II
(第二)風雲雪
Just then the clouds’ lawyer, the wind, came to defend them. “Whom are you scolding?” he asked.
“You think the Creator should have made the snow king of a world, I suppose, and that there is no place or use for the clouds.
“You talk so much that we can not find opportunity to tell what we are good for. You are not the only helper of man and of growing things in the hot summer time.
“Do you remember when the great General Dhi-Sing led five thousand soldiers to battle? They traveled [[91]]over mountains and through wild places until they were worn and weary.
“They found water to drink by the Gold Mine Mountain and stopped there to rest; but there were no trees or growing things on that mountain and they could find no shade.
“The sun sent down great heat and they suffered so that they could not rest. Then they held their faces up to heaven and in anguish they cried, ‘Oh, sun, why shine so hot to-day?’
“Then they looked to the east and saw our brother, the cloud, beginning to appear.
“ ‘Why do you not come to us, and cover the face of the sun that we may have shade and rest?’ they pleaded of the cloud; and so our brother came and stood between the earth and the sun.
“ ‘Oh, this is rest, rest,’ said the soldiers in great relief. ‘How we wish that the cloud might always shield us from the burning fire of the sun.’
“And not only the soldiers, but all the farmers and woodcutters ask us to help them in the time when the sun comes close.”
“Can you do only this one thing?” asked the snow, coldly.
“Who carries the rain and the snow through the sky?” asked the wind. [[92]]
“I tell you there would be no rain nor snow but for the help of the wind and the clouds.
“You know well that the rain is made from the ocean water.
“One day the water said to the cloud, ‘Friend, I should like to journey around and around the sky, but I have no wings, and can not fly. My body is so heavy that I can not move it, and I never expect to take this trip unless you, my friend, help me.’
“And so we lifted the water and helped it step by step until we floated it through the air. Our first cloud faces were very light, but after we had traveled five or six miles through the sky our faces changed to gray, and when we had gone one thousand miles our faces became black and the farmers said, ‘We shall soon have rain.’
“Do you know why the faces of clouds grow black?” asked the wind.
“Anger makes things black,” said the snow, “but why should we know, for of ourselves we never change color.”
“It was because great strength was being put forth to travel through the sky,” argued the wind, “for soon the drops of water said, ‘We are tired and want to go back to earth again.’
“Then we said to the water, ‘The earth people need [[93]]you and all growing things need you. It is good that you go.’
“And on the place where that water fell there had been no rain for three years.
“The king had bowed his head a thousand times before our father and mother and had cried, ‘Oh, rain cloud, why are you so long in coming?’
“We heard the earth king’s cry, and that night the mother of clouds said to us, ‘My children, you must go down to earth and help its people or they will perish.’ So we called all our brothers and sisters to go at the same time, and we went to earth and saved a million and a million lives.
“The greatest wrong you have done is to forget who helped you when you were needy,” continued the wind.
“Do you remember that you once lived in the ocean, river, or lake? At that time I do believe that you were not well liked. In the sea you were in the lowest class and worked hard every day and night.
“When the wind came and blew you into waves you would always call out in a big rough voice, ‘Muh; Muh; Spsh; Sph -s -s.’
“You were restless and unhappy, and tried and tried to escape from that place, and the cloud mother pitied you. [[94]]
“She said, ‘I am very sorry. We will bring them up here with us,’ and she asked the sun’s help to do it.
“For a day and a day, a night and a night, you were carried up, up to the first section. But you were not satisfied then, and you were taken to very high seats.
“You wanted the best places and would do no work unless the winds pushed and the clouds carried you. So we took you up high where we lived and had a happy time.
“Now you have forgotten all this. Who helped you up? Who made you pure?” But the snow did not answer.
Finally the snow said, “Yes, our family is from the rivers and seas. We had forgotten. If we had only thought, we should have been more grateful.”
The sun was judge, and he said, “We decide this case in favor of the wind and the clouds.” [[95]]
[1] This story was told to his people by that good man Mong-Fu-Tsi (Canton dialect), who lived about five hundred years later than Confucius. [↑]
THE FISH AND THE FLOWERS
魚花異味
Once there was a Chinese merchant who sold flowers and fish. In the winter time the flowers and fish each had a separate house to live in, but one very cold winter the merchant said to his servants, “I think we must put the lily bulbs in the house with the fish. It is warmer there.” [[96]]
And a thousand and a thousand narcissus bulbs which were growing for the great feast of the New Year were moved into the house with the fish.
This made the fish angry and that night they scolded the narcissus.
“Friends,” said the fishes, “this is not your place and we will not have you here.
“We do not like your odor. You will spoil our people. When men pass by our door they will see only you.
“They will never see our family. You can not help or do any good here; so you must go.
“Every day a hundred and a hundred merchants and students come to visit us. If you stand by our door they will surely think the fish are all gone and there is nothing but flowers left.
“We do not want our place to smell so strongly of flowers. We do not like it. It is very bad and makes us sick.”
The narcissus answered, “Strange, but we were thinking of that same thing.
“Some people say that fishes have a bad odor, but I never heard it said of our flowers. I think I will say no more about it. Let others decide.”
Then another flower spoke and said to the one who had been talking, “Hush, sister, this is not our house. [[97]]We will go to-morrow. Let the fishes say what they will about us, and do not quarrel with them. All people know we are not bad and that our fragrance is sweet.”
When the morning sunshine came, the doors were opened, and a thousand and a thousand flowers had blossomed in the night, and the people said, “Oh, how sweet! Even a fish house can be made pleasant. We wish it could be like this all the time.”
And one visitor said, “How sweet this place is! Do fishes or flowers live here?” And when he saw, he said, “It is too bad to put delicate flowers in evil smelling places.”
Then three students came to buy flowers. The servants brought three pots from the fish house, and the students said, “We do not want pots from the fish house. Give us others. These have a disagreeable smell, like the fishes.”
The fishes heard all and were even more angry at the flowers. But the flowers heard and were happy, and they said, “How foolish to quarrel and try to put evil on others.”
Ee-Sze (Meaning): The good need no defense. Their best defense lies within themselves. [[98]]
THE HEN, THE CAT, AND THE BIRDS
雞猫鳥
Once a farmer’s boy caught three young wood larks. He took them home and gave them his best and largest cage to live in. Soon they were happy and sang almost all day long.
Every one liked the birds very much, excepting the cat and the hen. [[99]]
One day the sun shone very hot and the birds tried to get out of the cage. They wanted to fly in the trees and bushes.
The farmer’s boy knew what they wanted and hung their cage in the tree.
He said to himself, “I think my birds will like this. They can get acquainted with other birds. I know birds should go with birds. That is their happiness.”
Then the wood larks sang loud and long, for they were glad to be in the trees.
An old hen was sitting on some eggs near by, and her little ones were just beginning to come out of the shells. The singing of the birds made her angry and she said to them, “Will you stop that noise for a time so that I may hear my little ones call? I can not hear a word my children say. That is not a pretty song, anyway. When other birds sing, their songs are sweet; but your noise hurts my ears. Why do you sing all the time? No one likes to hear you.
“That foolish boy did not know much about birds, or he would not have caught you. There are plenty of other birds in the mountain. The thrush and the kind-birds are good, with fine voices and clean and beautiful feathers.
“Why could not that foolish boy catch them? They are the birds I like. They are kind to chickens and like [[100]]to live with us, but you wood larks are our enemies, and our children fear to come near you.”
The birds made no reply to the hen’s scolding. They sang and were happy and did not seem to notice her.
This only made the hen more angry, and when the cat passed by her door, she said, “Good morning, Mrs. Cat. Do you know we have much trouble since our enemies, the wood larks, came here to live? They are always trying to get out of the cage. I think they want to hurt my children—or yours,” she added slyly.
“Do you hear their harsh ugly voices all the day? I can not sleep, I can not find any comfort here since those birds have come.”
“Our master’s son brought them,” said the cat, “and we can not help ourselves. What would you do about it?”
