eature of a narrower sphere. You
cannot speak of ice to a summer insect,--the creature of a
season. You cannot speak of Tao to a pedant; his scope
is too restricted. But now that you have emerged from your
narrow sphere, and have seen the great sea, you know your own
insignificance, and I can speak of great principles.

"Have you never heard of the Frog of the Old Well? The Frog
said to the Turtle of the Eastern Sea, 'Happy indeed am I! I
hop on the rail around the well. I rest in the hollow of some
broken brick. Swimming, I gather the water under my arms and
shut my mouth tight. I plunge into the mud, burying my feet and
toes. Not one of the cockles, crabs, or tadpoles I see around me
is my match. Why do you not come, Sir, and pay me a visit?'"

"Now the Turtle of the Eastern Sea had not got its left leg down
ere its right leg had stuck fast, so it shrank back and begged to
be excused. It then described the sea, saying, 'A thousand
leagues would not measure its breadth, nor a thousand fathoms its
depth. In the days of Yu the Great there were nine years of
flood out of ten; but this did not add to its contents. In the
days of T'ang there were seven years of drought out of eight, but
this did not narrow its span. Not to be affected by volume of
water, not to be affected by duration of time--this is the
happiness of the Eastern Sea.' At this the Frog of the Old Well
was considerably astonished, and knew not what to say next. And
for one whose knowledge does not reach to the positive-negative
domain the attempt to understand me is like a mosquito trying to
carry a mountain, or an ant to swim the Yellow River,--they
cannot succeed."

If Chwangtse had lived before Mencius, or Mencius after Chwangtse,
Chwangtse could have afforded to see Confucius in his true
light, as Liehtse did; but the power and influence of the
mind of Mencius were such that in his time there was no looking
at the Master except through his glasses. We do not know what
happened when Laotse and Confucius met; but I suspect it was
very like what happened when Mr. Judge met Madame Blavatsky. But
Butterfly Chwang, the rascal, undertook to let us know; and
wrote it out in full. He knew well enough what would happen if
he met Mencius; and took that as his model. He wanted Mencius
to know it too. He itched to say to him, "Put away, sir, your
flashy airs," and the rest; and so made Laotse say it to
Confucius. It shows how large Philoso