scholars—summarize the behavior expected in each town and neighborhood. They extol respect and obedience to the state and one's senior relatives, harmony in each community, thrift and industry, scholarship and education, good manners, prompt payment of taxes, and mutual security. A few hold warnings—to reject strange and heterodox religions, to avoid all false accusations, and not to hide fugitives from justice. 16
Three other gods receive the assembled dignitaries' worship in spring and autumn, and their prayers for Hua's protection: the god "of clouds and rain, wind and thunder"; the god of the district's mountains and rivers; and the city god of Hua. For each the offerings are calibrated, to show their ranking: four ritual vessels of wine and four bolts of white silk for the four forces of the weather; three vessels and two bolts for the gods of space; three vessels and one bolt for the god of the city, even though it is to him that the most urgent prayers for rain in time of dearth are first addressed, and it is he who controls the routes to the lands of the dead.' 7 These are the gods and spirits that have force for all the community, so it is meet to sacrifice to them with bureaucratic style. As for the middle range of human families, the magistrate is content to let them worship their own past ancestors in their burial grounds, with their own assembled relatives. But below these departed shades, who have families to honor them, are those who have been lost to sight and history, and here the state asserts itself again. For these are "orphan ghosts" who have no one to pray for their spirits after death. Individuals of compassion often remember them collectively at the All Souls' festival, where they burn paper clothes for the spirits, and make them offerings of wine, fruit, and rice in the ceremony called "burning the street clothes." Still, their ability to harm the community remains disquieting, and therefore the magistrate holds ceremonies on their behalf at a specially erected altar in the north of the county town. The litany of the fates of these orphan ghosts, written by a local scholar long before, remains an echo of the present world in Hua:
These are those who died for reasons that we can no longer know: Amongst them are those who died from cruel wounds in battle, those who died from flood and fire and bandits, those who saw their property seized and so took their own lives, married women and young girls seized by force and killed, those who while being punished died unjustly, those who fled from natural calamities and died from illness on the road, those destroyed by wild animals or poisonous snakes, those who died from famine or exposure, those who were caught up in wars and lost their lives, those who killed themselves because of danger, those crushed to death when walls or houses collapsed on them, or those who after their deaths left no sons or grandsons. 18
For such souls, and all others gone before and still to come, the founding magistrate of Hua in 1686 had carved this prayer in stone: "Let cruel animals stay away, the nests of robbers never more be formed, the people henceforth live decent lives, the tax quotas to the state be always met, and people's spirits all be good. From this will come our happiness, a golden age in heaven and earth." 19
Even these solemn ceremonies can be slighted by exaggeration, or disjointed into carnivals. During the protracted drought of 1835, the governor abandoned the regular sacrifices to the city god, and offered vast rewards to any "extraordinary man" or "wonderful scholar," no matter from what district or believing in what faith, who could use his arts "to drive away the dragon" that was blocking off the clouds, and thus cause the rain to fall. The citizens mocked him publicly, with poems written in bold characters and posted on the walls. Yet they gathered in great crowds when a volunteer came forward to drive away the dragon. He was a man claiming to be
Three other gods receive the assembled dignitaries' worship in spring and autumn, and their prayers for Hua's protection: the god "of clouds and rain, wind and thunder"; the god of the district's mountains and rivers; and the city god of Hua. For each the offerings are calibrated, to show their ranking: four ritual vessels of wine and four bolts of white silk for the four forces of the weather; three vessels and two bolts for the gods of space; three vessels and one bolt for the god of the city, even though it is to him that the most urgent prayers for rain in time of dearth are first addressed, and it is he who controls the routes to the lands of the dead.' 7 These are the gods and spirits that have force for all the community, so it is meet to sacrifice to them with bureaucratic style. As for the middle range of human families, the magistrate is content to let them worship their own past ancestors in their burial grounds, with their own assembled relatives. But below these departed shades, who have families to honor them, are those who have been lost to sight and history, and here the state asserts itself again. For these are "orphan ghosts" who have no one to pray for their spirits after death. Individuals of compassion often remember them collectively at the All Souls' festival, where they burn paper clothes for the spirits, and make them offerings of wine, fruit, and rice in the ceremony called "burning the street clothes." Still, their ability to harm the community remains disquieting, and therefore the magistrate holds ceremonies on their behalf at a specially erected altar in the north of the county town. The litany of the fates of these orphan ghosts, written by a local scholar long before, remains an echo of the present world in Hua:
These are those who died for reasons that we can no longer know: Amongst them are those who died from cruel wounds in battle, those who died from flood and fire and bandits, those who saw their property seized and so took their own lives, married women and young girls seized by force and killed, those who while being punished died unjustly, those who fled from natural calamities and died from illness on the road, those destroyed by wild animals or poisonous snakes, those who died from famine or exposure, those who were caught up in wars and lost their lives, those who killed themselves because of danger, those crushed to death when walls or houses collapsed on them, or those who after their deaths left no sons or grandsons. 18
For such souls, and all others gone before and still to come, the founding magistrate of Hua in 1686 had carved this prayer in stone: "Let cruel animals stay away, the nests of robbers never more be formed, the people henceforth live decent lives, the tax quotas to the state be always met, and people's spirits all be good. From this will come our happiness, a golden age in heaven and earth." 19
Even these solemn ceremonies can be slighted by exaggeration, or disjointed into carnivals. During the protracted drought of 1835, the governor abandoned the regular sacrifices to the city god, and offered vast rewards to any "extraordinary man" or "wonderful scholar," no matter from what district or believing in what faith, who could use his arts "to drive away the dragon" that was blocking off the clouds, and thus cause the rain to fall. The citizens mocked him publicly, with poems written in bold characters and posted on the walls. Yet they gathered in great crowds when a volunteer came forward to drive away the dragon. He was a man claiming to be
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