“I told you,” said the hen, “that I do not like those birds. They should be killed or driven away.”
“I do not like them very well either,” replied the cat. “Cats and birds do not go well together. Cats like birds to eat you know, but then men like chickens. If you do not want them here, we can do this. At midday, when the master’s son lets the birds out for a bath, they sit a while in the sun to dry their feathers. When you see them come out, call ‘Cluck, cluck,’ and I will come and catch them or drive them away.” [[101]]
When the time came for the birds to take their bath, the cat was asleep. The hen called loudly. The cat heard her and crept quietly to the place where the birds were bathing.
But one of the birds saw the cat and said to her, “Mrs. Cat, what are you trying to do? We know what the hen said to you about us last night. I heard her advise you to kill us or drive us away. Is this not true?
“The old hen does not wish us to live here; but then the rats and mice do not like you to live here either. I warn you not to put your paws on us. If you kill us, the master’s boy will kill you, and he will kill and cook the hen. Do you know how much he loves us?
“Every morning before the sun shines, he is up; and do you know where he goes? He goes to the river to catch the baby swims (little fish) for us. He goes to the mountain and catches grasshoppers for us, and from the fields he brings us seeds and rice.
“He works hard for us. Sometimes he brings other boys here just to hear our songs. He spent much money for our cage and our gem-stone water dishes.
“Every day the master asks his son, ‘How are your birds, my son?’
“One day our brother would not eat food and the boy said to his father, ‘What ails my bird, father? All the foods are here, but he will not eat.’ [[102]]
“The father answered, ‘I will call a doctor.’
“And the doctor came and said, ‘The bird has fever. Give him some Da-Wong-Sai and Tseng-Chu-Mi and he will be well soon.’ The boy paid the doctor for this; so you see how well he loves us.
“When we do not like to stay in the house he hangs us out in the trees so that we can talk with other birds.
“Now, Mrs. Cat, do you see how well we are cared for? Go back and tell the old hen not to talk about us. Do not notice what she says against us, for if you kill us, as the hen wishes you to do, you will surely have no life left in the world.
“You see how cunning the hen is. She will not do the thing herself, but wants you to do it. That proves that she is your enemy as well as ours.
“Oh, Mrs. Cat, do not be foolish. You have three little ones to care for. If you lose your life by taking ours, who will care for your children? Will the hen do it? I think not.”
When the cat heard such wisdom from a little bird she said, “Well! Well! Well! I think you are right,” and went away.
Ee-Sze (Meaning): True friends will not ask you to do things they would not do themselves. [[103]]
THE BOY WHO WANTED THE IMPOSSIBLE
欲所不能欲者
Tsing-Ching (Pure Gold) was four years old when his parents sent him to a “baby school”[1] for the first [[104]]time and told him that the teacher could tell him everything he would like to know.
When he saw a queer bird flying around he asked his teacher, “What kind of thing is that in the air?” His teacher told him, “A bird,” and that to be a bird meant to fly around and sing in every place and make music for the people.
The boy said, “Can I not do it?” His teacher said, “Yes, you can sing music for the people, but you can not fly unless you get wings.”
Tsing-Ching replied, “Yes, I can do that, too. My grandmother told me about a spirit with wings.”
His teacher said, “If your grandmother told you that, you can try and see. You may be a man with wings sometime.”[2] [[105]]
Just then the servant girl, that his mother had sent, came to fetch him home from school.
When they reached the park by his home, Tsing-Ching said, “Lau-Mai, I want that long ladder and a long stick.” The nurse-girl did not know what he would do with them, but she finally had to give him both to keep him from crying. She was afraid his mother would hear him cry and that she would come out and scold her for not taking better care of the child.
As he took the long ladder he said, “Now I am going to be a bird.” His nurse said, “You can not be a bird, Tsing-Ching. Birds fly. You can not fly. Why are you trying to climb up the ladder? That is not the way to be a bird.”
Lau-Mai helped him up two or three steps, when his mother called her to come in and she left him there for a little time.
He climbed up, up, nine steps by himself—and fell down. But he was not hurt, nor did he cry; he had no fear—he thought of but one thing—he was going to be a bird.
Suddenly his mother came and saw him again trying [[106]]to climb up the ladder and asked, “What are you doing, Tsing-Ching?”
He answered, “I want to be a bird; wait, I will try again. I know that birds fly in the air, not on the ground. I can not fly on earth. If I get up high in the air, then I know I can fly.”
His mother thought he wanted to climb up and get a bird; she looked all around and said, “There is no bird up there now.”
“But, Ah-Ma,[3] I want to be a bird.”
The servant Lau-Mai came just then and explained to his mother. His mother said he was a foolish boy, and gave him food and sent him to school again.
In two hours the teacher sent all the boys out to play. They ran to the pond where the gold-fish were, for they liked to watch them swim in the water.
After exercise, they all went into the schoolroom and Tsing-Ching told his teacher, “I saw many goldfish swimming in the pond. Did you know that, teacher? A man fed them rice and they all came out for him. They seemed so happy, they shook their tails and waved their fins and swam up and down and all around in the cool water. Oh, I should like to be a fish.”
His teacher said, “Learn lessons now.” But Tsing-Ching could not study; he could only think, think [[107]]about the fish. Soon he asked that he might go out to drink. Then he went to the pond and took off his clothes, but the gardener saw him and asked, “What are you doing, boy? This is school-time.”
“I want to be a fish,” said Tsing-Ching.
The gardener thought he wanted to catch the fish and said, “The fish are for your eyes and not for your hands. Do not disturb them.”
Tsing-Ching sat down and waited until the gardener went away. Then he stepped into the water and talked to the fish.
“I am going to be one of you now,” he said. “Come to me and show me how to swim with you.” But they all hurried away.
For half an hour he splashed in the shallow water, trying to swim, until the teacher thought, “Where is Tsing-Ching?” and sent a boy to see. He found him in the pond and asked him to come into the schoolroom, saying the teacher would punish him if he did not.
“No,” said Tsing-Ching, “I shall be a fish; I told the teacher I was going to be a fish.” And so the boy went back and told the teacher, who hardly knew what to think.
Finally he went out with a stick and asked, “Tsing-Ching, what are you doing here? Do you know this is school-time? Do you know that you were allowed only [[108]]to go out for a drink and not to stay here and play? You have done wrong.”
“Why, teacher, I told you that I wanted to be a fish,” said Tsing-Ching. “I do not want books or exercises. I am going to be a fish and I will not go to school. Mother said you teach everything; now teach me to be a fish.”
His teacher said, “How foolish you are, Tsing-Ching; you are a boy, a man. You can learn many things better than to be a fish. Come with me now.”
That night when Tsing-Ching was walking with his mother and nurse out by the water, he saw the summer moon shining in the lake.
“How strange, Ah-Ma, the moon is under the lake! See, it raises the lake and shakes it all the time. I want it. What kind of a white ball is it?”
Then his mother told him that the moon was in the sky, not in the lake, and she explained and showed him. And when he saw the moon in the sky, he said, “I know that it is not the moon in the lake, for it shakes. It is not quiet like that one in the sky. It is a silver ball, I know.”
He asked so many questions that his mother grew tired of answering and let him ask unnoticed. Then he wandered away a little distance and threw stones in the water. And the waters waved and the white ball [[109]]danced so prettily that he wanted it very much. He waded into the lake, deeper, deeper, until he fell down. He screamed and swallowed the water, and it took a long time to make him alive again, after his mother took him out of the lake.
When the neighbors heard about it, they said, “Foolish boy; not satisfied to do the things he can—he is always wanting things he can not have.”
Many people in this world are like Tsing-Ching. [[110]]
[1] The little children of China from three to six years of age are often sent to a subscription school to learn to talk, write characters, etc. The [[104]]teachers of these schools are required to be men of very exemplary character. They must be gentle and kind and, above all, have no bad habits. [↑]
[2] “A man with wings.” This can not be translated into the word angel.
