Confucius, sitting at leisure with his pupil, Tsang Tsan, by his side, said to him: “Do you understand how the ancient kings who possessed the greatest virtue and best moral principles, rendered the whole empire so obedient that the people lived in peace and harmony, and no ill-will existed between superiors and inferiors?” Tsang Tsan replied, “Destitute as I am of discernment, how can I understand the subject?” “Filial duty,” said the sage, “is the root of virtue, and the stem from which instruction in moral principles springs forth. The first thing which filial duty requires of us is that we preserve from all injury, and in a perfect state, the bodies which we have received from our parents. And when we acquire for ourselves a station in the world, that we regulate our conduct by correct principles, so as to transmit our names to future generations, and reflect glory on our parents: this is the ultimate aim of filial duty. Thus it commences in attention to our parents; is continued through a series of services rendered to the prince; and is completed by the elevation of ourselves. It is said in the ‘Book of Odes,’
“‘Think always of your ancestors,Talk of and imitate their virtues.’”—From “Hian King;” or, “Memoir on Filial Duty.”
“‘Think always of your ancestors,Talk of and imitate their virtues.’”—From “Hian King;” or, “Memoir on Filial Duty.”
“‘Think always of your ancestors,
Talk of and imitate their virtues.’”
—From “Hian King;” or, “Memoir on Filial Duty.”
The ancients who wished to restore reason to its due lustre throughout the empire, first regulated the provinces which they each governed. Desirous of governing well their own kingdoms, they previously established order and virtue in their own houses; for the sake of establishing domestic order they began with self-renovation; to renovate their own minds, they first gave a right direction to their own affections; wishing to direct their passions aright, they corrected their ideas and desires, and to rectify these they enlarged their knowledge to the utmost. Now, this enlargement of knowledge consists in a most thorough and minute acquaintance with the nature of things around us. A thorough acquaintance with the nature of things around us renders knowledge deep and consummate; from thence proceed just ideas and desires; erroneous ideas once corrected, the affections of the soul move in the right direction; the passions thus rectified, the mind naturally obeys reason, and the empire of reason restored in the soul, domestic order follows, of course; from thence flows order throughout the whole province; and one province rightly governed may serve as a model for a whole kingdom.—From “Ta Hioh;” or, “Superior Lessons.”
Grieve not that men know you not, but grieve that you are ignorant of men.
Have no friends unlike yourself.
Learning, without reflection, will profit nothing; reflection, without learning, will leave the mind uneasy and miserable.
Knowledge produces pleasure clear as water; complete virtue brings happiness, solid as a mountain; knowledge pervades all things; virtue is tranquil and happy; knowledge is delight; virtue is long life.
The sage’s conduct is affection and benevolence in operation.
The man who possesses complete virtue wishes to fix his mind therein, and also to fix the minds of others; he wishes to be wise himself and would fain render others equally wise.
Those who, searching for virtue, refuse to stay among the virtuous, how can they obtain knowledge?
In your appearance to fall below decency would be to resemble a savage rustic, to exceed it would be to resemble a fop; let your appearance be decent and moderate, then you will resemble the honorable man.
When I first began with men, I heard words and gave credit for conduct, now I hear words and observe conduct.
The perfect man is never satisfied with himself; he that is satisfied with himself is not perfect.
He that is desirous to improve is not ashamed to ask of others.
Sin in a virtuous man is like an eclipse of the sun and moon, all men gaze at it and it passes away; the virtuous man mends and the world stands in admiration of his fall.
Patience is the most necessary thing to have in this world.
—From “Lun Yu;” or, “Conversations of Confucius.”
Our household dwells amid ten thousand hills,Where the tea north and south of the village abundantly grows.Fromchinsétokuhyüunceasingly hurried,Each morning I must early rise to do my task of tea.By earliest dawn, I at my toilet, only half dress my hair,And seizing my basket pass the door while yet the mist is thick.The little maids and graver dames, hand in hand winding along,Ask me, “Which steep of Sunglo do you climb to-day?”The sky is thick and the dusky twilight hides the hilltops;The dewy leaves and cloudy buds can not be easily plucked.We know not for whom their thirst to quenchWe’re caused to labor and daily two by two to go.In social couples each to aid her fellows, we seize the tea twigs,And in low words urge one another, “Don’t delay,”Lest on the topmost bough, the bud has even now grown old,And lest with the morrow comes the drizzling, silky rain.We’ve picked enough, the topmost boughs are sparse of leaves;We lift our baskets filled brimful and talk of going home;Laughing we pass along, when just against the poolA pair of scared mallards rise and fly diverse away.This pool has limpid water, and there deep the lotus grows;Its little leaves are round as coins, and only yet half-blown;Going to the jutting verge, near a clear and shallow spot,I mark my present looks, try how of late my face appears.My curls and hair are all awry, my face is quite begrimed;In whose house lives the girls so ugly as your slave?’Tis only because that every day the tea I’m forced to pick,The soaking rains and driving winds have spoiled my early charms.With the morning comes the wind and rain together, fierce and high,But the little hat and basket tall still must I take along;The tender leaflets fully picked, we to our homes return,When each sees her fellow’s dress all soiled with miry slime.This morn without the door, I beheld a pleasant sky;Quickly I combed my girlish tufts and firmly set my pin;With rapid steps away I speed towards the garden’s path,And forgetful of the muddy way, omit to change my shoes.When just within the garden bounds, I hear the thunder roll;My bowing shoes are soaked quite through, yet still I can’t return;I call my distant comrade to send my message home,And have my green umbrella-hat set hither to me soon.The rain is past, the outmost leaflets show their greenish veins;Pull down a branch and the fragrant scent’s diffused around;Both high and low the yellow golden threads are now quite culled,And my clothes and frock are dyed with odors through and through.The sweet and fragrant perfume’s like that from the aglaia;In goodness and appearance my tea will be the best in Wuyuen,When all are picked, the new buds, by next term, will burst forth,And this morning the last third gathering is quite done.Each picking is with toilsome labor, but yet I shun it not.My maiden curls are all askew, my pearly fingers all benumbed;But I only wish our tea to be of a superfine kind,To have it equal the “sparrow’s tongue” and “dragon’s pellet.”For a whole month when can I catch a single leisure day?For at earliest dawn I go to pick and not till dusk return;Then the deep midnight sees me still before the firing pan;Will not labor like this my pearly complexion deface?But if my face is thin my mind is firmly fixed,So to fire my golden buds that they shall excel all besides;But how know I who shall put them in the jewelled cup?Whose taper fingers will give them to the maid to draw?At a bright fire she makes the tea, her sorrows flee away;Where shall she learn our toil who so tender picked it all?How that without a sign the fierce winds and rains did rise,Drenching and soaking our persons as if plunged into a bath.But though my heaving bosom like a well-sweep rise and fall,Still patient in my poverty and care I’ll never shun my usual toil;My only thought shall be to have new tea well fired,That the flag and awl be well rolled and show their whitened down.
