Part 8

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 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.

A CHINESE PRODIGAL SON

浪子歸家

I

Kong-Hwa’s father and mother were farmers. They had a pleasant home and would have been very happy together, but after Kong-Hwa was four years old, he was a bad, disobedient boy.

He would not listen to his mother’s teachings. She was a good woman and tried by different ways to make him do right. In school he was considered a very bright boy and learned fast, but he would not obey his teacher.

Kong-Hwa was only seven years old when he came home one day with his books. He had run away from school.

As he came into the room where his mother was working, he cried out, “Mü-Ts’ing, why do you do that?”

She was cutting into little bits a fine large piece of cloth that she had woven to make the family clothes of. “Why do you spoil the cloth, mother?”

“Yes, my son, it is true I spoil the cloth. It is now good for nothing. It will not make clothes for your father, clothes for yourself, nor clothes for me. It is wasted, and will not be of use even for dust cloths. It is not good for anything. Do you know why I did that, my boy?”

“No, Mü-Ts’ing, why did you do it?”

“For this reason, my son: I am anxious that you shall be good and study your lessons in school every day, and I hope and hope that after a while you will be a good and wise man and do something for your father, your mother, and your nation. And I also hoped to make your clothes out of this cloth.

“But your teacher says you run away, go to the seesaw, play in the water, climb trees, throw stones at the little birds all day and will not study.

“You are using your time as I have used the nice new cloth—cutting it up in useless little pieces. I once thought you were a wise child, but you are not. You are very foolish.”

Kong-Hwa cried and felt sad, while his mother talked, and then he said, “I will go back to school to-morrow. Now can you mend the cloth or make another piece, Mü-Ts’ing?”

“I will wait and see if you really mean to be a good boy,” said his mother.

The next morning he arose early, took his books, and went directly to school; but in a few days he was as bad as before.

The school children and the neighbors complained about the boy who did so much mischief. His mother had only the one little son, and as they came to her with complaints, she felt that she could almost die with grief.

She lay awake all night thinking, “What can I do to teach my boy the good? Who can give a boy lessons if not his own mother? Oh, I must think of some way.”

Next morning Kong-Hwa was up at the usual time and went into the kitchen for food. But the kitchen was dark; there was no fire, no food.

He said to himself, “It is queer; so late and no breakfast.” He went to his mother’s room and called, “Mü-Ts’ing;” but there was no answer. He then went close to her bed and touched her, but she did not move.

He then ran to his aunt and told her to go and see—that his mother was surely dead.

She answered, “It may be that the gods have taken her away because you have been such a bad boy. Now will you be a better boy?” And he promised. Then she ran to her sister’s home to see if she was dead.

Kong-Hwa stayed outside trembling with fear, while his aunt went in. She soon saw that her sister was not dead and told of the promise of Kong-Hwa.

“Did my boy think I was dead?” asked his mother. “Well, keep him at your house for two or three days and send him to school. Let him think, and think, and he may be a better boy.”

Kong-Hwa’s aunt told him that if he learned his lessons and obeyed his teacher, it might be the gods would allow his mother to stay with him after all.

While his aunt prepared breakfast for him, he asked many questions. “What did you do with my mother? Will there be a funeral?”

“Never mind,” said the aunt, “go to school and do not be so bad any more, and we shall see what happens. It may be your mother will live again.”

II

For two days Kong-Hwa was good—no schoolmate complained, no neighbor complained. He studied his lessons and obeyed his teacher. Then he went again to his mother’s house. He saw that she was alive, and in a few days he was again as bad as ever.

“I can not teach him, he must learn things for himself,” said his mother; “I do not know what else I can do.”

And it was so until he was twelve years old. His mother tried to help him to do right, but it seemed of no use.

Shortly after he was twelve years old, he came home from school one day and said, “Mü-Ts’ing, I want to go to Siang-Sze. I will leave school. No one likes me; no one plays with me. I do not like school and I will not go anymore. I shall be a merchant and make money.”

