Without another word he retired, followed by his courtiers, proceeded at once to the palace, and went straight to the apartments of the Empress.  The next morning he and his Empress were found suspended from a tree on Prospect Hill.  “In their death they were not divided.”  The scenes that followed; how the rebels took possession of the city and were driven out again by the Chinese general, assisted by the Tartars; how the Tartars finally succeeded in establishing the Manchu dynasty, are all matters of history.  The words used by the Emperor at the temple were prophetic; he was the last of the Mings.  The tree on which the monarch of a mighty Empire closed his career and brought the Ming dynasty to an end was ordered to be surrounded with chains; it still exists, and is still in chains.  Upward of two hundred and seventy years have passed since that time, yet the temple is standing as of old; but the halls that at one time were crowded with worshippers are now silent, no one ever venturing to worship there; it is the resort of the fox and the bat, and people at night pass it shudderingly—­“It is the cursed temple!”

The Maniac’s Mite

An interesting story is told of a lady named Ch’en, who was a Buddhist nun celebrated for her virtue and austerity.  Between the years 1628 and 1643 she left her nunnery near Wei-hai city and set out on a long journey for the purpose of collecting subscriptions for casting a new image of the Buddha.  She wandered through Shantung and Chihli and finally reached Peking, and there—­subscription-book in hand—­she stationed herself at the great south gate in order to take toll from those who wished to lay up for themselves treasures in the Western Heaven.  The first passer-by who took any notice of her was an amiable maniac.  His dress was made of coloured shreds and patches, and his general appearance was wild and uncouth.  “Whither away, nun?” he asked.  She explained that she was collecting subscriptions for the casting of a great image of Buddha, and had come all the way from Shantung.  “Throughout my life,” remarked the madman, “I was ever a generous giver.”  So, taking the nun’s subscription-book, he headed a page with his own name (in very large characters) and the amount subscribed.  The amount in question was two cash, equivalent to a small fraction of a farthing.  He then handed over the two small coins and went on his way.

In course of time the nun returned to Wei-hai-wei with her subscriptions, and the work of casting the image was duly begun.  When the time had come for the process of smelting, it was observed that the copper remained hard and intractable.  Again and again the furnace was fed with fuel, but the shapeless mass of metal remained firm as a rock.  The head workman, who was a man of wide experience, volunteered an explanation of the mystery.  “An offering of great value must be missing,” he said.  “Let the collection-book be examined so that