the different sections, weakening the country and making it poor! If
only all these peoples, great and small, the gold and silver and the
baser elements, would unite, then would this land be really worthy of
the name of the Middle Kingdom!"

The courtiers all applauded this speech of the great Yung-lo, but
Kwan-yu remained on the ground where he had thrown himself at the feet
of his sovereign. Still bowing his head and moaning, he cried out:

"Ah! your Majesty! I urged you not to appoint me, and now indeed you see
my unfitness. Take my life, I beg you, as a punishment for my failure."

"Rise, Kwan-yu," said the great Prince. "I would be a mean master indeed
if I did not grant you another trial. Rise up and see that your next
casting profits by the lesson of this failure."

So Kwan-yu arose, for when the King speaks, all men must listen. The
next day he began his task once more, but still his heart was heavy,
for he knew not the reason of his failure and was therefore unable to
correct his error. For many months he laboured night and day. Hardly a
word would he speak to his wife, and when his daughter tried to tempt
him with a dish of sunflower seed that she had parched herself, he would
reward her with a sad smile, but would by no means laugh with her and
joke as had formerly been his custom. On the first and fifteenth day of
every moon he went himself to the temple and implored the gods to grant
him their friendly assistance, while Ko-ai added her prayers to his,
burning incense and weeping before the grinning idols.

Again the great Yung-lo was seated on the platform in Kwan-yu's foundry,
and again his courtiers hovered round him, but this time, as it was