sai The marriage of this couple took
place when Heih was seventy years old, and the prospect, therefore, of
his having an heir having been but slight, unusual rejoicings
commemorated the birth of the son, who was destined to achieve such
everlasting fame.

Report says that the child was born in a cave on Mount Ne, whither
Ching-tsai went in obedience to a vision to be confined. But this is but
one of the many legends with which Chinese historians love to surround
the birth of Confucius. With the same desire to glorify the Sage, and in
perfect good faith, they narrate how the event was heralded by strange
portents and miraculous appearances, how genii announced to Ching-tsai
the honor that was in store for her, and how fairies attended at his
nativity.

Of the early years of Confucius we have but scanty record. It would seem
that from his childhood he showed ritualistic tendencies, and we are
told that as a boy he delighted to play at the arrangement of vessels
and postures of ceremony. As he advanced in years he became an earnest
student of history, and looked back with love and reverence to the time
when the great and good Yaou and Shun reigned in:

"A golden age, fruitful of golden deeds."

At the age of fifteen "he bent his mind to learning," and when he was
nineteen years old he married a lady from the state of Sung. As has
befallen many other great men, Confucius' married life was not a happy
one, and he finally divorced his wife, not, however, before she had
borne him a son.

Soon after his marriage, at the instigation of poverty, Confucius
accepted the office of keeper of the stores of grain, and in the
following year he was promoted to be guardian of the public fields and
lands. It was while holding this latter office that his son was born,
and so well known and highly esteemed had he already become that the
reigning duke, on hearing of the event, sent him a present of a carp,
from which circumstance the infant derived his name, Le ("a carp"). The
name of this son seldom occurs in the life of his illustrious father,
and the few references we have to him are enough to show that a small
share of paternal affection fell to his lot. "Have you heard any lessons
from your father different from what we have all heard?" asked an
inquisitive disciple of him. "No," replied Le, "he was standing alone
once when I was passing through the court below with hasty steps, and
said to me, 'Have you read the Odes?' On my