the stone listened with intense delight. best bedroom toys
"What characters may I ask，" it consequently inquired， "will you inscribe？ and what place will I be taken to？ pray， pray explain to me in lucid terms." "You mustn't be inquisitive，" the bonze replied， with a smile， "in days to come you'll certainly understand everything." Having concluded these words， he forthwith put the stone in his sleeve， and proceeded leisurely on his journey， in company with the Taoist priest. Whither， however， he took the stone， is not divulged. Nor can it be known how many centuries and ages elapsed， before a Taoist priest， K'ung K'ung by name， passed， during his researches after the eternal reason and his quest after immortality， by these Ta Huang Hills， Wu Ch'i cave and Ch'ing Keng Peak. Suddenly perceiving a large block of stone， on the surface of which the traces of characters giving， in a connected form， the various incidents of its fate， could be clearly deciphered， K'ung K'ung examined them from first to last. They， in fact， explained how that this block of worthless stone had originally been devoid of the properties essential for the repairs to the heavens， how it would be transmuted into human form and introduced by Mang Mang the High Lord， and Miao Miao， the Divine， into the world of mortals， and how it would be led over the other bank （across the San Sara）。 On the surface， the record of the spot where it would fall， the place of its birth， as well as various family trifles and trivial love affairs of young ladies， verses， odes， speeches and enigmas was still complete； but the name of the dynasty and the year of the reign were obliterated， and could not be ascertained.
On the obverse， were also the following enigmatical verses： the rabbit
Lacking in virtues meet the azure skies to mend， In vain the mortal world full many a year I wend， Of a former and after life these facts that be， Who will for a tradition strange record for me？
K'ung K'ung， the Taoist， having pondered over these lines for a while， became aware that this stone had a history of some kind.
"Brother stone，" he forthwith said， addressing the stone， "the concerns of past days recorded on you possess， according to your own account， a considerable amount of interest， and have been for this reason inscribed， with the intent of soliciting generations to hand them down as remarkable occurrences. But in my own opinion， they lack， in the first place， any data by means of which to establish the name of the Emperor and the year of his reign； and， in the second place， these constitute no record of any excellent policy， adopted by any high worthies or high loyal statesmen， in the government of the state， or in the rule of public morals. The contents simply treat of a certain number of maidens， of exceptional character； either of their love affairs or infatuations， or of their small deserts or insignificant talents； and were I to transcribe the whole collection of them， they would， nevertheless， not be estimated as a book of any exceptional worth."
"Sir Priest，" the stone replied with assurance， "why are you so excessively dull？ The dynasties recorded in the rustic histories， which have been written from age to age， have， I am fain to think， invariably assumed， under false pretences， the mere nomenclature of the Han and T'ang dynasties. They differ from the events inscribed on my block， which do not borrow this customary practice， but， being based on my own experiences and natural feelings， present， on the contrary， a novel and unique character. Besides， in the pages of these rustic histories， either the aspersions upon sovereigns and statesmen， or the strictures upon individuals， their wives， and their daughters， or the deeds of licentiousness and violence are too numerous to be computed. Indeed， there is one more kind of loose literature， the wantonness and pollution in which work most easy havoc upon youth.
"As regards the works， in which the characters of scholars and beauties is delineated their allusions are again repeatedly of Wen Chuen， their theme in every page of Tzu Chien； a thousand volumes present no diversity； and a thousand characters are but a counterpart of each other. What is more， these works， throughout all their pages， cannot help bordering on extreme licence. The authors， however， had no other object in view than to give utterance to a few sentimental odes and elegant ballads of their own， and for this reason they have fictitiously invented the names and surnames of both men and women， and necessarily introduced， in addition， some low characters， who should， like a buffoon in a play， create some excitement in the plot.
"Still more loathsome is a kind of pedantic and profligate literature， perfectly devoid of all natural sentiment， full of self-contradictions； and， in fact， the contrast to those maidens in my work， whom I have， during half my lifetime， seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. And though I will not presume to estimate them as superior to the heroes and heroines in the works of former ages， yet the perusal of the motives and issues of their experiences， may likewise afford matter sufficient to banish dulness， and to break the spell of melancholy.