His mother thought he was too young to know what he wanted, and so paid little attention to him. But he insisted, and finally she said, “Go to your father.”

His father was surprised and asked, “You wish to make money? How can you make money without money? Siang-Sze is a long way off and it will cost you much to go there. Then you will need more to be a merchant.”

Kong-Hwa said, “Give me enough to reach Siang-Sze and I will go.” He insisted until his father beat him and said, “Now go back to school. I will hear no more of this.”

Kong-Hwa was keen and determined. He borrowed money, quietly, a little here and a little there, and then he ran away to Siang-Sze.

For many days his mother tried to find him. She did not think he would go far by himself. Finally she learned that he had gone to Siang-Sze and gave up searching for him.

Nine years had gone by when a man from Siang-Sze told of seeing Kong-Hwa there. His parents wrote to him, but no answer came. Thirteen years passed by and they thought, “We shall never see his face again.”

One day Kong-Hwa, who still lived in Siang-Sze, said to a friend, “I must go home now, if I can get money enough. I have learned some life lessons and now I am going.”

His friend said, “We have good times in Siang-Sze. Why do you leave?”

“It is not the place where I ought to be,” answered Kong-Hwa. “I have tried many things here and in all the thirteen years have not had success. No one will have me for a bookkeeper. I tried to be a merchandise agent, and in two months I was discharged. I then worked in a bank for forty days, when they paid my salary and told me to go. To-morrow I need money to pay my rent, three months due; but I have no money. I order clothes, and they say, ‘No money, no clothes.’ I ask friends to lend me some, and they do not even answer me.

“I see now I have been very foolish. I have been here thirteen years and I try to have a good time. I drink, I smoke, I dance, I go to theaters and halls every night—every night. I spend all of my money when I have work. Now I have no work; all my friends have left me; they will not trust me for a piece of silver. I have been very bad. I was a bad boy at home. My mother was good and gave me many lessons which I would not learn.

“Because my mother was so good, I have no excuse for my miserable condition now. I must go home and show her I am sorry at last. I know now that in all the world there is no friend like a mother.

“I will write to her to-morrow and say in my letter, ‘Mü-Ts’ing, I am going to leave the opium, theater, and dance—all bad things.’ I will ask her to send me money to come home, and I will then take my father’s place on the farm.

“I will take the oxen and plow the rice fields, plant the corn, and tell my father to rest. I will help my mother so she need not cook nor do any other work. There is no one like father and mother, and no place but my home for me now.”

Kong-Hwa wrote the letter and sent it by a friend, telling him to say “good words” for him; for he felt that he deserved nothing after causing his parents so much sorrow.

“Thirteen long years and at last a letter from our dear son,” cried Kong-Hwa’s mother.

His parents were filled with joy and asked the bearer of the good news all about him. How long would it take for the letter and money that they would send to reach him? Would he come at once?

His mother wrote: “My son, Kong-Hwa, come to our home. We feel that you will do what you say in your letter. The house, the land, and all we have is yours and we will rejoice to have you come and care for them. The time will seem long until you are here.”

Kong-Hwa went to his parents as soon as the letter and money came to him. And he was a good man from that time and served his parents and made their old age glad. He did everything as he had said he would. He took the oxen and plowed the rice fields. He planted the corn, and he helped his mother in the house, and all were happy.

THE LION AND THE MOSQUITOES

獅受蚊敵

One day Ah-Fou’s father said to him, “Come here, my boy, and I will tell you a story. Do you remember the great lion we saw one day, which Ah-Kay caught? You know a strong rope held him, and he roared and tried to free himself until he died. Then when Ah-Kay took him from the net, he looked at the rope and the bamboo carefully, and found five of the great ropes broken.

