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.