The unfortunate heretics would have been only too thankful to prolong the Emperor’s life indefinitely in consideration of securing peace for their own, but they could only inform the Bonze of the general tradition of their sect.  This was that the knowledge of Lao-tsze’s secret was confined to certain adepts, most of whom were plunged into so deep a trance that any communication with them was impossible.  For the administration of the miraculous draught, it appeared, was attended with this inconvenience, that it threw the partaker into a deep sleep, lasting any time between ten years and eternity, according to the depth of his potation.  During its continuance the ordinary operations of nature were suspended, and the patient awoke with precisely the same bodily constitution, old or young, as he had possessed on falling into his lethargy; and though still liable to wounds and accidents, he or she continued to enjoy undiminished health and vigour for a period equal to the duration of the trance, after which he sank back into the ranks of mortality, unless he could repeat the potion.  All the adepts who had come to life under his present Majesty’s most clement reign had immediately emigrated:  the only persons, therefore, capable of giving information were now buried in slumber, and of course would only speak when they should awake.  They were mostly concealed in the recesses of caverns, those inhabited by wild beasts being usually preferred for the sake of better security, as no tiger or bear would harm a follower of Lao-tsze.  The witnesses, therefore, advised the Bonze to ascertain the residences of the most ferocious tigers in his diocese, and to wait upon them personally, in the hope of thus discovering what he sought.

This suggestion was exceedingly unpalatable to the Bonze, who felt almost equally unwilling to venture himself into a wild beast’s den or to give any other person the chance of making the discovery.  While he hesitated in unspeakable perplexity he was informed that an old man, about to expire at the age of an hundred and twenty years, desired to have speech with him.  Thinking so venerable a personage likely to have at least a glimmering of the great secret, the Bonze hurried to his bedside.

“Our master, Lao-tsze,” began the old man, “forbids us to leave this world with anything undisclosed which may contribute to the advantage of our fellow-creatures.  Whether he deemed the knowledge of the cup of immortality conducive to this end I cannot say, but the question doth not arise, for I do not possess it.  Hear my tale, nevertheless.  Ninety years ago, being a hunter, it was my hap to fall into the jaws of an enormous tiger, who bore me off to his cavern.  I there found myself in the presence of two ladies, one youthful and of surpassing loveliness, the other haggard and wrinkled.  The younger lady expostulated with the tiger, and he forthwith released me.  My gratitude won the women’s confidence, and I learned that they were disciples