WHY THE CHIMES RANG

WHY THE CHIMES RANG

(Adapted from Raymond M. Alden- Re-written by BoSt) 

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All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far off land there was a magnificent church set on a hilltop. Tall stained glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the gray stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve all the inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result people were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went and no chimes were heard.

It so happened that there was an old man living modestly with his wife Madonna, in a ramshackle hut not far from the notable church. This kind old man recalled a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years she mourned the fact that people had grown less generous in their hearts with their gifts for the Christ Child. Love and compassion for their fellow man had diminished; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it became only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes. If the old man voiced this mournful insight it unfortunately fell on deaf ears. Everyone dismissed him as a senile old man. When he died some years later his poor old widow Madonna was left to fend for herself in a cruel, cruel world.

In a remote country village a number of miles from the city there lived a boy named Pedro and his little brother Pepito. Their parents had been dead for more than a year and Pedro as the sole provider had done his best to support them. Pepito had overheard so much about the city’s Christmas celebrations that he pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother to take him to the church. Not having the heart to say no, Pedro bundled some dry rations, mainly hard bread, a clump of hard, moldy cheese and some grain, in a cloth then tied its ends and slung it over his shoulder. They set out at dawn, both dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling cold and skins of water hung at their waists. The day before Christmas was bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward soul who dared venture outside.

For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the city. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big city now visible just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

Panting, they at long last approached the gates of the city. Fortunately the gates were still wide open, expecting more visitors. As they were about to enter, Pedro spotted something dark on the snow off to the side of the road, and so veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor beggar woman who had obviously suffered a mishap and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, she lay there half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold to rise up or call for help. Rushing over, Pedro helped her to sit up and draped his threadbare coat over her shoulders to bring her some warmth. She looked so pale and had difficulty speaking. He helped her take some tentative sips from his water skin. Then, looking up, he addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Pepito. I can’t leave her in this condition. You go on ahead to the church.”

“Alone?” cried Pepito in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be here when you come back. I can’t leave her.” Pedro answered sternly. He looked at her face and smiled encouragingly. “Poor old lady, her face looks like the Madonna in the chapel window.”

“Madonna” the old woman opened her tear stained eyes slightly and smiled at Pedro.

“Go on. I can’t leave her in this state; she will surely freeze to death if nobody stays with her.” Then Pedro reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take. Then with the choking sound of disappointment he added: “If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little copper piece of mine and lay it down as our offering when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

Pepito reluctantly left Pedro with a heavy heart. The great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.

Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

Then the King appeared in all his majesty hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for himself the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard. When the gifts were all on the altar, the choir began the closing hymn.

The disappointed crowd grumbling under their breath slowly began to disperse. Suddenly the organist stopped playing, and everyone looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?”

When the people strained their ears there came resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Pepito, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Pedro’s little piece of copper on the altar.

The End

Merry Christmas Everyone

Besting the Ghost

Besting the Ghost

By BoSt

To fall in love with someone special and then plan to share a life time with them through a bond of marriage is ideal. Often however considerations other than love come into play in marriages. In fact, it is still the custom for families in many countries to have an arranged marriage in order to augment political or economic status. But I digress. Let us just say, in the olden days this arranged marriage business was often the norm.

There was once a young couple who, after pomp and ceremony, settled in to live comfortably in a fine house with lots of land at the edge of town. As beloved children their families had seen to it that the couple would be compatible before they were married. Unfortunately many hidden vices surfaced after the marriage to disrupt their harmony. In time they were no more than two strangers barely speaking to each other but still living under one roof for the sake of appearances.

They thought they would be miserable forever, if only there were children to bridge this growing gap. But fate had other designs and before long, the couple’s strained but seemingly mundane life was seriously rocked with the onset of a grave illness that beset the young wife. Finally, after failed attempts to cure her, on the verge of expiring, the wife whispered to her husband in his feigned distress: “Dear husband, despite all your bad characteristics I still love you very much... Alas our time together was so cruelly interrupted.” She gasped a painful breath before resuming, “But marriage should be forever, here and in the hereafter...Promise me, after I leave you do not hasten from me to another woman. If you do, I shall find no rest and shall certainly return as a ghost and cause you endless trouble.”

Soon after this implied threat, the wife passed away. The husband at first respected her last wish and stayed celibate for some time, three months and two days to be exact. But then the loneliness drove him to seek the company of another. Chancing on an exquisite beauty at a small gathering, he became smitten at once. At first he observed her from afar in other social gatherings, and then he pushed for an introduction and gained a chance to converse with her. She was every bit as intelligent and artistic as she was beautiful. He could not help but fall deeply in love with her. This time through his own will they became engaged to be married. Immediately after the engagement party however a ghost appeared in his quarters that very night and continued on every night after that, with accusing words and gestures, blaming him for his breach of promise. The ghost was determined and angry as she related exactly what transpired between him and his new fiancé. Whenever he gave his new beloved a present or a token of their love, the ghost would describe in detail the particulars. She related, word for word all their private conversations. This so perturbed him that he suffered from a persistent case of insomnia. One of his close confidents advised him to take this problem to the local priest who lived in a seminary close to his home. He resisted this notion at first but as the problems persisted, he at long last went to the Priest seeking his help.

“Your former wife became a ghost and knows everything you do,” thoughtfully commented the Priest. “Whatever you do or say, whatever you give your fiancé, she knows of, you say? Hmm. She must be a very wise ghost. Really you should admire such a resourceful apparition. Here’s an idea; the next time she manifests, try bargaining with her. Tell her that, since she is so knowledgeable, you can obviously hide nothing from her and that if she can answer you one question, you will promise to break off the engagement immediately and content yourself thereafter to remaining single. “

“What is the question I must ask?” inquired the man.

“The Priest smiling replied: “Take a large handful of rice and ask her exactly how many grains of rice you hold in your hand. I she cannot tell you, you will know that she is only a figment of your imagination and upon this realization your trouble with the ghost should be no more.”

On the subsequent night, when the ghost again manifested, the man at first flattered her and told her that he was overawed that she knew everything.

“Indeed,” replied the ghost,” and furthermore, I also know that you went to see that Priest today.”

“I relent; but since you know so much,” demanded the man, “pray tell me how many grains of rice am I holding in my hand?”

There was no answer. The apparition simply vanished and from then on he saw no more ghost.

