The first of these avatars has reference to that general deluge of which all nations have preserved some traditions. Vishnu, we are told, metamorphosed himself into a fish.
The second incarnation is that of Kourma, or the tortoise. The gods and the giants, wishing to obtain immortality by eating amourdon, delicious butter, formed in one of the seven seas of the universe, which the Indians call sea of milk, transported, by Vishnu's advice, the mountain of Mandreguivi into that sea: they twisted round it the serpent Adissechen, and alternately pulling, some by his hundred heads, others by the tail, they made the mountain turn round in such a manner, as to agitate the sea and to convert it into butter; but they pulled with such rapidity, that Adissechen, overcome with weakness, could no longer endure it. His body shuddered; his hundred trembling mouths made the universe resound with hisses; a torrent of flames burst from his eyes; his hundred black pendent tongues palpitated, and vomited forth a deadly poison, which immediately spread all around. The gods and giants betook themselves to flight. Vishnu, bolder than the rest, took the poison, and with it rubbed his body, which became quite blue. It is in memory of this event, that this colour is given to his image in almost all the temples.
The gods and the giants, encouraged by Vishnu's example, fell to work again. After they had laboured a thousand years, the mountain was on the point of sinking in the sea, when Vishnu, in the form of a tortoise, quickly placed himself beneath, and supported it. At length they saw the cow Camadenu, the horse with seven heads, and the elephant with three trunks, coming out of the sea of milk; also the tree calpaga vrutcham; Lacshmi, goddess of riches, wife of Vishu; Saraswadi, goddess of the sciences and of harmony, married to Brama; Mondevi, goddess of discord and misery, whom nobody would have, and who is represented riding on an ass, and holding in her hand a banner, on which a raven is delineated; and, lastly, Danouvandri, the physician, carrying a vessel full of amourdon, which the gods instantly seized, and greedily devoured, without leaving a morsel. The giants, disappointed in their expectations, dispersed over the earth, prevented mankind from paying worship to the gods, and strove to obtain adoration for themselves. Their insolence occasioned the subsequent incarnations of Vishnu, who endeavoured to destroy this race, so inimical to the gods. He is adored in this second metamorphosis, by the name of Kourma Avatara. The followers of Vishnu believe that this god, though omnipresent, resides more particularly in the vaicondom, his paradise, amidst the sea of milk, reclined, in contemplative slumber, on the serpent Adissechen, which serves him for a throne: in this state he is called Siranguan. In all the temples of Vishnu is to be seen the figure of this god; but as the serpent on which he lies cannot be represented with his hundred heads, he is delineated with only five.
There are altogether ten incarnations of Vishnu; nine of these have already been fulfilled, and one is yet to be manifested, it is expected about ninety thousand years hence. The account of many of the transformations is exceedingly extraordinary, but we have room for no more than the one we have given.
ORIGIN OF LONG-TOED SHOES.
Long-toed shoes were invented by Fulk, Count of Anjou, to hide an excrescence on one of his feet. These toes were so long as to be fastened to the knees with gold chains, and carved at the extreme point with the representation of a church window, a bird, or some fantastic device.
THE HOUSE OF HEN'S FEATHERS.
There exists at Pekin a phalanstery which surpasses in eccentricity all that the fertile imagination of Fourier could have conceived. It is called Ki-mao-fan—that is, "House of the Hen's Feathers." By dint of carrying out the laws of progress, the Chinese have found means to furnish to the poorest of the community a warm feather-bed, for the small consideration of one-fifth of a farthing per night. This marvellous establishment is simply composed of one great hall, and the floor of this great hall is covered over its whole extent by one vast thick layer of feathers. Mendicants and vagabonds who have no other domicile come to pass the night in this immense dormitory. Men, women, and children, old and young, all without exception, are admitted. Communism prevails in the full force and rigour of the expression. Every one settles himself and makes his nest as well as he can for the night in this ocean of feathers; when day dawns he must quit the premises, and an officer of the company stands at the door to receive the rent of one sapeck each for the night's lodging. In deference no doubt to the principle of equality, half-places are not allowed, and a child must pay the same as a grown person.
On the first establishment of this eminently philanthropic and moral institution, the managers of it used to furnish each of the guests with a covering, but it was found necessary to modify this regulation, for the communist company got into the habit of carrying off their coverlets to sell them, or to supply an additional garment during the rigorous cold of winter. The shareholders saw that this would never do, and they should be ruined, yet to give no covering at all would have been too cruel, and scarcely decent. It was necessary therefore to find some method of reconciling the interests of the establishment with the comfort of the guests, and the way in which the problem was solved was this. An immense felt coverlet, of such gigantic dimensions as to cover the whole dormitory, was made, and in the day time suspended from the ceiling like a great canopy. When everybody had gone to bed, that is to say, had lain down upon the feathers, the counterpane was let down by pulleys; the precaution having been previously taken to make a number of holes in it for the sleepers to put their heads through, in order to escape the danger of suffocation. As soon as it is daylight, the phalansterian coverlet is hoisted up again, after a signal has been made on the tam-tam to awaken those who are asleep, and invite them to draw their heads back into the feathers, in order not to be caught by the neck and hoisted into the air with the coverlet. This immense swarm of beggars is then seen crawling about in the sea of dirty feathers, and inserting themselves again into their miserable rags, preparatory to gathering into groups, and dispersing about the various quarters of the town to seek by lawful or unlawful means their scanty subsistence.