of imperial bounties, his kindred had all been anyhow men of culture.
　　
　　The only misfortune had been that the several branches of the Lin family had not been prolific, so that the numbers of its members continued limited; and though there existed several households, they were all however to Ju-hai no closer relatives than first cousins. Neither were there any connections of the same lineage, or of the same parentage.
　　
　　Ju-hai was at this date past forty; and had only had a son, who had died the previous year, in the third year of his age. Though he had several handmaids, he had not had the good fortune of having another son; but this was too a matter that could not be remedied.
　　
　　By his wife, nee Chia, he had a daughter, to whom the infant name of Tai Yue was given. She was, at this time, in her fifth year. Upon her the parents doated as much as if she were a brilliant pearl in the palm of their hand. Seeing that she was endowed with natural gifts of intelligence and good looks, they also felt solicitous to bestow upon her a certain knowledge of books, with no other purpose than that of satisfying, by this illusory way, their wishes of having a son to nurture and of dispelling the anguish felt by them, on account of the desolation and void in their family circle (round their knees).
　　
　　But to proceed. Yue-ts'un, while sojourning at an inn, was unexpectedly laid up with a violent chill. Finding on his recovery, that his funds were not sufficient to pay his expenses, he was thinking of looking out for some house where he could find a resting place when he suddenly came across two friends acquainted with the new Salt Commissioner. Knowing that this official was desirous to find a tutor to instruct his daughter, they lost no time in recommending Yue-ts'un, who moved into the Yamen.
　　
　　His female pupil was youthful in years and delicate in physique, so that her lessons were irregular. Besides herself, there were only two waiting girls, who remained in attendance during the hours of study, so that Yue-ts'un was spared considerable trouble and had a suitable opportunity to attend to the improvement of his health.
　　
　　In a twinkle, another year and more slipped by, and when least expected, the mother of his ward, nee Chia, was carried away after a short illness. His pupil (during her mother's sickness) was dutiful in her attendance, and prepared the medicines for her use. (And after her death,) she went into the deepest mourning prescribed by the rites, and gave way to such excess of grief that, naturally delicate as she was, her old complaint, on this account, broke out anew.
　　
　　Being unable for a considerable time to prosecute her studies, Yue-ts'un lived at leisure and had no duties to attend to. Whenever therefore the wind was genial and the sun mild, he was wont to stroll at random, after he had done with his meals.
　　
　　On this particular day, he, by some accident, extended his walk beyond the suburbs, and desirous to contemplate the nature of the rustic scenery, he, with listless step, came up to a spot encircled by hills and streaming pools, by luxuriant clumps of trees and thick groves of bamboos. Nestling in the dense foliage stood a temple. The doors and courts were in ruins. The walls, inner and outer, in disrepair. An inscription on a tablet testified that this was the temple of Spiritual Perception. On the sides of the door was also a pair of old and dilapidated scrolls with the following enigmatical verses.
　　
　　Behind ample there is, yet to retract the hand, the mind heeds not, until. Before the mortal vision lies no path, when comes to turn the will.
　　
　　"These two sentences," Yue-ts'un pondered after perusal, "although simple in language, are profound in signification. I have previous to this visited many a spacious temple, located on hills of note, but never have I beheld an inscription referring to anything of the kind. The meaning contained in these words must, I feel certain, owe their origin to the experiences of some person or other; but there's no saying. But why should I not go in and inquire for myself?"
　　
　　Upon walking in, he at a glance caught sight of no one else, but of a very aged bonze, of unkempt appearance, cooking his rice. When Yue-ts'un perceived that he paid no notice, he went up to him and asked him one or two questions, but as the old priest was dull of hearing and a dotard, and as he had lost his teeth, and his tongue was blunt, he made most irrelevant replies.
　　
　　Yue-ts'un lost all patience with him, and withdrew again from the compound with the intention of going as far as the village public house to have a drink or two, so as to enhance the enjoyment of the rustic scenery. With easy stride, he accordingly walked up to the place. Scarcely had he passed the threshold of the public house, when he perceived some one or other among the visitors who had been sitting sipping their wine on the divan, jump up and come up to greet him, with a face beaming with laughter.