Fini.

The Giver Should Be Thankful

The Giver Should Be Thankful

The master of Engaku in Kamakura, Seisetsu was so well known for his teachings that many flocked to his tutelage. Consequently, the School’s accommodations became seriously overcrowded.

Umezu Sibei, a highly successful merchant of Edo, happened to be visiting the region and so paid a courtesy visit to the esteemed teacher. Noting the meagre lodgings of the school and feeling rather magnanimous he, on his return to his residence, made arrangements to donate five hundred pieces of gold (ryo) towards the construction of a more spacious school.

A few days later, his chest swelling with pride, Umezu revisited the school and personally handed the sack of gold over to the teacher Seiseutsu. But when Seisetsu simply received the amount with his matter-of-fact attitude and only the assertion: “All right. I will take it.”, Umezu became highly dissatisfied.

One can live a whole year on just three ryo, Umezu grumbled under his breath, yet I’ve not received not even a simple thank you for this magnanimous gift of five hundred ryo?

Refusing to take his leave, Umezu shifted uncomfortably and, after clearing his throat with a slight cough, added poignantly: “You know of course that in that sack are five hundred ryo?”

“Yes I know; you mentioned it previously.” Seisetsu replied impassively, turning to leave.

“Though I’m a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is still considered a hefty sum,” Umezu grumbled rather loudly.

“Do you wish a thank you for it?” Half turning, Seisetsu asked.

“Well, don’t you think you ought to?” responded Uzemu.

Seisetsu simply said: “Why? It’s the giver who should be thankful. ”

Fini

THE LOST DAUGHTER LEELINAU

THE LOST DAUGHTER LEELINAU

(Original story: The Indian Fairy Book

From the Original Legends

Author: Cornelius Mathews)

Rewritten by BoSt

A long time ago a mighty hunter and his family lived in a modest dwelling alongside the lake near the base of the lofty highlands called Kaug Wudjoo. His favorite daughter, named Leelinau, was a beautiful girl who from the earliest age seemed sensitive, thoughtful, and imaginative. Being rather introverted, she unfortunately, passed much of her time in solitude, preferring nature and the company of plants, birds and animals to that of humans.

Whenever she could, she snuck out of the lodge and sought the remotest recesses of the woods. There was one particular section that had an irresistible draw and, oftentimes, she would sit in lonely reverie there upon some high promontory of rock overlooking the lake. Manitowok (otherwise known as the Sacred Wood) was truly an enchanting place. Resting there amid all the leafy haunts of forest pines, she lent an ear to the melodious ripples of the waves lapping against the open shore. This hallowed ground was of course shunned by all others who feared they might fall under the spell of its mystical inhabitants: the little wild men of the woods, the turtle spirits, or plant fairies that were believed to be consistently frolicking in mischievous revelry.
So fearful were some of the common folk that, whenever they were compelled to make a landing on this sacred coast, they always left behind an offering or token to appease any ill will and ward off malevolence from the indigenous fairy folk.

Leelinau, being the pure spirit of youth, had no such fear or adverse experience despite the many times she visited this place. She had no qualms visiting this enchanting place that welcomed her and made her feel as though she belonged.

Leelinau began finding her way here from a very young age. She would often go missing for many hours at a time as she gathered strange flowers and plants. Upon her safe return, she presented these delightful gleanings to her parents along with intriguing accounts of all her adventures that had transpired in her rambles.
Although her parents harbored a secret worry about her frequent visits to this sacred ground, they were unwilling to prohibit it to her, or even in any way deter her from going there. She’d always been very gentle and delicate in temperament and nature; therefore, they could not openly articulate their opposition for fear of making her sick; and so her visits to Manitowok persisted as she grew up in years to early teens.

Oh, but how she loved sitting in her favorite spot with her face turned upward, gazing at the sky or at the languid, shimmering ripples on water. Often she would linger long in contemplation, as though in communion with her guardian spirit seeking divine guidance and solace. Sometimes she would beseech the spirit to lighten her soul and alleviate the sadness that seemed of late to grip her heart. On other visits she would solicit the spirits to procure pleasant dreams or other innocent maiden’s favor.

On occasion, when her father remained afar on the hunt later than usual, and it was feared that he could be overwhelmed by a tempest, or encountered some misfortune, Leelinau would fast and then spend time in contemplation and a prayer in Manitowok while she implored the spirits’ help to speed his safe return.

As the years advanced, she, now an exquisite beauty in her mid-teens, frequented the fairy pines at greater length and, on her return appeared even more absorbed by it. Her increasingly strange detachment from the accepted norm greatly concerned her parents who began suspecting that some evil spirit had enticed her into its clutches, and had cast upon her a charm which she had not the power to resist.
This belief was confirmed when, one day, Leelinau’s mother, rising at dawn, secretly trailed her daughter into the woods. There, concealed by a huge trunk, she overheard her daughter, quietly seated at a rock, murmuring to some phantom companion, with appeals such as these:

“ Oh spirit of the dancing leaves!” whispered Leelinau, her heart palpitating with intense emotion. “Dear, sweet and gentle specter of the foaming stream. do not forsake me but visit thou my nightly pillow once more, shedding over it silver dreams of mountain brook and pebbly rivulets. Spirit of the starry night; lead my foot-prints to the blushing, burning passion-flower that shines with a carmine hue. Spirit of the greenwood plume,” she concluded, turning with passionate gaze to the beautiful young pines which lightly swayed their green leafy limbs over her head, gently brushing her face “ embrace me, your Leelinau, with thy intoxicating perfume, liken to the ones spring unfolds from its sweetest flowers, or hearts that to each other show their inmost adoration. I entreat you to hear this maiden’s prayer!”
Gradually with the passing of each day these strange communions with the phantom beings stole the heart of Leelinau away. Now she appeared detached and walked among her people in quiet melancholy, as though she was a passing spirit not belonging to that world. And this was not all, for she grew gradually more remiss with her daily routines, failing to complete even the simplest tasks of the lodge.

Before this time she used to frolic and engage in joyful interactions and play with her young companions as the girls of the neighboring lodges all assembled as usual before the lodge-door to participate in their favorite games of block and string. In contrast Leelinau would sit vacantly, dismissing these pastimes as trivial, unworthy of her attention, or she would feebly make the effort to join if only to articulate her thoughts that this activity was rather irksome to her.
Moreover, on those warm evenings when she was compelled to join in the group of young people as they formed a ring around the lodge and the leather and bone passed rapidly from one to the other she handed it along offhandedly with dispassionate indifference about winning.

