Northwards, the river Wei below; and looking down I would sigh as I remembered him of Huai-yin and his unaccomplished work.
My tower was lofty but solid; and even from its summit a clear view was obtainable. Cool in summer, it was warm in winter; and on mornings of rain or snow, on windy or moonlit nights, I would be there, always accompanied by friends. Vegetables from the garden, fish from the pool, the small wine of the country, and a dish of millet porridge,―such was our simple fare, over which I would exclaim, “Ho, there! what happiness is this!”
A brother, who lived in Chi-nan, hearing how I passed my time, wrote me some verses on the subject, and named my tower the Tower of Contentment, in reference to my knack of enjoying myself under all conditions. This, because I could roam beyond the limits of an external world.
THE CHÂLET OF CRANES.
During the autumn of 1078, there was a great flood over a certain district, which nearly submerged the rude dwelling of a recluse named Chang. However, by the following spring the water had fallen, and he was able to occupy a site near his former residence, on a range of hills, in the midst of charming scenery, where he built himself a mountain hut. It was a perfect cordon of peaks, except on the west where the line broke; and there, right in the gap, the hermit’s cottage stood. Thence, in spring and summer, the eye wandered over a broad expanse of verdure and vegetation: in autumn and winter, over moonlit miles of gleaming snow; while every change of wind and rain, every alternation of darkness and light, brought ever-varying beauties into view.
Chang kept a couple of cranes, which he had carefully trained; and every morning he would release them westwards through the gap, to fly away and alight in the marsh below or soar aloft among the clouds as the birds’ own fancy might direct. At nightfall, they would return with the utmost regularity. And so he named his abode the Châlet of Cranes.
