On Ki Tsz-jen putting to him a question anent Tsz-lu and Yen Yu, as to whether they might be called “great ministers,” the Master answered, “I had expected your question, sir, to be about something extraordinary, and lo! it is only about these two.  Those whom we call ‘great ministers’ are such as serve their prince conscientiously, and who, when they cannot do so, retire.  At present, as regards the two you ask about, they may be called ‘qualified ministers.’”

“Well, are they then,” he asked, “such as will follow their leader?”

“They would not follow him who should slay his father and his prince!” was the reply.

Through the intervention of Tsz-lu, Tsz-kau was being appointed governor of Pi.

“You are spoiling a good man’s son,” said the Master.

Tsz-lu rejoined, “But he will have the people and their superiors to gain experience from, and there will be the altars; what need to read books?  He can become a student afterwards.”

“Here is the reason for my hatred of glib-tongued people,” said the Master.

On one occasion Tsz-lu, Tsang Sin, Yen Yu, and Kung-si Hwa were sitting near him.  He said to them, “Though I may be a day older than you, do not (for the moment) regard me as such.  While you are living this unoccupied life you are saying, ‘We do not become known.’  Now suppose some one got to know you, what then?”

Tsz-lu—­first to speak—­at once answered, “Give me a State of large size and armament, hemmed in and hampered by other larger States, the population augmented by armies and regiments, causing a dearth in it of food of all kinds; give me charge of that State, and in three years’ time I should make a brave country of it, and let it know its place.”

The Master smiled at him.  “Yen,” said he, “how would it be with you?”

“Give me,” said Yen, “a territory of sixty or seventy li square, or of fifty or sixty square; put me in charge of that, and in three years I should make the people sufficiently prosperous.  As regards their knowledge of ceremonial or music, I should wait for superior men to teach them that.”

“And with you, Kung-si, how would it be?”

This disciple’s reply was, “I have nothing to say about my capabilities for such matters; my wish is to learn.  I should like to be a junior assistant, in dark robe and cap, at the services of the ancestral temple, and at the Grand Receptions of the Princes by the Sovereign.”

“And with you, Tsang Sin?”

This disciple was strumming on his harpsichord, but now the twanging ceased, he turned from the instrument, rose to his feet, and answered thus:  “Something different from the choice of these three.”  “What harm?” said the Master; “I want each one of you to tell me what his heart is set upon.”  “Well, then,” said he, “give me—­in the latter part of spring—­dressed in full spring-tide attire—­in company with five or six young fellows of twenty, [27] or six or seven lads under that age, to do the ablutions in the I stream, enjoy a breeze in the rain-dance, [28] and finish up with songs on the road home.”