Eventually summer turned into autumn and there came the joyful time of the corn harvest. The air was permeated with excitement as all members of the tribe congregated to participate in harvesting the ripened maize from the fields. They had not been at this long when one of the girls, coincidentally the one noted for her beauty, joyfully cried aloud having found a red ear. Everyone rushed over at once to congratulate her for this rare and most fortunate find; for it foretold a brave admirer who would soon be on his way to her father’s lodge. The girl blushed as crimson as the corn and, tucking the trophy to her bosom, awkwardly intoned her thanks for their well wishes then inwardly offered her sincere gratitude to the Great Spirit that the red ear was straight and true rather than being crooked and bent.
Just then one of the young men noted Leelinau’s unease as she stood aloof off to the side and, on looking more intently, spied in Leelinau’s hand another red ear she had just plucked, but this one was crooked. At once the word “Wa-ge-min!” rang out from him and the whole gathering gave a loud roar.
“The thief is in the corn-field!” shouted the young man, whose name was Lagoo and who happened to be a mischievous person well-known in the tribe for his mirthful powers of story-telling. “Beware all! Watch out for the old man stooping as he enters the field. Watch out for the one who crouches as he creeps in the dark. Is it not plain enough by this mark on the stalk that he was heavily bent in his back? Old man, be nimble or someone will take thee while thou art taking the ear.” Lagoo continued in his exaggerated tones, accompanying his words with the mimicked action of one bowed with age stealthily entering the corn-field. “See how he stoops as he breaks off the ear. Nushka! He seems for a moment to tremble. Walker, be nimble! Hooh! It is plain the old man is the thief.” He turned abruptly and, facing Leelinau as she sat in the circle, pensively regarding the crooked ear which she held in her hand, and then loudly screeched, “Leelinau, the old man is thine!”
Rounds of laughter rung merrily through the corn-field, but Leelinau, casting the crooked ear of maize down upon the ground, simply walked away without a word.

The subsequent morning at dawn the eldest son of a neighboring chief called at her father’s lodge. He was quite advanced in years; but he enjoyed such renown for his aptitude, dexterity and courage in battle, to say nothing of his expertise in the hunt, that Leelinau’s parents accepted him at once as a suitor for their daughter. They also held the firm belief that it must have been the chief’s son whom Lagoo had pictured as the corn-taker. Their decision was also based on the dire hope that he, with his proficiency as a warrior, would perhaps win back the affections and thoughts of Leelinau from the harmful phantoms in the spirit-land.
Leelinau did not express any objections to his age or give any other plausible reason; she simply shook her head in the negative, clearly rejecting his proposal. Her parents spent the night arguing the point between them. By the following day, with their mind set, ascribing the young daughter’s hesitancy to maidenly fear, they went ahead anyway and fixed the date for the upcoming nuptials.
Knowing her daughter’s whims better, Leelinau’s mother harbored a secret worry that she kept from her husband. She chose to busy herself for the next couple of days with the customary preparations, refusing to deal with the nagging question that haunted her peace: The marriage-visit to their lodge, when the old warrior would present himself at the door was arranged and the day was fast approaching. What if Leelinau refused to admit him? She’d already definitely informed her parents that she would never acquiesce to this match. Would she relent?
They had no way of knowing of course that in her heart of hearts Leelinau had already avowed fidelity to another.

When she was much younger she had confessed to her mother some, but not all, the details. The fancies that filled her young mind during all those absentee hours spent under that broad-topped young pine whose leaves whispered in the gentle murmur of the air in the evening hours when the twilight steals by with night on its heels.
During one of those times while reclining pensively against the young pine-tree, she’d fancied that she had heard a voice addressing her. At first it had been scarcely more than a sigh, but gradually it had grown more pronounced:

"Sweet maiden,” Said the melodious whisper. “Pray think of me not just a tree; but as one who is fond to be with thee; I, with my tall and blooming strength, with my bright green nodding plume that wave above thee. Thou art leaning on my breast, Leelinau; lean forever there and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and cruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife and instead embrace this quiet, lonely shade. Over thee my arms I will always spread, sturdier than the lodge's roof. I will breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest. In my bark canoe I'll waft thee o'er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I will deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun's last rays. Come, and on the mountain free rove in bright Fairy with me!"
These riveting, enchanting words were drunk in with an eager ear by Leelinau and in time the tiny buds of love in her heart transformed into full blossoms.
Her mind made up, she’d sworn then and there to forsake all other. Returning to the spot time after time, she’d listen with intent to hear more but the voice became only an inaudible murmur and then it had ceased altogether. Even so, she felt such solitude and peace there. Meanwhile in her heart the hope persisted and flourished with a sure conviction that one day, one day, it will be so.

On the eve of the day that was fixed for her marriage, Leelinau donned her best garments. She arranged her hair according to the tradition of her tribe, and wore all her maiden ornaments in beautiful array. With a smile, she then came forth and presented herself to her parents.
“I am sorry to have caused you so much worry,” She said, “It is time for me to now to take my leave of you. My place is with the chieftain of the Green Plume, who is waiting for me at the Spirit Grove.”
Her face was radiant with joy, and the parents, taking what she had said as her own fanciful way of expressing acquiescence in their plans, and of her intention to have a clandestine meeting with her intended suitor, wished her good fortune in their happy meeting.
"I leave you with some trepidation in my heart," she continued, addressing her mother as they left the lodge, "Joyful as this event is, my heart is beset with sadness for I am going from one who has loved and nurtured me since my infancy; one who has guarded my youth; who has given me medicine when I was sick, and taught me to cook and sew.” Turning to take one last teary eyed look at the lodge, she added. “I am going from a father who has ranged the forest to procure the choicest skins for my dresses, and kept his lodge supplied with food and warmth. He kept us all safe from all danger. I am going from a lodge which has been my shelter from the harsh storms of winter, and my shield from the heat of summer. My gratitude is boundless for all that you’ve both done for me. But now I must leave you. Farewell, my beloved mother, my respected father, farewell!"
So saying, she sped faster than any could follow to the margin of the fairy wood, and in a moment she was lost to sight.

