they give into the national manners and customs of various ages, habits of thought of the people, and the influence they still exert in the formation of national character, recommend them to foreign scholars as among the most interesting portions of Chinese literature.

About a score of works in imaginative literature, consisting of plays, novels, and poetical extracts, have already been translated; but no historical novels of any size, except the Rambles of Chingtih in Kiangnan. In 1845, Theo. Pavié published a French version of forty-four chapters, or about onethird of the San Kwoh Chi, or Records of the Three Kingdoms, the best known book of this kind in the language. This is a work of real genius, and has done much to popularize history, as its heroes and incidents are common subjects for ballads, stories, and dramas. One of the braves whose exploits are described in it, has been since canonized as the God of War, and under the name of Kwan-ti, is one of the great gods of the pantheon. The scenes are often represented in little figures of bamboo, paper, and silk, tastefully arranged. At the autumnal festival in Canton, called Ta Tsiao, a service is held like that on All Souls Day, when the streets are covered by awnings, adorned with gay festoons of colored silk, and lighted by hundreds of glass chandeliers and brilliant lanterns. On these occasions I have seen scores of these historic tableaux resting on boards three or four feet long, suspended just above the heads of the people, and engaging their attention and animated questioning as crowd after crowd passed along-very much as similar tableaux of André in the hands of Paulding and his comrades, or Captain Smith and Pocahontas, would interest Americans.

The book mentioned in the heading of this article comes. nearer to true history, in the opinion of Chinese literati, than the San Kwoh Chi, but it is inferior as a work of merit. Its full title is Tung Chau Lieh Kwoh Chi, or the Records of the Feudal Kingdoms during the Eastern Chau Dynasty. These records contain the acts of twenty-four monarchs, extending from B. C. 790 to 300, or about the period from King Uzziah to Alexander and his generals. It is the time in Chinese history when feudalism showed its destructive tendencies in

the strifes between rival kinglets and captains, and the abnegation of imperial authority, all tending to barbarize the people-very much as was the case in Europe before Charlemagne's reign. The book therefore describes a state of society which differs entirely from that now existing under an established sway; and the wonder is that feudalism should have been so completely abolished in the third century before Christ by the single conqueror Chi Hwangti. No part of it has yet been published in a foreign language, and these two chapters may therefore prove interesting to the readers of the New Englander.

The editor and annotator of the work as it now appears was Tsai Yuen-tang, of Nanking, who published his edition in 105 chapters, in 1752. Like the San Kwoh Chi, it wearies the foreign reader from the prevalence of dialogue over narrative, but the structure of the Chinese language makes this feature more convenient, as it aids in keeping the reader up to the full understanding of the plot. In its plan the work may be likened to d'Aubigné's Reformation, for both of them carry on the narratives of events by rehearsing the colloquies of their actors.

The Introduction furnishes some ideas of the principles on which it was composed, and asserts its claim to be regarded as credible history. The author analyzes and defends his work, shows its adaptation to instruct and entertain its readers, and makes such an examination of his performance as would be given in a modern review. Out of the thirty-five sections, the first one will be enough to show its design, and it also explains the two chapters now translated, and the influence their events exerted on after times.

"The Lieh Kwoh Chi is unlike other stories, such as the Water Marshes, the Adventures of King Wu, and the Wanderings of Hiuen Chwang, which all contain many statements made out of whole cloth (lit. split open emptiness and select); but is nearer to the San Kwoh Chi, though that has many repetitions and fabrications. The present work is not so, but takes events just as they occurred, and makes its quotations as they stand, reducing the record to what really took place. For if the record does not contain a thing, who has the leisure to make it up? Readers of this work must therefore verify it by

the regular historians, and by no means reckon it as a mere story-book. Every one will see that it is specially confined to the records of the feudal states in the Eastern Chau dynasty. The removal of the capital eastward [from Hao-king to Lohyang] dates from the reign of King Ping (B. C. 770-719), and general misrule from that of his son King Hwan (719-696); but this work goes back to the reign of King Siuen (827-781). The removal of the capital was caused by the revolt of the snappish Jung tribes, and their sedition was owing to the insensate fondness of his son King Yiu for Pao-sz', and his appointment of Duke Kwoh as minister. Pao-sz' was born in the reign of King Siuen, indeed, while the children's ballad of the fall of the state was also an omen of that reign. It was therefore necessary to go back to that date, and come down to later times in the narrative, in order to make it all clear. Though this plan of relating events is like digging up the tree to find its roots, yet there is no other sensible principle to go on.' This explanation of the design and scope of the Records of the Feudal Kingdoms, will serve to introduce the translation of its first two chapters, which cover the reigns of two kings. Each chapter is prefaced with political and moral reflections on the events recorded in it, which have been omitted.

CHAPTER I.

King Siuen of Chau hears the boys' ballad, and needlessly takes away life. Tu Peh, transformed to a spirit, sternly denounces vengeance.

