“It is Tung Fel!” cried many who stood there watching his approach, in tones which showed those who spoke to be inspired by a variety of impressive emotions.  “Undoubtedly this is the seventh day of the month of Winged Dragons, and, as he specifically stated would be the case, lo! he has come.”

Few were the words of greeting which Tung Fel accorded even to the most venerable of those who awaited him.

“This person has slept, partaken of fruit and herbs, and devoted an allotted time to inward contemplation,” he said briefly.  “Other and more weighty matters than the exchange of dignified compliments and the admiration of each other’s profiles remain to be accomplished.  What, for example, is the significance of the written parchment which is displayed in so obtrusive a manner before our eyes?  Bring it to this person without delay.”

At these words all those present followed Tung Fel’s gaze with astonishment, for conspicuously displayed upon the wall of the Temple was a written notice which all joined in asserting had not been there the moment before, though no man had approached the spot.  Nevertheless it was quickly brought to Tung Fel, who took it without any fear or hesitation and read aloud the words which it contained.

“To the custom-respecting persons of Ching-fow.

“Truly the span of existence of any upon this earth is brief and not to be considered; therefore, O unfortunate dwellers of Ching-fow, let it not affect your digestion that your bodies are in peril of sudden and most excruciating tortures and your Family Temples in danger of humiliating disregard.

“Why do your thoughts follow the actions of the noble Mandarin
Ping Siang so insidiously, and why after each unjust exaction do
your eyes look redly towards the Yamen?

“Is he not the little finger of those at Peking, obeying their commands and only carrying out the taxation which others have devised?  Indeed, he himself has stated such to be the fact.  If, therefore, a terrible and unforeseen fate overtook the usually cautious and well-armed Ping Siang, doubtless—­perhaps after the lapse of some considerable time—­another would be sent from Peking for a like purpose, and in this way, after a too-brief period of heaven-sent rest and prosperity, affairs would regulate themselves into almost as unendurable a condition as before.

“Therefore ponder these things well, O passer-by.  Yesterday the only man-child of Huang the wood-carver was taken away to be sold into slavery by the emissaries of the most just Ping Siang (who would not have acted thus, we are assured, were it not for the insatiable ones at Peking), as it had become plain that the very necessitous Huang had no other possession to contribute to the amount to be expended in coloured lights as a mark of public rejoicing on the occasion of the moonday