At the conclusion of the synod, Samputa-kami and several of the most distinguished members of the Buddhistic assembly, astonished at the progress of schism and dissension which the united voices of seven hundred religious had not been able entirely to root up, endeavoured to divine, as far as human wisdom could reach, what would be in after times the fate of religion. They foresaw that one hundred and twenty years hence, there would be at Pataliputra a mighty ruler full of love for religion, and zealous for its propagation, who would do much to promote its exaltation. But before the reign of that pious monarch they saw distinctly that there would appear many heretics, fond of their own will, coining doctrines of their own invention, and that they would thereby inflict the most serious harm on religion. They had, however, the consolation to know that this was to come to pass after their death. But who was the fortunate being who was destined to check effectually the coming evil? They saw him in one of the seats of Brahmas. His name was Teissa. In due time he would come down to the seat of man, operate his incarnation in the womb of a pounha female, named Maugali, and would afterwards become a famous religious under the name Mauggalipatta. This vision filled their souls with the purest joy, which was increased by the view of the expansion and development which religion would receive through the zeal of that great personage.

After a reign of twenty-eight years, King Kalathoka died, leaving nine sons, the eldest of whom was named Baddasena. They all reigned one after the other through a period of thirty-three years. The last of them, Pitzamuka, was the youngest. During his reign a gang of robbers desolated the country of Magatha. On a certain day a man named Ouggasena, having fallen in with that gang, inquired of them what pursuit they followed in order to obtain their livelihood. They plainly told him that they knew nothing about the tillage of the fields, and were unacquainted with the business of trade; they had no other way left for maintaining themselves but to seize by force whatever they chanced to meet. Ouggasena, taken up with the boldness of these desperadoes, offered to join their company with his eight brothers. The offer was gladly accepted. It happened afterwards that in one of their depredatory expeditions their chief was slain. Ouggasena was appointed by common consent to take his place. Being of a bold and lofty daring, he said to his associates: “Friends, it does not suit brave and enterprising men as you are to confine your attacks to petty villages and small towns: you ought to aim higher.” He then represented to them in forcible language that King Pitzamuka was deficient in courage, and neglected entirely the duties of a king. “The moment is favourable,” added he, “to attack Pataliputra itself.” His opinion was universally accepted. The king, fonder of pleasure than of business, offered little resistance. He was killed at the taking of his capital, and Ouggasena sat on the throne, under the name of Ouggasena-nanda.

He was succeeded by his eight brothers. They reigned successively during the short period of twenty-two years. The last of them was called Dzananda. These princes were not followers of Buddha, but they supported the party of the pounhas, to which they adhered. Their generosity towards the pounhas was very great. They fed daily a great number of them in their own palace.

Among the pounhas who were maintained by the king’s liberality, there was one named Dzanecka, who was much versed in the science of astrology. Being once in the country, he saw in himself certain signs indicating that one day he would become a king. Having communicated this intelligence to his mother, she wisely advised him to ignore such dangerous signs, which would inevitably bring the king’s anger upon him, and expose him to great perils. Dzanecka was wise enough to comply with his mother’s wishes.

On a certain day Dzanecka returned to Pataliputra, from the country place where his mother lived. On his arrival, he, in company with his brethren, went to the palace to receive alms, that were to be distributed in the king’s presence in a large hall, fitted for that special purpose. He occupied the foremost rank. The king, who saw him, could not help remarking something extraordinary in his person. Suspicions arose in his bosom respecting the fidelity of that pounha. He instantly felt angry with him. Unable to control his passions, he ordered one of his officers to turn him out of the palace without giving him anything. The pounha had but to obey the unwelcome summons. Stung to the quick by shame and rage, he rose from his place. When he was just crossing the threshold of the hall’s entrance, he took off his caste’s string, and cut it in pieces; he likewise broke his mendicant’s pot, and flung all against one post of the door of the hall, uttering at the same time imprecations, and praying that the king might never from that day enjoy rest. He ran away as far as he could, and under a disguise he eluded the pursuit of those that had been sent to arrest him. He escaped into Tekkaso. There he plotted the destruction of the king.

In one of his rambles through the country, Dzanecka met by chance a child, whom he knew to belong to a royal race. He at once adopted him, and brought him up with the greatest care and attention. It was not long, however, ere he found out that the signs prognosticating promotion to royalty were rather doubtful and somewhat insufficient. He could not rely on him for the execution of the important and long-cherished design he had in his heart. He had now to look out for some other one, who could afford him a greater subject for hope and confidence. Chance soon served him admirably well, to the utmost of his wishes.

After the destruction of Wethalie by Adzatathat, the princes that had escaped from the massacre had fled in an eastern direction, and built a city called Maurya. New misfortunes having befallen them, they were obliged to search for safety in precipitate flight. One of the wives of those princes, being in the family way, was led to the city of Pouppaya. Having been delivered of a son, she had the barbarity to order the little creature to be put into a jar, which was cast in a neighbouring cow-pen. The Nats watched over the child, and the bull of the herd, stationing itself near the infant, kept, with his horns and feet, at a distance any animal that came near. The cow-keeper, observing what was taking place, took the child and gave it to his wife Tsanda to bring him up as if he were their own child. He was called from the name of his adopted parents, Tsanda-gutta.

When the lad had come to the age to play the cowherd, he assumed among his fellow-herdsmen all the ways and manners and deportment of a king. He appointed some of them his ministers; others were invested with other mock dignities. He would sit on a tribunal, decide small cases, and strictly enforce the execution of his sentences.

The Pounha Dzanecka, who was living in the neighbourhood, hearing all this, wished to see the extraordinary boy. He recognised at a glance in the lad the sure signs foreshadowing his coming greatness. He purchased him for the sum of one thousand pieces of silver, and brought him up along with his other adopted son. Each of the boys had a splendid necklace of gold. On a certain day, Dzanecka ordered Pouppata, for such was the name of the first adopted son, to take a sword and go to Tsanda-gutta whilst asleep, and take from him his necklace of gold, without, however, cutting the thread, or even unloosing it. Pouppata, agreeably to his father’s order, went near the place where his brother was sleeping. He stood over him, and examined attentively by what means he could execute his father’s order. After many fruitless combinations, finding it impossible to do so, he went back to his father and related his disappointment. Dzanecka, without addressing him a word of blame, remained silent.

A few days afterwards, Dzanecka called Tsanda-gutta, and commissioned him to take a sword, and during his brother’s sleep to steal away from him his gold necklace, carefully avoiding either to cut the string or to untie it. Tsanda-gutta went to the place where his brother was sleeping. After a few moments of reflection, seeing but one way to obey his father’s order, he cut off at once his brother’s head, and brought entire the necklace of gold, which he placed at his father’s feet. The latter, without giving a sign of approbation or displeasure, remained silent.

