"Oh, the reason is simple enough," declared the samurai, divining the
unspoken doubt. "Only the very last intention of the fellow could have been
dangerous; and when I challenged him to give me the sign, I diverted his
mind from the desire of revenge. He died with the set purpose of biting the
stepping-stone; and that purpose he was able to accomplish, but nothing
else. All the rest he must have forgotten... So you need not feel any
further anxiety about the matter."


-- And indeed the dead man gave no more trouble. Nothing at all happened.




OF A MIRROR AND A BELL



Eight centuries ago, the priests of Mugenyama, in the province of Totomi
(1), wanted a big bell for their temple; and they asked the women of their
parish to help them by contributing old bronze mirrors for bell-metal.


[Even to-day, in the courts of certain Japanese temples, you may see heaps
of old bronze mirrors contributed for such a purpose. The largest
collection of this kind that I ever saw was in the court of a temple of the
Jodo sect, at Hakata, in Kyushu: the mirrors had been given for the making
of a bronze statue of Amida, thirty-three feet high.]