　　
　　"What a strange meeting! What a strange meeting!" he exclaimed aloud.
　　
　　Yue-ts'un speedily looked at him, (and remembered) that this person had, in past days, carried on business in a curio establishment in the capital, and that his surname was Leng and his style Tzu-hsing.
　　
　　A mutual friendship had existed between them during their sojourn, in days of yore, in the capital; and as Yue-ts'un had entertained the highest opinion of Leng Tzu-hsing, as being a man of action and of great abilities, while this Leng Tzu-hsing, on the other hand, borrowed of the reputation of refinement enjoyed by Yue-ts'un, the two had consequently all along lived in perfect harmony and companionship.
　　
　　"When did you get here?" Yue-ts'un eagerly inquired also smilingly. "I wasn't in the least aware of your arrival. This unexpected meeting is positively a strange piece of good fortune."
　　
　　"I went home," Tzu-hsing replied, "about the close of last year, but now as I am again bound to the capital, I passed through here on my way to look up a friend of mine and talk some matters over. He had the kindness to press me to stay with him for a couple of days longer, and as I after all have no urgent business to attend to, I am tarrying a few days, but purpose starting about the middle of the moon. My friend is busy to-day, so I roamed listlessly as far as here, never dreaming of such a fortunate meeting."
　　
　　While speaking, he made Yue-ts'un sit down at the same table, and ordered a fresh supply of wine and eatables; and as the two friends chatted of one thing and another, they slowly sipped their wine.
　　
　　The conversation ran on what had occurred after the separation, and Yue-ts'un inquired, "Is there any news of any kind in the capital?"
　　
　　"There's nothing new whatever," answered Tzu-hsing. "There is one thing however: in the family of one of your worthy kinsmen, of the same name as yourself, a trifling, but yet remarkable, occurrence has taken place."
　　
　　"None of my kindred reside in the capital," rejoined Yue-ts'un with a smile. "To what can you be alluding?"
　　
　　"How can it be that you people who have the same surname do not belong to one clan?" remarked Tzu-hsing, sarcastically.
　　
　　"In whose family?" inquired Yue-ts'un.
　　
　　"The Chia family," replied Tzu-hsing smiling, "whose quarters are in the Jung Kuo Mansion, does not after all reflect discredit upon the lintel of your door, my venerable friend."
　　
　　"What!" exclaimed Yue-ts'un, "did this affair take place in that family? Were we to begin reckoning, we would find the members of my clan to be anything but limited in number. Since the time of our ancestor Chia Fu, who lived while the Eastern Han dynasty occupied the Throne, the branches of our family have been numerous and flourishing; they are now to be found in every single province, and who could, with any accuracy, ascertain their whereabouts? As regards the Jung-kuo branch in particular, their names are in fact inscribed on the same register as our own, but rich and exalted as they are, we have never presumed to claim them as our relatives, so that we have become more and more estranged."
　　
　　"Don't make any such assertions," Tzu-hsing remarked with a sigh, "the present two mansions of Jung and Ning have both alike also suffered reverses, and they cannot come up to their state of days of yore."
　　
　　"Up to this day, these two households of Ning and of Jung," Yue-ts'un suggested, "still maintain a very large retinue of people, and how can it be that they have met with reverses?"
　　
　　"To explain this would be indeed a long story," said Leng Tzu-hsing. "Last year," continued Yue-ts'un, "I arrived at Chin Ling, as I entertained a wish to visit the remains of interest of the six dynasties, and as I on that day entered the walled town of Shih T'ou, I passed by the entrance of that old residence. On the east side of the street, stood the Ning Kuo mansion; on the west the Jung Kuo mansion; and these two, adjoining each other as they do, cover in fact well-nigh half of the whole length of the street. Outside the front gate everything was, it is true, lonely and deserted; but at a glance into the interior over the enclosing wall, I perceived that the halls, pavilions, two-storied structures and porches presented still a majestic and lofty appearance. Even the flower garden, which extends over the whole area of the back grounds, with its trees and rockeries, also possessed to that day an air of luxuriance and freshness, which betrayed no signs of a ruined or decrepid establishment."