Dzanecka gave all his treasures to Tsanda-gutta. Having pointed out to him and minutely explained the course he had to follow for obtaining the high station he was destined to, the pounha repaired to some other place, bidding him remember him after he became a king. With the treasures left at his disposal, Tsanda-gutta levied men, and went on from success to success, until he possessed himself of Pataliputra and killed Dananda. He received the water of consecration, and began his reign in 163. That monarch seems to have been accustomed to the use of poisons. For it happened that, on a certain day, his first queen, belonging to the Maurya race, tasted a mouthful of a dish prepared for the king. This caused her death. At the time of that fatal occurrence she was far advanced in pregnancy. The king, without a moment’s delay, ordered her belly to be opened; the infant was taken out and put in the belly of a goat freshly slain. The child lived, and was called Bandasura.

Tsanda-gutta, after a reign of twenty-four years, died in 187, and was succeeded by his son Bandasura, only sixteen years old. Both the father and the son were supporters of the pounhas, and fed daily an immense number of them in their palace. Bandasura reigned twenty-seven years, that is to say, until the year 214. He had altogether 101 sons. His first queen, called Damma, had become the mother of two sons, called Athoka and Teissa. When she was pregnant of the first, she had five dreams: First, she thought she was stretching her two feet, one resting on the sun, and the other on the moon; second, it appeared to her that she was devouring the stars; third, she fancied she was eating the clouds; fourth, she imagined she was eating the worms’ dunghills; fifth and finally, she imagined she was eating the leaves of all the trees. According to the prediction of the soothsayers, the five dreams meant that the son whom she had in her womb would rule over the whole of the island of Tsampoudipa; that he would destroy all his brothers, who would unite to dispute the throne with him; that he would disperse all the heretics or upholders of false tenets, who, like clouds, obscure the glory of religion; that he would possess all above the earth to the height of one youdzana, and all below the earth to an equal depth.

When Athoka was sixteen years old, his father sent him to Outzeni to govern that city, and the territories annexed to it. On his way to that city, Athoka had to pass through Wedika, distant fifty youdzanas from Pataliputra, in an eastern direction. The town had been founded by the princes of Kapilawot, when that city had been almost destroyed in the days of Buddha. In that place he married the daughter of a rich man, named Dewa. After his arrival at Outzeni, Athoka’s wife presented him first with a son, who was named Maheinda, and subsequently with a daughter, called Seingamitta. Athoka remained nine years at Outzeni. At the end of that period, hearing that his father lay dangerously ill, he hastened to Pataliputra, to assist him and render all the services dictated by filial love. On his return, having to pass through Wedika, he left in that place his wife and his two children. A little while after his arrival at his father’s capital, the king breathed his last, and Athoka was proclaimed king.

The new monarch, however, found himself soon surrounded by many enemies. With the exception of Teissa, who was born from the same mother, all his brothers conspired against him. The oldest of all, named Thoumana, was the originator and leader of the rebellion. After a protracted struggle, Athoka’s good fortune prevailed. His rebellious brother Thoumana was overcome and made a prisoner; soon after, he was put to death. The same sad and cruel fate befel the other ninety-eight brothers. But it took three years before Athoka could free himself from all his enemies. On the fourth year after his accession to the throne, that is to say, in 218, he received the royal consecration, and in honour of his mother took the name of Dammathoka. He obtained a universal sway all over Dzampoudipa.

Up to the period of his consecration, Athoka had always favoured the pounhas. In imitation of his father’s conduct, he fed daily an immense number of them in his palace. They all dressed in white clothes. It was only after he had received the royal consecration that he became a convert to Buddhism, through the instrumentality of his own nephew, the Rahan Nigrauda. A few particulars respecting this celebrated religious may not be unacceptable to the reader.

After Thoumana’s death, his wife Thoumana-dewi was near the moment of her confinement. Under disguise, she contrived to baffle the snares of her husband’s enemies and elude their pursuit. She went to the neighbourhood of the village of Dountsanka, a little distant from Pataliputra in an eastern direction, and rested under a banyan tree. A small shed was provided for her, and the head man of the village, who looked upon her as his daughter, supplied her with food. She was delivered of a son, whom she named Nigrauda. When he was about seven years old he was confided to the care of the venerable Varuna, who instructed him in his monastery, and taught him the Kamatan. He became a religious, and was made a patzin. The monastery of the venerable Varuna was not very distant from the southern gate of the city.

On a certain day the young religious Nigrauda rose up at an early hour, and having paid his respects to his great instructor, put on his cloak, and, taking under his arm the mendicant’s pot, left his monastery, entered the city by the southern gate, and shaped his course towards the eastern one, with the intention of going to visit his mother. At that very moment King Athoka was standing over the lion’s gate of his palace enjoying the cool of the morning breeze. He saw the young religious passing with a grave and steady step. All was graceful and dignified in his deportment. A placid joy, a serene modesty, and a majestic appearance beautified his countenance to such an extent that, at the first look, the king felt an irresistible affection for the young Samane. Without a moment’s delay he despatched an officer to call him. With a kind and affectionate tone the king invited him to ascend the steps of his palace, and insisted on serving him with his meal. When the repast was over, Athoka said: “Young Samane, do you know well all the doctrines taught by your instructor?” “I am somewhat acquainted with them,” replied Nigrauda modestly. “If such be the case, will you be pleased to explain them to me?” He then said in reply: “He who is diligent in practising the duties that procure merits enjoys true happiness; he shall be exempt from death. He who neglects the duties that procure merits is unhappy, and is in a state of death.” The king, delighted with the instruction delivered to him by the young Samane, offered him several presents suitable to the religious profession. But Nigrauda would not accept them, except in the name and for the benefit of his instructor; because it was he who had the charge of teaching people to avoid evil, to do good, and to practise the religious duties. As to him, he was but a disciple. Athoka was greatly pleased with the modesty and disinterestedness of the young Samane.

On other occasions the king sent for Nigrauda, and heard his instructions with such a good result that he gradually became a perfect convert. By the advice of his spiritual guide, Athoka made daily presents to a certain number of religious of the Buddhistic persuasion. The number of the religious who every day attended the court to receive presents gradually swelled to the amount of 60,000. Nigrauda instructed his royal pupil on the three Saranans and the five precepts. He infused into his soul a tender love for Buddha and his religion. The great change in the king’s dispositions happened on the fourth year after his coronation. Up to that time he had favoured the party of the pounhas, as his father and grandfather had done. He was in the habit of daily affording food and maintenance to sixty thousand pounhas wearing the white dress.

