"Enough," shouted his companions, "that will do, that will do!"

"Do you want to hear it or not?" asked Hsueeh P'an, "this is a new kind
of song, called the 'Heng, heng air,' but if you people are not disposed
to listen, let me off also from saying what I have to say over the
heel-taps and I won't then sing."

"We'll let you off! We'll let you off," answered one and all, "so don't
be hindering others."

"A maiden is sad,"

Chiang Yue-han at once began,

When her husband leaves home and never does return.
A maiden is disconsolate,
When she has no money to go and buy some _olea frangrans_ oil.
A maiden is glad,
When the wick of the lantern forms two heads like twin flowers on one
stem.
A maiden is joyful,
When true conjugal peace prevails between her and her mate.

His recital over, he went on to sing:

"How I love thee with those seductive charms of thine, heaven-born!
In truth thou'rt like a living fairy from the azure skies!
The spring of life we now enjoy; we are yet young in years.
Our union is, indeed, a happy match!
But. lo! the milky way doth at its zenith soar;