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the landscape of an autumnal evening is thus depicted：
In the interior of the Chiang Yuen house are hushed all clamorous din and noise. The sheen， which from Selene flows， pervades the windows of carnation gauze. The moss-locked， streaked rocks shelter afford to the cranes， plunged in sleep. The dew， blown on the t'ung tree by the well， doth wet the roosting rooks. Wrapped in a quilt， the maid comes the gold phoenix coverlet to spread. The girl， who on the rails did lean， on her return drops the kingfisher flowers！ This quiet night his eyes in sleep he cannot close， as he doth long for wine. The smoke is stifled， and the fire restirred， when tea is ordered to be brewed.
the picture of a winter night is in this strain：
the sleep of the plum trees， the dream of the bamboos the third watch have already reached. Under the embroidered quilt and the kingfisher coverlet one can't sleep for the cold. The shadow of fir trees pervades the court， but cranes are all that meet the eye. Both far and wide the pear blossom covers the ground， but yet the hawk cannot be heard. The wish， verses to write， fostered by the damsel with the GREen sleeves， has waxed cold. The master， with the gold sable pelisse， cannot endure much wine. But yet he doth rejoice that his attendant knows the way to brew the tea. The newly-fallen snow is swept what time for tea the water must be boiled.
But putting aside Pao-yue， as he leisurely was occupied in scanning some verses， we will now allude to all these ballads. There lived， at that time， a class of people， whose wont was to servilely court the influential and wealthy， and who， upon perceiving that the verses were composed by a young lad of the Jung Kuo mansion， of only twelve or thirteen years of age， had copies made， and taking them outside sang their praise far and wide. There were besides another sort of light-headed young men， whose heart was so set upon licentious and seductive lines， that they even inscribed them on fans and screen-walls， and time and again kept on humming them and extolling them. And to the above reasons must therefore be ascribed the fact that persons came in search of stanzas and in quest of manuscripts， to apply for sketches and to beg for poetical compositions， to the increasing satisfaction of Pao-yue， who day after day， when at home， devoted his time and attention to these extraneous matters. But who would have anticipated that he could ever in his quiet seclusion have become a prey to a spirit of restlessness？ Of a sudden， one day he began to feel discontent， finding fault with this and turning up his nose at that； and going in and coming out he was simply full of ennui. And as all the girls in the garden were just in the prime of youth， and at a time of life when， artless and unaffected， they sat and reclined without regard to retirement， and disported themselves and joked without heed， how could they ever have come to read the secrets which at this time occupied a place in the heart of Pao-yue？ But so unhappy was Pao-yue within himself that he soon felt loth to stay in the garden， and took to gadding about outside like an evil spirit； but he behaved also the while in an idiotic manner.
Ming Yen， upon seeing him go on in this way， felt prompted， with the idea of affording his mind some distraction， to think of this and to devise that expedient； but everything had been indulged in with surfeit by Pao-yue， and there was only this resource， （that suggested itself to him，） of which Pao-yue had not as yet had any experience. Bringing his reflections to a close， he forthwith came over to a bookshop， and selecting novels， both of old and of the present age， traditions intended for outside circulation on Fei Yen， Ho Te， Wu Tse-t'ien， and Yang Kuei-fei， as well as books of light literature consisting of strange legends， he purchased a good number of them with the express purpose of enticing Pao-yue to read them. As soon as Pao-yue caught sight of them， he felt as if he had obtained some gem or jewel. "But you mustn't，" Ming Yen went on to enjoin him， "take them into the garden； for if any one were to come to know anything about them， I shall then suffer more than I can bear； and you should， when you go along， hide them in your clothes！"
But would Pao-yue aGREe to not introducing them into the garden？ So after much wavering， he picked out only several volumes of those whose style was more refined， and took them in， and threw them over the top of his bed for him to peruse when no one was present； while those coarse and very indecent ones， he concealed in a bundle in the outer library.
On one day， which happened to be the middle decade of the third moon， Pao-yue， after breakfast， took a book， the "Hui Chen Chi，" in his hand and walked as far as the bridge of the Hsin Fang lock. Seating himself on a block of rock， that lay under the peach trees in that quarter， he opened the Hui Chen Chi and began to read it carefully from the beginning. But just as he came to the passage： "the falling red （flowers） have formed a heap，" he felt a gust of wind blow through the trees， bringing down a whole bushel of peach blossoms； and， as they fell， his whole person， the entire surface of the book as well as a large extent of ground were simply bestrewn with petals of the blossoms. Pao-yue was bent upon shaking them down； but as he feared lest they should be trodden under foot， he felt constrained to carry the petals in his coat and walk to the bank of the pond and throw them into the stream. The petals floated on the surface of the water， and， after whirling and swaying here and there， they at length ran out by the Hsin Fang lock. But， on his return under the tree， he found the ground again one mass of petals， and Pao-yue was just hesitating what to do， when he heard some one behind his back inquire， "What are you up to here？" and as soon as Pao-yue turned his head round， he discovered that it was Lin Tai-yue， who had come over carrying on her shoulder a hoe for raking flowers， that on this hoe was suspended a gauze-bag， and that in her hand she held a broom.
"That's right， well done！" Pao-yue remarked smiling； "come and sweep these flowers， and throw them into the water yonder. I've just thrown a lot in there myself！"