　　
　　"You have had the good fortune of starting in life as a graduate," explained Tzu-tsing as he smiled, "and yet are not aware of the saying uttered by some one of old: that a centipede even when dead does not lie stiff. (These families) may, according to your version, not be up to the prosperity of former years, but, compared with the family of an ordinary official, their condition anyhow presents a difference. Of late the number of the inmates has, day by day, been on the increase; their affairs have become daily more numerous; of masters and servants, high and low, who live in ease and respectability very many there are; but of those who exercise any forethought, or make any provision, there is not even one. In their daily wants, their extravagances, and their expenditure, they are also unable to adapt themselves to circumstances and practise economy; (so that though) the present external framework may not have suffered any considerable collapse, their purses have anyhow begun to feel an exhausting process! But this is a mere trifle. There is another more serious matter. Would any one ever believe that in such families of official status, in a clan of education and culture, the sons and grandsons of the present age would after all be each (succeeding) generation below the standard of the former?"
　　
　　Yue-ts'un, having listened to these remarks, observed: "How ever can it be possible that families of such education and refinement can observe any system of training and nurture which is not excellent? Concerning the other branches, I am not in a position to say anything; but restricting myself to the two mansions of Jung and Ning, they are those in which, above all others, the education of their children is methodical."
　　
　　"I was just now alluding to none other than these two establishments," Tzu-hsing observed with a sigh; "but let me tell you all. In days of yore, the duke of Ning Kuo and the duke of Jung Kuo were two uterine brothers. The Ning duke was the elder; he had four sons. After the death of the duke of Ning Kuo, his eldest son, Chia Tai-hua, came into the title. He also had two sons; but the eldest, whose name was Hu, died at the age of eight or nine; and the only survivor, the second son, Chia Ching, inherited the title. His whole mind is at this time set upon Taoist doctrines; his sole delight is to burn the pill and refine the dual powers; while every other thought finds no place in his mind. Happily, he had, at an early age, left a son, Chia Chen, behind in the lay world, and his father, engrossed as his whole heart was with the idea of attaining spiritual life, ceded the succession of the official title to him. His parent is, besides, not willing to return to the original family seat, but lives outside the walls of the capital, foolishly hobnobbing with all the Taoist priests. This Mr. Chen had also a son, Chia Jung, who is, at this period, just in his sixteenth year. Mr. Ching gives at present no attention to anything at all, so that Mr. Chen naturally devotes no time to his studies, but being bent upon nought else but incessant high pleasure, he has subversed the order of things in the Ning Kuo mansion, and yet no one can summon the courage to come and hold him in check. But I'll now tell you about the Jung mansion for your edification. The strange occurrence, to which I alluded just now, came about in this manner. After the demise of the Jung duke, the eldest son, Chia Tai-shan, inherited the rank. He took to himself as wife, the daughter of Marquis Shih, a noble family of Chin Ling, by whom he had two sons; the elder being Chia She, the younger Chia Cheng. This Tai Shan is now dead long ago; but his wife is still alive, and the elder son, Chia She, succeeded to the degree. He is a man of amiable and genial disposition, but he likewise gives no thought to the direction of any domestic concern. The second son Chia Cheng displayed, from his early childhood, a great liking for books, and grew up to be correct and upright in character. His grandfather doated upon him, and would have had him start in life through the arena of public examinations, but, when least expected, Tai-shan, being on the point of death, bequeathed a petition, which was laid before the Emperor. His Majesty, out of regard for his former minister, issued immediate commands that the elder son should inherit the estate, and further inquired how many sons there were besides him, all of whom he at once expressed a wish to be introduced in his imperial presence. His Majesty, moreover, displayed exceptional favour, and conferred upon Mr. Cheng the brevet rank of second class Assistant Secretary (of a Board), and commanded him to enter the Board to acquire the necessary experience. He has already now been promoted to the office of second class Secretary. This Mr. Cheng's wife, nee Wang, first gave birth to a son called Chia Chu, who became a Licentiate in his fourteenth year. At barely twenty, he married, but fell ill and died soon after the birth of a son. Her (Mrs. Cheng's) second child was a daughter, who came into the world, by a strange coincidence, on the first day of the year. She had an unexpected (pleasure) in the birth, the succeeding year, of another son, who, still more remarkable to say, had, at the time of his birth, a piece of variegated and crystal-like brilliant jade in his mouth, on which were yet visible the outlines of several characters. Now, tell me, was not this a novel and strange occurrence? eh?"
