<h2><SPAN name="chapter-6"><abbr title="Six">VI.</abbr> <br/> THE BUDDHIST PRIEST OF CH'ANG-CH'ING.</SPAN></h2>
<p><span class="smallcaps">At</span> Ch'ang-ch'ing there lived a Buddhist priest of exceptional
virtue and purity of conduct, who, though
over eighty years of age, was still hale and hearty. One
day he fell down and could not move; and when the
other priests rushed to help him up, they found he was
already gone. The old priest was himself unconscious
of death, and his soul flew away to the borders of the
province of Honan. Now it chanced that the scion of
an old family residing in Honan, had gone out that very
day with some ten or a dozen followers to hunt the hare
with falcons; but his horse having run away with him
<span class="pagenum" title="23"><SPAN name="Page_23"></SPAN></span>
he fell off and was killed. Just at that moment the soul
of the priest came by and entered into the body, which
thereupon gradually recovered consciousness. The
servants crowded round to ask him how he felt, when
opening his eyes wide, he cried out, “How did I get
here?” They assisted him to rise, and led him into
the house, where all his ladies came to see him and
inquire how he did. In great amazement he said, “I
am a Buddhist priest. How came I hither?” His
servants thought he was wandering, and tried to recall
him by pulling his ears. As for himself, he could make
nothing of it, and closing his eyes refrained from saying
anything further. For food, he would only eat rice,
refusing all wine and meat; and avoided the society of
his wives. After some days he felt inclined for a stroll,
<span class="pagenum" title="24"><SPAN name="Page_24"></SPAN></span>
at which all his family were delighted; but no sooner
had he got outside and stopped for a little rest than he
was besieged by servants begging him to take their
accounts as usual. However, he pleaded illness and
want of strength, and no more was said. He then took
occasion to ask if they knew the district of Ch'ang-ch'ing,
and on being answered in the affirmative expressed
his intention of going thither for a trip, as he
felt dull and had nothing particular to do, bidding them
at the same time look after his affairs at home. They
tried to dissuade him from this on the ground of his
having but recently risen from a sick bed; but he paid
no heed to their remonstrances, and on the very next
day set out. Arriving in the Ch'ang-ch'ing district, he
found everything unchanged; and without being put to
the necessity of asking the road, made his way straight
to the monastery. His former disciples received him
with every token of respect as an honoured visitor; and
in reply to his question as to where the old priest was,
they informed him that their worthy teacher had been
dead for some time. On asking to be shewn his grave,
they led him to a spot where there was a solitary mound
some three feet high, over which the grass was not yet
green. Not one of them knew his motives for visiting
this place; and by-and-by he ordered his horse, saying
to the disciples, “Your master was a virtuous priest.
Carefully preserve whatever relics of him you may have,
and keep them from injury.” They all promised to do
this, and he then set off on his way home. When he
arrived there, he fell into a listless state and took no
<span class="pagenum" title="25"><SPAN name="Page_25"></SPAN></span>
interest in his family affairs. So much so, that after a
few months he ran away and went straight to his former
home at the monastery, telling the disciples that he was
their old master. This they refused to believe, and
laughed among themselves at his pretensions; but he
told them the whole story, and recalled many incidents
of his previous life among them, until at last they were
convinced. He then occupied his old bed and went
through the same daily routine as before, paying no attention
to the repeated entreaties of his family, who
came with carriages and horses to beg him to return.</p>
<p>About a year subsequently, his wife sent one of the
servants with splendid presents of gold and silk, all of
which he refused with the exception of a single linen
robe. And whenever any of his old friends passed this
monastery, they always went to pay him their respects,
finding him quiet, dignified, and pure. He was then
barely thirty, though he had been a priest for more than
eighty years.</p>
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