Not satisfied with the liberal offerings of every day, the king said to the Rahans: “My intention is to build a great number of dzedis in all the cities of Dzampoudipa. But where are to be found the relics of the most excellent Buddha, that they may be divided and enshrined in the principal dzedis?” By his order the relics were searched for in every direction. The dzedis already built in Wethalie, Kapilawot, Allakappa, Pawa, and Koutheinaron were all demolished. An exception was made in favour of the dzedi in the village of Rama. The Nagas, guardians of the place, would not allow that monument to be touched. In vain did the workmen strive with pickaxes to demolish the dzedi. Their instruments broke in pieces as soon as they came in contact with the building. But in none of them could the precious deposit be found. The king commanded that the demolished sacred monuments should be rebuilt precisely in the same shape and form as they stood previously. Athoka, disappointed but undismayed by his want of success, directed his steps towards Radzagio, and resolved not to relax in his exertions until he had found the precious object of his eager desires. Having arrived at that place, he assembled all the Rahans and people, and inquired if there was no person who could lead him in the way to discover the relics. In the crowd there was a Rahan one hundred and twenty years old, who said that when he was a Samane about seven years old, his superior directed him to take some flowers and perfumes, and, leading him to a retired place, said to him, “You see that dark bush in the middle of which there is a small stone dzedi; let us prostrate ourselves before it and make our offering.” When this was done he added with a solemn tone of voice, “Young Samane, observe well this spot, and ever remember it.” He said nothing more, and we returned to our home. “This is doubtless,” said the king, “the very spot I am searching after, without having ever been able hitherto to discover it.” The king and his people hastened to the indicated place. Great offerings were made to the guardian Nat in order to propitiate him. The Nat, assuming the shape of a young man, removed all the obstacles that obstructed the way to the place. When the king was near the first door, he discovered the ruby whereupon was seen the above-related inscription. On touching the bolt the door was suddenly opened, when, to the great surprise of all present, the lamps that had been lighted two hundred and eighteen years ago were found burning and full of oil; the flowers, without the least sign of withering, were as fresh and beautiful as those in the gardens; the smell of the perfumes seemed to be even more exquisite than that of new ones. The king, taking the gold leaf, read the inscription concerning him. He took all the relics, except a few that he left therein, replaced and arranged everything as he had found it. The finding of the relics happened in 218.[33]

All that has been herein above related respecting the partition of the relics by Dauna, &c., has been extracted from the book called Nibana Thoot. But he who wishes to know all the particulars concerning the places where the relics have been deposited, &c., must have recourse to the books called Data Win and Nalatadata Win.

On a certain day a likeness of Buddha was placed before the eyes of Athoka. The king was delighted with it. He wished to multiply the number of statues, so that they could be seen in every part of his dominions. He gave orders for the building of monasteries in the 84,000 towns of his immense dominions. This happened in 220 of the religious era. It was but three years afterwards, that is to say, in 223, that the dedication or consecration of the dzedis took place, in which portions of the relics were to be enshrined. Throughout his realm the king issued a proclamation inviting all the people to attend to the observance of the eight precepts. The royal mandate was duly attended to, and the religious festival celebrated with the greatest solemnity. On that occasion the king made abundant donations to the religious, and strove to display his zeal for the promotion of religion.

Delighted with all that he had done, the king said to the venerable Mauggalipata: “I have endeavoured to labour for the exaltation of religion by every means in my power. I have built religious monuments through the length and breadth of my dominions; I have made offerings on the grandest scale. May I now consider myself as entitled to the inheritance of religion?” The venerable Mauggalipata replied: “Great prince, you have indeed done much towards the advancement of the good cause. But something else more excellent still is to be performed that you may acquire a right to the inheritance of religion.” “What is that?” asked the king. “It is most perfect and meritorious,” replied Mauggalipata, “that you should consecrate your son Maheinda and your daughter Singameitta to the service of religion.” Athoka immediately asked his son, who was eighteen years old, whether he would like to become a religious. Maheinda answered in the affirmative. He was forthwith ordained Samane. Mauggalipata acted on the occasion as president, and Mahadewana as master of the ceremonies. Singameitta was similarly ordained. The president was Dammapata, and the person acting in the ceremony was Oopali. This happened in 223. Maheinda learned the Pitagat under the immediate superintendence and tuition of Mauggalipata himself. His proficiency both in the study of religious science and in the practice of virtue was so great that his teacher placed him at the head of a thousand Rahans, whom he was commissioned to instruct.

The great liberality of the king towards the Buddhists, the efforts that he made for the promotion of the new religion he had embraced, alarmed those who belonged to the opposite party. The pounhas saw themselves without support, and unable to provide for their maintenance. They had recourse to the following expedient to secure their livelihood, and also a well-concerted plan to weaken their enemies. They all assumed the yellow dress, entered into the Buddhistic monasteries, and affected to be converts, without being so in reality. They retained their own opinions, and even as regards regulations they refused to comply with some of the ordinances of the Wini. Some of them fed large fires; others exposed themselves to various degrees of excessive heat; others affected the mania of fixing their eyes upon the sun in the morning, and following it in its course during the whole day.[34] Many appeared to lay little stress on several portions of the Pitagat. As a matter of course, the true religious were much scandalised at such a conduct, and refused to hold communion with them on the days of worship. This state of things, after having lasted seven years, produced an irritation that could be no longer tolerated. Mauggalipata, disgusted at such a perturbation, left Maheinda at the head of the community, and withdrew to the Ahan Ginga mountain to enjoy some tranquillity.

King Athoka was informed of the prevailing disorder. With the view of pacifying the inmates of the monasteries, he sent an officer of his household with stringent orders to oblige the two parties to come to an understanding, to communicate with each other, and to worship in common on the festival days. The officer went to one of the monasteries, explained the royal order, and drew his sword, threatening to cut off the head of the first Rahan who would dare to offer opposition. One of the orthodox party came forward, and having explained the true state of things, concluded by firmly stating that he would not hold communion with heretics. The officer in vain expostulated, and entreated the religious not to be so tenacious in his views, but rather to show a willingness to obey the king’s orders, for the sake of peace. The latter persisted in his refusal. The officer, carried away by passion, struck off the head of the refractory Rahan. An immense uproar followed this tragical occurrence. All hopes of bringing about a pacification were then at an end. The officer withdrew from the monastery, and related to the king all the particulars as they had occurred.

Athoka bitterly deplored the murder that had been committed on a saintly personage, and reproached the officer with having outstepped the orders he had received. His religious feelings were grievously hurt, and his conscience greatly alarmed. He sent for several religious, and consulted them as to whether he was responsible for the murder committed by his officer. The spiritual advisers did not agree in their decision. Some of them were of opinion that the king was answerable for the doing of his messenger; others declared that the king, having given no order to the effect of using violence, the officer alone was responsible for the murder. Such conflicting opinions increased the king’s perplexities, and threw him in a state of great anxiety and uneasiness.