“How strong is the lion? Twenty children like you could not break one strand of that great rope. But the lion broke five complete ropes. He is the strongest of all animals. He catches many creatures for his food, but once he lost a battle with one of the least of the wilderness creatures. Do you know what it was?”

“A bird could fight and then fly away. Was it a bird?”

“No, my son.”

“A man is stronger than a lion.”

“No, do you not remember the woodcutter who could put down five strong men? One night a wilderness lion caught and killed him.”

“Then what was the smallest of all creatures of the wilderness that battled with a lion?”

The father said, “I will tell you the story: Once in the summer time the lion was very thirsty. But the sun had taken all the water near the lion’s home and he went to many places seeking for it. In time he found an old well, but the water was not fresh. As the lion was very thirsty he said, ‘I must drink, even though the water is stale.’

“But when he reached down into the old well, he found that it was the home of all the mosquitoes of the wilderness.

“The mosquitoes said to the lion, ‘Go away, we do not want you. This is our home and we are happy. We do not wish the lion, the fox, or the bear to come here. You are not our friend. Why do you come?’

“The lion roared and said, ‘Weak and foolish things! I am the lion. It is you that should go away, for I have come to drink. This is my wilderness, and I am king. Do you know, weak things, that when I come out from my place and send forth my voice, all the creatures of the wilderness shake like leaves and bow their heads to me? What are you that you should have a place you call your home and tell me that I may or I may not?’

“Then the mosquitoes answered, ‘You are only one. You speak as if you were many. Our people had this old well for a home before your roar was heard in the wilderness. And many generations of us have been born here. This home is ours, and we are they that say who shall come or go. And yet you come and tell us to go out of our own door. If you do not leave us, we will call our people, and you shall know trouble.’

“But the lion held his head high with pride and anger and said, ‘What are you, oh small of the small? I will kill every one of your useless people. When I drink, I will open my mouth only a little wider, and you shall be swallowed like the water. And to-morrow, I shall forget that I drank to-day.’

“‘Boastful one,’ said the mosquitoes, ‘we do not believe that you have the power to destroy all our people. If you wish battle, we shall see. We know your name is great and that all animals bow their heads before you; but our people can kill you.’

“The lion jumped high in his rage and said, ‘No other creature in the wilderness has dared to say these things to me—the king. Have I come to the vile well of the silly mosquitoes for wisdom?’ And he held his head high, and gave the mighty roar of battle, and made ready to kill all the mosquitoes.

“Then the mosquitoes, big and little, flew around him. Many went into his ears, and the smallest ones went into his nose, and the big old ones went into his mouth to sting. A thousand and a thousand hung in the air, just over his head and made a great noise, and the lion soon knew that he could not conquer.

“He roared and jumped, and two of his front feet went down into the well. The well was narrow and deep and he could not get out, for his two hind feet were in the air and his head hung downward. And as he died, he said to himself:

“‘My pride and anger have brought me this fate. Had I used gentle words, the mosquitoes might have given me water for my thirst. I was wise and strong in the wilderness, and even the greatest of the animals feared my power. But I fought with the mosquitoes and I die—not because I have not strength to overcome, but because of the foolishness of anger.’”

Ee-Sze (Meaning): The wise can conquer the foolish. Power is nothing, strength is nothing. The wise, gentle, and careful can always win.

THE THIEF AND THE ELEPHANT

以象問案

Six hundred years ago the people of Southern China trained elephants and taught them to do many useful things. They worked for farmers and woodcutters, and helped make the roads twice a year; for an elephant could do many times more work than any other animal. So wise were the elephants that the people grew superstitious about them, believing they could see even into the heart of man.

A judge named Ko-Kia-Yong had an elephant that was trained to do this wonderful thing, so it was said. Three cases which were brought before him, were decided by a wise old elephant which he owned. And this is the way one of the decisions was made:

A man came before the judge and said that some robbers had been in his house during the night and had taken his gold and jewels—all that he had; and he asked the judge to find and punish the thieves.

