“A man of mean extraction was raised by the efforts of an old mandarin to the throne. But the mandarin afterwards became overbearing, and even tried to be in some measure the master of the emperor. The latter bore all this for some time, but at length, growing weary of this insolence, he determined to rid himself of his importunate minister. Wherefore, one day that he was surrounded by a number of his mandarins, among whom was the one who had raised him to the throne, he directed his discourse to him, and asked him what they do with the zen, which are erected round the pagodas, after the gilding and painting are finished, for which they were raised; for the zen is a scaffolding of bamboo, or thick cane, serving to support the gilders and painters of the pagodas. ‘They are taken down and carried away,’ replied the old mandarin, ‘that they may not obstruct the view of the pagoda, or spoil its beauty.’ “‘Just so,’ replied the monarch, ‘I have made use of you to ascend the throne, as the gilders and painters make use of the zen; but now that I am firmly seated in it, and am obeyed as emperor by all, and respected by all, you are become useless to me, or rather your presence only disturbs my peace.’ He then drove him from his palace, and sent him in banishment to a village. One day, while this mandarin was yet in banishment, a dreadful tempest arose; in the course of which, looking out into the country, he observed that the great trees, which resisted the force of the wind, were not bent, but broken or torn up by its fury; while the grass and the canes, yielding before the blast, returned to their original position the moment it was gone by. ‘Oh,’ said the mandarin, within himself, ‘if I had followed the example of these canes and this grass, I should not now be in so miserable a condition.’”