As she had often thus taken her leave of the lodge with such sentimental and solicitous words, her parents opted not to worry but instead confidently awaited her safe return. Time passed. Hour followed yet another hour, as the clouds of evening rolled up in the west; darkness came on, but no daughter returned.

They jumped from their seat at a loud knock on the door and rushed to open it. But instead of Leelinau, they came face to face with the forlorn and decidedly angry face of the bridegroom who demanded an explanation for this insult. Soon, armed with torches, they hastened to the wood in search of Leelinau. Although they lit up every dark recess and probed each leafy gloom, their search was in vain. Leelinau was nowhere to be seen. In lamentation they called her name, but she answered not.
Many suns rose and set, but nevermore in their light did the bereaved parent’s eyes behold the lost form of their beloved child. Soon they had to come to grips with a harsh reality: their beloved daughter was lost to them forever. Wherever she had vanished, it was to a place no mortal eyes could see and no mortal tongue could tell.

Some years later however, it chanced that a company of fishermen, who were spearing fish in the lake near the Spirit Grove, saw an apparition. Back in the village they excitedly descried their encounter as they sat by the fire under the moonlight night; how they had spotted, only for an instant, an enchantingly beautiful apparition resembling a female figure clad in flowing, flowery garments standing on the shore. As the afternoon was mild and the waters calm, they had cautiously pulled their canoe in toward the bank, but the slight ripple of their oars invoked alarm. The phantom beauty had fled in haste, but not before they recognized in the shape and dress as she ascended the bank, the lost daughter, and they saw further her most handsome fairy-lover, green plumes waving over his forehead as he glided lightly through the forest of young pines.

The End.

The Tea-Master and the Assassin

The Tea-Master and the Assassin

“Taiko, a warrior who lived in Japan before the Tokugawa era, studied Cha-no-yu, tea etiquette, with Sen no Rikyu, a teacher of that aesthetical expression of calmness and contentment.

Taiko's attendant warrior Kato interpreted his superior's enthusiasm for tea etiquette as negligence of state affairs, so he decided to kill Sen no Rikyu. He pretended to make a social call upon the tea-master and was invited to drink tea.

The master, who was well skilled in his art, saw at a glance the warrior's intention, so he invited Kato to leave his sword outside before entering the room for the ceremony, explaining the Cha-no-yu represents peacefulness itself.

Kato would not listen to this. "I am a warrior," he said. "I always have my sword with me. Cha-no-yu or no Cha-no-yu, I have my sword."

"Very well. Bring your sword in and have some tea," consented Sen no Rikyu.

The kettle was boiling on the charcoal fire. Suddenly Sen no Rikyu tipped it over. Hissing steam arose, filling the room with smoke and ashes. The startled warrior ran outside.

The tea-master apologized. "It was my mistake. Come back in and have some tea. I have your sword here covered with ashes and will clean it and give it to you."

In this predicament the warrior realized he could not very well kill the tea-master, so he gave up the idea.”

Fini

A Good Father

A Good Father

Once upon a time in a small coastal village nestled in a remote corner of the world there lived a very quiet, devout person, who everyone knew as Hans Yohn. He had arrived in the village some years back with his few possessions tucked into a bundle under his arm. With the small amount of cash he brought with him he bought an abandoned wreck of a farm and proceeded to set up home there. With no friends or relatives he lived out his days in his humble dwelling and spent most of his days planting and tending his roots and vegetables on his small plot of land. At nights he would read the scriptures and pray. No one knew much about him but they respected him none the less as he was always above board, kind, sincere and always ready to lend a helping hand.

His closest neighbour was a store owner that lived with his wife and a beautiful daughter. They made a rather good living selling much needed supplies to the local crofters and fisherman. One day, to the utter consternation of the parents, they discovered that their teenage daughter was with child. Fuming, the father pestered his daughter till he obtained her unwilling confession of the culprit‘s identity.

Though a great shock, they took her at her word and confronted Hans with his supposed wrongdoing. The father was itching to beat Hans to a pulp, but the quiet farmer gave him no cause to unleash his full fury. Hans had simply listened patiently to his irate neighbor's long and fiery tirade without showing the least emotion, then at the end of it he simply shrugged and in a muted tone agreed, “Whatever you say.”

The father returned home indignant and still fuming.

In the subsequent months as she became visibly pregnant, the unavoidable gossip spread like wildfire throughout the village engendering great animosity toward Hans Yohn. But once more he endured it all with his usual quiet disposition. Even the rowdy children who lay in ambush to pelt him with rocks eventually got tired of their campaign once they saw they could not anger him.

After the child was born, the indignant parents, ignoring their daughter’s pleas and protestations, delivered the healthy baby boy to Hans Yohn’s doorstep in a bassinet. Hans accepted the infant without any apparent emotion and from that day forth proceeded to taking a very good care of the baby. He saw to it that the baby was safe and comfortable then went outside to fetch some goat’s milk, which would have to suffice as he could not pay for a wet nurse. Nor did he question the quirks of fate, as he too in his infancy, had been abandoned at the doorstep of a recluse. He was fortunate in that the stranger was a good person and had done right by him. He will reciprocate that kindness now.

The mother of the infant kept her silence, not wanting to jeopardize her nascent hopes. Then one day when a particular ship with its sparse crew had once more docked in the village’s puny port her heart leapt for joy. All this time she had harbored the wish that her young man would keep his promise, return to ask her hand in marriage and make things right by her. The young sailor, as expected, again secretly sought her attentions but upon being told of the child, his unexpected icy demeanor, the subsequent denial and rebuke had irrevocably broken her heart. After that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and told him a blatant lie, robbing him of any possible future claim to the child.

On this day as she’d watched a distant ship’s departure, she reflected about Hans and recalled with tightness in her chest all that the young farmer had endured on her account. In the subsequent months the girl’s conscience persisted in troubling her. Then one evening over dinner she simply broke down and tearfully confessed the truth about the baby’s paternity to her parents. Pleading for forgiveness, she declared that Hans Yohn had nothing to do with it and that he was entirely innocent. When the commotion died down, both parents along with their daughter showed up at Hans’ door to ask humbly and at length for his forgiveness and to retrieve the burdensome bundle they had left in his care.

He listened again without the least expression to the father’s explanations, the ensuing regrets and profound apologies. He rose with only a murmur passing his lips, “Whatever you say.” Then with a solemn expression, fetched the peacefully sleeping child and delivered him into their hands.