　　
　　"Strange indeed!" exclaimed Yue-ts'un with a smile; "but I presume the coming experiences of this being will not be mean."
　　
　　Tzu-hsing gave a faint smile. "One and all," he remarked, "entertain the same idea. Hence it is that his mother doats upon him like upon a precious jewel. On the day of his first birthday, Mr. Cheng readily entertained a wish to put the bent of his inclinations to the test, and placed before the child all kinds of things, without number, for him to grasp from. Contrary to every expectation, he scorned every other object, and, stretching forth his hand, he simply took hold of rouge, powder and a few hair-pins, with which he began to play. Mr. Cheng experienced at once displeasure, as he maintained that this youth would, by and bye, grow up into a sybarite, devoted to wine and women, and for this reason it is, that he soon began to feel not much attachment for him. But his grandmother is the one who, in spite of everything, prizes him like the breath of her own life. The very mention of what happened is even strange! He is now grown up to be seven or eight years old, and, although exceptionally wilful, in intelligence and precocity, however, not one in a hundred could come up to him! And as for the utterances of this child, they are no less remarkable. The bones and flesh of woman, he argues, are made of water, while those of man of mud. 'Women to my eyes are pure and pleasing,' he says, 'while at the sight of man, I readily feel how corrupt, foul and repelling they are!' Now tell me, are not these words ridiculous? There can be no doubt whatever that he will by and bye turn out to be a licentious roue."
　　
　　Yue-ts'un, whose countenance suddenly assumed a stern air, promptly interrupted the conversation. "It doesn't quite follow," he suggested. "You people don't, I regret to say, understand the destiny of this child. The fact is that even the old Hanlin scholar Mr. Cheng was erroneously looked upon as a loose rake and dissolute debauchee! But unless a person, through much study of books and knowledge of letters, so increases (in lore) as to attain the talent of discerning the nature of things, and the vigour of mind to fathom the Taoist reason as well as to comprehend the first principle, he is not in a position to form any judgment."
　　
　　Tzu-hsing upon perceiving the weighty import of what he propounded, "Please explain," he asked hastily, "the drift (of your argument)." To which Yue-ts'un responded: "Of the human beings created by the operation of heaven and earth, if we exclude those who are gifted with extreme benevolence and extreme viciousness, the rest, for the most part, present no striking diversity. If they be extremely benevolent, they fall in, at the time of their birth, with an era of propitious fortune; while those extremely vicious correspond, at the time of their existence, with an era of calamity. When those who coexist with propitious fortune come into life, the world is in order; when those who coexist with unpropitious fortune come into life, the world is in danger. Yao, Shun, Yue, Ch'eng T'ang, Wen Wang, Wu Wang, Chou Kung, Chao Kung, Confucius, Mencius, T'ung Hu, Han Hsin, Chou Tzu, Ch'eng Tzu, Chu Tzu and Chang Tzu were ordained to see light in an auspicious era. Whereas Ch'i Yu, Kung Kung, Chieh Wang, Chou Wang, Shih Huang, Wang Mang, Tsao Ts'ao, Wen Wen, An Hu-shan, Ch'in Kuei and others were one and all destined to come into the world during a calamitous age. Those endowed with extreme benevolence set the world in order; those possessed of extreme maliciousness turn the world into disorder. Purity, intelligence, spirituality and subtlety constitute the vital spirit of right which pervades heaven and earth, and the persons gifted with benevolence are its natural fruit. Malignity and perversity constitute the spirit of evil, which permeates heaven and earth, and malicious persons are affected by its influence. The days of perpetual happiness and eminent good fortune, and the era of perfect peace and tranquility, which now prevail, are the offspring of the pure, intelligent, divine and subtle spirit which ascends above, to the very Emperor, and below reaches the rustic and uncultured classes. Every one is without exception under its influence. The superfluity of the subtle spirit expands far and wide, and finding nowhere to betake itself to, becomes, in due course, transformed into dew, or gentle breeze; and, by a process of diffusion, it pervades the whole world.
