ield him under the
plea of exacting orders from high ones at Peking or extortions practised
by slaves under him of which he is ignorant, there can no longer be any
two voices concerning the guilty one. Yet what does the knowledge of
the cormorant's cry avail the golden carp in the shallow waters of the
Yuen-Kiang? A prickly mormosa is an adequate protection against a naked
man armed only with a just cause, and a company of bowmen has been known
to quench an entire city's Heaven-felt desire for retribution. This
person, and doubtless others also, would have experienced a more
heartfelt enthusiasm in the matter if the sublime and omnipotent
Buddha had gone a step further, and pointed out not only the one to
be punished, but also the instrument by which the destiny could be
prudently and effectively accomplished."

From the mountain path which led to Yang Hu's cave came a voice, like
an expressly devised reply to this speech. It was that of some person
uttering the "Chant of Rewards and Penalties":

"How strong is the mountain sycamore!
"Its branches reach the Middle Air, and the eye of none can pierce
its foliage;
"It draws power and nourishment from all around, so that weeds
alone may flourish under its shadow.
"Robbers find safety within the hollow of its trunk; its branches
hide vampires and all manner of evil things which prey upon
the innocent;
"The wild boar of the forest sharpen their tusks against the bark,
for it is harder than flint, and the axe of the woodsman turns
back upon the striker.
"Then cries the sycamore, 'Hail and rain have no power against me,
nor can the fiercest sun penetrate beyond my outside fringe;
"'The man who impiously raises his hand against me falls by his
own stroke and weapon.
"'Can there be a greater or a more powerful than this one?
Assuredly, I am Buddha; let all things obey me.'
"Whereupon the weeds bow their heads, whispering among themselves,
'The voice of the Tall One we hear, but not that of Buddha.
Indeed, it is doubtless as he says.'
"In his musk-scented Heaven Buddha laughs, and not deigning to
raise his head from the lap of the Phoenix Goddess, he thrusts
forth a stone which lies by his foot.
"Saying, 'A god's present for a god. Take it carefully, O
presumptuous Little One, for it is hot to the touch.'
"The thunderbolt falls and the mighty tree is rent in twain. 'T