In mixing up mortar, in handling a tool,

He performs the same feat, but he won't explain why. All his work should be tested by line and by rule, But he chiefly depends upon cocking his eye. It can't be correct without cocking the eye; E'en in chipping a brick,

He performs the same trick;

He can't chip a brick without cocking the eye.

Have you e'er seen a carpenter setting his plane,
Which a knot in the wood has forced somewhat awry
How he taps till he gets the blade level again?
But the tapping 's no use if he cocks not his eye.
It must be completed by cocking the eye;

He may tap for a week,

But the truth I now speak

"Twould never come right without cocking the eye.

Have you ever observed with what patience and care
Stone-masons their mallets and chisels will ply?
They oft try their work by the level and square,
But they oftener test it by cocking the eye.

They can tell when it's square just by cocking the eye.
They the level may use,

Or the square, if they choose,

But neither 's of use without cocking the eye.

Can you explain this? If you cannot I will:

:

In old times- -or else all old chronicles lie— There lived a poor artizan famed for his skill, Named Lu-pan; and this bricklayer had but one eye. All know that old Lu-pan had only one eye; He had long lost the sight

Of an eye-'twas the right

He thus unavoidably cocked the right eye.

When old Lu-pan died, he was soon deified
As the "Artizan's God," and that explains why
All workmen from that day to this take a pride
In copying Lu-pan's peculiar eye.

They don't copy his work, they but copy his eye;
Every one who would thrive

Must earnestly strive

To imitate Lu-pan in cocking the eye.

Should a person inquire, "So and So

name,

- What 's his

Is he a good workman?" If good—you reply—
Not that he 's skilful-you merely exclaim,
"He's a regular Lu-pan at cocking his eye!
He can beat even Lu-pan at cocking the eye!
He does all he can

To equal Lu-pan,

And attain to perfection in cocking his eye!"

In every respect what I've said is correct;
Should any one doubt he can easily try;
The truth is soon proved,—but we must not expect
To tell good from bad, for they all cock the eye.
If not skilful in work, they can all cock the eye;
Every one of them-all

Good or bad-great or small—

Are skilful in one thing, in-cocking the eye.*

66

* Many temples are dedicated to Lu-pan, who is generally represented in a sitting posture, having only one eye, and holding a square in his right hand. Saint Lu-pan's Day" occurs on the 13th of the 6th Moon; on that day mechanics of all sorts proceed to his temple and offer propitiatory sacrifices to their patron deity.

Just within the P'ing tsê mên, , one of the gates of Peking, is a Lama temple called the White Pagoda Temple,; this was built in the reign of Yung-lo of the Ming dynasty. On its spire is an umbrellashaped top, made of copper. In the first year of Chienlung's reign the inhabitants of Peking were astonished one morning by discovering that this top had been ornamented by a red silk fringe, and that from it also were suspended a square, a bricklayer's trowel, and a plasterer's smoothing trowel. It was soon spread abroad that Lu-pan had descended from heaven during the night and performed the work, but had forgotten to take away his tools with him. It was subsequently discovered that the priests had obtained the services of a thief to do the work, and had circulated the tale of Lu-pan having done it, to draw contributions to the temple. Chien-lung punished the Chief Lama by depriving him of his rank (red button).

The tools are still to be seen suspended to the top, and, in spite of the trick having been found out and punished, such is the love of Chinese for the marvellous, that the Pekingese believe to this day that they were left there by Lu-pan, after repairing the temple.

MENG CHENG'S JOURNEY TO THE GREAT WALL.

In tracing back time's ever flowing stream,
I will not sing of heroes, war or glory;
A simpler subject far shall form my theme,
A woman's love-Mêng Cheng's pathetic story.

At once a wife, a widow, yet a maid,

No jade could be more pure, no snow be whiter; The lustre of her name will never fade;

Ages have passed, it shines out clearer, brighter.

Couched in rude language though the tale may be,
To braver, nobler deeds you cannot listen;
Her journey to the Wall, ten thousand li,
Will cause the breast to swell, the eye to glisten.