Our household dwells amid ten thousand hills,Where the tea north and south of the village abundantly grows.Fromchinsétokuhyüunceasingly hurried,Each morning I must early rise to do my task of tea.By earliest dawn, I at my toilet, only half dress my hair,And seizing my basket pass the door while yet the mist is thick.The little maids and graver dames, hand in hand winding along,Ask me, “Which steep of Sunglo do you climb to-day?”The sky is thick and the dusky twilight hides the hilltops;The dewy leaves and cloudy buds can not be easily plucked.We know not for whom their thirst to quenchWe’re caused to labor and daily two by two to go.In social couples each to aid her fellows, we seize the tea twigs,And in low words urge one another, “Don’t delay,”Lest on the topmost bough, the bud has even now grown old,And lest with the morrow comes the drizzling, silky rain.We’ve picked enough, the topmost boughs are sparse of leaves;We lift our baskets filled brimful and talk of going home;Laughing we pass along, when just against the poolA pair of scared mallards rise and fly diverse away.This pool has limpid water, and there deep the lotus grows;Its little leaves are round as coins, and only yet half-blown;Going to the jutting verge, near a clear and shallow spot,I mark my present looks, try how of late my face appears.My curls and hair are all awry, my face is quite begrimed;In whose house lives the girls so ugly as your slave?’Tis only because that every day the tea I’m forced to pick,The soaking rains and driving winds have spoiled my early charms.With the morning comes the wind and rain together, fierce and high,But the little hat and basket tall still must I take along;The tender leaflets fully picked, we to our homes return,When each sees her fellow’s dress all soiled with miry slime.This morn without the door, I beheld a pleasant sky;Quickly I combed my girlish tufts and firmly set my pin;With rapid steps away I speed towards the garden’s path,And forgetful of the muddy way, omit to change my shoes.When just within the garden bounds, I hear the thunder roll;My bowing shoes are soaked quite through, yet still I can’t return;I call my distant comrade to send my message home,And have my green umbrella-hat set hither to me soon.The rain is past, the outmost leaflets show their greenish veins;Pull down a branch and the fragrant scent’s diffused around;Both high and low the yellow golden threads are now quite culled,And my clothes and frock are dyed with odors through and through.The sweet and fragrant perfume’s like that from the aglaia;In goodness and appearance my tea will be the best in Wuyuen,When all are picked, the new buds, by next term, will burst forth,And this morning the last third gathering is quite done.Each picking is with toilsome labor, but yet I shun it not.My maiden curls are all askew, my pearly fingers all benumbed;But I only wish our tea to be of a superfine kind,To have it equal the “sparrow’s tongue” and “dragon’s pellet.”For a whole month when can I catch a single leisure day?For at earliest dawn I go to pick and not till dusk return;Then the deep midnight sees me still before the firing pan;Will not labor like this my pearly complexion deface?But if my face is thin my mind is firmly fixed,So to fire my golden buds that they shall excel all besides;But how know I who shall put them in the jewelled cup?Whose taper fingers will give them to the maid to draw?At a bright fire she makes the tea, her sorrows flee away;Where shall she learn our toil who so tender picked it all?How that without a sign the fierce winds and rains did rise,Drenching and soaking our persons as if plunged into a bath.But though my heaving bosom like a well-sweep rise and fall,Still patient in my poverty and care I’ll never shun my usual toil;My only thought shall be to have new tea well fired,That the flag and awl be well rolled and show their whitened down.
Our household dwells amid ten thousand hills,Where the tea north and south of the village abundantly grows.Fromchinsétokuhyüunceasingly hurried,Each morning I must early rise to do my task of tea.
Our household dwells amid ten thousand hills,
Where the tea north and south of the village abundantly grows.
Fromchinsétokuhyüunceasingly hurried,
Each morning I must early rise to do my task of tea.
By earliest dawn, I at my toilet, only half dress my hair,And seizing my basket pass the door while yet the mist is thick.The little maids and graver dames, hand in hand winding along,Ask me, “Which steep of Sunglo do you climb to-day?”
By earliest dawn, I at my toilet, only half dress my hair,
And seizing my basket pass the door while yet the mist is thick.
The little maids and graver dames, hand in hand winding along,
Ask me, “Which steep of Sunglo do you climb to-day?”
The sky is thick and the dusky twilight hides the hilltops;The dewy leaves and cloudy buds can not be easily plucked.We know not for whom their thirst to quenchWe’re caused to labor and daily two by two to go.
The sky is thick and the dusky twilight hides the hilltops;
The dewy leaves and cloudy buds can not be easily plucked.
We know not for whom their thirst to quench
We’re caused to labor and daily two by two to go.
In social couples each to aid her fellows, we seize the tea twigs,And in low words urge one another, “Don’t delay,”Lest on the topmost bough, the bud has even now grown old,And lest with the morrow comes the drizzling, silky rain.
In social couples each to aid her fellows, we seize the tea twigs,
And in low words urge one another, “Don’t delay,”
Lest on the topmost bough, the bud has even now grown old,
And lest with the morrow comes the drizzling, silky rain.
We’ve picked enough, the topmost boughs are sparse of leaves;We lift our baskets filled brimful and talk of going home;Laughing we pass along, when just against the poolA pair of scared mallards rise and fly diverse away.
We’ve picked enough, the topmost boughs are sparse of leaves;
We lift our baskets filled brimful and talk of going home;
Laughing we pass along, when just against the pool
A pair of scared mallards rise and fly diverse away.
This pool has limpid water, and there deep the lotus grows;Its little leaves are round as coins, and only yet half-blown;Going to the jutting verge, near a clear and shallow spot,I mark my present looks, try how of late my face appears.
This pool has limpid water, and there deep the lotus grows;
Its little leaves are round as coins, and only yet half-blown;
Going to the jutting verge, near a clear and shallow spot,
I mark my present looks, try how of late my face appears.
My curls and hair are all awry, my face is quite begrimed;In whose house lives the girls so ugly as your slave?’Tis only because that every day the tea I’m forced to pick,The soaking rains and driving winds have spoiled my early charms.
