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

Six Pairs of Earrings

Six Pairs of Earrings

Click to Hear a Reading of This Story

(You can scroll down to read along.)

Once upon a time in far off lands there was a stringent and powerful king that ruled his vast kingdom with an iron hand.

The beautiful queen, in contrast, was compassionate and generous. As the king loved her very dearly her influence often softened his stance on state matters and military affairs and spared many from certain hardship and calamity.

Unfortunately, as her influence grew, so did the number of her enemies who stood to gain from wars and the, now suppressed, oppressive measures.

Mysteriously, the beautiful queen one day fell ill and died soon after. The king reverted back to his warring ways and caused many innocent folk to suffer once again.

A few upright ministers got together at long last and managed to persuade the king to remarry. Their hope was that he would be more reasonable if he had tender love in his heart once more.

But who should it be? The king had left the decision up in the air, to be discussed later.

A wise minister, a close friend visiting the Prime Minister Coen at this time put forth the suggestion that he would be rendering a useful service to the realm if he could recommend a suitable mate to the monarch.

The prime minister, after a prolonged silence, nodded and exclaimed. “Of course you are right sir. To tell you the truth, I had long held the same view. Only one difficulty made me hesitant in approaching his Highness with a suggestion. As you well know, our Sovereign has six concubines who are all very close to his Highness.

“The difficulty is in determining which of them the king’s favorite is. If my recommendation differs from his Highness’s choice I would certainly offend the new queen, with dire consequences for me later on.”

The wise minister nodded his understanding. “There is a way out of this dilemma,” he finally added. “The Summer’s End Gala will be upon us in a couple of days.”

If you wish to discover the king’s favorite present his Highness with six pairs of earrings depicting a lovely orchid. Five pairs should be identical in quality and style, but the sixth pair should be of discernibly higher quality.

“When you learn which of the six concubines receive the best earrings, you will understand the king’s thinking on the subject.”

Prime Minister Coen was pleased and took his friend’s advice. When the king chose his new queen, she was the same concubine whom he had recommended. Peace reigned ever afterwards in the Kingdom



The End

The Taste of Banzo’s Sword

The Taste of Banzo’s Sword

Matajuro Yagyu was the son of a famous swordsman. His father, believing that his son’s work was too mediocre to anticipate even an average level of competence, disowned him.

So Matajuro went to Mount Futara and there found the famous swordsman Banzo. But Banzo confirmed the father’s judgment. “You wish to learn swordsmanship under my guidance?” asked Banzo. “You cannot fulfill the requirements.”

“But if I work hard, how many years will it take me to become a master?” persisted the youth.

“The rest of your life,” replied Banzo.

“I cannot wait that long,” explained Matajuro. “ But I am willing to pass through any hardship if only you will teach me. If I become your devoted servant, how long might it be?”

“Oh, maybe ten years,” Banzo relented.

“My father is getting old, and soon I must take care of him,” continued Matajuro. “If I work far more intensively, how long would it take me?”

“Oh, maybe thirty years,” said Banzo.

“Why is that?” asked Matajuro. “First you say ten and now thirty years. I will undergo any hardship to master this art in the shortest time!”

“Well,” said Banzo, “in that case you will have to remain with me for seventy years. A man in such a hurry as you are to get results seldom learns quickly.”

“Very well,” declared the youth, understanding at last that he was being rebuked for impatience, “I agree.”

Matajuro was told never to speak of fencing and never to touch a sword. He cooked for his master, washed the dishes, made his bed, cleaned the yard, cared for the garden, all without a word of swordsmanship.

Three years passed. Still Matajuro labored on. Thinking of his future, he was sad. He had not even begun to learn the art to which he had devoted his life.

But one day Banzo crept up behind him and gave him a terrific blow with a wooden sword.

The following day, when Matajuro was cooking rice, Banzo again sprang upon him unexpectedly.

After that, day and night, Matajuro had to defend himself from unexpected thrusts. Not a moment passed in any day that he did not have to think of the taste of Banzo’s sword.

He learned so rapidly he brought smiles to the face of his master. Matajuro became the greatest swordsman in the land.


The End

The Sacred Tree

The Sacred Tree

“The useful declines to be used,

whereas the useless asks to be used.” Tao.



Once upon a time a well known carpenter named Shih, accompanied by his young and impressionable apprentice, was travelling through the untamed countryside, often taking shortcuts in order to reach the state of Ch’i on time.

Their travels at one point led them to the Shady Circle, where they observed a sacred Li tree in the temple dedicated to the God of Earth. The tree was immensely huge, so large in fact that it provided shelter to a herd of several thousand cattle and still left room for more. It was a hundred spans in girth, towering up eighty or ninety feet over the hilltop, before it branched out. Countless admiring crowds with their faces turned up, stood there gazing in awe at this miracle on earth.

The apprentice too had halted briefly and fixed his eyes also on this magnificence, thinking how a dozen boats could be cut out of it. He hastened his steps to catch up to his master, who’d continued on his way quite unconcerned. Bit puzzled, he addressed his master tentatively, “Master, in all this time that I’ve been fortunate enough to have handled an adz in your service, I have never seen such superb example of timber. How was it that you, Master, cared not pause a step, to even perfunctorily observe it?”