Some courtiers, grieved at the sadness which overspread their master’s mind, advised him to send for the celebrated Mauggalipata, and abide by the decision of that eminent man, whose knowledge was unsurpassed. The king gladly accepted the proposal. A messenger with a great retinue was at first sent to the place of Mauggalipata. The king’s desires were respectfully explained. But the old ascetic refused to quit his abode of peace. A second messenger was despatched, but with no better success. At last a third one was sent on the same errand, with several religious. The latter, who knew the great zeal of Mauggalipata for promoting the cause of religion, represented to him the imminent dangers religion was threatened with, and entreated him to come, and by his presence save it from an approaching ruin. On hearing this sad news the old man no longer hesitated. He immediately left his abode, went in the boat prepared for him, and gently sailed down the mighty stream to Pataliputra. The news of his coming down was spread in a moment. When the boat was reported to be near the city, the king, with his whole court, hastened to the banks of the Ganges. On her nearing the bank, Athoka went knee-deep into the stream, and helping the venerable Mauggalipata with his royal hand out of the boat, led him into a garden, where a suitable place had been prepared for his residence. There he sat at his feet, and rendered to him the same humble services which a disciple is wont to tender to his teacher.

The king, anxious to alleviate his scruples and relieve his much-troubled conscience, related the particulars of the case of the Rahan’s murder, and concluded by asking whether he was to be considered as responsible for the death of the religious. Mauggalipata said, “O king, had you, when you despatched the officer, the intention of having any refractory Rahan put to death?” “No,” replied the king. “Since you gave no such order to your officer, and you had no intention that any disobedience to your orders should be visited with capital punishment, the murder of the religious can in no way be imputed unto you, because intention is the thing that makes actions good or bad, and entails merits or sin on the perpetrator.” Athoka recovered at once his peace and tranquillity of mind. Meanwhile he entreated the venerable Mauggalipata to labour for the extinction of schism and the exaltation of religion.

Seven days after the arrival of the great religious, a vast hall was erected in the grove where Mauggalipata was living. At the end of it a fine pavilion made of cloth of various and bright colours was prepared for the accommodation of the monarch. Each religious had then to be examined separately in the presence of Mauggalipata on the doctrines and practices he held as genuine and good. Those whose doctrines and observances were found to be at variance with the Pitagat were expelled from the assembly, stripped of the canonical robe, and compelled to resume the white dress, that is to say, the one befitting the pounhas. The presence of the king silenced all murmurs, and rendered any attempt at resistance impossible. In this manner the orthodox Rahans were separated from the heterodox ones.

To heal the wounds inflicted on religion by schism, to restore purity of doctrine, and confirm the genuineness of the canon of scriptures, such as had been done by Kathaba in the first council, and by Ratha in the second one, Mauggalipata, with the concurrence of the pious Dammathoka, resolved to hold a third council. From the Rahans then present at Palibotra he selected a thousand, and with them he regulated the Pitagat. The council was opened in the year 235, and ended in 236 = to 307 B.C. It was presided over by Mauggalipata, who was seventy-two years old.[35]

At the conclusion of the council, the president, who was acknowledged the head of the Buddhists, thought of extending the sway of the new religion through the whole of Dzampoudipa. Hitherto it had been confined within the limits of Magatha. Now the time had come to extend it far and wide among the nations and tribes of the whole world. To carry out such a bold and comprehensive plan, Mauggalipata made an appeal to the ablest and most zealous members of the council, and charged a certain number of them to go and preach the true law in the countries beyond the boundaries of Magatha. The venerable Mitzaganti with four companions, was directed to proceed to the country of Kashmera-gandara. Rewati was ordered to go to Mahithakan-pantala. Gaunaka-damma Reckita went to Aparanta. Maha-damma Reckita was sent to the Mahrata country. Damma Reckita received a mission to proceed to Yaunaka, which is the country inhabited by the Pantsays. The venerable Mitzi directed his steps, in company with several brethren, towards some parts in the Himalayas. Thauna and Outtara proceeded in a south-eastern direction to the country of Souwana-boumi. Finally Maheinda, Ittia, Outtia, Thamala, and Baddathala went to establish religion into the island of Tappapani (Ceylon).[36]

Great success attended the preachings of the Buddhist heralds. If credit can be given to all that is related in the books on this subject, religion must have taken deep root in the heart of the people dwelling in those distant lands.

As regards Ceylon, there is an important fact to be stated. It appears that until the year of religion 454, the knowledge of the Pitagat was transmitted by means of oral tradition. The heads of monasteries required from their pupils to know the whole collection by heart. It is probable that one portion of the scriptures was learned by one section of the community, and another by another. In this manner the whole Pitagat was known in each monastery, and could be rehearsed in full by the inmates. This state of things lasted two hundred years. The great inconvenience necessarily attending it was soon felt so keenly that some means had to be devised in order to render the study of the sacred books surer and easier. In the reign of King Watakamani five hundred religious assembled in the village of Mallaya, and wrote the whole Pitagat in Sanscrit, and with the Sanscrit characters. Under the reign of that monarch a great dearth prevailed all over the island. Numerous Buddhist religious crossed over to the continent, and established religion in many parts of the southern portion of the peninsula. That prince also built the famous Bayagiri monastery. With the Mahawihara already existing, and the Dzetawon monastery subsequently erected, there sprung up three distinct schools. The latter was erected in 811, in the time of King Mathena of Ceylon. But the teaching of the Mahawihara was the only one truly orthodox. After a protracted existence, they were all merged in the Mahawihara school, under the reign of Thiri Singa-bodiparanna-maba, in the year of the Pouppa-dzau era (Pagan era), 522; of religion, 1714 = to 1161 A.D.

The venerable Thauna and Outtara of the pounha race came to the district of Thaton,[37] which is called Souwana-boumi, in the country of Ramagnia, for the purpose of establishing religion in that distant land, which lies south-east of Mitzima. Thiri-mathauka was the king who at that time reigned at Thaton. Previous to the arrival of the Buddhist messengers of peace, the town was desolated by the ravages of Biloos, who, coming from the sea, devoured all the newly-born infants. A great consternation and panic had seized the inhabitants when they saw the two strangers, clothed in yellow robes, setting their feet upon the shore. They mistook them for monsters of a new description, who were coming to increase their misfortune. They ran to arms, and were preparing to attack the two religious. The latter, perceiving the danger that threatened them, said with a meek tone of voice to the infuriated mob, “Why do you attack us? We are not Biloos, nor are we come hither with any hostile intention. Know ye that we profess a religion which forbids us to take away intentionally the life of even the smallest insect, to rob, to commit adultery, and to use spirituous and intoxicating liquors. By our regulations we are allowed to eat rice but once in a day.” On hearing the explanations given by the two strangers, the people of Thaton were quieted. They received them with kindness, and treated them with great respect. By the power inherent in the two religious, the sea-Biloo was put to flight, and was seen no longer. The king and the people, grateful for the service they had received, and delighted with the new doctrine preached to them, accepted joyfully the five precepts, and promised to observe them. An immense number of men and women were converted. Among the new converts, a great many embraced the religious life.