My curls and hair are all awry, my face is quite begrimed;
In whose house lives the girls so ugly as your slave?
’Tis only because that every day the tea I’m forced to pick,
The soaking rains and driving winds have spoiled my early charms.
With the morning comes the wind and rain together, fierce and high,But the little hat and basket tall still must I take along;The tender leaflets fully picked, we to our homes return,When each sees her fellow’s dress all soiled with miry slime.
With the morning comes the wind and rain together, fierce and high,
But the little hat and basket tall still must I take along;
The tender leaflets fully picked, we to our homes return,
When each sees her fellow’s dress all soiled with miry slime.
This morn without the door, I beheld a pleasant sky;Quickly I combed my girlish tufts and firmly set my pin;With rapid steps away I speed towards the garden’s path,And forgetful of the muddy way, omit to change my shoes.
This morn without the door, I beheld a pleasant sky;
Quickly I combed my girlish tufts and firmly set my pin;
With rapid steps away I speed towards the garden’s path,
And forgetful of the muddy way, omit to change my shoes.
When just within the garden bounds, I hear the thunder roll;My bowing shoes are soaked quite through, yet still I can’t return;I call my distant comrade to send my message home,And have my green umbrella-hat set hither to me soon.
When just within the garden bounds, I hear the thunder roll;
My bowing shoes are soaked quite through, yet still I can’t return;
I call my distant comrade to send my message home,
And have my green umbrella-hat set hither to me soon.
The rain is past, the outmost leaflets show their greenish veins;Pull down a branch and the fragrant scent’s diffused around;Both high and low the yellow golden threads are now quite culled,And my clothes and frock are dyed with odors through and through.
The rain is past, the outmost leaflets show their greenish veins;
Pull down a branch and the fragrant scent’s diffused around;
Both high and low the yellow golden threads are now quite culled,
And my clothes and frock are dyed with odors through and through.
The sweet and fragrant perfume’s like that from the aglaia;In goodness and appearance my tea will be the best in Wuyuen,When all are picked, the new buds, by next term, will burst forth,And this morning the last third gathering is quite done.
The sweet and fragrant perfume’s like that from the aglaia;
In goodness and appearance my tea will be the best in Wuyuen,
When all are picked, the new buds, by next term, will burst forth,
And this morning the last third gathering is quite done.
Each picking is with toilsome labor, but yet I shun it not.My maiden curls are all askew, my pearly fingers all benumbed;But I only wish our tea to be of a superfine kind,To have it equal the “sparrow’s tongue” and “dragon’s pellet.”
Each picking is with toilsome labor, but yet I shun it not.
My maiden curls are all askew, my pearly fingers all benumbed;
But I only wish our tea to be of a superfine kind,
To have it equal the “sparrow’s tongue” and “dragon’s pellet.”
For a whole month when can I catch a single leisure day?For at earliest dawn I go to pick and not till dusk return;Then the deep midnight sees me still before the firing pan;Will not labor like this my pearly complexion deface?
For a whole month when can I catch a single leisure day?
For at earliest dawn I go to pick and not till dusk return;
Then the deep midnight sees me still before the firing pan;
Will not labor like this my pearly complexion deface?
But if my face is thin my mind is firmly fixed,So to fire my golden buds that they shall excel all besides;But how know I who shall put them in the jewelled cup?Whose taper fingers will give them to the maid to draw?
But if my face is thin my mind is firmly fixed,
So to fire my golden buds that they shall excel all besides;
But how know I who shall put them in the jewelled cup?
Whose taper fingers will give them to the maid to draw?
At a bright fire she makes the tea, her sorrows flee away;Where shall she learn our toil who so tender picked it all?How that without a sign the fierce winds and rains did rise,Drenching and soaking our persons as if plunged into a bath.
At a bright fire she makes the tea, her sorrows flee away;
Where shall she learn our toil who so tender picked it all?
How that without a sign the fierce winds and rains did rise,
Drenching and soaking our persons as if plunged into a bath.
But though my heaving bosom like a well-sweep rise and fall,Still patient in my poverty and care I’ll never shun my usual toil;My only thought shall be to have new tea well fired,That the flag and awl be well rolled and show their whitened down.
But though my heaving bosom like a well-sweep rise and fall,
Still patient in my poverty and care I’ll never shun my usual toil;
My only thought shall be to have new tea well fired,
That the flag and awl be well rolled and show their whitened down.
Dramatis Personæ:Niu Chau, a wandering tinker.Wang Niang, a young girl.
Scene: a Street.—[Niu Chau enters. Across his shoulder is a bamboo, to each end of which are suspended boxes containing the various tools and implements of his trade, and a small stool. He is dressed meanly; his face and head are painted and decorated in a fantastic manner.]
[Sings.] Seeking a livelihood by the work of my hands,Daily do I traverse the streets of the city.[Speaks.] Well, here I am, a mender of broken jars,An unfortunate victim of ever-changing plans.To repair old fractured jarsIs my sole occupation and support.’Tis even so, I have no other employment.
[Sings.] Seeking a livelihood by the work of my hands,Daily do I traverse the streets of the city.[Speaks.] Well, here I am, a mender of broken jars,An unfortunate victim of ever-changing plans.To repair old fractured jarsIs my sole occupation and support.’Tis even so, I have no other employment.
[Sings.] Seeking a livelihood by the work of my hands,Daily do I traverse the streets of the city.[Speaks.] Well, here I am, a mender of broken jars,An unfortunate victim of ever-changing plans.To repair old fractured jarsIs my sole occupation and support.’Tis even so, I have no other employment.
[Sings.] Seeking a livelihood by the work of my hands,
Daily do I traverse the streets of the city.
[Speaks.] Well, here I am, a mender of broken jars,
An unfortunate victim of ever-changing plans.
To repair old fractured jars
Is my sole occupation and support.
’Tis even so, I have no other employment.
[Takes his boxes from his shoulder, places them on the ground, sits beside them, and drawing out his fan, continues speaking.]
A disconsolate old man,I am a slave to inconveniences.For several days past,I have been unable to go abroad,But observing this morning a clear sky and fine air,I was induced to recommence my street wanderings.[Sings.] At dawn I left my home,But as yet have had no job.Hither and yon, and on all sides,From the east gate to the west,From the south gate to the north,And all over within the wallsHave I been, but no one has calledFor the mender of cracked jars.Unfortunate man!But this being my first visit to the city of Nanking,Some extra exertion is necessary.Time is lost sitting idle here,And so to roam again I go.