This story from the “Chinese History,” or life stories from the actual lives of the people, was taken from a district of China where Buddhism prevails. Tsing-Ching’s idea of a man spirit with wings after death was based on the belief taught by the Buddhist priests that man might live again, but that no one could attain again a state of consciousness if he killed, spilled blood, or ate flesh. Meat-eaters were consequently barred from ever wearing wings.
The idea of wings was not general, as the Buddhist spirit was never pictured as having wings, though being able to float through the air.
The hope of a future life was a little brighter for the Buddhist, however, than for the follower of Confucius. That great and good man’s [[105]]law of life gave three hundred and fifty precepts, and man by following them might hope for eternal consciousness; but though they were a good basis for a moral character, they were the despair of those who tried to keep all three hundred and fifty of them in the hope of winning eternal life. [↑]
[3] Canton dialect word meaning mother. [↑]
THE BOY WHO BECAME A HSAO-TSZE[1]
王孝子
This is the true story of a boy who obeyed perfectly all his life the law of Confucius concerning honor to parents.
Few have been able to do this. Among a people of [[111]]many millions who have kept record over four thousand years, only twenty-four men have been found worthy of the great honor of being called Hsao-Tsze.
Twelve hundred years ago, in Chê-Kiong Province, there lived a poor widow and her son, Wong-Ziang. The father had died when Wong-Ziang was a baby, and the time came when they had only their little home left and not even one piece of silver to buy food with.
So the mother went to many places daily and asked food for herself and child. For seven long years, every day in the cold rain or in the sunshine, this poor widow begged food and kept herself and child from starving.
She was a good woman and never complained even to the heavens, and in her heart she said many times, “No mother should be sorrowful when she has a good son. My boy is true without being taught. Many mothers have sons, but they are not as this one.”
When Wong-Ziang was fourteen years old, he said to his mother, “Ah Ma, I will seek work and we will have food. You must rest now.”
In the morning early he went to the market place and asked work of many people. At midday, when the laborers left the market place, they said, “You are too young to work here.”
As he was hungry, he went to a merchant’s house and [[112]]asked food; and because he was a gentle boy and pleaded so earnestly, the merchant told his cook to give him food. Wong-Ziang would not eat the food, but took it home to his mother.
Ninety times Wong-Ziang left home at sunrise. He sought work all day, and every night he took food home to his mother and comforted her with, “I soon will find work, Ah Ma. One man says he will want me soon; or, a man told me of yet another place to seek work,” and in many other ways he comforted his mother.
When he gave her the food he brought, she would say, “You eat, too.” But he would always answer, “I have had mine; you eat first.” And when she had finished eating, he would eat of what was left.
One time Wong-Ziang’s mother fell sick. He said, “I will go for the doctor.” But his mother said, “I have no silver. Wait and you will soon have work. I think I shall be well then.”
But Wong-Ziang ran to the city of Nim-Chu and asked the doctor to come to his mother. He said to him as they went to his mother’s house:
“My mother did not get up at sunrise. She is weak and sick and can not eat food. She does not want a doctor, as we have no silver, but I believe you will wait and, when I get work, I will pay you.” The doctor [[113]]said, “I always help the poor when I can, and will not charge you this time.”
When they reached the widow’s home, the doctor made the examination of the tongue, the eyes, and the pulse. He then said, “She is very weak. I will leave medicine, but it is better that she eat good food that she likes. Twice in five days, she should have a carp fish boiled in rice wine. But it is winter and the river is frozen. I know not how you will get that fish,” and then he went away.
Wong-Ziang gave his mother the medicine, and she asked, “What did the doctor say about me?”
“He said you needed a carp fish cooked in rice wine so that you may be strong,” answered Wong-Ziang. “It is very easy for me to find one. I am going now to the river.”
But the mother said, “Not now, my son. Wait until spring. The river is covered with ice.”
“I will see,” said Wong-Ziang; and he put on his fishing clothes.[2]
His mother said, “I fear you will die, if you go into the water.”
“I will see first if there are any fish,” said he. [[114]]
When Wong-Ziang reached the river, he saw it was covered with ice. He made a great hole in the ice and went in, and after swimming and diving for some time, he caught a fish for his mother.
But his breath almost left him in the cold water, and when he came out, he could not stand on the ice.
He fell down, and his clothes froze to the ice with the net and the fish he had caught.
“He is gone a long time,” thought his mother. She called a servant girl who was passing, and said, “Ah Moi, will you go down to the River Ching-Ki, and see if my boy is there?”
Ah Moi went and saw the boy and the fish in the net lying frozen on the ice together.
She called, “Wong-Ziang,” but when no answer came back to her, she thought, “He is dead,” and ran in fear. But she met a farmer who was riding a cow and she told him, “Wong-Ziang is dead on the ice.” The farmer left his cow and went with her to see.
The farmer took off his own coat and wrapped it around the boy. He carried him in his arms and said to the servant, “I think he is not dead. Take the fish and net at once to Wong-Ziang’s mother.”
In an hour Wong-Ziang came to life again. He arose [[115]]and cooked the fish for his mother. And in fifteen days she was well.
* * *
Soon after this, Wong-Ziang was given work in the next village as cook for a rich professor who had many pupils.
One day he went to the wilderness to cut wood. His mother knew that her boy worked hard, and so she went with him to help and they worked until sunset.
Suddenly a small tiger came out of the forest towards the mother, and from fear she became as one dead. Wong-Ziang screamed and made a great noise. He threw his clothes at the beast and it ran away. Then he carried his mother home, and the neighbors who had watched him all his life said, “Wong-Ziang will become a Hsao-Tsze if he is always like this.”
Wong-Ziang had seen twenty-one years when his mother died, and he had never left her for one day in all his life. He was liked by his teachers, schoolmates, and neighbors, for they said, “We can learn a great lesson from Wong-Ziang who has loved and honored his mother perfectly.”
While his mother was living, Wong-Ziang worked for her and spent little time or money in study; but after she died, he studied hard. When his work in [[116]]the professor’s kitchen was done each day, he always sat outside the schoolroom door where he heard the teacher giving lessons to his pupils.[3]
For seven years he studied in this way before the teacher, Liao-Tsai, knew; but one day he found out what Wong-Ziang had been doing. In time he came to love him as his own son and he asked him, “Would you like to be my Chi-tsze (son by adoption)?”
And Wong-Ziang said, “I would, but I am poor and unlearned, and you are rich and honored. It could not be.”
But his teacher said, “I want you in my school. I have had many pupils, but none that have worked and learned as you have. I have known many sons, but none of them served and honored his parents so faithfully. Think about this two or three days and then give me your answer.”
After three days Wong-Ziang decided: and he came to Liao-Tsai, his teacher, and, kneeling down before him, he bowed his head low. And after this time he was as the professor’s own son.
In sixteen years, Wong-Ziang graduated from the great University with highest honors. He had studied [[117]]all the books of the Chinese schools and was now a Han-Ling (Ph.D.).
He served his nation and emperor wisely and had a high state position for more than twenty years. The people called him Zien-Zan before the emperor. But when he came home to his native province where people had known his deeds all his life, they bowed their heads low in affection, and called him, “Hsao-Tsze.”
[[118]]
[1] A title of great honor given to followers of Confucius who have been known from childhood to maturity by many people as having observed this law of Confucius faithfully. [↑]
[2] In China the country boys go in the water to fish with hand nets and become experts in diving and swimming under water. The hand nets are about two feet wide and three feet long. [↑]
[3] Pupils. Chinese school children in small country places sit at a long table to study. Sometimes there are from forty to sixty at one table. [↑]
THE HUNTER, THE SNIPE, AND THE BIVALVE
獵者獨得
Yung-Moi was one of the very wise men of China. He had lived in the mountains and studied the books of Confucius for twenty years, and afterwards he taught others. [[119]]
He taught school for ten years, and because of his wisdom had many pupils—over two thousand in all. He was now sixty years old and greatly respected by many people.
One day he thought he would give a party for his scholars. So he sent them all word and asked that each one repeat a story at the party.