King Thiri-mathauka was informed that, a little while after Gaudama’s death, a Rahan, named Gambawatti, had brought thirty-three teeth of Buddha, and deposited them in a dzedi upon the mount Inda-danoo, which lies north-east of Thaton. Moreover, he had heard that after the eighth season, Gaudama had gone to Mitila. Whilst he dwelt into that place, it happened that a certain Rahan came to remember of some of his relatives whom he had known during a former existence. He saw them living in Thaton. He then earnestly supplicated his great master to condescend to go to that place and preach the law to his relatives. Gaudama, complying with the request, resorted thither through the air, attended by a great retinue. He preached the law, and previous to his departure, gave to the ruler of Thaton eight hairs of his head. Relying on the accuracy of the information, Thiri-mathauka felt a great desire to find out the precious relics, in order to have them distributed in eleven towns of Henzawatti, in eleven towns of Kouthein, and in eleven towns of Mouttama. These three countries constitute what is called Ramagnia. All happened agreeably to his wishes. The relics were duly found on mount Inda-danoo, in the very dzedi in which they had been enshrined, and were distributed in the various towns, as above mentioned. It is probable that there occurred at Thaton the same curious fact which we know to have taken place in Ceylon, viz.: Religion was propagated at first by the means of oral tradition.

The first one who made an attempt to possess himself of a copy of the sacred scriptures was Buddhagosa, a religious of Thaton, of the pounha race. That man embarked at Thaton, which was then on or near the sea. That place is in the Ramagnia country, and is inhabited by a people called Moun. He sailed to Ceylon in the year of religion 943,[38] under the reign of King Mahanama. He resided three years on that island, wrote the Pitagat on palm leaves with the Burmese characters which was found written in the language and characters of Ceylon. In another manuscript we read that he translated into Pali the scriptures which were in the language of Ceylon. Buddhagosa remained three years in Ceylon, in order to complete the work he had undertaken. During his stay in that island the people were so much pleased with him that they made him many and costly presents on his leaving their country. He brought over with him to Souwana-boumi, which is in the Ramagnia country, a complete collection of the scriptures.

In or about the year of the Pagan era 419,[39] the forty-second, some say, the forty-fourth king of Pagan, named Anaurata, having invaded the Ramagnia country, possessed himself of the Moun’s territories and entered triumphant into the venerable city of Thaton. He took away from that place the collection of scriptures brought over from Ceylon by Buddhagosa, as well as the most learned among the Rahans. With the aid of these distinguished Rahans, religion was then firmly established in Pagan. He became master of the whole of the Ramagnia country, which includes Henzawatti, Mouttama, and Kouthein.

We have alluded briefly to the reconciliation that has taken place in Ceylon between the three great schools. Two of them, the Bayagiri and the Dzetawon, merged into the great Mahawihara school, which had always held up the orthodox doctrines. In the year that followed that event—that is to say, in the year of religion 1714 of the Pagan’s era 522[40]—many Rahans, natives of Thaton, Pagan and other places in Ramagnia, attended by a large retinue, crossed over to Ceylon for the express purpose of worshipping the relics and the Bodi tree, and making themselves perfectly acquainted with the genuine doctrine and discipline. As a matter of course, they joined the Mahawihara school. They remained on that island during nearly one year. One of the party, named Tsapada, who was but a young Samane, was raised to the dignity of Patzin, according to the rules and regulations adopted by the Mahawihara. The party, having performed their devotions, and penetrated themselves with the spirit of the community in which they had spent a year, returned to their countries. The young religious, who had been but recently ordained, applied to his superior and obtained permission to remain behind in Ceylon for the purpose of studying the Pitagat and mastering its contents.

After ten years of unwearied application he went back with four companions, named Maheinda, Thiwali, Ananda, and Rahula. After their landing in the neighbourhood of Cape Negrais, they spent a year in Kouthein, and finally reached Pagan in the eighth year of the reign of King Narapati-sisoo of the Pagan era 534 = to 1173 A.D. In this manner, by the exertions of those five religious, the religion of Ceylon was firmly established and set up in Pagan. In this manner the doctrines and institutions preached and set up in Ceylon by Maheinda and his companions were blended with the doctrines and institutions which the venerable Thauna and Outtara had established in Thaton. Both flourished in Pagan and were much extended.[41]

The brilliant and glorious reign of Narapati-sisoo was soon followed by a series of misfortunes, which contributed to the weakening of his great empire, and finally brought on its total overthrow. Pagan was taken by foreign invaders. In the midst of such calamities three noblemen, named Radzasingian, Asinkara, and Sihasoo, set themselves up as kings, the first in Miyntsain, the second in Pekkara, and the third in Pinlay, in the year 662 = to 1301 A.D. The King of Miyntsain, having treacherously enticed Kiantza, the king of Pagan, to visit him in his new capital, detained him under various pretexts, and finally had him murdered. Thaunit, the son of Kiantza, hearing of his father’s detention, ascended the throne of Pagan, and reigned twenty-two years. He was succeeded by his brother Mouhnit, who reigned forty-three years. With him ended the line of Pagan kings in 730 = to 1369 A.D.

Sihasoo, the King of Pinlay, reigned in that place twelve years, and in 684 removed the seat of royalty to Panya. In that place there were successively five kings, whose aggregate number of years on the throne amounts to fifteen.

One son of Sihasoo, named Athinkara-dzau-goun, established royalty in Tsitkain in 684 = to 1323 A.D. Under the reign of his son and successor, named Thirimega, a canine tooth of Gaudama was brought to Tsitkain. The king had the precious relic placed in a golden casket, and enshrined in a turret of his palace. He daily worshipped it.

Thirimega having died, his two sons Dzeta and Tissa quarrelled about the crown. Neither of them ever had the title of king; both of them oppressed the country during nine years. The son of Dzeta, named Budadasa, became king, and reigned during twenty-nine years. It was under the reign of that monarch that five venerable religious, who were well versed in the science of the Pitagat, translated the whole compilation, which was in Sanscrit, into the language of Ceylon (Pali).[42]

Tsitkain ceased to be a royal residence in 725 = to 1364 A.D., and in the following year the city of Ava was founded on the sixth of the waxing moon of Tabaong, on a Tuesday at noon, under the constellation Pounna-pha-shou.

On the following year, Mouhnit, king of Pagan, died at the age of sixty-four, after a reign of forty-three years, with whom ended the line of the Pagan monarchs. In the great city of Ava religion greatly flourished, and in 1134 = to 1773 A.D., this book was composed[43] in the province of Dybayen.

For the purpose of creating and increasing feelings of affection towards the most excellent Buddha,[44] who is greater than the three rational beings, towards his glorious perfections, as well as the law and the assembly, I have, to the best of my abilities, endeavoured to translate from the Pali into Burmese the sacred book called Malla-linkara-wouttoo, or history of the most excellent flower.

