ing bridge struggling with the men of Shu. However, as Ssuma neared, the men of Shu retreated, whereupon the bridges were burned and the north bank occupied.

The Wei army attacking the Ch'ishan camp were greatly disturbed when they heard of the defeat of their general and the loss of the camp on the Wei River. The men of Shu took the occasion to strike with greater vigour, and so gained a great victory. The beaten army suffered great loss. Those who escaped fled across the river.

When K'ung-ming from the hill-top saw that his enemy had been inveigled into the trap he had so carefully prepared, he rejoiced exceedingly, and when he saw the flames burst forth he thought surely his rival was done for. Then, unhappily for him, Heaven thought it well to send down torrents of rain, which quenched the fire and upset all his calculations.

Soon after, the scouts reported the escape of his victims, and he sighed, saying, "Man proposes; God disposes. We cannot wrest events to our will."

Fierce fires roared in the valley,
But the rain quenched them.
Had Chuko's plan but succeeded,
Where had been the Chins?

From the new camp on the north bank of the river Ssŭma issued an order that he would put to death any officer who proposed going out to battle. The final result of the late ill-advised expedition had been the loss of the south bank of the river. Accordingly no one spoke of attacking, but all turned their energies toward defence.

Kuo Huai went to the general to talk over plans. He said, "The enemy have been carefully spying out the country and are certainly selecting a new position for a camp. If K'ungming go out to Wukung, and thence eastward, we shall be in grave danger; if he go out by Huainan and halts on the Wuchang Plain, we need feel no anxiety."

They decided to send scouts to find out the movements of their enemy. Presently the scouts returned to say that he had chosen the plain.

"Our great Emperor of Wei has remarkable fortune," said Ssuma, clapping his hand to his forehead. Then he confirmed the order to remain strictly on the defensive till some change of circumstances on the part of the enemy should promise advantage.

After his army had settled into camp on the plain, K'ungming continued his attempts to provoke a battle. Day after

day, parties went to challenge the men of Wei, but they resisted all provocation.

One day K'ung-ming packed a woman's head-dress and a robe of white silk in a box, which he sent, with a letter, to his

rival. The insult could not be concealed, so the captains led the bearer of the box to their chief. He opened the box and saw the dress of a woman. Then he opened the letter, which

read something like this:

"Friend Ssuma, although you are a General and lead the troops of the capital, you seem but little disposed to display the firmness and valour that would render a contest decisive. Instead, you have prepared a comfortable lair where you are safe from the keen edge of the sword. Are you not very like a woman? Wherefore I send the bearer with a suitable gift, and you will humbly accept it and the humiliation, unless, indeed, you finally decide to come out and fight like a man. you are not entirely indifferent to shame, if you retain any of the feelings of a man, you will send this back to me and come out and give battle."

If

Ssuma I, although inwardly raging, pretended to take it all as a joke and smiled.

"So he regards me as a woman," said he.

He accepted the gift and treated the messenger well. Before he left, Ssuma asked him a few questions about his master's eating and sleeping and hours of labour.

"He works very hard," said the messenger. "He rises early and retires to bed late. He attends personally to all cases requiring punishment of over a score of strokes. As for food,

he does not eat more than a few hsing (pints) of grain." "That is, he eats little and works much," remarked Ssuma. "Can he last long?".

The messenger returned to his own side and reported that the general had taken the whole episode in good part and shown no sign of anger. He had only asked about K'ungming's hours of rest, and food and such things. He had said no word about military matters. "I told him that you ate little and worked long hours, and then he said, 'Can he last long?' That was all."

"He knows," said K'ung-ming, pensively.

The Accountant Yang Yung presently ventured to remonstrate with his chief.

"I notice," said Yang, "that you check the books personally. I think that is needless labour for a Prime Minister to undertake. In every administration the higher and subordinate ranks have their especial fields of activity, and each should confine his labours to his own field. In a household, for example, the male servants plough and the female cook, and thus operations are carried on without waste of energy, and all needs are supplied. The master of the house has ample leisure and tranquillity. If one individual strives to attend personally to every matter he only wearies himself and fails to accomplish his end. How can he possibly hope to perform all the various tasks so well as the maids or the hinds?

He fails in his own part, that of playing the master. And, indeed, the ancients held this same opinion, for they said that the high officers should attend to the discussion of ways and means and the lower should carry out details. Of old, Ping Chi was moved to deep thought by the panting of an ox, which showed the seasons untimely, but enquired not about the corpses of certain brawlers-which lay about the road, for this matter concerned the magistrate. Ch'ên P'ing was ignorant of the figures relating to taxes, for he said these were the concern of the controllers of taxes.

"O Minister, you weary yourself with minor details and sweat yourself every day. You are wearing yourself out, and Ssuma I has good reason for what he said."

"I know; I cannot but know," replied K'ung-ming. "But this heavy responsibility was laid upon me, and I fear no other will be so devoted as I am."

Those who heard him wept. Thereafter K'ung-ming appeared more and more harassed, and military operations did not speed.

On the other side the officers of Wei resented bitterly the insult that had been put upon them when their leader had been presented with a woman's dress. They wished to avenge the taunt, and went to their general, saying, "We are reputable captains of the army of a great state; how can we put up with such insults from these men of Shu? We pray you to let us fight them."

"It is not that I fear to go out," said Ssuma, "nor that I relish the insults, but I have the king's command to hold on and may not disobey."

