"With great respect I beg to invite you to-morrow at noon to the still clear waters of immeasurable depth, to enjoy the delights of poetry and the wine-cup. As our galley shall glide through the crystal waves of the lake, we will watch the floating leaves strike her gentle sides; and when we have exhausted our songs, and drained the cup of our delights, we will turn our prow towards the shore."
This invitation was one of those smiles of fortune which had a strangely exhilarating effect on Ts'èng's variable temperament, and he hurried off to his study in the highest spirits to accept it.
"Reverently," he wrote, "I return answer to your jade-like epistle. What can surpass the calm beauty of the lake by moon-light or the tragic aspect of its waves in storm and rain? Your honour having deigned to command my presence on your stately boat, I, as in duty bound, will seize whip to follow you. My paltry literary attainments you will, I fear, find infinitely deficient; and I am much afraid that I shall weary you with my efforts to express in verse my admiration for the mountains and lake."
The day of the magistrate's picnic opened bright and fine, and with commendable punctuality Ts'èng and his fellow-guests assembled at the landing-place, to which usually dreary spot their silk and satin robes and highly coloured skull-caps gave an unwonted air of gaiety. The last to arrive was the host, who, on dismounting from his sedan, bowed collectively and repeatedly to his friends, lifting his joined hands to his forehead as if in supplication, and then bending low in an attitude of humble adoration. His twelve guests returned his salutation with supple knees and effusive tokens of respect. These ceremonies accomplished, the whole party embarked on the barge. The vessel was one of the best of its kind, but was "a bark to brook no mighty sea." The two masts were innocent of sails, and were burdened only with flags, setting forth in large character the rank and titles of the magistrate. The forepart was decked over, and formed the abode night and day of the crew. Abaft this forecastle was an open space, extending to midships, where arose a large and luxuriously furnished deck-house. The window-frames were prettily painted and adorned with wood-carving, while at the portal were suspended painted-glass lanterns, from which hung fringes and tassels. Inside, chairs, tables, and a divan afforded abundant accommodation; and round the room were ranged stands on which stood rare and curiously trained plants in costly porcelain pots.
At the word K'aich'uen ("unmoor the ship"), given by the magistrate, the crew, with the help of a crowd of idlers on the wharf, launched the vessel into the deep. The island to which they were bound was about a mile from the shore, and thitherwards the crew, with that happy absence of all signs of hurry which belongs to orientals, to whom telegraphs and railways are unknown, impelled the craft by slow and deliberate strokes of their long sweeping oars. On landing, the magistrate led the way to a Buddhist temple which stood on a platform of rocks overlooking the lake. No more appropriate spot could possibly have been chosen for the occasion. The view over the still waters of the lake, dotted here and there with verdure-clad islets of every shape, was indescribably
