Princess").  Some of these names are difficult to explain,—­especially the last, which reminds us of the Greek legend of Arachne.  Probably the Greek myth and the Chinese story have nothing whatever in common; but in old Chinese books there is recorded a curious fact which might well suggest a relationship.  In the time of the Chinese Emperor Ming Hwang (whom the Japanese call Gens[=o]), it was customary for the ladies of the court, on the seventh day of the seventh month, to catch spiders and put them into an incense-box for purposes of divination.  On the morning of the eighth day the box was opened; and if the spiders had spun thick webs during the night the omen was good.  But if they had remained idle the omen was bad.

[Footnote 1:  Asagao (lit., “morning-face”) is the Japanese name for the beautiful climbing plant which we call “morning glory.”]

* * * * *

There is a story that, many ages ago, a beautiful woman visited the dwelling of a farmer in the mountains of Izumo, and taught to the only daughter of the household an art of weaving never before known.  One evening the beautiful stranger vanished away; and the people knew that they had seen the Weaving-Lady of Heaven.  The daughter of the farmer became renowned for her skill in weaving.  But she would never marry,—­because she had been the companion of Tanabata-Sama.

* * * * *

Then there is a Chinese story—­delightfully vague—­about a man who once made a visit, unawares, to the Heavenly Land.  He had observed that every year, during the eighth month, a raft of precious wood came floating to the shore on which he lived; and he wanted to know where that wood grew.  So he loaded a boat with provisions for a two years’ voyage, and sailed away in the direction from which the rafts used to drift.  For months and months he sailed on, over an always placid sea; and at last he arrived at a pleasant shore, where wonderful trees were growing.  He moored his boat, and proceeded alone into the unknown land, until he came to the bank of a river whose waters were bright as silver.  On the opposite shore he saw a pavilion; and in the pavilion a beautiful woman sat weaving; she was white like moonshine, and made a radiance all about her.  Presently he saw a handsome young peasant approaching, leading an ox to the water; and he asked the young peasant to tell him the name of the place and the country.  But the youth seemed to be displeased by the question, and answered in a severe tone:  “If you want to know the name of this place, go back to where you came from, and ask Gen-Kum-Pei."[2] So the voyager, feeling afraid, hastened to his boat, and returned to China.  There he sought out the sage Gen-Kum-Pei, to whom he related the adventure.  Gen-Kum-Pei clapped his hands for wonder, and exclaimed, “So it was you!...  On the seventh day of the seventh month I was gazing at the heavens, and I saw that the Herdsman and the Weaver were about to meet;—­but between them was a new Star, which I took to be a Guest-Star.  Fortunate man! you have been to the River of Heaven, and have looked upon the face of the Weaving-Lady!...”