A disconsolate old man,I am a slave to inconveniences.For several days past,I have been unable to go abroad,But observing this morning a clear sky and fine air,I was induced to recommence my street wanderings.[Sings.] At dawn I left my home,But as yet have had no job.Hither and yon, and on all sides,From the east gate to the west,From the south gate to the north,And all over within the wallsHave I been, but no one has calledFor the mender of cracked jars.Unfortunate man!But this being my first visit to the city of Nanking,Some extra exertion is necessary.Time is lost sitting idle here,And so to roam again I go.
A disconsolate old man,I am a slave to inconveniences.For several days past,I have been unable to go abroad,But observing this morning a clear sky and fine air,I was induced to recommence my street wanderings.[Sings.] At dawn I left my home,But as yet have had no job.Hither and yon, and on all sides,From the east gate to the west,From the south gate to the north,And all over within the wallsHave I been, but no one has calledFor the mender of cracked jars.Unfortunate man!But this being my first visit to the city of Nanking,Some extra exertion is necessary.Time is lost sitting idle here,And so to roam again I go.
A disconsolate old man,
I am a slave to inconveniences.
For several days past,
I have been unable to go abroad,
But observing this morning a clear sky and fine air,
I was induced to recommence my street wanderings.
[Sings.] At dawn I left my home,
But as yet have had no job.
Hither and yon, and on all sides,
From the east gate to the west,
From the south gate to the north,
And all over within the walls
Have I been, but no one has called
For the mender of cracked jars.
Unfortunate man!
But this being my first visit to the city of Nanking,
Some extra exertion is necessary.
Time is lost sitting idle here,
And so to roam again I go.
[Shoulders his boxes and stool, and walks about, crying: “Plates mended! bowls mended! jars and pots neatly repaired!”]
Lady Wang(heard within).—Did I not hear the cry of the mender of cracked jars? I’ll open the door and look. [She enters, looking around] Yes, there comes the repairer of jars.
Niu Chau.—Pray have you a jar to mend? I have long been seeking a job. Did you not call?
Lady W.—What is your charge for a large jar; and how much for a small one?
Niu Chau.—For large jars, one mace five.
Lady W.—And for small ones?
Niu Chau.—Fifty pair of cash.
Lady W.—To one mace five and fifty pair of cash, add nine candareens, and a new jar may be had.
Niu Chau.—What, then, will you give?
Lady W.—I will give one candareen for either size.
Niu Chau.—Well, lady, how many cash can I get for this candareen?
Lady W.—Why, if the price be high, you will get eight cash.
Niu Chau.—And if low?
Lady W.—You will get but seven cash and a half.
Niu Chau.—O, you wicked, tantalizing thing!
[Sings.] Since leaving home this morning,I have met but with a trifler,Who, in the shape of an old wife,Tortures and gives me no job;I’ll shoulder again my boxes, continue my walk,And never again will I return to the house of Wang.
[Sings.] Since leaving home this morning,I have met but with a trifler,Who, in the shape of an old wife,Tortures and gives me no job;I’ll shoulder again my boxes, continue my walk,And never again will I return to the house of Wang.
[Sings.] Since leaving home this morning,I have met but with a trifler,Who, in the shape of an old wife,Tortures and gives me no job;I’ll shoulder again my boxes, continue my walk,And never again will I return to the house of Wang.
[Sings.] Since leaving home this morning,
I have met but with a trifler,
Who, in the shape of an old wife,
Tortures and gives me no job;
I’ll shoulder again my boxes, continue my walk,
And never again will I return to the house of Wang.
[He moves off slowly.]
Lady W.—Jar-mender! return, quickly return; with a loud voice I entreat you; for I have something on which I wish to consult with you.
Niu Chau.—What is it on which you wish to consult me?
Lady W.—I will give you a hundred cash to mend a large jar.
Niu Chau.—And for mending a small one?
Lady W.—And for mending a small one, thirty pair of cash.
Niu Chau.—One hundred and thirty pair—truly, lady, this is worth consulting about. Lady Wang, where shall I mend them?
Lady W.—Follow me. [They move toward the door of the house.]
[Sings.] Before walks the Lady Wang.
Niu Chau.—And behind comes thepu-kang(or jar-mender).
Lady W.—Here, then, is the place.
Niu Chau.—Lady Wang, permit me to pay my respects. [Bows repeatedly in a ridiculous manner.] We can exchange civilities. I congratulate you; may you prosper.
Lady W.—Here is the jar; now go to work and mend it.
Niu Chau.—[Takes the jar in his hand and tosses it about, examining it.] This jar has certainly a very appalling fracture.
Lady W.—Therefore it requires the more care in mending.
Niu Chau.—That is self evident.
Lady W.—Now Lady Wang will retire again to her dressing-room,And after closing the doors, will resume her toilet.Her appearance she will beautify,On the left, her hair she will comb into a dragon’s-head tuft,On the right she will arrange it tastefully with flowers,Her lips she will color with blood-red vermilion,And a gem of chrysoprase will she place in the dragon’s-head tuft;Then, having completed her toilet, she will return to the door,And sit down to look at the jar mender.
Lady W.—Now Lady Wang will retire again to her dressing-room,And after closing the doors, will resume her toilet.Her appearance she will beautify,On the left, her hair she will comb into a dragon’s-head tuft,On the right she will arrange it tastefully with flowers,Her lips she will color with blood-red vermilion,And a gem of chrysoprase will she place in the dragon’s-head tuft;Then, having completed her toilet, she will return to the door,And sit down to look at the jar mender.
Lady W.—Now Lady Wang will retire again to her dressing-room,
And after closing the doors, will resume her toilet.
Her appearance she will beautify,
On the left, her hair she will comb into a dragon’s-head tuft,
On the right she will arrange it tastefully with flowers,
Her lips she will color with blood-red vermilion,
And a gem of chrysoprase will she place in the dragon’s-head tuft;
Then, having completed her toilet, she will return to the door,
And sit down to look at the jar mender.
[Exit.]
[Niu Chau sits down, straps the jar on his knee, and arranges his tools before him, and as he drills holes for the clamps, sings—]
Every hole drilled requires a pin,And every two holes drilled requires pins a pair.As I raise my head and look around—[At this moment Lady Wang returns, beautifully dressed, and sits down by the door]There sits, I see, a delicate young lady,Before she had the appearance of an old wife,Now she is transformed into a handsome young girl;On the left, her hair is combed into a dragon’s head tuft,On the right it is adorned tastefully with flowers.Her lips are like plums, her mouth is all smiles,Her eyes are brilliant as the phœnix’s; andShe stands on golden lilies, but two inches long.I look again, another look—down drops the jar.