AN ABSTRACT
OF
A FEW SMALL DZATS, AND OF TWO PRINCIPAL ONES, CALLED
NEMI AND DZANECKA.

The writer has thought that it would not be without interest to the reader to make a few remarks respecting the five hundred and ten Dzats so famous amongst the Burmese, and to give as a specimen of those compositions the abbreviated translation of some of those fabulous accounts. We will begin with a few of the small Dzats, and end with the compendious summaries of two of the great ones, known under the names of Nemi and Dzanecka. The Buddhists of these parts maintain that all the Dzats contain a short and concise narrative of some of the circumstances attending certain existences of Gaudama, when he was born in the state of animal, man, prince, nobleman, poor, rich, Nat, &c. The narrator is no other than Gaudama himself, who is supposed to have condescended to make his disciples and the crowds of hearers acquainted with certain particulars relating to his person whilst he was passing through the slow process of metempsychosis and gradually gravitating towards the perfection he had at last reached. In fact, each of these pieces is prefaced with these words: When the most excellent Buddha was in such a monastery, surrounded with his disciples, he spoke as follows, &c.

It is not improbable that some of these stories may have been told by Gaudama for the two following purposes: First, to impress his hearers with a profound respect for his incomparable wisdom, which enabled him to penetrate into the deep recesses of the past, and to bring to light some events hitherto buried in its dark bosom. The second and principal object he had in view was to give some important lessons to his disciples, to correct some of their defects, and stir up others to the practice of the highest deeds which he had himself performed during former existences. On his respect Gaudama followed the practice of all Eastern sages, who had recourse to the use of parables, similitudes, apologues, &c., in order to convey, under a gentle, amiable, graceful, and interesting form, the most important instructions, designed to enlighten the mind and correct the heart.

The collection or compilation comprises most of those fables that are to be met with amongst most of the Asiatic nations, whence they have found their way to Europe, first among the Greeks, and next the Western nations. The writer has been not a little surprised to find in that collection a number of fables the very same as those so inimitably narrated by the great French fabulist, the good La Fontaine. This is another confirmation to the old adage, There is nothing new under the sun.

These stories have certainly an Indian origin; at least the Burmans have received them, as almost all the things that are connected with their religion, from that quarter. Under despotic governments, the plain and naked truth cannot show itself, or make its voice to be heard, without exposing its friends to the most imminent dangers on the part of those tyrants who practically maintain that their will must ever stand above truth and reason. Stories nicely told were the pleasing and innocent but necessary dress which that sacred goddess was obliged to wear in order to make her presence supportable to the despots, and help her friends to find favour with those whose absolute and uncontrollable sway made everybody bow the head in their awful though detested presence.

The first five hundred stories have, it seems, no historical value whatever. They are most of them short and concise. But the last ten may very likely contain many facts or allusions to individuals and places that might afford a clue to some parts of the history and geography of India in days of a remote antiquity. A complete translation of the ten Dzats might not be without interest, provided such a work be accompanied with copious notes, made by a competent person, well acquainted with the ancient history of India.

All the stories end with a most important disclosure made by Gaudama himself. The personage that has played the most important and praiseworthy rôle is, as a matter of course, our Buddha himself. Those who befriended him, assisted him, and rendered him any services, are those who subsequently became his favourite and most distinguished disciples and hearers; whilst those who acted in any reprehensible manner, who opposed him and did him harm, afterwards became the individuals who were in his days heretics or holders of false doctrines, and in particular his arch enemy, the notoriously wicked Dewadat.

The compilation of all these stories is prefaced as follows:—In the country of Amarawadi lived a pounha named Thoumeda. After the death of his father he became the owner of a considerable estate. Having enjoyed it during many years, he began to reflect on the many and various accidents attending human life, and came to the resolution of leaving the world. He therefore distributed in alms all his riches, and withdrew into solitude, to lead an ascetic life. He soon reached a high degree of perfection. At that time Deipinkara, one in the series of the twenty-eight Buddhas, came to that country, attended by 400,000 Rahans, to beg his food. Our Rathee Thoumeda, having nothing to offer to the great Buddha and the assembly, came, threw himself at his feet, and delivered himself up soul and body to his service. In another compilation it is stated that Thoumeda had volunteered his services to level a portion of a road that Deipinkara was to follow. The work was finished, with the exception of a small gap that was not yet filled, when the Buddha made his appearance. The hermit, without a moment’s hesitation, flung himself on the ground, and bridged the place with his own body.

It was at the sight of such a perfect abnegation of self that Buddha gave to Thoumeda the assurance that one day he would become a Buddha. On that occasion great wonders took place.

From that time he began to practise with a fervent earnestness the great virtues and perfections prescribed by the law. The whole period of time that elapsed from the time Gaudama was the pounha Thoumeda to the time he became Prince Wethandara—that is to say, reached that existence which immediately preceded the last one, when he became Buddha—is of four thingies and one hundred thousand worlds or revolutions of nature. A detailed account of the most meritorious and interesting actions performed by him during several existences that illustrated that almost incalculable period is to be found in the great dzedi of Ceylon.

The accounts must be short and concise, otherwise the dzedi above referred to, how large soever we may suppose it to have been, could never have held them.

THE FOX AND THE LION.

1. When the most excellent Buddha was in the Dzetawon monastery, surrounded by his disciples, desiring to correct a religious who was in the habit of keeping bad company, he narrated the following story: At the time that the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was then a lion, father to two little ones, one male and the other female. The first was named Menandza. The lion’s household, when Menandza was grown up and had married, was composed in all of five individuals. Menandza, strong and bold, went out every day in quest of prey for the support of his four relations that remained in the den. One day, in the middle of one of his predatory excursions, he happened to meet with a fox, which was lying on his belly, in a most respectful posture. On being asked by the proud lion, with a terrific voice, heightened by a threatening glance, what he was doing, the fox respectfully answered: “I am humbly prostrated here to do homage and pay my respects to your majesty.” “Well,” said Menandza; and he took him alive to his den. As soon as the father saw the fox, he said to his son: “My son, the fox is an animal full of cunning and deceit, faithless, without honour, addicted to all wicked practices, and always engaged and embroiled in some bad affairs; be on your guard; beware of such a companion, and forthwith send him away.” Unheeding his father’s wise advice, Menandza persisted in his resolution, and kept his new friend with him.