After he had invited his guests, he thought, “I, too, must have a story ready for to-morrow night. What shall it be?” And he walked down to the river, thinking.
There he saw two creatures in the edge of the river fighting. One was the great bivalve;[1] the other was a snipe that had been hunting for fish in the river.
They fought long and hard, until a hunter with a gun and net passed by and saw them. He made no noise and came close, close, but they were so busy trying to kill each other that they could not see him. So he caught them both and took them home in his net.
Yung-Moi, the wise teacher, thought deeply and said to himself, “There is meaning in all this,” and he walked slowly back to his schoolroom. [[120]]
He sat down at his desk and thought, and he stirred the ink in his ink-dish, not knowing what he did.
Then he wrote this story and said: “In my mind this is a strange thing. The snipe is a fine creature in the air. He has two wings and has great power to do for himself.
“Small fishes swim in the water and the snipe can take any one he wants, but he can not live in the home of the bivalve, or try to take life away from him without perishing himself.
“If he had power to go under the water and live, there would be no small fishes in the river, and if he were big, like the eagle or bear, there would soon be no fishes in the world. I am glad the Creator made him a small creature and not too powerful.
“The bivalve—he has great power to live under the water. Small swimming things can not escape if they pass by his door, but if he could move about like other fishes with his great power and his appetite for many fish, I think the mother of all fishes could not make enough for his greedy mouth, for now he opens his doors all day long and takes in the creatures that swim by.
“I had fish from the river last night for my evening meal, but I think they never passed the bivalve’s house or he would have had them for his supper.
“When the bivalve and snipe fought together, each [[121]]one thought, ‘I have great power; I want what you have, and I will kill you and get it for myself.’
“The snipe saw the bivalve’s door open and he thought, ‘What nice white meat; I will have it,’ and he picked at it. The bivalve shut his doors tight and held the snipe so that he could not get away.
“And they fought; each one trying to kill the other, until the hunter came and caught them both. Then the hunter took the snipe and the bivalve home and said to his wife, ‘We will have a good supper to-night.’ And his wife looked and was very glad to have two such savory things at one time. The hunter said, ‘Cook the bivalve well done, and we will put some Tung-Ku[2] and Cho-Chen-Cho[3] with it. Save the shells and put them away carefully to dry, and I will sell them to the man who makes furniture, for inlaying his tables.
“ ‘The pearls that were in this bivalve will bring me much silver from the jeweler. I will ask my mother to come here for supper. The bivalve is enough for us all, and my mother will be glad. She has never before eaten of a bivalve.
“ ‘The snipe, I will not kill. I will keep him to show to my son and nephew. Give him rice to eat and some [[122]]water to drink, and keep him in the cage. To-morrow I will give him some fish and in a few days I will take him to the school teacher. Then, when I train him to sing, I will take him to the market place and sell him for much silver.’ ”
At the party on the evening of the next day, all the pupils told stories. At last the teacher repeated the story of the fight between the swimming and flying creatures.
“Now, I will ask you a question,” he said to the pupils. “If the snipe flies in the air, can man catch him? And if the bivalve stays under the cave in the river, can man injure him?”
And the pupils all said, “No, teacher.”
“Well, it was sad that the snipe and the bivalve were caught yesterday. Can you tell me why?”
“We do not know,” said the scholars.
And the teacher said, “They are happy and powerful creatures when they do no harm to each other. The snipe flies in the air, the bivalve swims in his home, the sea, and each has happiness according to his kind.
“Now you see these two creatures fought together, the snipe and the bivalve, and they did not succeed by fighting. The hunter is the only one that succeeded.
“It is so with the three nations now at war. They [[123]]are like the hunter, the snipe, and the bivalve. They ought to live in peace. They are lost when they fight among themselves.”
Then Yung-Moi drew a picture of the warring countries for his pupils.
| ■ | ■ | ■ |
| (YOT) ONE | (YEE) TWO | (SARM) THREE[4] |
“One and Three represent two nations at war with each other. One asks Two’s permission to pass an army through his country that he may fight Three. While the army of One is away from home, the people get in a fight among themselves and civil war follows. Number Two takes advantage of the situation and in the absence of Number One’s army (who is trying to overpower Three), conquers Number One easily. Number Two then owns the nations One and Two, and with this added strength goes to the land of Number Three and conquers him, so that all three countries now belong to Number Two.” [[124]]
[1] A huge oyster about three feet square and weighing twenty pounds, which is said to have existed at that time (about one thousand years ago), but is now extinct. [↑]
[3] A Chinese mushroom which grows in the forests. It is very rare and much larger than the ordinary variety. [↑]
[4] Yot, yee, sarm are Canton dialect words for one, two, three. [↑]
THE MULE AND THE LION
(LII-TSZE and SII-TSZE)
騾獅訪猪
One night the lion was very hungry, but as the creatures of the wilderness knew and feared him even from afar, he could not find food. So he went to visit the young mule that lived near the farmer’s house, and when [[125]]he saw her he smiled blandly and asked, “What do you eat, fair Lii, to make you so sleek and fat? What makes your hair so smooth and beautiful? I think your master gives you tender fresh grass and fat young pig to eat.”
The mule answered, “No, I am fat because I am gentle. My hair is beautiful because I do not fight with other creatures. But why do you come here, Sii? Are you hungry? I believe you are seeking for food.”
The lion said, “Oh, no, I am not hungry. I only walk around to get the cool, fresh air. And then the night is very beautiful. The moon hangs up in the clear sky with the stars and makes a soft light, and so I came to visit you. Would you not like to take a walk with me? I will take you to visit my friend, the pig. I never go to his house alone; I always take a friend with me.”
The mule asked, “Shall we go to any other place?”
“Yes,” answered the lion, “I think we will go to visit another friend of mine who lives not far away.”
Then the mule asked his mother, “Will you allow me to go with Sii to see his friend?”
“Who is his friend?” asked the mother.
“The farmer’s pig,” said the mule.
“I think it is no harm if you go only there,” said the mother mule. “But you must not go anywhere else [[126]]with Sii. The hunter is looking for him, I hear, and you must be careful. Do not trust him fully, for I fear he will tempt you to go to some other place or into some wrong thing. If I allow you to go, you must come home before midnight. The moon will not be gone then and you can see to find your way.”
So the lion and the mule went to visit the pig who lived in a house in the farmer’s yard. But as soon as the pig saw the lion, he called out in a loud voice to his mother.
The lion said, “He is afraid of me. I will hide and you may go in first.”
When the pig saw that the mule was alone, he thought the lion had gone. He opened his door wide and was very friendly to the mule, saying, “Come in.”
But the lion jumped from his hiding place and caught the pig as he came to the door. The pig called to his mother in great fear. And the mule begged the lion, saying, “Let the poor little creature go free.”
But the lion said, “No, indeed, I have many pigs at my house. It is better for him to go with me.”
Then the lion carried the pig, while the mule followed. Soon they came to where a fine looking dog lay on some hay behind a net. The lion did not seem to see the net, for he dropped the pig and tried to catch the dog who cried loudly for mercy. [[127]]
But the lion said to the foolish mule, “See how rude the dog is to us. We came to visit him and he makes a loud noise and tries to call the hunter so that he will drive us away. I have never been so insulted. Come here, Lii-Tsze, at once and help me!”
The mule went to the lion and the net fell and caught them both. At sunrise the hunter came and found the mule and the lion in his net. The mule begged earnestly and said, “Hunter, you know me and you know my mother. We are your friends and we do no wrong. Set me free, oh hunter, set me free!”
The hunter said, “No, I will not set you free. You may be good, but you are in bad company and must take what it brings. I will take you and the lion both to the market place and sell you for silver. That is my right. I am a hunter. If you get in my net, that is your business. If I catch you, that is my business.”
