was as though the walls of the room had entirely disappeared, giving way to a vista that enslaved the eye.
Wu Tao-tzu pointed to a grotto hidden in the base of a tall mountain.
"Within grows a spirit," he said. Whereupon, he clapped his hands and the gate of the grotto opened.
"The inside of the cavern is beyond compare," he continued. "Permit me to show you the way."
So saying, he entered the grotto, the gates swung shut and the picture slowly faded from the wall. Such was the astounding departure from this earth of Wu Tao-tzu, master of brush strokes.
Ming Huang smiled as he turned away. He remembered
the fabulous tales that were circulated about Wu,
tales which he made no effort to contradict. Wu knew
that the more he was talked about, the greater would
be his fame. On one occasion Wu had journeyed to a
certain Buddhist temple and was rudely received by
the priests. Wu was religious but not sufficiently religious
to bow before a slight. He pondered over the
matter, finally deciding on a course of action. On one
of the temple walls he drew the picture of a donkey.
That night all the furniture in the temple was kicked to
pieces. The priests were victims of badly ruffled nerves.
Wu fanned himself gently. He fanned the back of his
neck and his heels. It is good to cool one's heels while
one watches the distraught antics of those who have
caused affront.
The priests babbled pleas with their prayers. Since
