Alone, unarmed, in a strange country, at night, and pursued by enemies, the boys stood for a time to consider their next steps. Fortunately, at that moment the moon began to shine more brightly, and they saw at the distance of some few hundred yards the giant form of a pagoda rising from the summit of a hill, with its quaint polygon form, varnished green tiles, and gilded bells hanging from every point.
"Truly the gods have directed our footsteps to a resting-place till the morning," said Chow.
This was indeed a fortunate discovery, for, knowing that most of the pagodas were untenanted, they might hide there; and with lightened hearts they walked onward, till they came to a valley, or cemetery, filled with tombs, and through which they walked till they came to the base of a hill, at the top of which was the entrance to the pagoda. Having reached one of the gates, they found it locked, a difficulty that was soon surmounted by Chow, who cast his lantern toward one of the windows of the lower story, and, as he expected, found that, like the majority of these quaint structures, this one was in ruins; so, by means of the shoulder of Nicholas, he climbed through a window, and speedily opened the gate, when they found themselves in an apartment lined with black varnished tiles, nearly all of which were carved with gilded idols.
"Thank Heaven, we are safe from the rats," said Nicholas.
"And may sleep, O my master," said the fatigued Chow, laying himself at full length upon the floor, an example that was speedily followed by Nicholas, who, like Chow, notwithstanding the danger that surrounded them, fell into a sound sleep.
These singular, and frequently beautiful buildings, towering upward in various heights upon the rising grounds, like an unequally grown forest of quaint spires, form the chief characteristic in Chinese scenery. As if the builders believed luck to be found in odd numbers, they are either of seven, nine, or thirteen stories, and moreover, all shaped from the model of the famous Tower of Nankin, which, after an existence of nine hundred years, has so recently been wantonly destroyed by the iconoclastic insurgents, who are, at the present time, making every effort for the extermination of the Mantchou Tartars.
As for the origin of these structures, it is of so remote a date, that, even in four thousand years old China, there is as much difference of opinion as about the origin of the round towers of Ireland. Some of the learned writers assert that they were erected monumentally to great and good people, others that they were intended as watch-towers in time of war.
A very probable theory is that they are of Indian origin, having been introduced by the priests of Buddha, for the purpose of saving the holy relics, thumbs, fingers, toes, or any other portions of the body of the god that might from time to time be found, or rather palmed upon the superstitious people by the bonzes. By way of illustrating this theory, I will relate to you some of the popular legends. The first is really a wild-goose story.
The primitive Buddhists of India were not under such strict rules of diet as the sect afterward became; that is, not vegetarians, but at liberty to eat veal, venison, and goose flesh. Well, it happened that on a certain day, as a party of priests were seated in the open air, a brace of wild geese flew above them, which caused them to exclaim, "Our wish is that these fowls would do a benevolent act," when one of the birds immediately dropped down dead. Upon which remarkable event, the priests cried, "This goose brings down a prohibition to abstain from flesh; we must therefore consider its meritorious act." Whereupon they erected a building over the poor goose, which they called pagoda, which word, translated from the Indian word, tsang-po, into Chinese, is equivalent to wild goose.
Of this same pagoda, which still exists, another legend is given.