Ee-Sze (Meaning): Bad company is a dangerous thing for man or beast. [[128]]
THE FA-NIEN-TS’ING AND THE MÖN-TIEN-SING
滿天星不如萬年靑
Confucius had labored teaching the people righteousness for many forgotten moons. One day he said to himself:
“I have taught many years and I will now rest a [[129]]while.” He thought for a few days and said, “Where shall I go to find rest?” Then he spoke to Tsze-Lu, Yen-Yuen, and Tsze-Kong, his faithful pupils, saying, “I have been thinking that I would now rest for three moons and visit the Tai-San Mountain, but I do not wish to go alone. I should like you to go with me. Where on the mountain is the best place, do you think?”
“On the southwest side where the sun shines warm and the wind does not blow cold,” answered Tsze-Kong. And Tsze-Lu, Tsze-Kong, and Yen-Yuen went to their own rooms and planned the journey.
After ten days Confucius and his pupils went to the Tai-San Mountain to rest for the three moons; but even there his pupils studied, for they took their books with them.
As Confucius walked on the Tai-San Mountain he said, “How great and beautiful are the things made by the Creator; even the trees, bushes, and flowers are beyond man’s understanding.” Then he went to the temple and saw the images of honored men, and when he looked at the face of Dai-Yee, the Just, he said, “You are very great. We remember and honor you, and other generations yet to come will remember and honor you.”
When he had walked another half-mile, he grew tired [[130]]and sat down under the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing tree, and soon he slept.
Suddenly he heard a noise. He awoke thinking his pupils had come, but seeing no man he lay down again to sleep. Once more he heard the same noise, and looking upward he saw the Mön-Tien-Sing and the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing trees looking into each other’s faces; but they were not happy. The Mön-Tien-Sing’s face was distorted with anger, and in great wrath she said to the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing, “If I were the Creator, I would not allow you to live. A year and a year passes by and you do not grow. You eat much food and you have more earth than I, and still you do not grow. I never heard that you did any good thing since you were born, and it is said you have lived here five hundred years. Your branches are crooked and your bark is rough.
“You are not even good to look upon. Do you think the children of men care for you? No, for you have neither flowers nor fruit. If people sit under your shade when the wind blows hard, I should think your sharp, ugly leaves would fall on them and stick them.
“It is a strange thing that the woodcutter does not chop you down—useless thing. If I were the Creator, I would not allow the sun to shine on you, nor would I [[131]]give you rain to drink. I would cause the wind to blow hard until you fell down dead.
“You see I have the sweetest of flowers and the people all like me. One day two women passed by here and one of them said, ‘Mön-Tien-Sing, how I wish that I might take you with me. You are so beautiful, but I fear you do not like me. Three times I have gathered your flowers for my hair, but I was careless and passed by a bush and it did but touch them when their lovely petals all fell to the earth. I wish that I might take you to my garden, and that you would grow there and open your beautiful flowers every third moon forever.’
“My name is Mön-Tien-Sing which means Flowers-every-three-moons. If you do not know another meaning it has, I will tell you.
“When you look in the sky on a summer night do you know how many stars are there? Even man can not count a clear sky filled with shining stars. I am Mön-Tien-Sing. Mön means full; Tien means heaven; and Sing means stars:—‘sky filled with stars’—that is my name. I grow very fast. Every three moons I bear a thousand and a thousand flowers. I do not need servants to care for me, for I grow everywhere. Even the chickens and birds like me. They come to me and eat my seeds and grow fat.
“If I were the Creator, the Mön-Tien-Sing would [[132]]grow everywhere in all the world, and fill the earth with its sweetness, but oh, I wish I could go away from you. I do not like even to see you, and here I must stand always by your side. Your branches are too strong; for when the wind blows, they come close and hurt me and spoil my beautiful flowers. I will pray the Creator to bring a woodcutter and cut you down to-day—useless, evil thing.”
The Fa-Nien-Ts’ing did not answer, though he bowed his head in shame. He knew well that he was ugly and that his leaves were sharp and his bark rough, but he said to himself, “I know in my heart that some day, some one will like me, too. For the Creator made me and he surely made me for good. I will keep patient and wait.”
In about three moons the cold days came and all things were frozen. The rivers stood still, the flowers were no longer seen, the trees and shrubs threw all their leaves to the ground. But the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing held his head up and smiled bravely, and he kept his leaves and they grew green and green. Then he said to himself, “The cool wind is good for me. The frost does me no harm. I feel better. This is my happy time, for the people like to have green in their houses now. To-day they came to the mountain and they found no other thing that was yet green but my leaves. [[133]]
“A young man was about to be married. He could find no flowers. So he took some of my leaves and branches to put in his house. The birds come to me for shelter from the cold wind and snow. They say the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing is a good home for them.
“The winter is cold, cold every day, but I grow greener and greener. The woodcutter comes and stands by my side and says that I keep the cold wind away from him. I know the Creator made me for good.”
Then Confucius awoke. He looked up, and he looked down, and he looked all about him. There was no living thing near except the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing and the Mön-Tien-Sing, and he said:
“It was a dream, but surely I heard the Mön-Tien-Sing trying to quarrel with the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing. I know that the things of the world have deep meaning, and this is my lesson: I would not be as the Mön-Tien-Sing, but I wish to be like the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing.”
He arose and laid his hand gently on the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing and said, “The time is long that you stand here, patient one. The cold heart of winter does not change your nature more than it does that of birds, beasts, men, or even your enemy, the Mön-Tien-Sing.
“The cold weather makes you better, for you grow [[134]]green as the springtime, and there is no other tree, bush, or flower which can do this. When the frost of winter comes, where are the flowers, where are the leaves, where are all the growing things of beauty? Where is the grass, where is the green of the field? They are gone. The first cold wintry wind of adversity takes them one by one, but you alone can withstand sorrow and grow even more beautiful.
“Your life is a lesson to me. I am serving the king and serving the people, but there are few who like me now. Three kings have tried to kill me, though my doctrine is to serve the world and help every one.
“But kings will not listen to my teaching, and my brothers try to drive me away, as the Mön-Tien-Sing wished to drive away the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing. For four days I went without food, and many were the enemies around and against me at that time when the king banished me. But I know that it is my duty to live and teach in the world, although it is winter for me and the cold winds of adversity blow and the hearts of my people seem hard and cold like rocks of ice. I hope I will be as the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing, and stand firmly on the mountain of righteousness forever, that I, Confucius, may do good to a wintry world.
“I would not be as the Mön-Tien-Sing. It is covered in the morning with the flowers of beauty which [[135]]it drops before the evening. It is beautiful, for an hour, but is frail beyond all of its kind. It bears no fruit and its flowers last but a day, while the Fa-Nien-Ts’ing is strong of heart and mind, though a world is against him.”
[[136]]
THE BODY THAT DESERTED THE STOMACH
身不願養胃
Man’s body is a perfect and wonderful thing. His hands are strong to do; his feet are strong to walk; his nose judges whether things are good to eat; his ears hear clearly; his eyes help him to see all the things of the world and to study books; his brain can think great [[137]]thoughts. And so we call the body of man a perfect thing.
But one day the different parts of man’s body quarreled among themselves about the work. Many complaints were brought against the stomach. The hands and feet said, “We work all day and yet we are nothing. Do you know whom we work for?”
The eyes said, “We find many chickens, fish, eggs, and much rice and tea for the stomach. He takes all and does no work for it. He does not even think. And though he never does anything for us, we are always working for him.”
Then they all agreed to refuse to work longer for the stomach. They said, “To-morrow we will tell the heart and have him judge[1] who is to be blamed.”
So the next day the tongue told the brain about it, and the brain said, “I will see the judge to-night.”
When the heart heard the story he said, “Yes, you are right. If all of you lie down and refuse to help the stomach; if you do not give him any rice or meat for food, or any tea for drink, he will learn then that he can not live without you.” [[138]]
In a little time the stomach wanted food and said to the hands, “Give me a piece of fish, some rice, and a cup of tea.” The hands were quiet and said nothing.
Then the stomach said to the feet, “Will you go out and have Men-Yen bring me a bowl of chop-suey-meen?[2] I am hungry.”