As they were leaving, the girl turned her head to look apologetically at him once more and saw a single tear glistening on his cheek as he turned and disappeared back inside his hut.

The End

Portrait of a Stingy Squire

Portrait of a Stingy Squire

There was once a wealthy landowner named Daner, who acquired his wealth through illicit means, such as manipulation, extortion and loans with unreasonable interest rates advanced to fallen gentry.

As he amassed incredible riches, he then set himself up in a lofty mansion in the country and proceeded to surrounded himself with all the trappings of the rich.

As all his former opulent lineage had done he wished to have his portrait painted and hung over the fireplace in his great reception hall, so as to invoke awe from every invited guest.

A renowned Artist was subsequently approached and a portrait was commissioned. As rich as he was however, Daner plied the artist with wine then argued the price relentlessly in the end forcing the artist to accept a paltry sum for the portrait.

The Artist returned home with a severe hangover and fell into a troubled sleep. Upon waking the following morning and recalling the last night’s events he was infuriated beyond measure. Unfortunately he could not invalidate or revoke the iron clad agreement. Looking at the paltry sum he ground his teeth and then burst into laughter.

On the subsequent day the artist showed up as arranged to paint the portrait of the miserly landowner. His assistant carried all the supplies and set it up for him. Squire Daner took up his lofty pose standing by an impressive fireplace with an impressive wall library.

These were the books Daner had acquired over time through many auctions of the gentry he’d ruined; rare books he’d not read a single page of. The artist made the necessary sketches and returned to his studio to complete the work.

Squire Daner was called to the artist studio several days later, to take possession of the completed work.

Grinning from ear to ear, Daner sized up the covered huge canvas then, in eager anticipation, asked the artist to uncover the masterpiece.

The artist did as he was asked.

But what’s this?

There, standing before Daner, in uncanny detail, was a life-size rendition of his back facing an open window with light streaming into his impressive library.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He barked at the artist. “A portrait should show a person’s countenance. Why have you drawn the back of my figure? This will not do, no sir, it won’t do: I want my money back!”

“Here’s your paltry sum. “ The artist plumped the few coins into palm of Daner. “My advice to a person as stingy as you, sir, is not to show your face to others. Now I shall ask you to leave these premises as I have other pressing appointments elsewhere.”

He’d expected the miserly landowner to storm out of there with a huff and with curses on his lips, but he did neither. Instead with a grim face he pondered on the few coins in his palm then on the portrait weighing out the bargain.

In the end he said, “No sir, a deal has been struck. I shall take the painting.” as he pompously dropped the coins onto the table.

His servant carried the canvas out and it is said it hung in Squire Daner's private sturdy where only a few were privy to view.

The end.

The Discerning Tailor

The Discerning Tailor

Stebo was visiting with some old friends. After the day’s events of fun and catching up, as darkness blanketed the sky, the party showed no indication of slowing down. In the hopes of prolonging their enjoyment they pestered Stebo yet again for one of his wondrous stories. With his eyes drooping, for he was in fact rather worn out, he nodded obligingly and mumbled, “But a rather concise one this time”. They all got comfortable and following a brief introduction to human traits, Stebo began his story:

“Once upon a time there was a well known tailor whose outstanding work had earned him both fame and fortune. Because of his exceptional competence he enjoyed a long list of well to do, loyal clients from far and wide. There were also many rumours of his exploits that never failed to entertain people whenever they gathered.

It was said that once a particularly austere and haughty judge was assigned to the rather prosperous district in the Yeronos County. Feeling the need of more ostentatious attire, he sends for this tailor.

Upon arriving and hearing of the commission the first thing the astute tailor did, instead of taking measurements, was to bow slightly and inquire about the official’s title and length of service.

“I fail to see the significance of your query.”The official frowned and said in a stern voice, annoyed at the tailor’s audacity.

“I beg your pardon my Lord,” The tailor at once with another supplicate bow explained. “When an official is newly promoted to a high post, elated and proud, he’ll walk with his chest stuck out and will lean slightly backwards. Therefore the front of his garment must be modified to be a little longer than the back.

For the official halfway through his posting who feels well established and mature, with little surprises to be had, the front and the back of the robe must be equal in length.

When an old experienced official is transferred to a new post and he’s reticently anticipating his forthcoming retirement, his posture will bend a bit. Mindful of this, the front of his vestment should be cut shorter than the back.

This information is vital therefore for the execution of a proper fit.”

The End

The Willow Legend

The Willow Legend

(My version)



Long, long ago in ancient China, there lived a very wealthy mandarin. He had a beautiful daughter named Koong-se. The mandarin had in his employ a secretary named Chang. While Chang was attending to his master’s accounts one day a chance encounter with the beautiful maiden Koong-se caused him to fall deeply and hopelessly in love with her. As he was most handsome and charismatic she also had fallen in love with him after this brief encounter.

Unable to keep away; the following day at dusk they met clandestinely in a magnificent garden with rare and exotic fruit trees and professed their love for each other and exchanged vows of fidelity beneath a large Willow tree. Unfortunately this breach of conduct came to the attention of the Mandarin who was greatly incensed and dismissed the young man at once, banishing him from the state, for he regarded the secretary most unworthy of his high born daughter. In an angry reprimand the Mandarin then virtually imprisoned her in her private quarters and had her activities continually monitored to make sure his orders were carried out.

Koong-se spent the following days engulfed in a miasma of hopelessness, as she remained imprisoned in the pavilion. She watched the construction of a high zig-zag fence that was to ensure the lovers remain apart in dismay. After a time, because of health concerns the restrictions on Koong-se were gradually eased and she was permitted a leisurely walk in the gardens and by the water’s edge. The love struck maiden however, could not forget the handsome young man she’d fallen in love with and, with longing heart, her thoughts often reverted to the happier times they both had shared. Sometimes she would sit beneath the Willow tree that had once been a place of joy and quietly weep. Months went by but Koong-se still longed to see her handsome, young Chang.

Then one day her eyes caught sight of a shell fitted with sails containing a poem, and a bead which Koong-se had given to Chang. It had floated to the water’s edge. Koong-se’s heart jumped for joy as new hope sprung anew, for she knew then that her lover had not forsaken her.

