disturbing so great a man at his studies, but she was the bearer of
a message from the abbot. He read it carefully, then took down a
monstrous book entitled "The Golden Mirror of Medical Practice," and
solemnly pored over its pages. At last he wrote upon a paper, then
chanted:

"In a building tall, by the city wall, In the street of the Tower of Gold, Is
the plant of health, long life and wealth, In the claws of the Dragon
bold."

The August One took the paper, laid some silver upon the table, and
we hurried from his doorway, glad to be free from his fearful presence.
When we entered the chairs and looked to the paper for directions to
give the bearers, the characters were meaningless to us. I repeated
his chant, and the head bearer said, "There is a shop of drugs in the
street of the Tower of Gold, and the sign of the place is a Golden
Dragon's Claw."

We soon were there, and waited in our chairs while the bearer took
the paper into the maker of medicines. We waited long, and thine
Honourable Mother would have been impatient if sleep had not kindly
made her forget the waiting hours. I, sitting in my chair, could look
through the archways into the big covered courtyards where blind men
were grinding herbs. They were harnessed to great stones, and went
round and round all day, like buffalo at the water-wheel. I wondered
why the Gods had put them at this service. What sins they had
committed in their other life, to be compelled to work like beasts,
grinding the herbs that would bring health and life to others, while they
lived on in darkness. Often I would hear the soft call of the deer as
they moved restlessly in their tiny cells. I know their horns, when
powdered fine with beetles' wings, is the cure for fevers and all
ailments of the blood, but why could not the wise ones of the earth
have found some herb or weed to take their place and give these wild
ones of the woods their freedom? Finally, the bearer came with a tiny
jar, too small, it seemed, to take such time in mixing, and we
returned to the waiting Li-ti.

The medicine was black and nasty and smelled not sweetly, which
proved its strength. Chih-peh got slowly better, and the world again
looked fair to Li-ti, and the song came to her lips. The flowers were
put in the hair, the gay dresses were brought out of their boxes, and
she was, as of old, our butterfly.

We laughed at her for her fright, but I thought, if it had been thou who
wast ill, and I did not