which all things are produced. There may be a First Cause, but we never see his form. His report fills space. There is darkness and light. Days come and months go. Work is being constantly performed, yet we never witness the performance. Life must bring us from somewhere, and death must carry us back. Beginning and end follow ceaselessly one upon the other, and we cannot say when the series will be exhausted. If this is not the work of a First Cause, what is it?"
"Kindly explain," said Confucius, "what is to be got by wandering as you said."
"The result," answered Lao Tzŭ, "is perfect goodness and perfect happiness. And he who has these is a perfect man."
"And by what means," enquired Confucius, "can this be attained?"
"Animals," said Lao Tzŭ, "that eat grass do not mind a change of pasture. Creatures that live in water do not mind a change of pond. A slight change may be effected so long as the essential is untouched.
"Joy, anger, sorrow, happiness, find no place in that man's breast; for to him all creation is One. And all things being thus united in One, is body and limbs are but as dust of the earth, and life and death, beginning and end, are but as night and day, and cannot destroy his peace. How much less such trifles as gain or loss, misfortune or good fortune?
"He rejects rank as so much mud. For he