　　
　　"The spirit of malignity and perversity, unable to expand under the brilliant sky and transmuting sun, eventually coagulates, pervades and stops up the deep gutters and extensive caverns; and when of a sudden the wind agitates it or it be impelled by the clouds, and any slight disposition, on its part, supervenes to set itself in motion, or to break its bounds, and so little as even the minutest fraction does unexpectedly find an outlet, and happens to come across any spirit of perception and subtlety which may be at the time passing by, the spirit of right does not yield to the spirit of evil, and the spirit of evil is again envious of the spirit of right, so that the two do not harmonize. Just like wind, water, thunder and lightning, which, when they meet in the bowels of the earth, must necessarily, as they are both to dissolve and are likewise unable to yield, clash and explode to the end that they may at length exhaust themselves. Hence it is that these spirits have also forcibly to diffuse themselves into the human race to find an outlet, so that they may then completely disperse, with the result that men and women are suddenly imbued with these spirits and spring into existence. At best, (these human beings) cannot be generated into philanthropists or perfect men; at worst, they cannot also embody extreme perversity or extreme wickedness. Yet placed among one million beings, the spirit of intelligence, refinement, perception and subtlety will be above these one million beings; while, on the other hand, the perverse, depraved and inhuman embodiment will likewise be below the million of men. Born in a noble and wealthy family, these men will be a salacious, lustful lot; born of literary, virtuous or poor parentage, they will turn out retired scholars or men of mark; though they may by some accident be born in a destitute and poverty-stricken home, they cannot possibly, in fact, ever sink so low as to become runners or menials, or contentedly brook to be of the common herd or to be driven and curbed like a horse in harness. They will become, for a certainty, either actors of note or courtesans of notoriety; as instanced in former years by Hsue Yu, T'ao Ch'ien, Yuan Chi, Chi Kang, Liu Ling, the two families of Wang and Hsieh, Ku Hu-t'ou, Ch'en Hou-chu, T'ang Ming-huang, Sung Hui-tsung, Liu T'ing-chih, Wen Fei-ching, Mei Nan-kung, Shih Man-ch'ing, Lui C'hih-ch'ing and Chin Shao-yu, and exemplified now-a-days by Ni Yuen-lin, T'ang Po-hu, Chu Chih-shan, and also by Li Kuei-men, Huang P'an-cho, Ching Hsin-mo, Cho Wen-chuen; and the women Hung Fu, Hsieh T'ao, Ch'ue Ying, Ch'ao Yuen and others; all of whom were and are of the same stamp, though placed in different scenes of action."
　　
　　"From what you say," observed Tzu-hsing, "success makes (a man) a duke or a marquis; ruin, a thief!"
　　
　　"Quite so; that's just my idea!" replied Yue-ts'un; "I've not as yet let you know that after my degradation from office, I spent the last couple of years in travelling for pleasure all over each province, and that I also myself came across two extraordinary youths. This is why, when a short while back you alluded to this Pao-yue, I at once conjectured, with a good deal of certainty, that he must be a human being of the same stamp. There's no need for me to speak of any farther than the walled city of Chin Ling. This Mr. Chen was, by imperial appointment, named Principal of the Government Public College of the Chin Ling province. Do you perhaps know him?"
　　
　　"Who doesn't know him?" remarked Tzu-hsing. "This Chen family is an old connection of the Chia family. These two families were on terms of great intimacy, and I myself likewise enjoyed the pleasure of their friendship for many a day."
