Author's own Record by Pu Songling — Read

"‘Clad in wistaria, girdled with ivy; '[1] thus sang San-lü[2] in his _Dissipation of Grief_.[3] Of ox-headed devils and serpent Gods,[4] he of the long-nails[5] never wearied to tell. Each interprets in his own way the music of heaven; [6] and whether it be discord or not, depends upon antecedent causes.[7] As for me, I cannot, with my poor autumn fire-fly's light, match myself against the hobgoblins of the age.[8] I am but the dust in the sunbeam, a fit laughing-stock for devils.[9] For my talents are not those of Yü Pao,[10] elegant explorer of the records of the Gods; I am rather animated by the Spirit of Su Tung-p‘o,[11] who loved to hear men speak of the supernatural. I get people to commit what they tell me to writing, and subsequently I dress it up in the form of a story; and thus in the lapse of time my friends from all quarters have supplied me with quantities of material, which, from my habit of collecting, has grown into a vast pile.[12]

[1]: Said of the bogies of the hills, in allusion to their _clothes_. Here quoted with reference to the official classes, in ridicule of the title under which they hold posts which, from a literary point of view, they are totally unfit to occupy.