Her elation was short lived and joy turned to consternation when that evening she was summoned by her father where she learned of her betrothal to Ta-Jin, a very powerful, warrior Duke. Worse still, the Duke Ta-Jin was many years her senior and was renowned for his malice. Her heart sank in despair when it was announced to her that her future husband would be arriving in a few days time, bearing gifts of jewels to celebrate their betrothal. The wedding was to take place on the day the blossoms fell from the willow tree.

Then came the dreaded day when the Duke arrived by boat with all pomp and ceremony to claim his young, beautiful bride, bearing box of jewels as a gift.

On the eve of Koong-se’s wedding to the Duke, when all grew sleepy with the wine in their cups, Chang, disguised as a servant, slipped into the house unnoticed. At the banquet the Mandarin, the Duke and the quests, totally inebriated, failed to take any notice of the disguised Chang, who easily passed through to the interior garden.

Earlier, Chang had sent a message to Koong-se via her personal maid, in order to arrange a clandestine meeting by the Willow tree. Koong-se therefore had also fled through the hushed rooms, carrying the casket of jewels. Now in the inner gardens, as Chang drew near, he saw his beautiful Koong-se sitting beneath the tree. Chang rushed to embrace her. They were so much in love that no words needed to be spoken out loud: they would brave all dangers, not wanting to face the future apart. They would elope and get married or die trying.

The Mandarin, the Duke, and the invited guests even some of the servants had consumed so much wine that the couple almost made it through to safety. But unfortunately, just as they reached the outer gate the Mandarin awoke saw his daughter and Chang fleeing with the jewels and in a drunken rage pursued them with his whip in hand across the little bridge that spanned the river.

Koong-se was carrying her distaff, a symbol of virginity while Chang was entrusted with the jewels. The couple raced across the bridge to an awaiting boat and sailed away. The alarm was raised; and it took the lovers and their helpers a harrowing effort to eventually outrun the Duke’s ship. Chang, Koong-se and her personal maid, who’d been dismissed for conspiring with the lovers but who had snuck back in to aid her in her escape, took refuge on a far off island. The mandarin official of this small island hated the Duke and so welcomed the lovers with the maid into his home. He was willing to harbour the refugees for however long was necessary until the danger abated. After a private ceremony with the Mandarin’s blessings, the lovers officially became husband and wife. For a period of time Chang lived happily as the Mandarin's gardener with his wife and the maid. When the Duke discovered their whereabouts however, Chang and Koong-se was forced to flee once again.

They poled a tiny boat down the Yang-Tze until they came to a remote small island. Here, they thought they would be out of harm’s way. Selling the reminder of the jewels, they purchased this island and built a lovely pavilion on it. Chang tilled the land until it blossomed with every kind of fruit and vegetable. So successful were his agricultural ventures, Chang wrote a book about how to cultivate the land and published it under an assumed name. Over time Chang became renowned for his brilliant work and this, unfortunately, came to the attention of the vindictive Duke Ta-Jin. Guessing who the author was and still hungry for vengeance, he immediately dispatched armed guards to the island to capture and kill the lovers.

Ta-Jin's soldiers came upon Chang as he was working his fields and slew him. Koong-se, who had watched the entire scene from afar, rushed into their pavilion and set it afire, determined to be with Chang in death as she had been in life. Thus they both perished. The Gods looking down on the tragedy could not help but be moved by Chang and Koong-se’s plight and their undying love and devotion to the end. And so they transformed Chang and Koong-se into two beautiful white doves. These immortal lovebirds can still be seen today flying high above the Willow Tree where Koong-se and Chang first pledged their love for one another.

(Note: This is, in all probability, a later addition to the tale since the birds do not appear on the earliest willow pattern plates. Nevertheless, the story lives on forever through the Willow-pattern plate and now has come home to roost as China has joined the fray and are producing plates with same design. )

The End.

Exchanging Discourse for Lodging

Exchanging Discourse for Lodging

Monks, especially wandering monks, do not carry cash on their person; therefore a custom was developed for the provision of adequate lodging. The traveler was required to undertake and win a debate about Buddhism with the inhabitants of the temple. In the event of a rare defeat he will have to move on. For this reason most temples only made a token attempt at winning the debate thus preserving the custom.

It so happens that in a temple at the far reaches of the country there dwelt two brother monks, passing the days in perfect harmony. This despite the fact they were vastly different in temperament and intelligence. The elder one was quite learned and wise, while the slow-witted younger one was unpredictable, moody and had only one good eye.

At dusk on a tempestuous day, when the sky was riddled with ominous clouds that threatened downpours any minute, a wandering monk knocked at the gate, seeking refuge for the night. A novice showing him to a room carried his proper challenge to a debate about the sublime teachings back to the brother monks.

The elder brother was much fatigued from diligent study of the scriptures and his heavy chores on that day, so he asked his younger brother to take his place this once. On the point of exiting the room however, not entirely trusting in other’s abilities, he cautioned, “Request the silent discourse.”

Nodding, the young monk left. Meeting the traveler at the shrine later, he sat down and started the silent dialogue.

Sometime later the traveler rose with resignation and sought the older monk to offer his farewells. “Your younger brother is a truly wonderful fellow. He defeated me proper.”

The weather outside had gotten worse as the torrential rains, driven by high winds, shook the walls of the temple. The elder brother was sorry to see him go but was at the same time amazed at the unexpected outcome. He quietly said.

“Can you relay the dialogue to me?”

“Well,” explained the travelling monk, “first I held up one finger, representing Buddha, the enlightened one. Your younger brother held up two fingers together, signifying Buddha and his teaching. I held up three fingers, representing Buddha, his teaching, and his followers, living the harmonious life. He’s truly brilliant; your brother is, for he then shook his clenched fist in my face, indicating that all three come from one realization. Thus he won the debate fair and square and so I now take my leave.” With this, the traveler reluctantly rose and left the premises.

“There is more to this than meets the eye.” The elder monk mused when, just then, his younger brother burst into the room.

“Now where is that fellow!” He asked irately.

“Calm yourself brother,” The elder indicated the seat across, “I understand you won the debate fair and square.”

“Won nothing!” The other huffed, “As soon as I catch him, I am going to give him a sound thrashing!”

“Is that any way to be?” The elder chastised him gently, sporting a bemused smile. “Come now, take a long breath, sit down and calmly tell me what was said.”

