home; but certainly neither carts nor boats had ever succeeded in getting so far before. Of course it was only his spirit that was roaming. In this state there was neither general nor king—everything happened of its own accord; the people had no passions, no predilections—spontaneity reigned supreme. They knew nothing about the joys of life or the horrors of death, so that none died before their time; they knew nothing of loving themselves and avoiding those unconnected with them, so that there was neither affection nor hatred among them; they knew nothing of rebelliousness on one hand or obedience on the other, so that benefits and injuries were alike unheard of. There was nothing they loved and cherished, there was nothing they feared and shunned; if they fell into water they were not drowned, or into fire, they were not burned; if they were hacked or struck they suffered neither injury nor pain; if scratched by finger-nails they felt no irritation. They rode through space as easily as treading solid ground, they reclined in vacancy as on a couch; clouds and mists did not obscure their vision, thunderclaps did not disturb their hearing, beauty and repulsiveness did not unsettle their minds, mountains and valleys did not impede their footsteps. Their spirits moved—no more.
Then the Emperor awoke; and immediately the whole thing was plain to him. Beckoning to his three Ministers, he said, "We have now lived in retirement for three months, purifying Our heart and wearing a mourning garb, pondering how best to nourish Our own person and govern others; but all in vain—We failed to discover the secret. At last, wearied out. We fell asleep; and, as We slept. We dreamed." The Emperor then detailed his dream. "Now We have attained to a comprehension of the perfect Way; and We can never more exercise Our mind in searching for it. We know it; We possess it; but We cannot impart it to you."
Twenty-eight more years passed, and the empire enjoyed perfect peace, almost like the State of Hua-hsü. At last the Emperor ascended to the Distant Land, and the people wept his loss for over two hundred years without ceasing.
