exhausted, it becomes Yang. And it isn't that, at the exhaustion of the
Yin, another Yang comes into existence; and that, at the exhaustion of
the Yang, a second Yin arises."

"This trash is sufficient to kill me!" ejaculated Ts'ui Lue. "What are
the Yin and Yang? Why, they are without substance or form! But pray,
Miss, tell me what sort of things these Yin and Yang can be!"

"The Yin and Yang," explained Hsiang-yuen, "are no more than spirits, but
anything affected by their influence at once assumes form. The heavens,
for instance, are Yang, and the earth is Yin; water is Yin and fire is
Yang; the sun is Yang and the moon Yin."

"Quite so! quite so!" cried out Ts'ui Lue, much amused by these
explanations, "I've at length attained perception! It isn't strange then
that people invariably call the sun 'T'ai-yang.' While astrologers keep
on speaking of the moon as 'T'ai-yin-hsing,' or something like it. It
must be on account of this principle."

"O-mi-to-fu!" laughed Hsiang-yuen, "you have at last understood!"

"All these things possess the Yin and Yang; that's all right." T'sui Lue
put in. "But is there any likelihood that all those mosquitoes, flees
and worms, flowers, herbs, bricks and tiles have, in like manner,
anything to do with the Yin and Yang?"

"How don't they!" exclaimed Hsiang-yuen. "For example, even the leaves of
that tree are distinguished by Yin and Yang. The side, which looks up
and faces the sun, is called Yang; while that in the shade and looking
downwards, is called Yin."