in which the adventures narrated in the story are supposed to have occurred; and from this narrative of a dream, recalling more than one of the incidents recounted in the Arabian Nights, the Chinese have borrowed a metaphor to enrich the vocabulary of their literature.  The equivalent of our own phrase “the baseless fabric of a vision” is in Chinese nan k’o chih meng—­a dream of the south branch.

Ch’un-yue Fen enters the Locust-tree

Ch’un-yue Fen, a native of Tung-p’ing, was by nature a gallant who had little regard for the proprieties of life, and whose principal enjoyment was found in indulgence in wine-bibbing in the society of boon-companions.  At one time he held a commission in the army, but this he lost through his dissipated conduct, and from that time he more than ever gave himself up to the pleasures of the wine-cup.

One day—­it was in the ninth moon of the seventh year of Cheng Yuean (A.D. 791)—­after drinking heavily with a party of friends under a wide-spreading old locust-tree near his house, he had to be carried to bed and there left to recover, his friends saying that they would leave him while they went to bathe their feet.  The moment he laid down his head he fell into a deep slumber.  In his dream appeared to him two men clothed in purple, who kneeling down informed him that they had been sent by their master the King of Huai-an (’Locust-tree Peace’) to request his presence.  Unconsciously he rose, and, arranging his dress, followed his visitors to the door, where he saw a varnished chariot drawn by a white horse.  On each side were ranged seven attendants, by whom he was assisted to mount, whereupon the carriage drove off, and, going out of the garden gate, passed through a hole in the trunk of the locust-tree already spoken of.  Filled with astonishment, but too much afraid to speak, Ch’un-yue noticed that he was passing by hills and rivers, trees and roads, but of quite a different kind from those he was accustomed to.  A few miles brought them to the walls of a city, the approach to which was lined with men and vehicles, who fell back at once the moment the order was given.  Over the gate of the city was a pavilion on which was written in gold letters “The Capital of Huai-an.”  As he passed through, the guard turned out, and a mounted officer, shouting that the husband of the King’s daughter had arrived, showed him the way into a hall where he was to rest awhile.  The room contained fruits and flowers of every description, and on the tables was laid out a profuse display of refreshments.

While Ch’un-yue still remained lost in astonishment, a cry was raised that the Prime Minister was coming.  Ch’un-yue got up to meet him, and the two received each other with every demonstration of politeness.

He marries the King’s Daughter