Part 6

“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 [21] and Cho-Chen-Cho [22] 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 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 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 [23]

“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.”

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 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 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.

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.

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 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 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 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 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.

“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 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 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.”

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 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 [24] 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.”

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? [25] 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 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 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.

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 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 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.