A mandarin once lived in Kiang-ho who was so exceedingly cross and disagreeable that everyone hated him.
He snarled and stormed at every person he met and was never known to laugh or be merry under any circumstances.
Especially he hated boys and girls; for the boys jeered at him, which aroused his wrath, and the girls made fun of him, which hurt his pride.
When he had become so unpopular that no one would speak to him, the emperor heard about it and commanded him to emigrate to America.
This suited the mandarin very well; but before he left China he stole the Great Book of Magic that belonged to the wise magician Haot-sai.
Then, gathering up his little store of money, he took ship for America. He settled in a city of the middle west and of course started a laundry, since that seems to be the natural vocation of every Chinaman, be he coolie or mandarin.
He made no acquaintances with the other Chinamen of the town, who, when they met him and saw the red button in his hat, knew him for a real mandarin and bowed low before him.
He put up a red and white sign and people brought their laundry to him and got paper checks, with Chinese characters upon them, in exchange, this being the only sort of character the mandarin had left.
One day as the ugly one was ironing in his shop in the basement of 263 1/2 Main street, he looked up and saw a crowd of childish faces pressed against the window.
Most Chinamen make friends with children; this one hated them and tried to drive them away. But as soon as he returned to his work they were back at the window again, mischievously smiling down upon him.
The naughty mandarin uttered horrid words in the Manchu language and made fierce gestures; but this did no good at all.
The children stayed as long as they pleased, and they came again the very next day as soon as school was over, and likewise the next day, and the next. For they saw their presence at the window bothered the Chinaman and were delighted accordingly.
The following day being Sunday the children did not appear, but as the mandarin, being a heathen, worked in his little shop a big butterfly flew in at the open door and fluttered about the room.
The mandarin closed the door and chased the butterfly until he caught it, when he pinned it against the wall by sticking two pins through its beautiful wings. This did not hurt the butterfly, there being no feeling in its wings; but it made him a safe prisoner.
This butterfly was of large size and its wings were exquisitely marked by gorgeous colors laid out in regular designs like the stained glass windows of a cathedral.
The mandarin now opened his wooden chest and drew forth the Great Book of Magic he had stolen from Haot-sai. Turning the pages slowly he came to a passage describing "How to understand the language of butterflies."
This he read carefully and then mixed a magic formula in a tin cup and drank it down with a wry face. Immediately thereafter he spoke to the butterfly in its own language, saying: "Why did you enter this room?"
"I smelled bees-wax," answered the butterfly; "therefore I thought I might find honey here."
"But you are my prisoner," said the mandarin. "If I please I can kill you, or leave you on the wall to starve to death."
"I expect that," replied the butterfly, with a sigh. "But my race is shortlived, anyway; it doesn't matter whether death comes sooner or later."
"Yet you like to live, do you not?" asked the mandarin.
"Yet; life is pleasant and the world is beautiful. I do not seek death."
"Then," said the mandarin, "I will give you life—a long and pleasant life—if you will promise to obey me for a time and carry out my instructions."
"How can a butterfly serve a man?" asked the creature, in surprise.
"Usually they cannot," was the reply. "But I have a book of magic which teaches me strange things. Do you promise?"
"Oh, yes; I promise," answered the butterfly; "for even as your slave I will get some enjoyment out of life, while should you kill me—that is the end of everything!"
"Truly," said the mandarin, "butterflies have no souls, and therefore cannot live again."
"But I have enjoyed three lives already," returned the butterfly, with some pride. "I have been a caterpillar and a chrysalis before I became a butterfly. You were never anything but a Chinaman, although I admit your life is longer than mine."
"I will extend your life for many days, if you will obey me," declared the Chinaman. "I can easily do so by means of my magic."
"Of course I will obey you," said the butterfly, carelessly.
"Then, listen! You know children, do you not?—boys and girls?"
"Yes, I know them. They chase me, and try to catch me, as you have done," replied the butterfly.
"And they mock me, and jeer at me through the window," continued the mandarin, bitterly. "Therefore, they are your enemies and mine! But with your aid and the help of the magic book we shall have a fine revenge for their insults."
"I don't care much for revenge," said the butterfly. "They are but children, and 'tis natural they should wish to catch such a beautiful creature as I am."
"Nevertheless, I care! and you must obey me," retorted the mandarin, harshly. "I, at least, will have my revenge."
Then he stuck a drop of molasses upon the wall beside the butterfly's head and said: "Eat that, while I read my book and prepare my magic formula."
So the butterfly feasted upon the molasses and the mandarin studied his book, after which he began to mix a magic compound in the tin cup.
When the mixture was ready he released the butterfly from the wall and said to it: "I command you to dip your two front feet into this magic compound and then fly away until you meet a child. Fly close, whether it be a boy or a girl, and touch the child upon its forehead with your feet. Whosoever is thus touched, the book declares, will at once become a pig, and will remain such forever after. Then return to me and dip you legs afresh in the contents of this cup. So shall all my enemies, the children, become miserable swine, while no one will think of accusing me of the sorcery."