us that the philosopher Chu Hsi[1] likened study to the cooking of meat. "First, meat is boiled over a hot fire, then allowed to simmer over a slow fire. Likewise to your studies you must bring the hot fire of youth. Without the preliminary boiling over the hot fire the juices are not brought forth and there is no flavor in the dish; mere seething never produces savoury viands."[2]
The place where one happened to be was a good enough place to study. The question was not one of place at all, but of the purpose within. Does one truly have the compelling impulse to study? "If you can apply yourself and are independent," he wrote to his brother, Kuo-hwang, who thought of becoming a teacher in order to secure the necessary leisure and incentive to study, "you can study at your own fireside, or in wildernesses, or in busy market places, or whether you are raising vegetables or swine. But if you cannot apply yourself and are not independent, you can never study, whether at home, or in a quiet country place, or in the haunts of the gods and fairies. Why must you choose a good time or a suitable place for study, when you simply need to ask yourself whether your determination is firm or not?"[3]
Shortly before his death he wrote out four rules for the guidance of his heirs because he desired that the rising generations of the Tsêng family should become self-reliant and zealous in their studies. "1. When you read new books aim at speed. If you do not read much you will be too ignorant. 2. In reviewing old books you should aim at thoroughness. Unless you recite them from memory you easily forget them. 3. There must be no cessation in the practice of writing. Poor writing is like