On a certain day the fox intimated to Menandza that he longed to eat the flesh of a young colt. “Where is the place these animals are wont to graze?” asked Menandza. “On the banks of the river of Baranathee,” replied the fox. Both started immediately for the indicated spot. They saw there a great number of horses bathing in the river. Menandza, in an instant, pounced upon a young one, and carried it to his den. “It is not prudent,” said the old father, “to eat those animals which belong to the king. One day he will cause you to be shot from a distance with arrows, and kill you. No lion that eats horse-flesh has ever lived long. From this day cease to attack those animals.” Deaf to such wholesome warnings, Menandza continued to carry destruction among the horses. News was soon conveyed to the king that a lion and a fox were making great havoc among his horses. He ordered the animals to be kept within the town. The lion, however, contrived to seize some and carry them away. Orders were given to keep them in an enclosure. Despite this precaution, some horses disappeared. Enraged at this, the king called a bowman and asked him whether he could transfix a lion with his arrows. The bowman said that he could do it. Hereupon, leaving the king, he went and hid himself behind a post, waiting for the offender. It was not long ere he made his appearance; but the cautious fox had remained somewhat to the rear, hidden in a drain. In one start, the lion, with the quickness of lightning, was on the wall, and straightway he went to the stable. The bowman said within himself: “The lion’s movements are very quick; I will wait until he come back loaded with his prey.” He had scarcely revolved this thought in his mind, when the lion was already on his way back carrying a horse. The bowman, all ready, shot an arrow that transfixed the fierce animal. The lion made a start, crying with a terrific voice, “I am wounded.” The fox, hearing his friend’s accents, and the sharp whistling of the bow-string, knew at once what had happened. He said to himself, shaking his head: “There is no friendship, forsooth, with the dead; my friend has fallen under the bowman’s arrow; my life is safe; I will go back to my former place.”

The wounded lion, making a last effort, went back to his den, and dropped dead at its entrance.

Menandza’s relatives, perceiving the wound and the blood gushing out of it, understood at once that he had been shot through with an arrow, and that the fox was the cause of his miserable and untimely end. His mother gave vent to her grief as follows: “Whoever associates with the wicked shall not live long; behold my Menandza is no more, because he followed the fox’s advice.” The father, in his turn, bewailed the loss of his son: “He who goes in company with the wicked shall meet with some evil fate; witness my son, whom his desolate mother sees weltering in the very blood she gave him.” His sister cried aloud: “He who does not follow the advice of the good shall repent of it; he is mad, and, like my brother, shall come to an untimely and cruel end.” Menandza’s wife exclaimed: “He who belongs to a superior rank ought to beware to associate with those of a rank inferior to his own, otherwise he soon becomes as despicable as those he associates with. He loses his position, and becomes the laughing-stock of all.”

Buddha concluded his discourse with this reflection, that no one ought to keep company with those that are wicked and of an inferior position. The religious profited so well by the lecture that he broke at once with his former friends, and soon reached the state of Thautapan. The fox has been since Dewadat, Menandza, the religious, the object of the lecture, Menandza’s sister, Oopalawon; his wife, Kema; his mother, Yathaudara; his father, Phralaong.

THE JACKAL AND THE HUNTER.

2. When the most excellent Phra was in the Weloowon monastery, alluding to Dewadat, who aimed at harming him, he spoke as follows: “At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was then a jackal, presiding over 500 other jackals of his own tribe. His dwelling-place was in a cemetery. One day it happened that the inhabitants of Radzagio made a great feast, where every one ate and drank as much as he liked. The repast was nearly over when some one asked for a last piece of meat, to give the finishing-stroke to his appetite. He was told that not the smallest morsel remained. On hearing this unwelcome news, he rose up, laying hold of a wooden club, and went straight to the cemetery. Then stretching himself on the ground, he lay down as if dead. Phralaong, cautiously drawing near to the pretended dead body, smelt it from a becoming distance, and soon discovered the snare laid for him. Coming up close to him, he suddenly seized the club with his teeth, pulling it with all his might. The young man did not let go his hold. The animal, withdrawing, said to the hunter: “Young man, I perceive now that you are not dead.” The hunter, goaded with shame and anger, rose up, and with more energy than dexterity flung his club at the jackal; but he missed him. “Go away,” said he, “wretched beast; you may boast that you have escaped this time.” “Yes,” mildly replied the jackal; “I have been saved from your club; but no one shall ever be able to preserve you from the punishment in the eight great hells.” Having thus spoken, he soon disappeared. The young man, having washed away in the ditch the dust that covered him, walked back, quite disappointed, into the town. The hunter was the same that subsequently became Dewadat. As to the jackal, he is the same that has since become Buddha.

THE PIGEON AND THE HUNTER.

3. When Phra was in the Dzetawon monastery, desiring to give instruction to the young son of a nobleman, named Ootara, he spoke as follows. At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was a pigeon. There was then a man in that country who was wont to catch pigeons, bring them to his house, and carefully feed them until they became fat, when he then sold them at a high rate. Together with other pigeons, Phralaong was caught and brought over to the house. But he would not peck the grain that was spread before him. “Should I eat,” said he to himself, “I will soon get fat, and then be sold like others.” He soon became wretchedly thin. Surprised at this, the hunter took the pigeon out of the cage, placed it on the palm of his hand to examine it more closely and find the cause of its great leanness. Phralaong, watching the opportunity of a favourable moment when the attention of his guardian was called to some other object, flew away to his own old place, leaving the hunter quite vexed at and ashamed of his confiding simplicity. The hunter is in these days Dewadat; and the pigeon is now Buddha himself.

Here is the abridgment of two stories, well known to the readers of fables.

4. When Phralaong was a deer, he became intimate friend with the bird khaoukshia and a turtle. On a certain night it happened that a hunter having laid down his net, the deer was caught. A tortoise that was near to the place came and bit the net; the deer then soon made his escape from the dangerous position he was in. Whilst this was going on the friendly khaoukshia, perceiving the danger his friend was in, amused the hunter by flying right and left close to him, to retard his progress towards the place where the net was laid. Mad at the escape of the deer, he seized the turtle and thrust her into his bag. But the wily bird contrived by its peckings to make a large hole in the bag, and the tortoise too made her escape.

5. One day Phralaong, being then a husbandman, observed once, to his great surprise, that a lion of an uncommon size paid frequent visits to his rice field, and ate and destroyed many of the young plants. On a certain occasion he examined closely the intruder, and perceiving the extremities of his feet, he discovered that the pretended lion was but a colt that had clothed himself in a lion’s skin.

NEMI.

When the most excellent Buddha was in the country of Mitila, he went, attended by a great many Rahans, to the monastery of Meggadawa, situated in the middle of a beautiful grove of mango trees. He spoke as follows to the assembly: “Beloved Bickus, in former times I lived in this very place where we are now congregated, and was the ruler of the country of Mitila.” He then remained silent. Ananda respectfully entreated him to condescend to narrate to them some of the principal events that happened at that time. Buddha assented to the request, and said: “Formerly there reigned at Mitila a prince named Minggadewa. During 82,000 years he remained a prince, and spent all his time in the enjoyment of all sorts of pleasure; he was crown prince of that country during the same space of time, and reigned as king during a similar period.”

