The Mirror of Kong Ho. Bramah Ernest

one sit-round game which involved abrupt music, a barrier of chairs, and the exhilarating possibility of being sat upon by the young and vivacious in their zeal, a person of the company turned suddenly to the one who is communicating with you and said enticingly, “Why did Birdcage Walk?”

      Not judging from his expression that this was other than a polite inquiry on a matter which disturbed his repose, I was replying that the manifestation was undoubtedly the work of a vexatious demon which had taken up its abode in the article referred to, when another, by my side, cried aloud, “Because it envied Queen Anne’s Gate”; and without a pause cast back the question, “Who carved The Poultry?”

      In spite of the apparent simplicity of the demand it was received by all in an attitude of complicated doubt, and this person was considering whether he might not acquire distinction by replying that such an office fell by custom to the lot of the more austere Maiden Blank, when the very inadequate reply, “Mark Lane with St. Mary’s Axe,” was received with applause and some observations in a half-tone regarding the identity of the fowl.

      By the laws of the sit-round games the one who had last spoken now proclaimed himself, demanding to know, “Why did Battersea Rise?” but the involvement was evidently superficial, for the maiden at whose memory this one’s organs still vibrate ignobly at once replied, “Because it thought Clapham Common,” in turn inquiring, “What made the Marble Arch?”

      Although I would have willingly sacrificed to an indefinite extent to be furnished with the preconcerted watchword, so that I might have enlarged myself in the eyes of this consecrated being’s unapproachable esteem, I had already decided that the competition was too intangible for one whose thoughts lay in well-defined parallel lines, and it fell to another to reply, “To hear Salisbury Court.”

      This, O my broad-minded ancestor of the first degree—an aimless challenge coupled with the name of one recognisable spot, replied to by the haphazard retort of another place, frequently in no way joined to it, was regarded as an exceptionally fascinating sit-round game by a company of elderly barbarians!

      “What couldn’t Walbrook?” it might be, and “Such Cheapside,” would be deemed a praiseworthy solution. “When did King’s Bench Walk?” would be asked, and to reply, “When Gray’s Inn Road,” covered the one with overpowering acclamation. “Bevis Marks only an Inner Circle at The Butts; why?” was a demand of such elaborate complexity that (although this person was lured out of his self-imposed restraint by the silence of all round, and submerging his intelligence to an acquired level, unobtrusively suggested, “Because Aylesbury ducks, perchance”) it fell to the one propounding to announce, “Because St. John’s Wood Shoot-up Hill.”

      Admittedly it is written, “When the shutter is fastened the girdle is loosened,” but it is as truly said, “Not in the head, nor yet in the feet, but in the organs of digestion does wisdom reside,” and even in jesting the middle course of neither an excessive pride nor an absolute weak-mindedness is to be observed. With what concrete pangs of acute mental distress would this person ever behold his immaculate progenitor taking part in a similar sit-round game with an assembly of worthy mandarins, the one asking questions of meaningless import, as “Why did they Hangkow?” and another replying in an equal strain of no consecutiveness, “In order to T’in Tung!”

      At length a person who is spoken of as having formerly been the captain of a band of warriors turned to me with an unsuspected absence of ferocity and said, “Your countrymen are very proficient in the art of epigram, are they not, Mr. Kong? Will you not, in turn, therefore, favour us with an example?” Whereupon several maidens exclaimed with engaging high temper, “Oh yes; do ask us some funny Chinese riddles, Mr. Kong!”

      “Assuredly there are among us many classical instances of the light sayings which require matching,” I replied, gratified that I should have the opportunity of showing their superiority. “One, harmonious beyond the blend of challenge and retort, is as follows—‘The Phoenix embroidered upon the side of the shoe: When the shoe advances the Phoenix leaps forward.’ ”

      “Oh!” cried several of the maidens, and from the nature of their glances it might reasonably be gathered that already they began to recognise the inferiority of their own sayings.

      “Is that the question, or the answer, or both?” asked a youth of unfledged maturity, and to hide their conscious humiliation several persons allowed their faces to melt away.

      “That which has been expressed,” replied this person with an ungrudging toleration, “is the first or question portion of the contrast. The answer is that which will be supplied by your honourable condescension.”

      “But,” interposed one of the maidens, “it isn’t really a question, you know, Mr. Kong.”

      “In a way of regarding it, it may be said to be question, inasmuch as it requires an answer to establish the comparison. The most pleasing answer is that which shall be dissimilar in idea, and yet at the same time maintain the most perfect harmony of parallel thought,” I replied. “Now permit your exceptional minds to wander in a forest of similitudes: ‘The Phoenix embroidered upon the side of the shoe: When the shoe advances the Phoenix leaps forward.’ ”

      “Oh, if that’s all you want,” said the one Herbert, who by an ill destiny chanced to be present, “ ‘The red-hot poker held before the Cat’s nose: When the poker advances the Cat leaps backwards.’ ”

      “Oh, very good!” cried several of those around, “of course it naturally would. Is that right, Mr. Kong?”

      “If the high-souled company is satisfied, then it must be, for there is no conclusive right or wrong—only an unending search for that which is most gem-set and resourceful,” replied this person, with an ever-deepening conviction of no enthusiasm towards the sit-round game. “But,” he added, resolved to raise for a moment the canopy of a mind swan-like in its crystal many-sidedness, and then leave them to their own ineptitude, “for five centuries nothing has been judged equal to the solution offered by Li Tang. At the time he was presented with a three-sided banner of silk with the names of his eleven immediate ancestors embroidered upon it in seven colours, and his own name is still handed down in imperishable memory.”

      “Oh, do tell us what it was,” cried many. “It must have been clever.”

      “ ‘The Dragon painted upon the face of the fan: When the fan is shaken the Dragon flies upwards,’ ” replied this person.

      It cannot be denied that this was received with an attitude of respectful melancholy strikingly complimentary to the wisdom of the gifted Li Tang. But whether it may be that the time was too short to assimilate the more subtle delicacies of the saying, or whether the barbarian mind is inherently devoid of true balance, this person was panged most internally to hear one say to another as he went out, “Do you know, I really think that Herbert’s was much the better answer of the two—more realistic, and what you might expect at the pantomime.” *

      A like inability to grasp with a clear and uninvolved vision, permeates not only the triviality of a sit-round game but even the most important transactions of existence.

      Shortly after his arrival in the Island, this person was initiated by the widely-esteemed Quang-Tsun into the private life of one whose occupation was that of a Law-giver, where he frequently drank tea on terms of mutual cordiality. Upon such an occasion he was one day present, conversing with the lesser ones of the household—the head thereof being absent, setting forth the Law in the Temple—when one of the maidens cried out with amiable vivacity, “Why, Mr. Kong, you say such consistently graceful things of the ladies you have met over here, that we shall expect you to take back an English wife with you. But perhaps you are already married in China?”

      “The conclusion is undeviating in its accuracy,” replied this person, unable to evade the allusion. “To Ning, Hia-Fa and T’ain Yen, as the matter stands.”

      “Ning Hia-Fa An T’ain Yen!” exclaimed the wife of the Law-giver pleasantly. “What an important name. Can you pardon our curiosity and tell us what she is like?”

      “Ning,