After a brief hesitation the younger brother did as he was bid. “Why, the second he saw me he held up one finger, insinuating that I have only one eye. As if I needed to be told. Since he was a stranger, wanting to be polite, I overlooked this and held up two of my fingers, congratulating him that he has two eyes. But the ill-mannered wretch held up three fingers, suggesting that between us we have three eyes. Would you believe it! I was so enraged that I held up my fist, in readiness to punch him, but the lout ran out and that ended it!”

Fini

The Contest of Silence

The Contest of Silence

Meditation was taught to students in this private school as part of their curriculum.

Four close friends challenged by a rival group, undertook to observe twenty four hours of silence. The bet was that if they won they would be absolved from any chores whilst if they lost, they would complete all the chores of the winners for a week. Two impartial students were designated to keep a close eye on all participants.

On the designated day, the groups entered the private chamber of the Library and after getting comfortable begun in earnest and reverent calm, their meditation on the void. Silence prevailed throughout the day; the room was so quiet in fact that you could hear a pin drop. But as darkness encroached and the room grew dim, one of the four stirred, and then before he could stop himself, words just flew from his mouth, ordering the nearby attendant to “Light the blasted oil lamp!”

The closest one to him could not suppress a grumble:” Hush up, you’re not supposed to speak!”

“You two have blown it.” The third one chimed in.

“I’m the only one who has kept quiet.” Unfortunately the fourth one could not refrain from boasting.

Fini

Legend of the White Snake

Legend of the White Snake

(Retelling of an old legend)

Legend of the White Snake Part 1

A long time ago in the middle of a lake there was a white snake spirit who diligently practiced Taoist magical arts in the hope of becoming an immortal. Chancing on immortality pills that had been regurgitated by the boy Xu Xian, the white snake at once swallowed them and was instantly transformed and gained 500 years worth of magical powers. As an Immortal, the white snake found she could quite easily assume human form.

In the same lake meanwhile there had been a tortoise spirit who had also aspired to immortality. Having failed to consume any of the discarded pills, from that day hence he harbored a deep seated resentment for the white snake, blaming her for all his subsequent tribulations.

One day on the bridge the white snake observed a beggar who had just caught a green snake and was about to slice out its gallbladder to sell it. The poor green snake was crying and pleading for mercy to the deaf ears of the human. Filled with sympathy, the white snake at once transformed into a woman and, walking across the bridge, accosted the beggar. After an exchange of polite words she offered to buy the green snake alive, saving the green snake from being sliced alive. The grateful green snake from then on adopted the white snake as her elder sister.

Some 18 years later during the Qingming Festival the white snake and her green snake sister, very much intrigued by humans’ endeavors and yearning to experience humans’ joys, transformed themselves into two young ladies. Flying on clouds, they reached Hangzhou in no time at all and discreetly blended in with the crowd to enjoy the festivities. The White and Green snakes were so enthralled by the beauty of the surroundings that they quickly forgot themselves, throwing all caution aside. 
Now West Lake lies beside the city of Hangzhou and, bordered by lush green hills, has always been renowned for its breathtaking scenery drawing many scholars or noted visitors who loved to stroll its banks or take boats across the water.

As luck would have it, there at the Broken Bridge, these two ladies chanced on Xu Xian. 
When the capricious sun took refuge behind some clouds and rain fell, the two ladies had sought shelter under the willow tree without much success. Xu, by then a handsome and gallant young scholar, saw the ladies in dire straits and offered them his umbrella at once. As Lady White insisted on Xu sharing the umbrella with them the two, during their conversation, had quietly fallen in love. In this way Destiny had played a hand to draw these two lovers together.

Meanwhile Lady White had learned that the scholar was simply returning from a visit to his mother’s grave. He had been orphaned when young and presently lived with his sister and her husband, earning a scant living as an assistant in their herbal medicine shop.

To make the long story short, Lady White (or Bai Suzhen as she’d introduced herself to the scholar), throwing all caution to the wind, married the scholar Xu Xian. The happy couple then moved to Zhenjiang and there, with the sizable funds from her supposed inheritance, opened a medicine shop of their own. Utilizing her extensive knowledge of various herbal medicines they were able to successfully cure many ailments, and before long the business prospered. Lady White especially was much beloved because of her dedication to helping the sick, no matter how poor they were.

End of Part 1

Legend of the White Snake Part 2

Oh, but oh so fickle is fate; for the terrapin spirit that once dwelled in the same lake as Bai Suzhen had, by this time, accumulated enough powers to take on a human form and had transformed into a Buddhist monk called Fahai who, without much success, also dabbled in the healing arts. He learned about the brilliance of Bai Suzhen and, to his chagrin, discovered that she is his old nemesis Lady White. He was further consumed by jealousy when he found out about her blissful existence and from then on plotted to break up her relationship with Xu Xian. He visited their shop and, finding an opportunity, discretely approached Xu Xian when Bai Suzhen, by then an expectant mother, went off for a brief respite leaving her husband to tend to customers.

“I’m Fahai, the Abbot of Gold Mountain Temple,” the disguised turtle introduced himself to Xu in a conspiratorial whisper. “I have come here, under this pretext, to warn you of the great peril you are in. Through my spiritual guide, I have discovered that your wife is in fact, a thousand-year-old snake. Heed my words young man, for now she hides well her true nature, but one day she will surely turn on you, as all demons do, and devour you!”

“How dare you say such a thing?” protested Xu. “My wife is an angel, what you say is nothing short of a wicked slander!”

“Fine, fine; don’t take my word for it.” Fa shaking an index finger, sternly admonished Xu. He next pretended to storm out the door but, as if on a second thought, he halted and, half turning, said, “Before long the Duanwu Festival will be here. Offer her realgar wine, if she does not revert back to her true form, then I, in advance, offer my apologies.”

At the Duanwu festival, according to an old custom, everyone would liberally partake of wine mixed with foul-smelling realgar to supposedly to drive away snakes or evil spirits.

To escape disclosure and wary of the possible dangers, Lady White had feigned illness during the Duanwi Festival. She insisted on keeping to her bed but encouraged her husband to go out and partake of the festivities, while Xiaoqing (Green Snake) tended to her needs. That might have been the end of that but unfortunately, however, the devoted Xu refused to leave her side and, desiring her to be especially safe, he further insisted that she drink some measure of the realgar concoction. When she adamantly refused and offered only feeble excuses Fahai’s dire warnings rushed to Xu’s mind. His demeanor darkened but then just as quickly he dismissed it all with a wave of his hand. When his wife inquired as to the reason for his odd behaviour, Xu simply shrugged and related the warning words of Fahai, thinking it to be nothing other than a poor joke.

