"'You have been here a long time, ought you not to go home?'
"This aroused him from his reverie, and he seemed to awake as from a dream, his interest in the game passed away, and he attempted to pick up his axe, but found that it was covered with rust and the handle had moulded away. But while this called his attention to the fact that time had passed, he felt not the burden of years.
"When he returned to the plain, and to what had formerly been his home, he discovered that not only years but centuries had passed away since he had left for the mountains, and that his relatives and friends had all crossed to the 'Yellow Springs,' while all records of his departure had long since been forgotten, and he alone remained a relic of the past.
"He wandered up and down inquiring of the oldest people of all the villages, but could discover no link which bound him to the present.
"He returned to the mountain grotto, devoted himself to the study of the occult principles of the 'Old Philosopher' until the material elements of his mortal frame were gradually evaporated or sublimated, and without having passed through the change which men call death, he became an immortal spirit returning whence he came."
Just as the old woman finished this story, my teacher, who always took a nap after lunch, ascended the steps.
"Ah, the story of Wang Chih."
"Do you know any of these stories?" I asked him as I sat down beside him.
"All children learn these stories in their youth," he answered, and then as if fearing I would try to induce him to tell them to me he continued, "but nurses always tell these stories better than any one else, because they tell them so often to the children, for whom alone they were made."