The feet answered, “No, sir, we will not work for you any more.” And they lay down.
The stomach cried for food, but all said, “We do not care; we will not work for him.”
After a while the eyes found they could not see well; and in the theater hall next door the drums drummed hard, but the ears could not hear. The heart-judge said, “How is it now with the stomach?” The brain answered, “We are not working for him, nor helping him any more, and I believe he is going to die. I fear that I, too, will die and that all the others will die. I do not believe we have done right in deserting the stomach. Do you not think it best to tell the feet to go out and bring the stomach some chop-suey-meen? If he had that, he might help us again. We shall all surely die unless we have his aid.”
But the unwise judge said, “Let him get his own food; let him do his work for himself.”
“He can not do that,” said the brain. “He lives in [[139]]a place with great walls around him, so he can not get out. The hands and the feet have always brought his food to him.”
The judge said, “Has he spoken about it to-day?”
And the brain answered, “No.”
So they agreed to leave the stomach to himself one day longer.
But that night they were all found dead together, for they could not live without each other.
This fable was told by the Chinese general, Tsii, to the Chinese emperor, about twelve hundred years ago. The emperor had been angry at a province of his own people and wished to send this general, with soldiers, to kill them. But the general would not go, and in his argument with the emperor he used this fable to illustrate his reasons for objection and to show the necessity of each part to all. This fable was translated into Japanese in 1891 and the Japanese have added the following Ee-sze (meaning):
The stomach means the emperor. The hands, eyes, feet, all parts of the body, represent the people. Again, the stomach is like a mother, the other parts being the children.
So each one of the people must do something for his [[140]]nation and Emperor. Each child must do something for the family and the mother. These things must be, if the nation is to be powerful, or if the family is to be strong and united.
[[141]]
[1] The Chinese picture the heart thus, with two sides:
To the larger side, everything is brought by the brain for the heart-judge, or conscience, to pass judgment on. If he pronounces the thought or feeling worthy, it goes into the memory, where it stays; otherwise it is rejected. [↑]
THE PROUD FOX AND THE CRAB
傲狐辱蟹
One day a fox said to a crab, “Crawling thing, did you ever run in all your life?”
“Yes,” said the crab, “I run very often from the mud to the grass and back to the river.”
“Oh, shame,” said the fox, “that is no distance to run. How many feet and legs have you? I have only [[142]]four. Why, if I had as many feet as you have, I would run at least six times as fast as you do. Did you know that you are really a very slow, stupid creature? Though I have only four feet I run ten times as far as you do. I never heard of any one with so many feet as you have, running so slowly.”
The crab said, “Would you like to run a race with a stupid creature like me? I will try to run as fast as you. I know I am small, so suppose we go to the scales and see how much heavier you are. As you are ten times larger than I, of course you will have to run ten times faster.
“Another reason why you can run so fast is because you have such a fine tail and hold it so high. If you would allow me to put it down, I do not think you could run any faster than I.”
“Oh, very well,” said the fox, contemptuously, “do as you like, and still the race will be so easy for me that I will not even need to try. Your many legs and your stupid head do not go very well together. Now, if I had my sense and all of your legs, no creature in the forest could outrun me. As it is, there are none that can outwit me. I am known as the sharp-witted. Even man says, ‘Qui-kwat-wui-lai’ (sly as a fox). So do what you will, stupid one.”
“If you will let me tie your beautiful tail down so [[143]]it will stay,” said the crab, “I am sure I can win the race.”
“Oh, no, you can not,” said the fox. “But I will prove to even your stupid, slow brain that it will make no difference. Now, how do you wish that I should hold my tail?”
Said the crab, “If you will allow me to hang something on your tail to hold it down, I am sure you can not run faster than I.”
“Do as you like,” said the fox.
“Allow me to come nearer,” said the crab, “and when I have it fastened to your tail, I will say ‘Ready!’ Then you are to start.”
So the crab crawled behind and caught the fox’s tail with his pincers and said, “Ready!” The fox ran and ran until he was tired. And when he stopped, there was the crab beside him.
“Where are you now?” said the crab. “I thought you were to run ten times faster than I. You are not even ahead of me with all your boasting.”
The fox, panting for breath, hung his head in shame and went away where he might never see the crab again.
Ee-Sze (Meaning): A big, proud, boastful mouth is a worse thing for a man than it is for a fox. [[144]]
A LITTLE CHINESE ROSE
小梅女
One day Mai-Qwai (Little Rose) ran home angry to her mother saying, “Mü-Tsing, I do not want my name to be Rose any longer. I was in Dun-Qure’s garden just now, and she asked me, ‘Which flower do you like best of all in our garden?’ and I said I liked my name-flower best. [[145]]
“Then they all laughed and said, ‘We do not. Do you not see the thorns on the roses? When we pass near we tear our dresses. When we touch them the blood flows from our hands. No, we do not like the roses. The baby cow does not like them either. They stick her nose when she tries to eat, and even mother can not pick them without scissors. Once when she had a large bunch of roses, little sister tried to get one and it stuck her hands and face so that she cried many hours. Other flowers do not make trouble like that, and we do not see why any one likes the rose best. We think it very foolish to like a trouble flower and be named for it.’
“I do not like my name-flower any more, Mü-Tsing, and I do not want to bear its name.”
“Do not cry, dear child,” said her mother, “and I will tell you some things about the rose. Do you like rose sugar?”[1]
“Yes, very much,” Rose answered, her face growing bright.
“And rose oil?”
“Oh, yes, Mü-Tsing.”
“I thought you did not like the rose. So you ought not to like the good things it makes.”
“But, Mü-Tsing, tell me why did the rose god make [[146]]the rose grow with so many thorns? Other flowers are not like that.”
“Listen, dear child. If the rose tree were like other trees and still had its beautiful flowers, I think we should never have any for ourselves. They would be too easily gathered. The rose god was very wise and put thorns all around his beautiful flower. When he made it, he gave it an odor so sweet that all the gods stopped working on the day it was finished. The thorns mean, Honor the rose which grows forever. The cows can not touch it, and the pigs never go near it, and careless children or wasteful people can not destroy it. Do you see, dear, why the rose must have thorns?”
The next morning Rose found in her room a beautiful new rose pillow made of the sweet-smelling petals. When she laid her head on this fragrant pillow she said, “Mü-Tsing, I do not wish to change my name.” [[147]]
[1] A choice Chinese candy. [↑]
THE EAGLE AND THE RICE BIRDS
物必歸原
Once a mother eagle had a nest with three eggs in it and she was very happy while waiting for her three children to come from the eggs. But one day, two schoolboys, named Jeung-Po and Hui-Yin, who knew of her nest, talked together and one of them said, [[148]]“Did you know that the eagle likes the rice birds?” And the other boy replied, “No, she does not, for I have seen her drive them away.”
But the one named Jeung-Po said, “Not only can I make an eagle like a rice bird, but I can make them change natures and live with each other.”
“You can not do that,” answered Hui-Yin.
“Will you give me a piece of silver if I can make the eagle like the rice birds and take them as friends?”
And Hui-Yin said, “Yes, I will give you a piece of silver if you do that, but I know you can not.” And so they clapped hands.[1]
So Jeung-Po went his way hunting, hunting many birds, until finally he found a rice bird’s nest with five eggs in it. He took three of the eggs and put them in the mother eagle’s nest and then he took the three eggs from the eagle’s nest to the nest of the rice bird.
In twenty-five days the eagle’s nest had three baby birds in it and Jeung-Po was glad. One day he heard the mother eagle saying to her three babies:
“I do not know why your feathers are not as mine, and your voices are so different and you are such very little things. I will go and ask my oldest son to come [[149]]here to-morrow, and see if he can tell me why you are so.”
On the next day the eagle’s son came to visit his mother, and he said, “Ah-Ma, I am glad to see my three little brothers, but their faces are not like yours or mine.”
