Kung-hu and Chi-ying fell ill, and sought the services of the renowned doctor, Pien-chiao.  He cured them with his drugs; then told them they were also suffering from diseases no drugs could reach, born with them at their birth, and that had grown up with them through life.  “Would you have me grapple with these?” said he.—­“Yes,” said they; but wished first to hear the diagnosis.—­ “You,” he said to kung-hu, “have strong mental powers, but are weak in character; so, though fruitful in plans, you are weak in decision.”  “You,” he said to Chi-ying, “are stong of will, though stupid; so there is a narrowness in your aims and a want of foresight.  Now if I can effect an exchange of hearts between you, the good will be equally balanced in both.”

They agreed at once:  Kung-hu, with the weaker will, was to get the smaller mental powers to match it; Chi-ying was to get a mentality equal to his firm will.  We should think Kung-hu got very much the worst of the bargain; but he, and Dr. Pien-chiao, and Liehtse, and perhaps Chinamen generally, thought and would think nothing of the kind.  To them, to have balanced faculties was far better than to have an intellect too big for one’s will-power; because such balance would afford a firm basis from which will and intellect might go forward in progress harmoniously.  So Pien-chiao put both under a strong anaesthetic, took out their hearts, and made the exchange (the heart being, with the Chinese, the seat of mentality); and after that the health of both was perfect.—­You may laugh; but after all there is a grandeur in the recognition implied, that the intellect is not the man, but only one of his possessions.  The story is profoundly characteristic:  like Ah Sin’s smile in the poem, “childlike and bland”; but hiding wonderful depths of philosophy beneath.

Laotse showed his deep Occult wisdom when he said that the Man of Tao “does difficult things while they are still easy.”  Liehtse tells you the story of the Assitant to the Keeper of the Wild Beasts at Loyang.  His name was Lian yang, and his fame went abroad for having a wonderful way with the creatures in his charge.  Hsuan Wang, the Chow king, heard of it; and sent orders to the Chief Keeper to get the secret from Liang, lest it should die with him.—­“How is it,” said the Keeper, “that when you feed them, the tigers, wolves, eagles, and ospreys all are tame and tractable?  That they roam at large in the park, yet never claw and bite one another?  That they propagate their species freely, as if they were wild?  His Majesty bids you reveal to me the secret.”

A touch of nature here:  all zoologists know how difficult it is to get wild beasts to breed in captivity.