tended his cows on the borders of the Heavenly
Stream. The Sun-King proposed to bestow his daughter on Kingen,
thinking in this way to provide for her happiness and at the same time
keep her near him. Every star beamed approval, and there was joy in
the heavens.

The love that bound Shokujo and Kingen to one another was a great
love. With its awakening, Shokujo forsook her former occupations, nor
did she any longer labor industriously at the loom, but laughed, and
danced, and sang, and made merry from morn till night. The Sun-King
was sorely grieved, for he had not foreseen so great a change. Anger
was in his eyes, and he said, "Kingen is surely the cause of this,
therefore I will banish him to the other side of the River of Stars."

When Shokujo and Kingen heard that they were to be parted, and could
thenceforth, in accordance with the King's decree, meet but once a
year, and that upon the seventh night of the seventh month, their
hearts were heavy. The leave-taking between them was a sad one,
and great tears stood in Shokujo's eyes as she bade farewell to her
lover-husband. In answer to the behest of the Sun-King, myriads of
magpies flocked together, and, outspreading their wings, formed a
bridge on which Kingen crossed the River of Heaven. The moment that
his foot touched the opposite bank, the birds dispersed with noisy
chatter, leaving poor Kingen a solitary exile. He looked wistfully
towards the weeping figure of Shokujo, who stood on the threshold of
her now desolate home.

Long and weary were the succeeding days, spent as they were by Kingen
in guiding his oxen and by Shokujo in plying her shuttle. The Sun-King
was gladdened by his daughter's industry. When night fell and the
heavens were bright with countless lights, the lovers were wont,
standing on the banks of the celestial stream, to waft across it sweet
and tender messages, while each uttered a prayer for the speedy coming
of the wondrous night.

The long-hoped-for month and day drew nigh, and the hearts of the
lovers were troubled lest rain should fall; for the Silver River, full
at all times, is at that season often in flood, and the bird-bridge
might be swept away.

The day broke cloudlessly bright. It waxed and waned, and one by one
the lamps of heaven were lighted. At nightfall the magpies assembled,
and Shokujo, quivering with delight, crossed the slender bridge and
fell into the arms of her lover. Their transport of joy was as the joy
of the