But Bai could not conceal her terror and her face grew visibly pallid. The wave of suspicion that grazed his eyes, though briefly, wrenched Bai’s heart. Hoping that her accrued powers were strong enough to withstand the danger she dismissed Xiaoping and requested a cup of reagal wine from her husband. Receiving it, she quickly downed it. As further reassurance she pretended to like it and asked for more, but before she could finish the third, she began to retch violently. She was helped to her bed by her most concerned and apologetic husband who then rushed out the door to fetch her some medicine. When he returned, he found, instead of his wife, a giant white snake coiled on the bed. The shock was too great for Xu Xian to bear and he instantly collapsed dead onto the floor.

End of Part 2

Legend of the White Snake Part 3

Later, when Bai reverted back to human form, Xiaoping told her the result of Bai’s reckless act; how she had discovered Xu’s corpse. Grief-stricken, Bai knelt by her husband and wept and wept.

Eventually setting aside her grief, Bai Suzhen (Lady White) and Xiaoqing (Green Snake) traveled to Mount Emei, where they braved countless dangers to steal a magical herb. Ingesting the drink made from this magic mushroom, Xu Xian was swiftly restored back to life. But though he’d fully recovered a strange alienation dogged their marriage. Inwardly terrified that his wife was not human, and being ignorant of her heroic efforts to save his life, Xu from then on shunned any intimacy with Bai.

Desperate to regain his affections, Bai one day played a rather ingenious ruse on her husband. Her white silk sash was turned to a living snake and, with this as a plausible explanation; Xu was led to believe that the scarf was what had frightened him. Subsequently, their marital bliss returned until Xu decided to visit Gold Mountain Temple to express his gratitude to Buddha for their present happiness.

On his way Xu encountered Fahai along the banks of the river. Latter still adamant about his dire warnings, Fahai again planted the seed of suspicion in Xu’s heart, hinting that his wife was not above playing dirty tricks on him. Terrified, Xu was then given a possible solution to his dilemma: “Become a monk and live at the temple; that’s one place the demon that is your wife, won’t be able to reach you.”

At first Xu Xian had remained reticent, as he’d been torn between the love he felt for his wife and the fear of her. Subsequently, with his head and his heart still at war; his ambivalence seemingly eternal, he decided to defer any decision till later and, on the urging of Fahai, boarded the raft. Together they crossed over to the river island where the Gold Mountain temple was built. Once inside however Xu found himself virtually imprisoned.

“This is for your own good. You should be thanking me for saving your life,” Insisted Fahai as he turned the key to Xu’s cell door.

Three days passed and Xu had not returned. By then Bai was worried and anticipating the grievous outcome, she shared her intentions with her sister Xiaoqing. On the following day they both armed themselves with swords and set off on the rescue mission. Unfortunately Fahai had predicted this move and awaited them at the temple gate with sizeable force.

At first, Bai tried diplomacy, but no amount of pleading or threats would persuade Fahai to release Xu.

“Vile Demon!” Fahai, grinding his teeth, bellowed. “You cannot feast on this human. It is my solemn duty to protect unsuspecting humans from one such as you!”

“I have harmed no one and helped many,” protested Lady White. “Surely the demon is he who divides man and wife!”

“Save your breath sister, he won’t listen to any reason!” Xiaoqinq interceded. “Force is our only recourse; nothing short of violence will get through that thick skull of his!”

Constrained by circumstances, the lovely and courageous Bai Suzhen and Xiaoqing fought a fierce battle with Fahai and his group for many a day. Despondent, Bai used her powers to flood the temple, with dire consequences, as many innocents drowned.

Yet Bai Suzhen’s pregnancy had impaired her powers. In the end she was forced to admit defeat and forced to flee to safety and fight another day.

From within the temple cell meanwhile, Xu had heard all that seemingly endless commotion of the battle. Upon discovering that it was his wife’s attempt at his rescue he became adamant to at least to stand by her. Using his wits he eventually succeeded in escaping from Jinshan Temple and, at long last finding her, both disclosed the truth in a lengthy, breathless, talk.

“I now understand how you’ve suffered for my sake.” Xu hugged his wife in the end. “Human or not, I shall love you for all eternity. “

The reunited lovers then move to Hangzhou, where Bai Suzhen gave birth to a son, Xu Mengjiao. Once more their happiness would have been boundless had it not been for their adamant foe Fahai who, unfortunately, again hunted them down and, after defeating Bai Suzhen, imprisoned her permanently in Leifeng Pagoda.

Fahai’s last words to her were, “At a painstaking cost, you have been finally been subdued, Demon! Now you can harm no one. Contemplate your many sins, for not until the lake dries up and the pagoda falls can you come out again!”

Her stoic response was, “Though you call yourself a monk; you are as rigid as the unyielding rock. You have condemned me without cause and caused me grievous pain, unjustly so. But know this, though you tear me from my infant son and from my husband’s arms, you cannot stop our love.”

Do not fret however; there was a happy ending after all.

20 years later, Xu Mengjiao topped the imperial examination and returned home in glory. At the same time, Xiaoqing, who’d escaped when Bai Suzhen was captured by Fahai, went to Jinshan Temple to confront Fahai and succeeded in defeating him. Bai Suzhen was freed from Leifeng Pagoda and reunited with her husband and son, while Fahai fled, hiding inside the stomach of a crab.

The End

The Visit

The Visit

Once upon a time an elderly gentleman called on the priest that had been newly assigned to the local parish. 

As the latter failed to appear for some time the visitor, who was told to wait in the anteroom room, became rather drowsy in the comfortable chair and fell asleep.

Before long the priest having concluded the matters at hand appeared but when he discovered the elderly gentleman sleeping he was reluctant to wake him up. So he sat down opposite to him and waited, and waited, eventually he too fell asleep.

The elderly gentleman and the priest woke up and fell asleep by turns for the rest of the afternoon. Finally the elderly gentlemen left without disturbing the priest who then retired to his private chambers when he awoke alone.

Fini