Every hole drilled requires a pin,And every two holes drilled requires pins a pair.As I raise my head and look around—
Every hole drilled requires a pin,
And every two holes drilled requires pins a pair.
As I raise my head and look around—
[At this moment Lady Wang returns, beautifully dressed, and sits down by the door]
There sits, I see, a delicate young lady,Before she had the appearance of an old wife,Now she is transformed into a handsome young girl;On the left, her hair is combed into a dragon’s head tuft,On the right it is adorned tastefully with flowers.Her lips are like plums, her mouth is all smiles,Her eyes are brilliant as the phœnix’s; andShe stands on golden lilies, but two inches long.I look again, another look—down drops the jar.
There sits, I see, a delicate young lady,Before she had the appearance of an old wife,Now she is transformed into a handsome young girl;On the left, her hair is combed into a dragon’s head tuft,On the right it is adorned tastefully with flowers.Her lips are like plums, her mouth is all smiles,Her eyes are brilliant as the phœnix’s; andShe stands on golden lilies, but two inches long.I look again, another look—down drops the jar.
There sits, I see, a delicate young lady,
Before she had the appearance of an old wife,
Now she is transformed into a handsome young girl;
On the left, her hair is combed into a dragon’s head tuft,
On the right it is adorned tastefully with flowers.
Her lips are like plums, her mouth is all smiles,
Her eyes are brilliant as the phœnix’s; and
She stands on golden lilies, but two inches long.
[The jar at this moment falls, and is broken to pieces.]
[Speaks.] Heigh-ya! Here then is a dreadful smash.
Lady W.—You have but to replace it with another, and do so quickly.
Niu Chau.—For one that was broken, a good one must be given. Had two been broken, then were a pair to be supplied; an old one being smashed, a new one must replace it.
Lady W.—You have destroyed the jar, and return me nothing but words. Give me a new one, then you may return home, not before.
Niu Chau.—Here on my knees upon the hard ground, I beg Lady Wang, while she sits above, to listen to a few words. Let me receive pardon for the accident her beauty has occasioned, and I will at once make her my wife.
Lady W.—Impudent old man! How presume to think that I ever can become your wife!
Niu Chau.—Yes, it is true, I am somewhat older than Lady Wang, yet would I make her my wife.
Lady W.—No matter, then, for the accident, but leave me now at once.
Niu Chau.—Since you have forgiven me, I again shoulder my boxes,And I will go elsewhere in search of a wife;And here, before high heaven, I swear never again to come near the house of Wang.You a great lady! You are but a vile, ragged girl,And will yet be glad to take up with a much worse companion.
Niu Chau.—Since you have forgiven me, I again shoulder my boxes,And I will go elsewhere in search of a wife;And here, before high heaven, I swear never again to come near the house of Wang.You a great lady! You are but a vile, ragged girl,And will yet be glad to take up with a much worse companion.
Niu Chau.—Since you have forgiven me, I again shoulder my boxes,
And I will go elsewhere in search of a wife;
And here, before high heaven, I swear never again to come near the house of Wang.
You a great lady! You are but a vile, ragged girl,
And will yet be glad to take up with a much worse companion.
[Going away, he suddenly throws off his upper dress, and appears as a handsome young man.]
Lady W.—Henceforth give up your wandering profession,And marry me. Quit the trade of a jar-mender.With the Lady Wang pass happily the remainder of your life.
Lady W.—Henceforth give up your wandering profession,And marry me. Quit the trade of a jar-mender.With the Lady Wang pass happily the remainder of your life.
Lady W.—Henceforth give up your wandering profession,
And marry me. Quit the trade of a jar-mender.
With the Lady Wang pass happily the remainder of your life.
[They embrace and exeunt.]
—Chi. Rep., vol. VI., p. 576.
The first man was Izanagi, the first woman Izanami. Standing together on the floating bridge of heaven, the male plunged his jeweled falchion, or spear, into the unstable waters beneath them, and withdrawing it, the trickling drops formed an island, upon which they descended. The creative pair, or divine man and woman, designing to make this island a pillar for a continent, separated—the male to the left, the female to the right—to make a journey round the island. At their meeting, the female spirit spoke first, “How joyful to meet a lovely man!” The male spirit, offended that the first use of the tongue had been by a woman, required the circuit to be repeated. On their second meeting, the man cried out, “How joyful to meet a lovely woman!” They were the first couple; and this was the beginning of the art of love, and of the human race. The island (Awaji) with seven other large, and many thousand small ones, became the Everlasting Great Japan. The Heaven-illuminating Goddess was their first child. She shone beautifully, and lighted the heavens and the earth. Her father, therefore, transferred her from earth to heaven, and gave her the ethereal realm to rule over. At this time the earth was close to heaven, and the goddess easily mounted the pillar, on which heaven rested, to her kingdom.
The second child became the Goddess of the Moon. Of their third child, a boy, they entertained the highest hopes. He grew up, however, to be a most mischievous fellow, killing people, pulling up their trees, and trampling down their fields. He grew worse as he grew up. He was made ruler over the blue sea; but he never kept his kingdom in order. He let his beard grow down over his bosom. He cried constantly; and the land became a desert, the rivers and seas dried up, and human beings died in great numbers. His father, inquiring the reason of his surly behavior, was told that he wished to go to his mother, who was in the region under the earth. He then made his son ruler over the kingdom of night. The august scape-grace still continued his pranks, unable to refrain from mischief. One day, after his sister, the Sun-goddess, had planted a field with rice, he turned a wild horse loose, which trampled down and spoiled all her work. Again, having built a store house for the new rice, he defiled it so that it could not be used. At another time, his sister was sitting at her loom, weaving. Sosanoö, having skinned a live horse by drawing its skin off from the tail to the head, flung the reeking hide over the loom, and the carcass in the room. The goddess was so frightened that she hurt herself with the shuttle, and, in her wrath, retired to a cave, closing the mouth with a large rock. Heaven, earth, and the four quarters became enshrouded in darkness, and the distinction between day and night ceased.