“I know that what you say is true,” said the eagle mother. “I wished you to come, so that we might talk of this strange thing. You are my child, and they are mine, but they are not like you and me.”
“I will see what they eat,” said the eagle son. Then he gave them a piece of meat, but they could not eat it.
“They want rice all the time,” the eagle mother told him. “They will not eat meat.” The mystery was so great that the eagles could not understand.
Soon the strange nestlings were flying with the eagle mother. One day she took them to a pleasant place to play, and on their way home they passed a rice bird who called to them. The mother eagle said, “Do not go with him. Come with me.” But the little ones would not listen. And when the rice bird said, “Chi-Chi,” and flew down to a rice field, the three little ones left the eagle mother and went with the rice bird.
The eagle mother called many times, but her strange children would not come to her. Then she said to the [[150]]rice bird, “Why did my children follow your call and not mine? How did you teach them in one breath what I have not been able to teach them in all their lives?”
And the rice-bird father said, “They are not your children. They belong to the rice-bird mother. She is coming now; see for yourself.”
Soon sixteen rice birds flew near and the eagle mother saw that they were all like her children. The rice bird said, “You see, it is as I told you.”
“But they must be my children,” said the eagle mother. “I can not understand this, for I never had children like them before. My other children were like me and they never behaved in this way. But I will take them home again and feed them, and when they grow older they may become like me and the others of my family.”
“It will never be so,” said the rice bird. “I am sure of that. You need not hope that these children will ever be eagles. You see they do not eat meat, they eat rice. They know the rice bird’s call without being taught. They do not speak the same dialect that you speak, nor sing the same songs. They are surely rice birds and you can not keep them longer in your home.”
The eagle mother tried again and again to call her children and they only said, “Chic, chic,” which meant [[151]]that they would not come. She waited long, but they refused to go with her. Then she chided the rice birds and said, “You are a bad company, and you have tempted my children to join you. Why do you not tell them to come home with me, their mother? If you do not cease your evil actions, I shall eat you or drive you away.”
The eagle mother flew away alone to the mountain, and she sat on a great rock and waited long for her children to come home.
The night came, but her little ones did not return. In her heart the eagle mother knew they were lost to her. All the dark night she cried aloud in her grief. In the morning she hunted long, but she could not find them. She said to herself:
“This is a strange and dreadful thing that has come to me. I remember that I once heard a quarrel-bird say that some of her children had left her in this same way, and she believed some bad boy had changed her eggs. For she had six yellow children in her nest, and when they could fly they went away with the yellow song birds. She found her own children one day in a camphor tree. I wish that I might find my own children.”
Just then she met the quarrel-bird mother, and she asked her, “How did you find your own children?” [[152]]
And the quarrel-bird mother said, “I was passing by the camphor tree when I saw the little ones alone, and I asked, ‘What are you doing here?’ And they said, ‘Eating nuts!’
“ ‘Do you like nuts?’ I asked.
“ ‘Oh yes, very well.’
“ ‘Where did you come from?’ I said.
“ ‘We came from the yellow-bird family.’
“ ‘But you do not look like the yellow birds.’
“ ‘No, and we did not talk nor eat as they did.’
“ ‘Where is your home now?’
“ ‘We have no home.’
“ ‘Why do you not live with the yellow-bird mother?’
“ ‘We were not happy there. The others do not eat nor drink, nor sing as we do. We are not fond of them, nor they of us.’
“ ‘You are like me and mine,’ I told them. And we looked at each other and saw the same feathers and the same color. Then they asked me where my home was and I told them under a rock of the Wu-Toa Mountain. So they went with me, and my house and my food were pleasant to them. In some way—though we could not tell how—we knew in our hearts that we belonged to each other. And we were happy, happy.”
The eagle mother thought long about the story of the quarrel-bird, and the next morning she left her nest [[153]]early and went to the wilderness to seek her lost children. On the way, she met a cousin eagle who asked her, “Why are you crying and crying?”
The eagle mother answered and said, “I have lost three children. Have you seen any—lost in the wilderness? I could not sleep all last night, for a great trouble has come to me.”
The eagle cousin said, “I saw three eagle children pass here. They went to the Fah-Nim tree and ate of its fruit. They were playing there, and seemed to be happy.”
The eagle mother went to the Fah-Nim tree and saw three little eagles; and she said, “Children, how did you come here?”
The little eagles answered her, “We are not your children. Why do you call us? We have had no mother since we were born. The rice bird left us when we were small. She said we were not her children. Then an eagle came along and gave us food until we could fly.”
The eagle mother said, “You look like my older children, and I believe you are mine. Would you like to go with me and see our home?”
Then the little eagles talked together and said, “She is very kind to us. Of course we do not know her, but we might go and see her home.” [[154]]
So they went, and in that eagle mother’s house, they soon knew her for their mother and she knew her own children.
And Jeung-Po lost the money, for it was proved that he could not change nature. Each bird went back to its own kind. The eagle is always an eagle, and the rice bird is always a rice bird.
Ee-Sze (Meaning): The good can not stay with the evil; light can not be changed into darkness, nor darkness into light. White is always white and black is always black. The rice bird is always a rice bird and the eagle is always an eagle. Each is according to his own nature and kind. Man need not try to change those things which the Creator made changeless. [[155]]
[1] This is similar to the Occidental custom of shaking hands on an agreement. [↑]
THE CHILDREN AND THE DOG
孩童與犬
Woo-Hsing lived near the market place and all the children thought him a very wonderful man. He trained fine dogs to do almost everything but talk. If one wanted a dog educated, Woo-Hsing was the man to take him to. Whether for hunting, for performing [[156]]tricks in public places or from door to door—anything, all things, Woo-Hsing could teach his dogs. This is why the children thought him a wonderful man.
It came time for Woo-Hsing’s little boy to learn how to teach dogs. So one day he brought his son a very young one from the market place. Then he told him how the dog should be taught. It would take three years to teach him all: to play soldier with a gun, to dance, to bow his head, to kneel, to play churn the rice,[1] to swim in water with a boy on his back, or to take a basket and go from door to door and beg rice and money for his master. Even then his training was not complete until he could hunt the fox, the gibbon, the mouse-deer, and other animals.
Woo-Hsing’s little boy had been named Yiong-Yueng, which in Chinese means “Forever.” The reason for the name was this: Woo-Hsing had been given many sons, but they had all died young, so when the last one came he named him Forever, for he said, “He will then live a long time and I shall not be childless.”
Yiong-Yueng called his dog Hsi-Long, which means “for fun.” He was a very wise dog and learned so [[157]]many tricks in a short time, that he was known and admired by all the boys in the country around.
One day a crowd of children coming home from school met Hsi-Long in the road. They all shouted, “Here is Yiong-Yueng’s dog. Now we will have some fun and make him do all his tricks for us.”
So one boy said, “Here, Hsi-Long! Come here,” but the dog would not even notice him. Then another boy pulled his tail because he would not obey; and Hsi-Long bit the boy’s finger and growled, and the boy ran home crying.
Another boy said, “Now see me. I will make him take me on his back for a swim in the water as he takes Yiong-Yueng;” and he caught Hsi-Long roughly and tried to pull him in the water. But the dog pulled his clothes and growled so fiercely that the boys scattered and ran home.
One of the boys, Ah-Gum, told his mother what had happened, and how angry they all were at the dog, who needed a beating, as they thought. “When Yiong-Yueng has visitors, Hsi-Long kneels and bows and does all his tricks for him; why would he not do them for us, Ah-Ma? How can we make him do the tricks for us?”
“Well, my son,” said his mother, “you wanted the dog to do many things for you. Have you ever done [[158]]anything for the dog? You are a stranger to him. Did you ever give him anything to eat or drink?
“Try this,” continued the mother. “To-morrow, take a bowl of rice, put a little meat and gravy with it, and give it to the dog. Speak kindly to him and pet him. Do this two or three times and he will surely like and trust you. Then he will do for you all he knows how to do.
