Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio, Vol. 1

AUTHOR’S OWN RECORD.

“Clad in wistaria, girdled with ivy;” Said of the mountain spirits, in allusion to their clothes. Here quoted with reference to the official classes, in ridicule of the title under which they hold posts they are totally unfit to occupy. thus sang San-lü A celebrated statesman (314 B.C.) who, having lost his master’s favor through the intrigues of a rival, finally drowned himself in despair. The Annual Dragon Festival is said by some to be a “search” for his body. in his Dissipation of Grief. A poem addressed by San-Lü to his Prince after his disgrace. Its lack of success was the immediate cause of his death. Of ox-headed devils and serpent gods, That is, the supernatural generally. he of the long-nails A poet of the T‘ang Dynasty whose eyebrows met, whose nails were very long, and who could write very fast. never wearied to tell. Each interprets in his own way the music of heaven; “You know the music of earth,” said the Taoist sage, Chuang-tzŭ; “but you have not heard the music of heaven.” and whether it be discord or not depends upon antecedent causes. That is, the influence surviving from a previous existence. As for me, I cannot, with my poor autumn fire-fly’s light, match myself against the hobgoblins of the age. This is another jab at the ruling classes. Chi K‘ang, a celebrated musician and alchemist (A.D. 223–262), was sitting one night alone, playing his lute, when suddenly a man with a tiny face walked in and began to stare hard at him, the stranger’s face enlarging all the time. “I’m not going to match myself against a devil!” cried the musician, after a few moments, and instantly blew out the light. I am but the dust in the sun-