The gods create great confusion and noise pretending to be very merry when the Sun-goddess within, unable to account for the ill-timed mirth, since heaven and earth were in darkness, rose, and approaching the rocky door, listened to the honeyed words of one of the gods, who was praising her. Impelled further by curiosity, she opened the door, slightly, and asked why Uzumé danced and the gods laughed? Uzumé replied, “I dance because there is an honorable deity who surpasses your glory.” As she said this, the exceedingly beauteous god Futodama showed the mirror.The Sun-goddess within, astonished at her own loveliness, which she now first beheld in the reflection, stepped out a little further to gratify her curiosity. The God of Invincibly Strong Hands, who stood concealed, pulled the rock door open, caught her by the hand, and dragged her forth. The wisest of the gods, who superintended the whole proceedings, took a rope of twisted rice-straw, passed it behind her, and said, “Do not go behind this.” Then they removed the Sun-goddess to her new palace, and put a straw rope around it to keep off evil gods. Her wicked brother was punished by having each particular hair of his head pulled out, and his finger and toe nails extracted. He was then banished.
Another legend says the Sun-goddess spoke to Sosanoö (the Moon-goddess), who reigned jointly with her over the high plain of heaven, and said, “I have heard that there is a food-possessing goddess in the central country of luxuriant reedy moors (Japan). Go and see.” Descending from heaven, she came to the august abode of the Goddess of Food, and asked for refreshment. The goddess, creating various forms of food, such as boiled rice from the land, fish from the sea, beasts, with coarse and fine hair, from the hills, set them on a banqueting-table before Sosanoö, who, enraged at the manner of the creation of the food, killed her.
Reporting the matter in heaven, Amaterasŭ was angry at Sosanoö, and degraded her (the Moon-goddess) from joint rule, and condemned her to appear only at night, while she, the Sun-goddess, slept. Amaterasŭ then sent a messenger the second time to see whether the Food-goddess was really dead. This was found to be the case. Out of the dead body were growing, millet on the forehead; silk-worms and a mulberry-tree on the eyebrows; grass on the eyes; on the belly, rice, barley, and large and small beans; The head finally changed into a cow and horse. The messenger took them all, and presented them to Amaterasŭ. The Sun-goddess rejoiced, and ordained that these should be the food of human beings, setting apart rice as the seed of the watery fields, and the other cereals as the seed of the dry fields. She appointed lords of the villages of heaven, and began for the first time to plant the rice-seeds. In the autumn the drooping ears ripened in luxuriant abundance. She planted the mulberry-trees on the fragrant hills of heaven, and rearing silk-worms, and chewing cocoons in her mouth, spun thread. Thus began the arts of agriculture, silk-worm rearing, and weaving.
Good doctrines need no miracles.
The fortune-teller can not tell his own fortune.
The doctor does not keep himself well.
To give an iron club to a devil is to give riches to a bad man.
While the hunter looks afar after birds, they fly up and escape at his feet.
The ignorant man is gentle.
Every one suffers either from his pride or sinfulness.
Even a calamity left alone for three years may turn into a fortune.
Birds flock on the thick branches.
Heaven does not kill a man.
Having inquired seven times, believe the common report.
The poet, though he does not go abroad, sees all the renowned places.
Don’t trust a pigeon to carry grain.
There is no medicine for a fool.
If you keep a tiger you will have nothing but trouble.
The more words; the less sense.
Who steals money is killed; who steals a country is a king.
The best thing in traveling is a companion; in the world, kindness.
The gods have their seat on the brow of a just man.
Proof is better than discussion.
The world is just as a person’s heart makes it.
If you hate anyone, let him live.
Excess of politeness becomes impoliteness.
Poverty can not overtake diligence.
Making an idol does not give it a soul.
Beware of a beautiful woman; she is like red pepper.
Pearls unpolished shine not.
Even a monkey sometimes falls from a tree.
Send the child you love most on a journey.
Live under your own hat.
Hearing is paradise; seeing is hell.
When life is ruined for the sake of money’s preciousness, the ruined life cares naught for the money.
The tongue is but three inches long, yet it can kill a man six feet high.
The wonderful story of “Raiko and the Oni” is one of the most famous in the collection of Japanese grandmothers. Its power to open the mouths and distend the oblique eyes of the youngsters long after bed-time, is unlimited.
Long, long ago there was a great war between the Genji and Heiké, in which many men were killed. One of the Genji warriors, named Raiko, could not find any one valiant enough to fight with him, and so he wished to find a ghoul to slay. Now, there lurked at the palace gate a fierce ghoul, which he sent his retainer, Watanabé Tsuna, to kill. Now, Tsuna was, next to Raiko, the strongest man in the whole country, and was not afraid of the ghoul. When he went out to the gate, the oni seized him by the helmet, but Tsuna caught the ghoul’s arm with the left hand, and, with his sword in his right hand, cut off the limb. The ghoul was so frightened that it ran away, leaving its hairy arm and claws. Tsuna was very proud of his victory, and kept the arm as a trophy, carefully packed in a fine box. One day an old woman came to see the hero, saying she had heard of his feat, and would like to see the wonderful limb which he, by his valor, had cut off. Now, Tsuna was always good-natured to old people and good children, being only angry with wicked robbers and demons, and so he opened the box to show the old lady his treasure. Now, this old woman was nothing more than a ghoul in disguise. No sooner had Tsuna opened his box than she snatched the limb, and flew away with it through the smoke-hole in the roof, changing, as she flew, into her true shape—that of a hideous ghoul.
At this time Raiko was sick, and a three-eyed ghoul came to torment him, knowing he was very weak; but Raiko drew his sword, which he always kept at his side, and gave the ghoul a lusty cut that sent him, all bloody and howling, away. His retainers followed the tracks of blood to a great cave, in which they found a colossal spider, which Raiko succeeded in killing.
Shu-ten dōji was another ghoul which Raiko, with his retainers, went to slay. Raiko went to his cave, and asked for a night’s lodging. He found there a great red man, with long red hair, drinking strong saké out of a huge trencher which would hold several tubfuls. After a while the ghoul got drunk, and fell asleep. Raiko then drew his sword and cut off the monster’s head. His retainers helped him to carry it out, and it was paraded with great pomp where every one could see it. It was bigger than the great lion’s head which used to be carried through the streets of Yedo at the great festival procession of Kanda Miō Jin, which it required twenty men to carry. It had frightful horns and tusks, and devoured many people.
Raiko was a Kugé, and one of the bravest warriors of all time. Brave men such as he long ago killed all the wicked things in Japan, so that good little children might go to sleep, and not be afraid of the ghouls coming to take them from papa, mamma, brothers, sisters, and grandmothers.
