e.

But knowing how to make money is quite a different thing from knowing
how to enjoy it. With all his ill-gotten gains, Chang Wang was a
miserable man; for he had no heart to spend his silver pieces, even on
his own comfort. The rich dealer lived in a hut which one of his own
laborers might have despised; he dressed as a poor Tartar shepherd
might have dressed when driving his flock. Chang Wang grudged himself
even a hat to keep off the rays of the sun. Men laughed, and said that
he would have cut off his own pigtail of plaited hair, if he could
have sold it for the price of a dinner!

Chang Wang was, in fact, a miser, and was rather proud than ashamed of
the hateful vice of avarice.

Chang Wang had to make a journey to Macao, down the great River
Yang-se-kiang, for purposes of trade. The question with the Chinaman
now was, in what way he should travel.

"Shall I hire a palanquin?" thought Chang Wang, stroking his thin
mustaches; "no, a palanquin would cost too much money. Shall I take my
passage in a trading vessel?"

The rich trader shook his head, and the pigtail behind it--such a
passage would have to be paid for.

"I know what I'll do," said the miser to himself; "I'll ask my uncle
Fing Fang to take me in his fishing-boat down the great river. It is
true that it will make my journey a long one; but then I shall make it
for nothing. I'll go to the fisherman Fing Fang, and settle the matter
at once."

The business was soon arranged, for Fing Fang would not refuse his
rich nephew a seat in his boat. But he, like every one else, was
disgusted at Chang Wang's meanness; and as soon as the dealer had left
his hovel, thus spoke Fing Fang to his sons, Ko and Jung:--

"Here's a fellow who has scraped up money enough to build a second
Porcelain Tower, and he comes here to beg a free passage in a
fishing-boat from an uncle whom he has never so much as asked to share
a dish of his birds'-nests soup!"

"Birds'-nests soup, indeed!" exclaimed Ko; "why, Chang Wang never
indulges in luxuries such as that. If dogs' flesh were not so cheap,
he'd grudge himself the paw of a roasted puppy!"

"And what will Chang Wang make of all his money at last?" said Fing
Fang, more gravely; "he cannot carry it away with him when he dies."

"O, he's gathering it up for some one who will know how to spend it!"
laughed Jung. "Chang Wang is merely fishing for others; what he
gathers, they will enjoy."

It was a bright, pleasant day whe