Now we may remark concerning Wu-wang of the Chau dynasty (B. C. 1122), who destroyed Chau-sin, and the monarchs Ching and Kang (B. C. 1115 to 1052), who succeeded him, that they were all rulers who maintained the realm in its integrity; and the upright statesmen, Dukes Chau, Shao, and Peih, and Sz' Tieh, all upheld their government. From Wu-wang, for eight reigns till the times of I-wang (B. C. 1122 to 894), letters flourished and warriors reposed, wealth increased and the people were peaceful; after this period propriety was disregarded, and the princes gradually grew seditious, until, in the reign of his son, King Li, a cruel, unreasonable man, the people killed him. This was the beginning of anarchy for hundreds of years; but owing to the two Dukes Chau and Shao, who like true patriots joined their forces, the heir apparent Tsing was placed on the throne as King Siuen.

He ruled with honor and wisdom; and employing good ministers, as Fang Shuh, Shao, Hu, Yin Kih-fu, the Earl of Shin, and Chung Shan-fu, he restored the rule of Wu-wang and his successors, and the house of Chau regained its first splendor. A stanza has been preserved respecting these events:—

The reigns of I and Li were not prudent or firm;
Just and patriotic men depended on King Siuen,
Who luckily arose as things were verging to ruin;

Else how could Chau's glory have lasted eight centuries?

However, though we may allow that Siuen-wang ruled vigorously, he did not fully carry out Wu-wang's legacy of rules of government, nor remember his polity in all particulars. Though he restored the state, he did not adorn his reign, like Ching and Kang, with noble actions, good instruction, or grave aphorisms, nor did he win the hearty obedience of the people.

In his thirty-ninth year, the Kiang and Jung tribes rebelled, and King Siuen himself led troops to subdue them. He was defeated at Tsien-mau, and his chariots and forces were so far destroyed that his officers, in their efforts to recruit the army, feared that they could not fill up the ranks. In his strait he himself numbered the people at Tai-yuen, a place not far from those rebel tribes. It was done by examining the houses and people of the land as given in the registers, and according to their number, so were they to furnish and prepare horses, fodder, grain, and troops. When everything was ready, he issued forth to subdue the rebels, even against the earnest remonstrance of Chung Shan-fu, his minister, who vainly implored him not to go. A verse says,

Why defile one's sword by killing a dog or a pig?
Truly dangerous it is to shoot at a bird with a pearl.

A monarch's dignity once lost cannot be restored,

Siuen's defeat surely came from his numbering the people.

On his return from reviewing and drilling the people in Tai-yuen, when King Siuen was not far from his capital, he urged on his chariot to get through the gates before night. Just then he saw a large crowd of boys in the market, clapping their hands and singing in unison, as he stopped his chariot to hear them, these words:

The moon is coming up,

The sun is going down;

Mulberry bows and bamboo quivers;
Chau's realm is well-nigh lost.

Disliking these words, he sent the charioteer to make known his order to seize all the boys and bring them to him, to ask about it. Much frightened they scattered, and only two were brought to the royal chariot, where as they kneeled, he asked them who made those lines. The youngest was too terror-stricken to reply, but the elder said, "We did not make them ourselves; three days ago a lad dressed in red clothes came into the market-place, and taught us these four lines, of which we do not know the meaning; they soon spread throughout the city, all the children learning them without any concert. This is the truth about it." The king asked where the boy with the red clothes was now, but they could give him no information. After remaining silent a good while he dismissed them, and sent for the overseer of the market, ordering him to issue a strict command "that if any boys sung these words again, they, with their fathers and brothers, would be held guilty." He then returned to the palace in moody silence.

The next day at the morning audience, when the grandees and high ministers of the council were assembled in court, and each had made his obeisance and taken his place, Siuen-wang detailed to them what he had heard the night before from the boys, and inquired their opinion what the words meant. Shao Hu, the president of the Board of Rites, replied: "The yen is a species of wild mulberry, good for making bows, for which reason they said Mulberry bows; the ki is a sort of grass, which can be plaited into quivers, wherefore they said Bamboo quivers; in my humble opinion, the words intimate that the state is in danger of revolution by violence." Chung Shan-fu, of the Board of Civil Office, then said: "The bow and spear are warlike weapons; your Majesty has just numbered the people in Tai-yuen in order to revenge your wrongs on the dogs of Jung, but if the army is not disbanded, there will be great danger of ruining the state." The king nodded his head as if assenting, but said nothing more than to ask, “Who is the boy in red clothes, from whom this stanza came?" The astrologer, Peh Yang-fu replied, "Words bandied about the streets may well be called idle rumors. High Heaven, to warn both people and princes, ordered the star Mars (Yunghwoh) to take the form of a boy, and promulge this silly ditty, and cause all the children to practice it; wherefore it may be called a childish rumor. When it refers to small affairs, it is simply the weal or woe of a single person; but if to a great event, it indicates the rising or the ruin of the state. As Mars is of a red color,