　　
　　"Last year, when at Chin Ling," Yue-ts'un continued with a smile, "some one recommended me as resident tutor to the school in the Chen mansion; and when I moved into it I saw for myself the state of things. Who would ever think that that household was grand and luxurious to such a degree! But they are an affluent family, and withal full of propriety, so that a school like this was of course not one easy to obtain. The pupil, however, was, it is true, a young tyro, but far more troublesome to teach than a candidate for the examination of graduate of the second degree. Were I to enter into details, you would indeed have a laugh. 'I must needs,' he explained, 'have the company of two girls in my studies to enable me to read at all, and to keep likewise my brain clear. Otherwise, if left to myself, my head gets all in a muddle.' Time after time, he further expounded to his young attendants, how extremely honourable and extremely pure were the two words representing woman, that they are more valuable and precious than the auspicious animal, the felicitous bird, rare flowers and uncommon plants. 'You may not' (he was wont to say), 'on any account heedlessly utter them, you set of foul mouths and filthy tongues! these two words are of the utmost import! Whenever you have occasion to allude to them, you must, before you can do so with impunity, take pure water and scented tea and rinse your mouths. In the event of any slip of the tongue, I shall at once have your teeth extracted, and your eyes gouged out.' His obstinacy and waywardness are, in every respect, out of the common. After he was allowed to leave school, and to return home, he became, at the sight of the young ladies, so tractable, gentle, sharp, and polite, transformed, in fact, like one of them. And though, for this reason, his father has punished him on more than one occasion, by giving him a sound thrashing, such as brought him to the verge of death, he cannot however change. Whenever he was being beaten, and could no more endure the pain, he was wont to promptly break forth in promiscuous loud shouts, 'Girls! girls!' The young ladies, who heard him from the inner chambers, subsequently made fun of him. 'Why,' they said, 'when you are being thrashed, and you are in pain, your only thought is to bawl out girls! Is it perchance that you expect us young ladies to go and intercede for you? How is that you have no sense of shame?' To their taunts he gave a most plausible explanation. 'Once,' he replied, 'when in the agony of pain, I gave vent to shouting girls, in the hope, perchance, I did not then know, of its being able to alleviate the soreness. After I had, with this purpose, given one cry, I really felt the pain considerably better; and now that I have obtained this secret spell, I have recourse, at once, when I am in the height of anguish, to shouts of girls, one shout after another. Now what do you say to this? Isn't this absurd, eh?"
　　
　　"The grandmother is so infatuated by her extreme tenderness for this youth, that, time after time, she has, on her grandson's account, found fault with the tutor, and called her son to task, with the result that I resigned my post and took my leave. A youth, with a disposition such as his, cannot assuredly either perpetuate intact the estate of his father and grandfather, or follow the injunctions of teacher or advice of friends. The pity is, however, that there are, in that family, several excellent female cousins, the like of all of whom it would be difficult to discover."
　　
　　"Quite so!" remarked Tzu-hsing; "there are now three young ladies in the Chia family who are simply perfection itself. The eldest is a daughter of Mr. Cheng, Yuan Ch'un by name, who, on account of her excellence, filial piety, talents, and virtue, has been selected as a governess in the palace. The second is the daughter of Mr. She's handmaid, and is called Ying Ch'un; the third is T'an Ch'un, the child of Mr. Cheng's handmaid; while the fourth is the uterine sister of Mr. Chen of the Ning Mansion. Her name is Hsi Ch'un. As dowager lady Shih is so fondly attached to her granddaughters, they come, for the most part, over to their grandmother's place to prosecute their studies together, and each one of these girls is, I hear, without a fault."
　　
　　"More admirable," observed Yue-ts'un, "is the regime (adhered to) in the Chen family, where the names of the female children have all been selected from the list of male names, and are unlike all those out-of-the-way names, such as Spring Blossom, Scented Gem, and the like flowery terms in vogue in other families. But how is it that the Chia family have likewise fallen into this common practice?"
　　
　　"Not so!" ventured Tzu-h'sing. "It is simply because the eldest daughter was born on the first of the first moon, that the name of Yuan Ch'un was given to her; while with the rest this character Ch'un (spring) was then followed. The names of the senior generation are, in like manner, adopted from those of their brothers; and there is at present an instance in support of this. The wife of your present worthy master, Mr. Lin, is the uterine sister of Mr. Chia. She and Mr. Chia Cheng, and she went, while at home, under the name of Chia Min. Should you question the truth of what I say, you are at liberty, on your return, to make minute inquiries and you'll be convinced."
