A Chinese Wonder Book | Page 7

and palaces. I
have had the wise men and scholars compile a great book of wisdom,
made up of 23,000 volumes, the largest and most wonderful collection
of learning ever gathered together by the hands of men. I have built
watch-towers, bridges, and giant monuments, and now, alas! as I
approach the end of my days as ruler of the Middle Kingdom there is
nothing more to be done for my people. Better far that I should even
now close my tired eyes for ever and mount up on high to be the guest
of the dragon, than live on in idleness, giving to my children an
example of uselessness and sloth."
"But, your Majesty," began one of Yung-lo's most faithful courtiers,
named Ming-lin, falling upon his knees and knocking his head three
times on the ground, "if you would only deign to listen to your humble
slave, I would dare to suggest a great gift for which the many people of
Peking, your children, would rise up and bless you both now and in
future generations."
"Only tell me of such a gift and I will not only grant it to the imperial
city, but as a sign of thanksgiving to you for your sage counsel I will
bestow upon you the royal peacock feather."
"It is not for one of my small virtues," replied the delighted official, "to
wear the feather when others so much wiser are denied it, but if it
please your Majesty, remember that in the northern district of the city

there has been erected a bell-tower which as yet remains empty. The
people of the city need a giant bell to sound out the fleeting hours of
the day, that they may be urged on to perform their labours and not be
idle. The water-clock already marks the hours, but there is no bell to
proclaim them to the populace."
"A good suggestion in sooth," answered the Emperor, smiling, "and yet
who is there among us that has skill enough in bell-craft to do the task
you propose? I am told that to cast a bell worthy of our imperial city
requires the genius of a poet and the skill of an astronomer."
"True, most mighty one, and yet permit me to say that Kwan-yu, who
so skilfully moulded the imperial cannon, can also cast a giant bell. He
alone of all your subjects is worthy of the task, for he alone can do it
justice."
Now, the official who proposed the name of Kwan-yu to the Emperor
had two objects in so doing. He wished to quiet the grief of Yung-lo,
who was mourning because he had nothing left to do for his people,
and, at the same time, to raise Kwan-yu to high rank, for Kwan-yu's
only daughter had for several years been betrothed to Ming-lin's only
son, and it would be a great stroke of luck for Ming-lin if his
daughter-in-law's father should come under direct favour of the
Emperor.
"Depend upon it, Kwan-yu can do the work better than any other man
within the length and breadth of your empire," continued Ming-lin,
again bowing low three times.
"Then summon Kwan-yu at once to my presence, that I may confer
with him about this important business."
In great glee Ming-lin arose and backed himself away from the golden
throne, for it would have been very improper for him to turn his
coat-tails on the Son of Heaven.
But it was with no little fear that Kwan-yu undertook the casting of the
great bell.

"Can a carpenter make shoes?" he had protested, when Ming-lin had
broken the Emperor's message to him.
"Yes," replied the other quickly, "if they be like those worn by the little
island dwarfs, and, therefore, made of wood. Bells and cannon are cast
from similar material. You ought easily to adapt yourself to this new
work."
Now when Kwan-yu's daughter found out what he was about to
undertake, she was filled with a great fear.
"Oh, honoured father," she cried, "think well before you give this
promise. As a cannon-maker you are successful, but who can say about
the other task? And if you fail, the Great One's wrath will fall heavily
upon you."
"Just hear the girl," interrupted the ambitious mother. "What do you
know about success and failure? You'd better stick to the subject of
cooking and baby-clothes, for you will soon be married. As for your
father, pray let him attend to his own business. It is unseemly for a girl
to meddle in her father's affairs."
And so poor Ko-ai--for that was the maiden's name--was silenced, and
went back to her fancy-work with a big tear stealing down her fair
cheek, for she loved her father dearly and there had come into her heart
a strange