“Now, by the sacred Budha!” he exclaimed, “learning like thine shall win its crown without the aid of propitiatory gifts, save to the gods themselves. Know, O Lí, that Yang and Kau, who enjoy the smiles of the great emperor, are this year the examiners. To them shalt thou go, with no favor but my name—humble as it is, it shall cause thine to be enrolled among the literati of the Imperial Academy!”
No doubt Ho manifested great vanity in this, in so much as hinting that his “humble” name could balance with gold in the scales of avarice! Nevertheless Lí was delighted, and immediately set about piling up such a cloud castle as spread over his whole heaven of glory.
And now the day of examination approached, and confident of success, Lí boldly presented himself for admission.
Offering the memorial of Ho, which was to insure him, as he supposed, the favor of the judges, he was much surprised to see those great men, Yang and Kau, after turning over the missive with elevated noses, expressive of their contempt, cast it from them with scorn.
“Heigh! the academician Ho thinks to cheat us with bubbles! He sends us a scrawl devoid of meaning, to bespeak our favor for an upstart without degree or title! Yes—we will remember the name of Lí!” Saying which, they cast looks of bitter disdain upon the needy scholar.
Then commenced the tedious formula of the examination. The candidates, hundreds in number, were all obliged to undergo the strict search of the officers in attendance. Their robes, pockets, shoes, and even their nicely plaited queues were examined, to see they had not secreted some essay or composition of some kind, which they might substitute for one written on the spot without preparation, when the examiners should command them. This done, they were all seated on long benches with their paper and pencils ready for the trial—the doors and windows in the meanwhile being closely barred and guarded, that no one from without should have the power of smuggling any written paper into the hands of the students.
At a signal-gun the theme for composition was given out, and, like the velvet feet of butterflies, the pencils of the rival candidates glided smoothly and fleetly over the tinted paper. With perfect composure and ease, Lí wrote off his essay in the most beautiful characters, without a single erasure or omission—handling the subject with great skill and judgment, and gave it into the hands of Yang.
“Heigh!” said Yang, without giving himself even the trouble to glance over it, but drawing his pencil derisively over the fair and beautiful characters, “I remember the name of Lí! What stuff is here—why the fellow is only fit to grind my ink!”
“To grind your ink!” quoth Kau, “say rather he is only fit to lace my buskins!”
And laughing loudly at their own wit, the great judges Yang and Kau turned their backs upon the unfortunate Lí.