n-law. Passing by his
own son, he left the throne to Ta-yue or Yue, a man who had been
subjected to trials far more serious than that of having to live
in the same house with a pair of pretty princesses.

A question discussed in the school of Mencius, many centuries later,
may be cited here for the light it throws on the use made by Chinese
schoolmen of the examples of this period. "Suppose," said one of
his students, "that Shun's father had killed a man, would Shun,
being king, have allowed him to be condemned?" "No," replied the
master; "he would have renounced the throne and, taking his father
on his shoulders, he would have fled away to the seaside, rejoicing
in the consciousness of having performed the duty of a filial son."
Shun continues to be cited as the paragon of domestic virtues,
occupying the first place in a list of twenty-four who are noted
for filial piety.

The trial by which the virtues of Ta-yue were proved
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was an extraordinary feat of engineering--nothing less than the
subduing of the waters of a deluge. "The waters," said the King,
"embosom the high hills and insolently menace heaven itself. Who
will find us a man to take them in hand and keep them in place?"
His ministers recommended one Kun. Kun failed to accomplish the
task, and Shun, who in this case hardly serves for the model of a
just ruler, put him to death. Then the task was imposed on Ta-yue, the
son of the man who had been executed. After nine years of incredible
hardships he brought the work to a successful termination. During this
time he extended his care to the rivers of more than one province,
dredging, ditching, and diking. Three times he passed his own door
and, though he heard the cries of his infant son, he did not once
enter his house. The son of a criminal who had suffered death,
a throne was the meed of his diligence and ability.

A temple in Hanyang, at the confluence of two rivers, commemorates
Ta-yue's exploit, which certainly throws the labours of Hercules
completely into the shade. On the opposite side of the river stands
a pillar, inscribed in antique hieroglyphics, which professes to
record this great achievement. It is a copy of one which stands
on Mount Hang; and the characters, in the tadpole style, are so
ancient that doubts as to their actual meaning exist among scholars
of the present day. Each letter is accordingly accompanied by its
equivalent in modern Chinese. The stone purports to have been ere