A pilgrim through eternity—In countless births have I been born,And toiled the architect to see,Who builds my soul’s live house in scorn.Oh, painful is the road of birthBy which, from house to house made o’er,Each house displays the kind and worthOf the desires I loved before.Dear architect! I now have seen thy face,And seized thy precept’s law.Of all the houses which have beenNot one again my soul can draw.Thy rafters crushed, thy ridge-pole, too,Thy work, O builder, now is o’er!My spirit feels Nirvâna true,And I shall transmigrate no more.—Buddha.
A pilgrim through eternity—In countless births have I been born,And toiled the architect to see,Who builds my soul’s live house in scorn.Oh, painful is the road of birthBy which, from house to house made o’er,Each house displays the kind and worthOf the desires I loved before.Dear architect! I now have seen thy face,And seized thy precept’s law.Of all the houses which have beenNot one again my soul can draw.Thy rafters crushed, thy ridge-pole, too,Thy work, O builder, now is o’er!My spirit feels Nirvâna true,And I shall transmigrate no more.—Buddha.
A pilgrim through eternity—In countless births have I been born,And toiled the architect to see,Who builds my soul’s live house in scorn.
A pilgrim through eternity—
In countless births have I been born,
And toiled the architect to see,
Who builds my soul’s live house in scorn.
Oh, painful is the road of birthBy which, from house to house made o’er,Each house displays the kind and worthOf the desires I loved before.
Oh, painful is the road of birth
By which, from house to house made o’er,
Each house displays the kind and worth
Of the desires I loved before.
Dear architect! I now have seen thy face,And seized thy precept’s law.Of all the houses which have beenNot one again my soul can draw.
Dear architect! I now have seen thy face,
And seized thy precept’s law.
Of all the houses which have been
Not one again my soul can draw.
Thy rafters crushed, thy ridge-pole, too,Thy work, O builder, now is o’er!My spirit feels Nirvâna true,And I shall transmigrate no more.—Buddha.
Thy rafters crushed, thy ridge-pole, too,
Thy work, O builder, now is o’er!
My spirit feels Nirvâna true,
And I shall transmigrate no more.—Buddha.
[End of Required Reading for June.]
By ELLEN O. PECK.
Open thy gates, O summer,The air is balmy and sweet,And a radiant guest is readyTo enter with fairy feet.’Tis June with her brow of sunshine,And her wealth of green and gold,With drapery graceful and flowing,And flowers in every fold.O beautiful June! Thou art come again!O month of joy! O month of pain!Thy face is the face of my darlingThat lies beneath thy flowers,And that comes to me with thy comingOn the wings of the golden hours;The years are swift in passingBut the memories fondly stay,And time has no power to rob meThough it bear my youth away;For, framed like thee in choicest goldIs the face of my love which can not grow old.Thy lilies were clasped in her fingers—Not whiter the lilies than they—When under thy skies which were weepingThey laid my darling away.There I planted a delicate rose-tree,Which thy coming calls to bloom,Each year a sweet reminderOf her heart’s own sweet perfume.Not fairer the bloom of these flowers of the sun,Than the radiant life of my beautiful one.And I read anew at thy comingSweet lessons of love and truth,With the bitter lines of sorrowI learned in my happy youth.God sends a message goldenEach year in thy glowing train,I would not fail in graspingThough with good it brings me pain.While I grieve for the beauty earth holds no moreI catch a gleam of the heavenly shore.
Open thy gates, O summer,The air is balmy and sweet,And a radiant guest is readyTo enter with fairy feet.’Tis June with her brow of sunshine,And her wealth of green and gold,With drapery graceful and flowing,And flowers in every fold.O beautiful June! Thou art come again!O month of joy! O month of pain!Thy face is the face of my darlingThat lies beneath thy flowers,And that comes to me with thy comingOn the wings of the golden hours;The years are swift in passingBut the memories fondly stay,And time has no power to rob meThough it bear my youth away;For, framed like thee in choicest goldIs the face of my love which can not grow old.Thy lilies were clasped in her fingers—Not whiter the lilies than they—When under thy skies which were weepingThey laid my darling away.There I planted a delicate rose-tree,Which thy coming calls to bloom,Each year a sweet reminderOf her heart’s own sweet perfume.Not fairer the bloom of these flowers of the sun,Than the radiant life of my beautiful one.And I read anew at thy comingSweet lessons of love and truth,With the bitter lines of sorrowI learned in my happy youth.God sends a message goldenEach year in thy glowing train,I would not fail in graspingThough with good it brings me pain.While I grieve for the beauty earth holds no moreI catch a gleam of the heavenly shore.
Open thy gates, O summer,The air is balmy and sweet,And a radiant guest is readyTo enter with fairy feet.’Tis June with her brow of sunshine,And her wealth of green and gold,With drapery graceful and flowing,And flowers in every fold.O beautiful June! Thou art come again!O month of joy! O month of pain!
Open thy gates, O summer,
The air is balmy and sweet,
And a radiant guest is ready
To enter with fairy feet.
’Tis June with her brow of sunshine,
And her wealth of green and gold,
With drapery graceful and flowing,
And flowers in every fold.
O beautiful June! Thou art come again!
O month of joy! O month of pain!
Thy face is the face of my darlingThat lies beneath thy flowers,And that comes to me with thy comingOn the wings of the golden hours;The years are swift in passingBut the memories fondly stay,And time has no power to rob meThough it bear my youth away;For, framed like thee in choicest goldIs the face of my love which can not grow old.
Thy face is the face of my darling
That lies beneath thy flowers,
And that comes to me with thy coming
On the wings of the golden hours;
The years are swift in passing
But the memories fondly stay,
And time has no power to rob me
Though it bear my youth away;
For, framed like thee in choicest gold
Is the face of my love which can not grow old.
Thy lilies were clasped in her fingers—Not whiter the lilies than they—When under thy skies which were weepingThey laid my darling away.There I planted a delicate rose-tree,Which thy coming calls to bloom,Each year a sweet reminderOf her heart’s own sweet perfume.Not fairer the bloom of these flowers of the sun,Than the radiant life of my beautiful one.
Thy lilies were clasped in her fingers—
Not whiter the lilies than they—
When under thy skies which were weeping
They laid my darling away.
There I planted a delicate rose-tree,
Which thy coming calls to bloom,
Each year a sweet reminder
Of her heart’s own sweet perfume.
Not fairer the bloom of these flowers of the sun,
Than the radiant life of my beautiful one.