In three months, five robbers had been found. When they were brought to the judge, they bowed before him and each one said, “I have never stolen anything.”

The man and woman who had been robbed were called. And the woman said, “That man with the long gray hair is the one who robbed us.”

The judge asked, “Are you sure it is he, and how do you know?”

She answered, “Yes, I remember. He took the bracelet from my arm and I looked into his face.”

“Did the other four rob you also?” asked the judge.

The woman answered, “I do not know.”

But the judge said, “The man who you say is a robber, seems not like one to me. His face is kind and gentle. I can not decide according to your testimony. I know of but one way to find out, and we shall soon know the truth in this matter. My elephant shall be brought in to examine the men. He can read the mind and heart of man; and those who are not guilty need have no fear, for he will surely know the one who has done this deed.”

Four of the men looked glad.

They were stripped and stood naked—all but the cloth—before the judge and the law of the nation, and the elephant was brought in.

Then the judge said to the elephant, “Examine these men and tell us which is the robber.” The elephant touched with his trunk each of the five accused men, from his head to his feet.

And the white-haired man and the three others stood still and laughed at the elephant with happy faces; for they knew in their hearts they were not guilty and they thought the elephant knew. But the fifth man shivered with fear and his face changed to many colors. While the elephant was examining him, the judge said, “Do your duty,” and rapped loudly. The elephant took the guilty man and threw him down on the floor, dead.

Then the judge said to the four guiltless men, “You may go.” And to the woman he said, “Be careful whom you accuse.” Then he said to the elephant, “Food and water are waiting for you. I hope you may live a long time, and help me to judge wisely.”

After this many wise men who were not superstitious went to the judge and said:

“We know that your elephant can not read the heart and mind of man. What kind of food do you give him and what do you teach him? Man himself lives only from sixty to one hundred years and he knows little. How could an elephant read the heart of man, a thing which man, himself, can not do? Did the spirit of a dead man grow wise and enter that elephant? We pray that you explain.”

And Ko-Kio-Yong, the wise judge, laughed and said, “My elephant eats and drinks as other elephants do. I think he surely does not know a robber from an honest man, but this is a belief among our people. The honest man believes it and has no fear, because he has done no wrong. The thief believes it, and is filled with terror. Trial before the elephant is only confession through fear.”

THE GENERAL, THE BIRD, AND THE ANT [32]

將軍賴蟻

The people of the north nation were causing the king, Ting Ming Wong, much trouble, and one day he ordered his general, Gui Süt Yun, to declare war on them.

The brave general prepared to march north at once. He led an army of twenty-five thousand cavalry, followed by one thousand infantry.

By the time they reached Mau Tin Lang the soldiers were very tired, for they had then marched ten days. Orders were given that they rest for three days before proceeding.

The weather was very warm, and on the second day there was no more water, not even to drink. The soldiers dug wells in many places, hoping to find water; but each time they were disappointed.

A report was then made to the general, Gui Süt Yun, which said, “The men and horses are near death for the lack of water.”

Then the general ordered many men to go in different directions within a radius of ten miles to search for water.

The following morning two hundred men were dead, and still no water could be found.

Then the general, Gui Süt Yun, said, “We must all die here if we do not find water. If it is within one hundred miles, I will find it.” He then mounted his favorite war horse, and rode until both he and the horse were ready to die with the terrible thirst. He tried to feed his horse with green leaves; but he was weak and suffering, and the general lay down for rest and sleep. He cried in bitterness of spirit. Then he looked up to heaven and said:

“Has our king done a great wrong or have our soldiers done evil? Why should we perish here in a strange land? In the hour that I rest and sleep here, may a spirit show me the path that leads out of this great trouble.

“It may be that if the north kingdom is right, we shall die here and not even go to battle. But if we are right, this thing should not be. When we first came here, there was plenty of water. Why did the earth drink up this water and leave us to die? As I sleep, may a spirit show me the meaning of all this.”