Darkness now settled down on the forest, and although the road was rough and thorny Savitri stumbled on and on, following the sound of Yama’s footsteps although she could no longer see him.  Finally he turned into a gloomy cavern, but she plodded on, until she so excited his compassion that he promised her one more boon, again stipulating it should not be the soul he held in his hand.  When Savitri begged for children,—­sons of Satyavan,—­Yama smiled and granted her prayer, thinking he would now surely be rid of her at last.  But Savitri followed him on into the depths of the cavern, although owls and bats made the place hideous with their cries.  Hearing her footsteps still behind him, Yama tried to frighten her away, but she, grasping the hand which held her husband’s soul, laid her tear-wet cheek against it, thereby so touching the god’s heart that he exclaimed, “Ask anything thou wilt and it shall be thine.”

Noticing this time that he made no reservation, Savitri joyfully exclaimed she wished neither wealth nor power, but only her beloved spouse!  Conquered by such devotion, Death relinquished into her keeping Satyavan’s soul, and promised they should live happy together and have many sons.

After securing this inestimable boon, Savitri hastened out of the cave and back into the woods, where she found the lifeless corpse of her husband just where she had left it, and proceeded to woo it back to life.  Before long warmth and consciousness returned to Satyavan, who went home with Savitri, with whom he lived happy ever after, for all the boons Yama had promised were duly granted.

  “Adieu, great God!” She took the soul,
  No bigger than the human thumb,
  And running swift, soon reached her goal,
  Where lay the body stark and dumb. 
  She lifted it with eager hands
  And as before, when he expired,
  She placed the head upon the bands
  That bound her breast, which hope new fired,
  And which alternate rose and fell;
  Then placed his soul upon his heart,
  Whence like a bee it found its cell,
  And lo, he woke with sudden start! 
  His breath came low at first, then deep,
  With an unquiet look he gazed,
  As one awakening from a sleep,
  Wholly bewildered and amazed.

  —­Miss Toru Dutt.

CHINESE AND JAPANESE POETRY

WHITE ASTER

Epics as they are understood in Europe do not exist in either China or Japan, although orientals claim that name for poems which we would term idyls.

A romantic tale, which passes as an epic in both countries, was written in Chinese verse by Professor Inouye, and has been rendered in classical Japanese by Naobumi Ochiai.  It is entitled “The Lay of the Pious Maiden Shirakiku,” which is The White Aster.