"Hearing this, Chuang exclaimed, 'Madam, give me the fan. I'll willingly help you as much as I can In drying the mold on your poor husband's grave.' She readily handed the fan up to Chuang (Who in magic was skilled--as he proved before long), For he muttered some words in a low under-tone, Flicked the fan, and the grave was as dry as a bone; 'There,' said he, 'the mold's dry on the top of the grave.' "Joy plainly was seen on the poor woman's face, As she hastily thanked him, ere quitting the place, For helping her dry up the mold on the grave. Chuang watched her go off with a cynical sigh, Thought he, 'Now suppose I myself were to die, How long would _my_ wife in her weeds mourn my fate? Would _she_, like this woman, have patience to wait _Till the mold was well dry on her poor husband's grave?_'" [Footnote 29: Small feet.] [Footnote 30: White is the color worn as mourning in China.] There is an amusing sequel to this poem, in which Chuang is exhibited putting his wife to the test. Being a magician, endowed with miraculous power, he pretends to die; and while his body is in its coffin awaiting burial, he assumes the form of a handsome young man, and pays to his mourning wife ardent court. "In short, they made love, and the next day were wed; She cheerfully changing her white clothes to red.[31] Excited by drink, they were going to bed, When Chuang clapped his hand to his brow-- He groaned. She exclaimed, 'What! are _you_ dying too? _One_ husband I've lost, and got married to you; Now _you_ are took bad. Oh, what shall I do? Can I help you? If so, tell me how.' "'Alas!' groaned the husband, 'I'm sadly afraid The disease that I have is beyond human aid. Oh! the sums upon sums I the doctors have paid! There a remedy is, to be sure: It is this: _take the brains from a living man's head_-- _If not to be had, get, and mash up instead Those of one who no more than three days has been dead._ 'Twill effect an infallible cure!'" [Footnote 31: Red is worn on joyful occasions, such as weddings, etc.] The distracted widow did not hesitate. There was the coffin of her lamented husband before her, and he had not yet been dead three days: "She grasped the chopper savagely, her brows she firmly knit, And battered at the coffin until the lid was split. But, oh! what mortal pen could paint her horror and her dread? _A voice within exclaimed, 'Hollo!' and Chuang popped up his head!_ "'Hollo!' again repeated he, as he sat bolt-upright: '_What made you smash my coffin in?--I see, besides, you're tight! You've dressed yourself in red, too!_ What means this mummery? Let me have the full particulars, and don't try on flummery.'