On a certain day the barber of the king having detected a grey hair on the royal head, exhibited it to his astonished regards. The king, struck at such a sight, soon understood that this object was the forerunner of death. He gave up the throne, and resolved to become a Rahan. Having put into execution his resolve, he practised with the greatest zeal the highest virtues, and after his death migrated to one of the fortunate seats of Brahmas. The 82,000 princes who succeeded him followed his footsteps, inherited his virtues, and after their demise obtained a place in the same seat.

Prince Minggadewa, who had opened the way to such a succession of pious monarchs, perceiving that his race was near being extinct, left the seat of Brahmas and took flesh in the womb of the queen of the king who then governed Mitila. On the tenth month the queen was delivered of a son, who received the name of Nemi. The pounhas who were invited to the palace to tell the horoscope of the royal child assured the king that this child would follow the example of all his predecessors who had left the throne and embraced the profession of Rahans.

From his tender age the young prince displayed the most liberal and pious dispositions in making abundant alms, and fervently observing all the religious practices. All the inhabitants of that kingdom followed his example, and when some one died, he migrated to one of the Nats’ seats. During those happy times, hell seemed to have become quite unnecessary.

On a certain day Nemi appeared to be most anxious to know which was the most excellent practice, the bestowing of alms, or the observance of the precepts. The great Thagia came down from his glorious seat, encompassed with an incomparably shining brightness, and went to the place where the prince was busy revolving this thought in his mind. The angelical visitor told him that the bestowing of alms could only procure an admittance into the seats of Nats, but that a perfect compliance with the ordinances of the law opened the way to the seats of Brahmas. As soon as he had given his decision, he returned to his blissful seat. On his arrival he found crowds of Nats given up to rejoicings. The Thagia gave them a detailed narrative of all that he had seen on earth during his errand, and in particular eulogised at great length the religious dispositions of Prince Nemi. Enraptured with the heart-moving description they heard, all the Nats at once exclaimed that they wished to see in their seats so accomplished and virtuous a prince. The Thagia commanded a young Nat, named Matali, to have his carriage ready, depart for the country of Mitila, and bring to this fortunate seat the ruler of that country. Matali, bowing before the Thagia, forthwith left the seat of Nats in a magnificent chariot. It was then the day of the full moon, when all the inhabitants of Mitila were busily engaged in discharging their prescribed religious duties. On a sudden there appeared, issuing from the east, the magnificent and bright equipage of the Nat, splendidly emerging from the bosom of clouds at the same time as the moon in its full. Surprised at such an unexpected sight, all wondered, and believed that two moons were miraculously rising on that occasion. They were soon undeceived by the nearer approach of Matali’s carriage. The messenger went to the king, and conveyed to him the intelligence that the Nats were exceedingly anxious to see him. Without a moment’s hesitation the king stepped into the carriage, and abandoned himself to the guidance of his heavenly guide. “Two roads are now opened before us,” said Matali, “the one through the dismal dungeons, where the wicked are consigned to undergo punishment for their offences, and the other through the blissful seats, where the good are enjoying the rewards allotted to them for their virtues. Which of the two do you wish to follow?” The prince said that he wished to visit both places. Matali answered in a mild tone of voice that his request should be complied with.

The celestial guide directed his rapid course through the regions of desolation, where dwells an eternal horror. The first object they met with was a broad and deep river, filled with frightful whirlpools, where the water seemed as if boiling. It was glowing like a flame, and the whole mass of water appeared like a lake of fire. The river is called Wattoorani. On the banks of that river stand the infernal ministers, armed with all sorts of sharp-edged instruments, cutting, wounding, piercing the unfortunate wretches, who try to get out of that horrible and burning water. They are forcibly pushed again into the same place of torments, and tumble over pointed darts, whence they are taken up and roasted on living coals. Nothing is heard but the horrifying howlings and yells of those unfortunate beings, who are waiting with the greatest impatience the moment of their deliverance. “What are the crimes,” asked the terrified prince, “that have committed the unfortunate inhabitants of this place to undergo such unheard-of sufferings?” “They are,” replied Matali, “the persecutors of the weak, the heartless oppressors of the poor, &c., who are doomed to undergo such punishments.” Thence the guide drove rapidly to another place, where dogs, each with five hideous heads, famished eagles, and devouring crows, fed with a ravenous hunger on the bodies of unfortunate victims, the flesh of which is incessantly reproduced to afford a continual prey to these never-satiated ferocious animals. “These,” said Matali, “suffer for having done no good to their fellow-creatures, for preventing others to do some, and for having borne envy to their neighbours.”

Here follows a long description of the other places of hell, given to Nemi by his celestial guide. We omit it, lest its tedious and revolting particulars tire and disgust the reader. Suffice it to mention that the torments of Tantalus are described here with a horrifying correctness, such as almost casts into the shade the description given to us by the Latin poet.

Having ranged the various regions of hell, and heard all the particulars given to him by Matali, Nemi was suddenly brought over to the beautiful, smiling, and blissful seats of the blessed. He soon descried at a distance the celebrated palace, made of diamonds, disposed in an immense square of twelve youdzanas on each side, and five stories high; then the garden, the tank, and the padetha tree. In that palace Biranee occupied a splendid apartment; she was then lying on a soft sofa, surrounded by more than a thousand beauties. “What good works,” asked Nemi, “has Biranee practised, to deserve such a magnificent reward?” Matali replied, “This daughter of Nats was formerly a slave in the house of a pounha. She was always very attentive to all the duties of her position, and at the same time regularly observed the precepts of the law. On a certain day her mistress, who was wont to feed eight Rahans daily, fell into a fit of anger, and said that she was unable to bear any longer the fatigue attending the maintenance of these religious. But the young slave, full of religious zeal, took upon herself the labour of feeding the Rahans. For this good and meritorious work she is enjoying the happiness of her present position.”

Nemi was successively led into the various seats of the inhabitants of those blissful regions, and his guide explained at great length the good works that had procured to each of them the respective happy situation which they enjoyed, and occasionally mentioned the period of time they were allowed to dwell in those abodes of unparalleled happiness. He was finally introduced to the presence of the great Thagia, who is the chief of all Nats. Having finished the survey of all the seats of Nats, Nemi was brought back to the seat of men in his own capital by the same celestial guide.

On his return Nemi saw himself surrounded by his pious subjects, who eagerly inquired of him all the particulars respecting his journey. He minutely explained to them all that he had seen both in the region of hell and in those of Nats, and concluded by exhorting his people to be liberal in bestowing alms, that they might hereafter be admitted to share in the enjoyment of the Nats’ happiness.

Nemi, perceiving that his hairs were turning grey, became still more zealous in the practice of alms-deeds, and resolved to embrace the profession of Rahans. But previous to his taking such a step he had his son Ralaradzana appointed to succeed him. With that prince terminated the long succession of kings who in the decline of their lives became Rahans.