met his fate with fortitude, calmly watching the shadows thrown by the sun and playing upon his lute.
The third was HSIANG Hsiu, who also tried his hand at alchemy, and whose commentary on Chuang Tzii was stolen, as has been already stated, by Kuo Hsiang.
The fourth was YUAN HSIEN, a wild harum-scarum fellow, but a performer on the guitar and a great autho- rity on the theory of music. He and his uncle, both poverty-stricken, lived on one side of the road, while a wealthier branch of the family lived on the other side. On the seventh of the seventh moon the latter put out all their grand fur robes and fine clothes to air, as is cus- tomary on that day ; whereupon Yuan Hsien on his side forked up a pair of the short breeches, called calf-nose drawers, worn by the common coolies, explaining to a friend that he was a victim to the tyranny of custom.
The fifth was YUAN CHI, another musician, whose harp- sichords became the "Strads" of China. He entered the army and rose to a high command, and then exchanged his post for one where he had heard there was a better cook. He was a model of filial piety, and when his mother died he wept so violently that he brought up several pints of blood. Yet when Chi Hsi went to con- dole with him, he showed only the whites of his eyes (that is, paid no attention to him) ; while Chi Hsi's brother, who carried along with him a jar of wine and a guitar, was welcomed with the pupils. His best-known work is a political and allegorical poem in thirty-eight stanzas averaging about twelve lines to each. The allusions in this are so skilfully veiled as to be quite unrecognisable without a commentary, such concealment being abso- lutely necessary for the protection of the author in the troublous times during which he wrote.
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