THE GRATITUDE OF ANIMALS

From the Jataka,' No. 124

OIL on, my brother." This story was told by the Master while

"To at Jetavana, about a good brahman belonging to a noble

Savatthi family who gave his heart to the Truth, and, joining the Brotherhood, became constant in all duties. Blameless in his attendance on teachers; scrupulous in the matter of foods and drinks; zealous in the performance of the duties of the chapterhouse, bath-house, and so forth; perfectly punctual in the observance of the fourteen major and of the eighty minor disciplines; he used to sweep the monastery, the cells, the cloisters, and the path leading to their monastery, and gave water to thirsty folk. And because of his great goodness, folk gave regularly five hundred meals a day to the brethren; and great gain and honor accrued to the monastery, the many prospering for the virtues of one. And one day in the Hall of Truth the brethren fell to talking of how that brother's goodness had brought them gain and honor, and filled many lives with joy. Entering the Hall, the Master asked, and was told, what their talk was about. "This is not the first time, brethren," said he, "that this brother has been regular in the fulfillment of duties. In days gone

by, five hundred hermits going out to gather fruits were supported on the fruits that his goodness provided." So saying, he told this story of the past.

ONCE on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Future Buddha was born a brahman in the North, and growing up, renounced the world and dwelt with a following of five hundred hermits at the foot of the mountains. In those days there came a great drought upon the Himalaya country, and everywhere the water was dried up, and sore distress fell upon all beasts. Seeing the poor creatures suffering from thirst, one of the hermits cut down a tree, which he hollowed into a trough; and this trough he filled with all the water he could find. In this way he gave the animals to drink. And they came in herds and drank and drank, till the hermit had no time left to go and gather fruits for himself. Heedless of his own hunger, he worked away to quench the animals' thirst. Thought they to themselves, "So wrapt up is this hermit in ministering to our wants that he leaves himself no time to go in quest of fruits. He must be very hungry. Let us agree that every one of us who comes here to drink must bring such fruits as he can to the

hermit." This they agreed to do, every animal that came bringing mangoes or rose-apples or bread-fruits or the like, till their offerings would have filled two hundred and fifty wagons; and there was food for the whole five hundred hermits, with abundance to spare. Seeing this, the Future Buddha exclaimed, "Thus has one man's goodness been the means of supplying with food all these hermits. Truly, we should always be steadfast in rightdoing." So saying, he uttered this stanza:

Toil on, my brother; still in hope stand fast,

Nor let thy courage flag and tire:

Forget not him, who by his grievous fast

Reaped fruits beyond his heart's desire.

Such was the teaching of the Great Being to the band of hermits.

His lesson ended, the Master identified the Birth by saying:"This brother was the good hermit of those days, and I the hermits' master."

"FOR

THE DULLARD AND THE PLOW-SHAFT

From the Jataka,' No. 123

OR universal application." This story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about the Elder, Laludayi, who is said to have had a knack of always saying the wrong thing. He never knew the proper occasion for the several teachings. For instance, if it was a festival, he would croak out the gloomy text,

"Without the walls they lurk, and where four cross-roads meet."

If it was a funeral, he would burst out with.

or with

"Joy filled the hearts of gods and men,»

«Oh, may you see a hundred, nay, a thousand such glad days!»

Now one day the brethren in the Hall of Truth commented on his singular infelicity of subject, and his knack of always saying the wrong thing. As they sat talking, the Master entered, and in answer to his question was told the subject of their talk. "Brethren," said he, "this is not the first time that Laludayi's folly has made him say the wrong thing. He has always been as inept as now." So saying, he told this story of the past.

ONCE on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Future Buddha was born into a rich brahman's family; and when he grew up, after acquiring all the liberal arts at Takkasila, he became a world-renowned professor at Benares, with five hundred young brahmans to instruct. At the time of our story there was among the young brahmans one who always had foolish notions in his head and always said the wrong thing; he was engaged with the rest in learning the Scriptures as a pupil, but because of his folly could not master them. He was the devoted attendant of the Future Buddha, and ministered to him like a slave.