“Forget about it, it’s hardly worth the mention,” the master shrugged smugly. Observing the puzzled look on the stubborn apprentice’s face however, he relented. “The tree is good for nothing. Made into a boat, it would sink; into a coffin, it would rot; into furniture, it would break easily; into a door, it would sweat; into a pillar, it would be worm-eaten. Despite its size the wood is of no quality, and therefore of no use. That’s why it has survived to attain its present age.”

By dusk of the fifth day, the carpenter and his apprentice had finally reached home. After unburdening themselves of their baggage and washing up, they partook of a satisfying repast. That evening, as he snuggled cosily under the quilts, the carpenter had an unsettling dream.

He dreamt that the displeased spirit of the tree appeared to him and spoke to him harshly, as follows:

“Your arrogance is unconscionable. What is it tell me you intend to compare me with? Is it with fine-grained wood? Consider the pear, the orange, the pomelo, cherry-apple and all other fruit bearers: as soon as their fruit ripens they are stripped and treated with such indignity. The great boughs are snapped off, the small ones scattered abroad.

Thus do these trees by their own value cause injury to their own lives. Sadly they cannot fulfill their allotted span of years, but expire prematurely; all because they are destroyed for bringing forth the admiration of the world.

“Thus it is with all things. In view of this, I’ve strove long and hard to appear useless. Even so, many a time I had a close brush with the peril of being cut down. My wits and my ways however in the end succeeded in deterring them from their aim, and so I endured and grew to these heights; being only useful to myself.

“My kindness now propels me to impart on you few facts:

“In your pitifully brief human history Tsech’i of Nan-po was once travelling on the hill of Shang when he chanced upon a huge tree that greatly astonished him. In his mind he accounted that a thousand chariot teams of four horses could seek shelter under its shade. Reining on his horse under it and pointing he therefore shouted: “What sort of tree is this? Surely it must bear an unusual fine timber.” Then as he looked more closely, he saw that its branches were too crooked for rafters; and looking down he noted that the trunk’s twisting loose grain made it valueless for coffins. Reaching he plucked a leaf and tasted it; at once his face crinkled for it took the skin off his lips. The odor meanwhile was too strong that it would make a man insensate for several days. “Ah!” said Tsech’i, “this tree is really good for nothing, and that is how it has attained this size. A spiritual man might well follow its example of useless.”

“You may also recall that in the State of Sung there is a land belonging to the Ching, where thrive the catalpa, the cedar, and the mulberry. Such as are of one span or so in girth are cut down for monkey cages. Those of two or three spans are harvested for the beams of fine houses. Those of seven or eight spans are cut down for the jointless sides of rich men’s coffins. Alas, they do not fulfill their allotted span of years, but perish under the ax, all too young. Such is the misfortunes that overtake the worthy.

“In contrast; for sacrifices to the River God neither pigs with high snouts, nor bulls with white foreheads, nor men suffering from piles, can be used. For every soothsayer regards these as inauspicious. To the wise, however, these are regarded extremely auspicious, if only to themselves.

“I’m reminded of an account of a certain hunchback named Su. His jaws touched his navel. His shoulders were higher than his head. His neck bone stuck out towards the ultimate sky. His viscera were turned upside down. His buttocks were where his ribs should have been. Yet he lived rather comfortably. By sifting rice, or tailing, or washing, he earned his keep and achieved enough to support a family of ten.

“When the orders for conscription came, whether for the army or for public works, the hunchback walked about unconcerned among his peers, for his deformity excluded him from all such. Meanwhile, when the donations of grain for the disadvantaged and the disabled were handed out, the hunchback received as much as three measures, and when firewood was allotted, ten faggots. If physical deformity was thus sufficient to preserve his body until the end of his days, how much more should a moral and mental deformity avail!

“Alas, it’s a sad fact that mountain trees invite their own cutting down, lamp oil invites its own burning up. Lacquer can be used, there the tree is scraped; cinnamon bark can be eaten; therefore the tree is cut down. All men know the utility of useful things; but they do not know the utility of futility.

“As you and I are both created things, I ponder on the soundness of this good-for-nothing fellow: you, who’s in imminent danger of death, passing so demeaning a remark on the supposed good-for-nothing tree.”

The subsequent morning the carpenter Shih awakened with a start, covered with perspiration, and sat up on his bed for a while collecting his thoughts. His mind fastened just then on the well known fact:

That when Confucius was in the Ch’u State, the eccentric Chieh Yu passed his door, saying, “O phoenix! O phoenix! How has thy virtue fallen! Wait not for the coming years, nor hanker back to the past. When the right principles prevail on earth, prophets will fulfill their mission. When the right principles prevail not, they will but preserve themselves. At the present day, they are but trying to keep out of jail! The good fortunes of this world are light as feathers, yet none estimates them at their true value. The misfortunes of this life are weighty as the earth, yet none knows how to keep out of their reach. No more, no more, show off your virtue. Beware, beware, and move cautiously on! O brambles, O brambles, wound not my steps! I pick my way about, hurt not my feet!”

Later on that day when the carpenter Shih, heard his apprentice exclaim, “If the tree aimed at uselessness, how was it that it became a sacred tree?”

“Hush!” he responded gravely. “Keep quiet. I was wrong. It merely took refuge in the temple to escape from the abuse of those who do not appreciate it. Had it not become sacred, how many would have wanted to cut it down! Moreover, the means it adopts for safety are different from that of others, and to criticize it by ordinary standards would be far wide of the mark.”

A lesson was well learned!

The End.