The first, prince of the House of Yin, was turned out of doors by his stepmother. The second, one of the disciples of Confucius and a rare pattern of filial piety, grieved because his mother was too old to hit him hard enough. See p. 100. Wood rubbed with wood produces fire. Metal exposed to fire will liquefy. If the Positive and Negative principles operate inharmoniously, heaven and earth are greatly disturbed. Thunder crashes, and with rain comes lightning, scorching up the tall locust-trees. One fears lest sky and land should collapse and leave no escape. Unable to lie _perdu_, the heart feels as though suspended between heaven and earth. So in the struggle between peace and unrest, the friction between good and evil, much fire is evolved which consumes the inner harmony of man. But the mind is unable to resist fire. It is destroyed, and with it TAO comes to an end. * * * * * Chuang Tzŭ's family being poor, he went to borrow some corn from the prince of Chien-ho. "Yes," said the prince. "I am just about collecting the revenue of my fief, and will then lend you three hundred ounces of silver. Will that do?" At this Chuang Tzŭ flushed with anger and said, "Yesterday, as I was coming along, I heard a voice calling me. I looked round, and in the cart-rut I saw a stickleback. "'And what do you want, stickleback?' said I. "'I am a denizen of the eastern ocean,' replied the stickleback. 'Pray, Sir, a pint of water to save my life.' "'Yes,' said I. 'I am just going south to visit the princes of Wu and Yüeh. I will bring you some from the west river. Will that do?' "At this the stickleback flushed with anger and said, 'I am out of my element. I have nowhere to go. A pint of water would save me. But to talk to me like this,--you might as well put me in a dried-fish shop at once.'" The above episode is condemned by Lin Hsi Chung on the score of style. * * * * * Jên Kung Tzŭ A young noble of the Jen State. _Comm._ got a huge hook on a big line, which he baited with fifty oxen. He squatted down at Kuei-chi, and cast into the eastern ocean. Every day he fished, but for a whole year he caught nothing. Then came a great fish which swallowed the bait, and dragging the huge hook dived down below. This way and that way it plunged about, erecting the dorsal fin. The white waves rolled mountain high. The great deep was shaken up. The noise was like that of so many devils, terrifying people for many miles around. But when Jên Kung Tzŭ had secured his fish, he cut it up and salted it. And from Chih-ho eastwards, and from Ts'ang-wu northwards, there was none but ate his fill of that fish. Even among succeeding generations, _gobemouches_ of the day recounted the marvellous tale.