Chinese Æsop:

On the banks of a river flowing through the prefecture of Tingchow, there stood a certain city of about ten thousand inhabitants. Among this mass of people there was one particular individual named Chung, who had acquired the reputation of being exceedingly large-hearted and benevolently inclined to all those in distress. Anyone who was in want had but to appeal to Chung, and his immediate necessities would at once be relieved without any tedious investigation into the merits of his case. Chung was an easy-going, good-natured man, who was more inclined to look kindly upon his fellow-men than to criticise them harshly for their follies or their crimes. Now the whole soul of Chung was centred upon his only son Keng. At the time when our story opens, this young fellow was growing up to manhood, and had proved himself to be possessed of no mean ability, for on the various occasions on which he had sat for examination before the Literary Chancellor, his papers had been of a very high orde...

This story is about how the Spirit of a drowned person was promoted to the God of the City. 水鬼升城隍的故事 One evening in the distant past a fisherman anchored his boat near the bank of a stream which flowed close by a great city, whose walls could be seen rising grey and rugged in the near distance. The sound of life fell upon his ear and kept him from feeling lonely. Coolies, with bamboo carrying-poles on their shoulders, tired out with the heavy work of the day, hurried by afraid lest the darkness should overtake them before they reached their homes. The bearers of sedan-chairs, which they had carried for many a weary mile, strode by with quickened step and with an imperious shout at the foot passengers to get out of their way and not block up the narrow road by which they would gain the city walls before the great gates were closed for the night. By the time that the afterglow had died out of the sky and the distant hills were blotted out of the horizon, the fisherman had finished...

There is a certain Prefectural city in the south of China, outside one of its four gates, on one side of a road road was a magnificent series of memorial arches built in close succession to each other for a considerable distance. They were composed of granite slabs, some very plain in their design, whilst others were highly artistic. Every one of these arches had been erected to commemorate some person who had already passed away, but whose virtues in life had been so conspicuous that the community had determined that they should not be forgotten, but that a record of them should be handed down to posterity, not only to keep their memory fragrant, but also to provide beautiful examples for succeeding generations. Amongst the virtues recorded on these granite slabs, the most common was that of filial piety. But of all the numerous arches spanning the road there was one which attracted more attention than any other in the long line. This was not because the virtues of the person, in...

KWANG-JUI (唐僧的父亲陈光蕊) AND THE GOD OF THE RIVER When we first meet with Kwang-Jui, he is living with his widowed mother in a retired part of the country. His father had been dead for some time, and Kwang-Jui was now the only one upon whom the fortunes of the home could be built. He was a very studious lad, and was possessed of remarkable abilities, the result being that he successfully passed the various Imperial Examinations, even the final one in the capital, where the Sovereign himself presided as examiner. After this last examination, as the men were waiting outside the Hall for the names of those who had satisfied the Emperor to be read out a considerable crowd had collected. Most of these people had come from mere curiosity to see the Imperial Edict, and to discover who the scholar was that stood first on the list. The excitement was intense, and speculation ran rife as to which of the candidates, who had come from almost every province in the Empire, was going to obtain the p...

There was once a mandarin in China who was in the habit of eating four pounds of pork every day. One of his underlings said, “He was a happy man to be able to eat so much, and to have so much to eat.” Another answered, “ Four pounds is nothing, I could eat as much if I had it.” The mandarin, overhearing the boast, demanded that the speaker should prove his words by eating the four pounds in his presence daily for a whole year. If he utterly failed he was to have a hundred blows. For the first month the man succeeded, but afterwards had to come down to three and a half, and eventually to one and a half pounds. He was beaten correspondingly. Soon he could take very little, and the full hundred blows were inflicted daily. This was as expensive as painful, for he had to fee his prosecutors two hundred cash a day to " lay it on lightly."

A Recluse at Court. Tung Fang-so's original surname was Chang (张). Owing to his eccentric and humorous behavior at the Han court, his nickname was Guji ("Buffoon"). He proclaimed himself the first "recluse at court". When fellow courtiers called him crazy, he replied, "People like me are known as those who escape the world by taking it easy at court." The Cackling Magpie. The Emperor Wu of Han was one day a showery day having a feast with some of his courtiers, when Tung Fang-so appeared under the dripping eaves, holding a weapon in his hand. On the Emperor asking the reason of his appearance, Tung Fang-so smiled, and said he had been sent for by the Supreme, who told him there was a magpie on a withered cypress behind the palace cackling vigorously toward the East. "So I was commanded to go and find out the reason of the noise it was making." "And how should you know ? " asked the Emperor, who had risen from the now finishe...

The country mosquitoes once invited their cousins of the town to a banquet. Plenty of human flesh was provided, but it was thick-skinned and tough. Town manners, however, made it necessary to return the invitation. On their way back the town-bred connoisseurs of flesh consulted as to what was to be done. Mosquito-nets were on the increase, and country cousins are so voracious. There would be no food left for the hosts. 'Take them to the temples,' suggested the wisest of them. The suggestion was received with buzzing acclamation. The guests came, and had to try the points of their knives and lancets upon gilded and painted skin. They declared, however, with all politeness, that they had enjoyed the repast, but inwardly resolved never to invite or accept such invitations again.