“You will find people in the world are just the same, my son. Do not expect people to do things for you when you do nothing for them, for that is not right. You must give, if you expect to receive, and it is better to give first.” [[159]]
[1] The Chinese farmers have a rice churn which takes the final husk off the rice. It holds about two bushels and works with treadle very much like our old-fashioned dog churns. It takes the women about half an hour to churn (or thresh) one churnful of rice. [↑]
THE TWO MOUNTAINS
兩大山
The Kwung-Lun Mountain is very high—ten thousand feet or more. Most of the time his head is covered with the clouds and, since he was born, no man has ever found the way to climb where he might look in the face [[160]]of the great Kwung-Lun. And the eagles and the San-Chi[1] birds live always with him.
One day Kwung-Lun spoke to the Tai-San Mountain who lived near, and said, “I am the highest mountain in the world. I am the steepest and most honorable of all the mountains here. The farmers come to me; from the morning until the evening sun they come and cut the great rocks from my base. And from the earliest light, until the darkness gathers about my head, the birds sing for me. I have the San-Chi birds. They wear the most beautiful feather in the world. It shines in the sun and has a different glory for the moon. Man gives more gold for this than for any other feather that is on the earth. The San-Chi is mine. I feed him and he lives always with me.
“Yesterday, a teacher and his scholars came here and I heard him tell them this story about Confucius:—
“ ‘One day, Confucius was talking to the young King Loa-Bai, and he asked the king, “Have you ever been to the Kwung-Lun Mountain?” And the [[161]]king answered, “No.” Then Confucius showed him a beautiful fan made of feathers from the San-Chi birds. “Did you ever see feathers like these?” he asked.
“ ‘ “I am a king and I have seen many things,” said the young king, “but never have I beheld colors of such wondrous beauty. I will give you one thousand pieces of silver if you will bring me a fan like this one.”
“ ‘And Confucius answered, “If I can persuade you to do one thing that I desire greatly I will give you the fan, for I should not like to sell it. I could not well take silver in exchange for it, as it was given to my honored ancestor, my great-great-grandfather. But as I have said, if you will take my advice concerning a certain matter, you shall have the fan.”
“ ‘ “I will be advised by you,” said the young king. “What do you wish me to do?”
“ ‘ “You are a king[2] of great strength,” said Confucius. “You have more soldiers than any other king. But if you were a lion, you would not kill all the other animals in the wilderness to show your great strength. Or, if you were the greatest fish in the waters, you would not swallow all the weaker fish.” [[162]]
“ ‘The young king answered, “No, I would not! If I were a lion, I would let all the weaker creatures dance before me in happiness and safety.”
“ ‘ “You are a strong, great king,” said Confucius. “Other kingdoms are weaker than your own. Their kings do not wish to fight, unless they must. If you will take my advice and will not force them to war for six years, you shall have many gifts from these kingdoms. You shall have this wonderful fan made of the feathers from one hundred and twenty San-Chi birds, and gold and ivory, with beautiful carving; and you shall have gems of many colors and battle-horses and bears’ feet.[3] If you will be advised by me, the other nations will give you these things.”
“ ‘ “How soon shall I have these things?” the young king asked.
“ ‘ “In one year,” Confucius replied, “you shall have them. I must have time to go again to the rulers of these kingdoms.”
“ ‘So the king agreed to do as Confucius desired; and Confucius said, “I now give you my fan, and if in one year it is as I say, the fan is yours. But if you begin warring with any other nation in that time, you must return the gift to me.”
“ ‘Then Confucius went to see the rulers of the [[163]]weaker kingdoms, and four gave promises of peace and sent gifts to the young king. But one of the kings would not give tribute, neither would he say when he would begin war.
“ ‘When a year had almost passed, the young king reported to Confucius, “Four kings only have sent me gifts. Does the other nation wish war, or will its king send me a gift as the others have done?”
“ ‘ “Will you not take my fan as a gift from me, and let the small weak nation go?” said Confucius.
“ ‘Then the king became very angry. He tore his long robe and said, “I will swallow up the nation that is my enemy. We will have war now.”
“ ‘ “The year of your promise is not yet gone,” said Confucius. “If you do that, you must return the priceless fan.” And the young king gave Confucius his fan and went away.
“ ‘The king gave his general the order to make ready for war. But in a few hours he repented of what he had done, for he prized the fan of Confucius above all gold or jewels, and he ordered his general to cease preparing for battle. And he further ordered that a Jeh-Shung—good talker—be sent with this message to Confucius.
“ ‘ “I, the king, am sick at heart. I wish you to come to me and bring with you the fan which I prize [[164]]above all gems. I will not battle with the weaker kingdom.”
“ ‘ “I have important work and can not come to-day,” answered Confucius, “but in one more day I will see the king.”
“ ‘Then the king was very happy again, for his heart was set on possessing the fan.
“ ‘When the next day came, the king sent the most honorable chair (carried by eight men), and went himself to meet Confucius, who held in his hand the priceless fan, for well he knew the heart of the young king.
“ ‘And when he drew near, the king could not see Confucius. He saw only the sparkling colors of the fan he so desired. And Confucius said, “I thought you were going to destroy the weaker nation. Why do you wish me to come here?”
“ ‘Then the king bowed to Confucius and said, “I am in the wrong. I have thought deeply about this, and I will take your advice and keep peace. Now, will you give me the fan?”
“ ‘ “No, you are not to have the fan on the agreement which you broke, for when you sent me away you prepared to make war on the weaker nation,” said Confucius.
“ ‘And the young King fell with his face to the ground and his attendants came to care for him. [[165]]
“ ‘ “If you will make a new agreement,” said Confucius, “and promise that you will never be the first to go to war, I will give you this fan that you so desire.”
“ ‘The young king made the agreement. And the fan was given him by Confucius. And the king said to himself, “This fan is more than many kingdoms to me. In all the world of man, there is nothing else so beautiful. My heart has desired above all things this wonderful fan of the San-Chi feathers and the rare carving.” ’ ”
When the Kwung-Lun Mountain had told this story to the Tai-San Mountain, he said, “Although I have the San-Chi birds, the most beautiful of all creation, yet it is to me a strange thing that a thousand and a thousand people bow their heads and worship you, while I stand here and am hardly noticed.
“You give no great thing to the people. You have no beauty. You are not tall and grand. Your head is not higher than the clouds. You can not see the dark and secret caves of the thunder, and the hidden places of the beginning of the storm. You never gave feathers, more beautiful even than flowers, to a king. Why do the people worship you instead of me? The hunter [[166]]comes to me and the farmer takes my stones, but they forget me, the giver. Now, tell me truly, why do people love and worship you instead of me?”
And the Tai-San Mountain answered, “I will tell you why. You are very haughty. You are stiff and stony and proud, from your base to your summit. Your nature is not kind. The children can not play in your lap. In the summer time when the people come for the fruit and grain harvest, you give them nothing; and they can not come to you to choose the San-Da. It hurts their feet to walk among your rocks and stones. No one can visit you. You do not welcome them. How can they worship you?
“I am lower and of a gentler nature. The birds come to me to make their nests, and people always gather about me in the summer time. My heart is open and every one knows me well and loves me.”
Ee-Sze (Meaning): The proud and the gentle live in the world together. But the gentle and loving have happiness that the proud can not understand. [[167]]
[1] San Chi:—A large and beautiful mountain bird with one feather of rarest loveliness. This feather is blue, of a peculiar iridescence, and some of its long, curly fronds are white. The Chinese are superstitious about this feather and think it has healing qualities. They sometimes trap the San-Chi bird and pull its one beautiful feather, letting the bird go free. It is six years, the hunters say, until the lost feather is replaced. The San-Chi is very long lived, and its feathers are greatly valued for fans. [↑]
[2] At that time several nations were at war, and Confucius went to the king of each nation, trying to persuade him that it was better to be at peace. He went to the young King Loa-Bai first, as his was the strongest of the kingdoms. [↑]
[3] Bears’ feet are considered a great delicacy by the Chinese. [↑]