" The eyes of the
old man were fixed steadfastly on the inscription which I had found
him studying on a former occasion. "At length," he murmured to
himself, "I have it--I think I have it;" and then, looking at me,
he said, "So you are about to depart?"
"Yes," said I, "my horse will be at the front door in a few
minutes; I am glad, however, before I go, to find that you have
mastered the inscription."
"Yes," said the old man, "I believe I have mastered it; it seems to
consist of some verses relating to the worship of the Spirit of the
Hearth."
"What is the Spirit of the Hearth?" said I.
"One of the many demons which the Chinese worship," said the old
man; "they do not worship one God, but many." And then the old man
told me a great many highly-interesting particulars respecting the
demon worship of the Chinese.
After the lapse of at least half an hour I said, "I must not linger
here any longer, however willing. Horncastle is distant, and I
wish to be there to-night. Pray can you inform me what's o'clock?"
The old man, rising, looked towards the clock which hung on the
side of the room at his left hand, on the farther side of the table
at which he was seated.
"I am rather short-sighted," said I, "and cannot distinguish the
number, at that distance.
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