"Nearly six hundred years after the introduction of Buddhism into China, a priest of the sect was sent to India to collect and translate into the Chinese language the sacred books of Budd. On his return with the volumes, he brought also a model of a pagoda; in commemoration of which, and also as a receptacle for the sacred books, the Emperor erected a pagoda." If this legend is true, and it certainly is more probable than any of the others, it is curious, as during the reign of this same Emperor, in the year 636, a Christian teacher first came from India to China, and was not only encouraged by the Emperor, but was authorised by a royal decree to preach Christianity among the people.
Another legend states that in the year 256 a foreign priest of the Buddhist religion appeared at the capital, and performed many strange and supernatural feats, which, reaching the ears of the Emperor, caused him to send for the priest, of whom he inquired if Buddha could communicate any divine emblems. The priest replied, that Buddha had left some traces of himself on earth, particularly bone relics, which possessed miraculous powers. The Emperor, scarcely believing the story, told the priest that if any such bone could be found, he would erect a great pagoda. To this the story goes on to say, that the priest, twenty-one days after, brought one of the god's bones in a bottle, and presented it to his majesty, and that when taken into the palace, it lighted up the whole building. Then comes the most astonishing portion of the legend. In his haste to inspect this wonderful bone, the Emperor turned it out of the bottle, into a large copper vessel, when the bone, probably a leg bone, of its own accord kicked the massive basin with such violence that it became shivered into a thousand pieces. This, you would imagine, was in all conscience sufficiently prodigious to weaken his majesty's nerves. The priest, however insisted upon exhibiting another wonder, telling the emperor that so matchless were the qualities of this bone, that diamond or steel could not scratch it, fire could not scorch it, nor the heaviest hammer smash it; indeed, to injure this precious bone in any way would be to perform one of the labors of Hercules. This, however, was too much for the belief of the Emperor, and so he ordered his stoutest blacksmith to take his heaviest hammer and make the attempt; the priest, however got the best of it, for no sooner did the hammer touch the bone than it crumbled into atoms, when, probably, in delight at its success, this clever bone shone with such effulgence that it weakened the eyes of all beholders. After this the monarch wanted no more proof of the godship of Buddha, kept his promise, and built the first pagoda in China.
Most of these legends have a close connection with Buddhism and its priests; it is, therefore, most probable that these pagodas have, from their introduction into China in the middle of the first century of the Christian era, been used in connection with the bonzes. This opinion is entertained by the learned Chinese scholar, the Rev. Mr. Milne, who says, "Among the Chinese themselves it is a common saying. In pagodas they save and preserve the family of Buddha. Usually priests of this order are in charge of the pagoda, and sit at the doors of the most famous and frequented, to receive gratuities from visitors. Pagodas are situated generally on Buddhists' lands, and there are in their vicinity, or around their base, temples or monasteries for Buddhist priests. Within those pagodas that are at all in a state of preservation, Buddhist idols, relics, pictures, and books are deposited. The histories of these buildings throughout the empire, at least the earliest of them, are crammed with Buddhist tales and fictions." So interesting are these extraordinary monuments of antiquity, as being the probable and supposed depositories of Buddhist writings and Indian documents, which, should they ever be brought to light will not only throw a light upon the early intercourse between China and Hindostan, but elucidate the mystery which now hangs over the history of the religion of ancient India, a matter of importance to every intelligent being, that at the risk of being tedious, I could not forbear having a little gossip with my young reader on the subject. But now to return to our young heroes.
CHAPTER XIV.
A DANGEROUS DESCENT.
When Nicholas opened his eyes, he found Chow awake and on the look-out at the aperture by which he had entered the previous evening. He called to him, but the boy's whole attention was evidently too much engaged for him to reply. Surely, thought Nicholas, the enemy must be in close pursuit, and in an instant, he was upon his legs and by the side of Chow, who exclaimed, "The rascals have discovered our retreat, and we are lost after all!"
"Surely thy fears deceive thy eyeballs," said Nicholas; but, looking for himself, he saw coming through the tombs in the direction of the pagoda, not only the soldier and the treacherous boatman, but the captain of the junk.
"The rogues will arouse the bonzes at the monastery," said Chow.
"Truly the rats are not so senseless. They know we are unarmed, and hope to take us without letting the bonzes share the reward; but let us ascend, it is our only chance," said Nicholas, leading the way up a steep staircase to the next story; but, hearing voices beneath, he added, "Let us clamber to the top and lie quiet, when they may perhaps give up the search." So they ascended the next staircase, but when they came to the third story they were vexed to find the stairs fallen so completely to ruin that they could proceed no higher. Fortune, however, favored them, for looking around they saw a ladder, which had probably been left by the bonze, whose business it was to exhibit the ancient ruin for the convenience of visitors. To ascend was the work of a minute, but before they had reached the uppermost round of the ladder they heard their pursuers enter the lower apartment, when, quickening their movements, they soon reached the seventh story. Now, as like a pyramid, the building diminished in bulk as it increased in height, the top was so small that they could but just pass through the small aperture into the little room, which, fortunately, was in such a dilapidated state, that the roof near the central pole or spire, which ran up the interior from the base to the apex, and was surmounted by a kind of large button, was nearly off.