　　
　　Yue-ts'un clapped his hands and said smiling, "It's so, I know! for this female pupil of mine, whose name is Tai-yue, invariably pronounces the character _min_ as _mi_, whenever she comes across it in the course of her reading; while, in writing, when she comes to the character 'min,' she likewise reduces the strokes by one, sometimes by two. Often have I speculated in my mind (as to the cause), but the remarks I've heard you mention, convince me, without doubt, that it is no other reason (than that of reverence to her mother's name). Strange enough, this pupil of mine is unique in her speech and deportment, and in no way like any ordinary young lady. But considering that her mother was no commonplace woman herself, it is natural that she should have given birth to such a child. Besides, knowing, as I do now, that she is the granddaughter of the Jung family, it is no matter of surprise to me that she is what she is. Poor girl, her mother, after all, died in the course of the last month."
　　
　　Tzu-hsing heaved a sigh. "Of three elderly sisters," he explained, "this one was the youngest, and she too is gone! Of the sisters of the senior generation not one even survives! But now we'll see what the husbands of this younger generation will be like by and bye!"
　　
　　"Yes," replied Yue-ts'un. "But some while back you mentioned that Mr. Cheng has had a son, born with a piece of jade in his mouth, and that he has besides a tender-aged grandson left by his eldest son; but is it likely that this Mr. She has not, himself, as yet, had any male issue?"
　　
　　"After Mr. Cheng had this son with the jade," Tzu-hsing added, "his handmaid gave birth to another son, who whether he be good or bad, I don't at all know. At all events, he has by his side two sons and a grandson, but what these will grow up to be by and bye, I cannot tell. As regards Mr. Chia She, he too has had two sons; the second of whom, Chia Lien, is by this time about twenty. He took to wife a relative of his, a niece of Mr. Cheng's wife, a Miss Wang, and has now been married for the last two years. This Mr. Lien has lately obtained by purchase the rank of sub-prefect. He too takes little pleasure in books, but as far as worldly affairs go, he is so versatile and glib of tongue, that he has recently taken up his quarters with his uncle Mr. Cheng, to whom he gives a helping hand in the management of domestic matters. Who would have thought it, however, ever since his marriage with his worthy wife, not a single person, whether high or low, has there been who has not looked up to her with regard: with the result that Mr. Lien himself has, in fact, had to take a back seat (_lit_. withdrew 35 li). In looks, she is also so extremely beautiful, in speech so extremely quick and fluent, in ingenuity so deep and astute, that even a man could, in no way, come up to her mark."
　　
　　After hearing these remarks Yue-ts'un smiled. "You now perceive," he said, "that my argument is no fallacy, and that the several persons about whom you and I have just been talking are, we may presume, human beings, who, one and all, have been generated by the spirit of right, and the spirit of evil, and come to life by the same royal road; but of course there's no saying."
　　
　　"Enough," cried Tzu-hsing, "of right and enough of evil; we've been doing nothing but settling other people's accounts; come now, have another glass, and you'll be the better for it!"
　　
　　"While bent upon talking," Yue-ts'un explained, "I've had more glasses than is good for me."
　　
　　"Speaking of irrelevant matters about other people," Tzu-hsing rejoined complacently, "is quite the thing to help us swallow our wine; so come now; what harm will happen, if we do have a few glasses more."
　　
　　Yue-ts'un thereupon looked out of the window.
　　
　　"The day is also far advanced," he remarked, "and if we don't take care, the gates will be closing; let us leisurely enter the city, and as we go along, there will be nothing to prevent us from continuing our chat."
　　
　　Forthwith the two friends rose from their seats, settled and paid their wine bill, and were just going, when they unexpectedly heard some one from behind say with a loud voice:
　　
　　"Accept my congratulations, Brother Yue-ts'un; I've now come, with the express purpose of giving you the welcome news!"
　　
　　Yue-ts'un lost no time in turning his head round to look at the speaker. But reader, if you wish to learn who the man was, listen to the details given in the following chapter.