And I read anew at thy comingSweet lessons of love and truth,With the bitter lines of sorrowI learned in my happy youth.God sends a message goldenEach year in thy glowing train,I would not fail in graspingThough with good it brings me pain.While I grieve for the beauty earth holds no moreI catch a gleam of the heavenly shore.
And I read anew at thy coming
Sweet lessons of love and truth,
With the bitter lines of sorrow
I learned in my happy youth.
God sends a message golden
Each year in thy glowing train,
I would not fail in grasping
Though with good it brings me pain.
While I grieve for the beauty earth holds no more
I catch a gleam of the heavenly shore.
Observe, before procuring a specimen, how beautifully the feathers of a bird are arranged, one falling over the other in the nicest order; and that, where this charming harmony is interrupted, the defect, though not noticed by an ordinary spectator, will appear immediately to the eye of a naturalist. Thus, a bird not wounded, and in perfect feather, must be procured if possible, for the loss of the feathers can seldom be made good; and where the deficiency is great, all the skill of the artist will avail him little in his attempt to conceal the defect, because, in order to hide it, he must contract the skin, bring down the upper feathers and shove in the lower ones, which would throw all the surrounding parts into contortion.
You will observe, that the whole skin does not produce feathers, and that it is very tender where the feathers do not grow. The bare parts are admirably formed for expansion about the throat and stomach, and they fit into the different cavities of the body at the wings, shoulders, rump, and thighs, with wonderful exactness; so that in stuffing the bird, if you make an even rotund surface of the skin where these cavities existed, in lieu of re-forming them, all symmetry, order, and proportion, are lost forever.
You must lay it down as an absolute rule, that the bird is to be entirely skinned, otherwise you can never succeed in forming a true and pleasing specimen.
Wire is of no manner of use, but, on the contrary, a great nuisance, for where it is introduced a disagreeable stiffness and derangement of symmetry follow.
The head and neck can be placed in any attitude, the body supported, the wings closed, extended, or elevated, the tail depressed, raised, or expanded, the thighs set horizontal or oblique, without any aid from wire. Cotton will effect all this.
A very small proportion of the skull bone, say, from the forepart of the eyes to the bill, is to be left in, though even this is not absolutely necessary. Part of the wing-bones the jaw-bones, and half of the thigh-bones remain; every, thing else, flesh, fat, eyes, bones, brains, and tendons, are all to be taken away, and the skin anointed thoroughly with a solution of corrosive sublimate or with arsenical soap.
Introduce the cotton for an artificial body by means of a little stick like a knitting needle, and without any other aid or substance than that of this little stick and cotton, your own genius must produce those swellings and cavities, that just proportion, that elegance and harmony of the whole so much admired in animated nature, so little attended to in preserved specimens. After you have introduced the cotton, sew up the orifice you originally made in the belly, beginning at the vent. And from time to time, till you arrive at the last stitch, keep adding a little cotton, in order that there may be no deficiency there. Lastly, dip your stick into a solution of corrosive sublimate, and put it down the throat three or four times, in order that every part may receive it.
When the head and neck are filled with cotton quite to your liking, close the bill as in nature. A little bit of bees wax at the point of it will keep the mandibles in their proper place. A needle must be stuck into the lower mandible perpendicularly. Bring also the feet together by a pin, and then run a thread through the knees, by which you may draw them to each other as near as you judge proper. Nothing now remains but to add the eyes; with your little stick make a hollow in the cotton within the orbit and introduce the glass eyes into it. Adjust the orbit to them as in nature, and that requires no other fastener.
Great attention must be paid to the size of the orbit, which will receive within it an object much larger than the eye, sothat it must be drawn together with a very small delicate needle and thread, at the part farthest from the beak.
A small quantity of the solution is now applied to the bill, orbits, and feet.
Take any ordinary box large enough for holding the bird, and fill three-fourths of it from the top at one end, and the other end forming an inclined plane; make a hollow in it sufficient for the reception of the bird, place it in the box with its legs in a sitting posture; take a piece of cork into which three pins have been stuck for legs, like a three-footed stool; place it under the bird’s bill, and the needle which was formerly run through the bill is stuck into the cork, which will act as a support to the bird’s head. If the neck is wished to be lengthened, put more cotton under the cork, orvice versa;and if the head is wished to be projecting forward, it has only to be brought nearer the front of the box, humoring the cork, so as to place it in the position you require.
As the back part of the neck shrinks more in drying than the fore part, a thread must be tied to the end of the box, mid fastened to the beak, to prevent the face from looking too much upward. If the wings are wished elevated, support them with cotton; and if it be very high, place a piece of stick under them.
Should you desire to expand the wings, the order of the feathers must be reversed, commencing with the two middle ones. When perfectly dry, place them in the natural order, and they will ever afterwards continue as you wish them. If the crest is wished to be erect, the feathers must be moved in a contrary direction for a day or two, when they will soon take the position wished for.
The box must now be placed out of the reach of the sun, air, or fire, so that the skin may dry slowly. The corrosive sublimate is of much service in this respect, for it renders the skin moist and flexible for many days. The bird should be lifted every day, so that any faults may be corrected which take place while drying.
The small wing-coverts are apt to rise, owing to the skin coming in contact with the wing bones. The part which rises should be gently pulled with the finger and thumb for a day or two, and the feathers pressed down.
The feathers should be frequently adjusted so as to render them distinct and visible.
The legs begin to stiffen in three or four days, when it will be time to place them in the desired position; and the toes either arranged, or curved, so as to hold a branch, in which two spikes must be placed for the reception of the feet, whereon they are to be stuck, and can afterwards be removed at pleasure. All the threads which kept the different parts in their places may now be removed.
Touch the whole feathers with a solution of corrosive sublimate, so as to preserve them from the attack of moths. The surest way of proceeding is to immerse the bird in the solution of corrosive sublimate, and then dry it before you begin to dissect it.
If it is intended to represent the bird flying, its wings are extended to their utmost stretch, the tail placed horizontally, and expanded, the neck forced forward, the legs and feet drawn up close to the breast, with the toes closed. It may then be suspended from the ceiling, by a piece of very finebrasswire, such as is used for piano-forte strings.
A very spirited and striking position is, when the bird is about to take flight. In this attitude, it is placed with the body reclining forward, and the wings slightly raised, which can be managed without the assistance of external wires, by merely placing a little cotton or tow under the wings, while the skin is yet wet.
Descriptions of this kind are endless; let those who intend stuffing birds study nature in its various details, and, where this can not be come at, good books and prints will be found an excellent substitute.