es, and
expressed his gratitude in fitting words. Then the other members of the
family, and the folk assembled in the adjoining room, having been told
of the priest's kind promises, came to thank him,--after which the
master of the house said:--

"Now, reverend Sir, much as we regret to leave you alone, we must bid
you farewell. By the rule of our village, none of us can stay here
after midnight. We beg, kind Sir, that you will take every care of your
honorable body, while we are unable to attend upon you. And if you
happen to hear or see anything strange during our absence, please tell
us of the matter when we return in the morning."

All then left the house, except the priest, who went to the room where
the dead body was lying. The usual offerings had been set before the
corpse; and a small Buddhist lamp--tomyo--was burning. The priest
recited the service, and performed the funeral ceremonies,--after which
he entered into meditation. So meditating he remained through several
silent hours; and there was no sound in the deserted village. But, when
the hush of the night was at its deepest, there noiselessly entered a
Shape, vague and vast; and in the same moment Muso found himself
without power to move or speak. He saw that Shape lift the corpse, as
with hands, devour it, more quickly than a cat devours a
rat,--beginning at the head, and eating everything: the hair and the
bones and even the shroud. And the monstrous Thing, having thus
consumed the body, turned to the offerings, and ate them also. Then it
went away, as mysteriously as it had come.

When the villagers returned next morning, they found the priest
awaiting them at the door of the headman's dwelling. All in turn
saluted him; and when they had entered, and looked about the room, no
one expressed any surprise at the disappearance of the dead body and
the offerings. But the master of the house said to Muso:--

"Reverent Sir, you have probably seen unpleasant things during the
night: all of us were anxious about you. But now we are very happy to
find you alive and unharmed. Gladly we would have stayed with you, if
it had been possible. But the law of our village, as I told you last
evening, obliges us to quit our houses after a death has taken place,
and to leave the corpse alone. Whenever this law has been broken,
heretofore, some great misfortune has followed. Whenever it is obeyed,
we find that the corpse and the offerings disappear during our absence