He would not eat meat that was clumsily cut, or served without its proper sauce. Although there might be an abundance of meat, he never let it exceed in quantity the vegetable food. In wine alone he laid down for himself no particular limit, but he never reached the stage of intoxication. He took ginger at every meal. He did not eat much. When eating, he did not converse; when in bed, he did not speak. Even though he had nothing but coarse rice and vegetable soup, he would always reverently offer some to the ancestral spirits. He would not sit on a mat[8] that was placed awry. On one occasion, Chi K‘ang Tzŭ having sent him some medicine, he bowed as he received it, saying: Not being familiar with this drug, I would not venture to try it. His stables having been burnt down, the Master on his return from the Court said: Has any one been hurt?--He did not ask about the horses.[9] If the Prince sent him a present of cooked meat, he would sit down to taste it on a properly placed mat. If the Prince sent him a present of raw meat, he would have it cooked and offer it in sacrifice. If the Prince sent him a live animal, he would keep it alive. When the Prince summoned him to his presence, he would go on foot without waiting for his carriage. If any of his friends died who was without a home or relations, he would say: I will see to the funeral. In bed, he did not lie like a corpse. In his home life, his manner was not too formal. At the sight of a person in mourning, though it might be an intimate acquaintance, he would always look grave. On meeting an official in uniform, or a blind man, however ragged, he would always show him some mark of respect. When a rich banquet was set before him, he would show his appreciation in his looks, and rise to return thanks. He would change countenance at a thunderclap or a sudden squall of wind. When in his carriage, he would not look behind him, talk rapidly, or point with his finger.[10] Duke Ling of Wei asked Confucius about the disposition of troops in warfare. Confucius answered: I know something about the arts of peace,[11] but I have never studied the art of war. And on the morrow he departed. But when he came to the State of Ch‘ên, he was cut off from supplies,[12] and his followers were so enfeebled that they could hardly stand. Tzŭ Lu indignantly sought the Master's presence, saying: Is it for the princely man to feel the pinch of privation?--The Master replied: Assuredly privation may come his way, but it is only the baser type of man who under it grows demoralised and reckless.