The officers were not in the least appeased. Wherefore he said, "I will send your request to the Throne in a memorial; what think you of that?"

They consented to await the king's reply, and a messenger bore to King Jui, in Hofei, this memorial:

"I have small ability and high office. Your Majesty laid on me the command to defend and not fight till the men of Shu had suffered by the efflux of time. But Chuko Liang has now sent me a gift of a woman's dress, and my shame is very deep. Wherefore I advise Your Majesty that one day I shall have to fight in order to justify your kindness to me and to remove the shameful stigma that now rests upon my army. I cannot express the degree to which I am urged to this course."

The king read it and turned questioningly to his courtiers seeking an explanation. Hsin P'i supplied it.

"Ssuma has no desire to give battle; this memorial is because of the shame put upon the officers by K'ung-ming's gift. They are all in a rage. He wishes for an edict to pacity them."

The king understood and gave to Hsin P'i a chieh (formal authority) and sent him to the river camp to make known that

it was the king's command not to fight. Ssŭma received the messenger with all respect, and it was given out that any future reference to offering battle would be taken as disobedience to the king's especial command in the edict.

The officers could but obey, but their general told the king's messenger that he had interpreted his own desire correctly.

It was thenceforward understood that the general was forbidden to give battle. When it was told to K'ung-ming, he said, "This is only Ssuma's method of pacifying his army. He has never had any intention of fighting and requested the edict to justify his strategy. It is well known that a general in the field takes no command from any person, not even his own king. Is it likely that he would send a thousand li to ask permission to fight if that was all he needed? The officers were bitter, and so Ssŭma got the king to assist him in maintaining discipline. All this is meant to slacken our men."

Just at this time Fei I came. He was called in to see the general, and K'ung-ming asked the reason for his coming. He replied, "King Jui, of Wei, hearing that Wu has invaded his country at three points, has led a great army to Hofei and sent three other armies to oppose the invaders. The stores and fight-material of Wu have been burned, and the men of Wu have fallen victims to sickness. A letter from Lu Hsün containing a scheme of attack fell into the hands of the enemy, and the lord of Wu has marched back into his own country."

K'ung-ming listened to the end; then, without a word, he fell in a swoon. He recovered after a time, but he was broken. He said, "My mind is all in confusion. This is a return of my old complaint, and I am doomed."

Ill as he was, K'ung-ming that night went forth from his tent to scan the heavens and study the stars. They filled him with fear. He returned and said to Chiang Wei, "My life may end at any moment."

"Why do you say such a thing?"

"Just now in the San-t'ai constellation the roving star was twice as bright as usual, while the fixed stars were darkened; the supporting stars were also obscure. With such an aspect I know my fate."

"If the aspect be as malignant as you say, why not pray in order to avert it?" replied Chiang.

"I am in the habit of praying," replied K'ung-ming, "but I know not the will of God. However, prepare me forty-nine men and let each have a black flag. Dress them in black and place them outside my tent. Then will I from within my tent invoke the Seven Stars of the North. If my master-lamp remain alight for seven days, then is my life to be prolonged. If the lamp go out, then I am to die. Keep all idlers away from the tent and let a couple of youths bring me what is necessary."

Chiang prepared as directed. It was then the eighth month, mid-autumn, and the Silver River (Milky Way) was brilliant with scattered jade. The air was perfectly calm, and no sound was heard.

The forty-nine men were brought up and spaced out to guard the tent, while within K'ung-ming prepared incense and offerings. On the floor of the tent he arranged seven lamps, and, outside these, forty-nine smaller lamps. In the midst he placed the lamp of his own fate.

This done, he prayed, saying, "Liang, born into an age of trouble, would willingly have grown old in retirement. But His Majesty Chao-Lieh sought him thrice and confided to him the heavy responsibility of guarding his son. He dared not do less than spend himself to the utmost in such a task and he pledged himself to destroy the rebels. Suddenly the star of his leadership has declined, and his life now nears its close. He has humbly indited a declaration to the Great Unknowable and now hopes that He will graciously listen and extend the number of his days that he may prove his gratitude to his prince and be the saviour of the people, restore the old state of the empire and establish eternally the Han sacrifices. dares not make a vain prayer; this is from his heart." This prayer ended, in the solitude of his tent he awaited the dawn.

He

Next day, ill as he was, he did not neglect his duties, although he spat blood continually. All day he laboured at his plans, and at night he paced the magic steps, the steps of "the four" and "the seven" stars of Ursa Major.

Ssuma I remained still on the defensive. One night as he sat gazing up at the sky and studying its aspect he suddenly turned to Hsiahou Pa, saying, "A leadership star has just lost position; surely K'ung-ming is ill and will soon die. Take a reconnoitring party to the Wuchang Plain and find out. If you see signs of confusion do not attack; it means that K'ungming is ill. I shall take the occasion to smite hard."

Hsiahou Pa left. It was the sixth night of K'ung-ming's prayers, and the lamp of his fate still burned brightly. He began to feel a secret joy. Presently Chiang Wei entered and watched the ceremonies.

Suddenly a great shouting was heard outside, and immediately Wei Yen dashed in, crying, "The Wei soldiers are upon

us!"

In his haste he had knocked over and extinguished the Lamp of Fate.

K'ung-ming threw down the sword and sighed, saying, "Life and death are foreordained; no prayers can alter them."

Wei Yen fell to the earth and craved forgiveness. Chiang drew his sword to slay the unhappy soldier.