Now one day after supper the Future Buddha laid himself on his bed, and there was washed and perfumed by the young brahman on hands, feet, and back. And as the youth turned to go away, the Future Buddha said to him, " Prop up the feet of my bed before you go." And the young brahman propped up the feet of the bed on one side all right, but could not find anything to prop it up with on the other side. Accordingly he used his leg as a prop, and passed the night so. When the Future Buddha got up in the morning and saw the young brahman, he asked why he was sitting there. "Master," said the young man, "I could not find one of the bed supports; so I've got my leg under to prop it up instead.”

Moved at these words, the Future Buddha thought, "What devotion! And to think it should come from the veriest dullard of all my pupils. Yet how can I impart learning to him?” And the thought came to him that the best way was to question the young brahman on his return from gathering firewood and leaves, as to something he had seen or done that day; and then to ask what it was like. "For," thought the Master, "this will lead him on to making comparisons and giving reasons, and the continuous practice of comparing and reasoning on his part will enable me to impart learning to him."

Accordingly he sent for the young man, and told him always on his return from picking up firewood and leaves, to say what he had seen or eaten or drunk. And the young man promised he would. So one day, having seen a snake when out with the other pupils picking up wood in the forest, he said, "Master, I saw a snake."-"What did it look like?"—"Oh, like the shaft of a plow."-"That is a very good comparison. Snakes are like the shafts of plows," said the Future Buddha, who began. to have hopes that he might at last succeed with his pupil.

Another day the young brahman saw an elephant in the forest, and told his master.-"And what is an elephant like?". "Oh, like the shaft of a plow." His master said nothing; for he thought that as the elephant's trunk and tusks bore a certain resemblance to the shaft of a plow, perhaps his pupil's stupidity made him speak thus generally (though he was thinking of the trunk in particular) because of his inability to go into accurate detail.

A third day he was invited to eat sugar-cane, and duly told his master.- "And what is a sugar-cane like?" "Oh, like the shaft of a plow."-"That is scarcely a good comparison," thought his master, but said nothing.

Another day, again, the pupils were invited to eat molasses with curds and milk, and this too was duly reported.— “And what are curds and milk like?"—"Oh, like the shaft of a plow." Then the master thought to himself, "This young man was perfectly right in saying a snake was like the shaft of a plow; and was more or less right, though not accurate, in saying an elephant and a sugar-cane had the same similitude. But milk and curds (which are always white in color) take the shape of whatever vessel they are placed in; and here he missed the comparison entirely. This dullard will never learn." So saying, he uttered this stanza:

"For universal application he

Employs a term of limited import.

Plow-shaft and curds to him alike unknown,

The fool asserts the two things are the same."

His lesson ended, the Master identified the Birth by saying:"Laludayi was the dullard of those days, and I the world-renowned professor."

THE WIDOW'S MITE

From the Jataka,' No. 109

S FARES his worshiper."— This story was told by the Master when at Savatthi, about a very poor man.

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Now at Savatthi the Brotherhood, with the Buddha at their head, used to be entertained now by a single family, now by three or four families together. Or a body of people or a whole street would club together, or sometimes the whole city entertained them. But on the occasion now in question it was a street that was showing the hospitality. And the inhabitants had arranged to provide rice gruel, followed by cakes.

Now in that street there lived a very poor man, a hired laborer, who could not see how he could give the gruel, but resolved to give cakes. And he scraped out the red powder from empty husks, and kneaded it with water into a round cake. This cake he wrapped in a leaf of swallow-wort and baked it in the embers. When it was done, he made up his mind that none but the Buddha should have it, and accordingly took his stand immediately by the Master. No sooner had the word been given to offer cakes, than he stepped forward quicker than any one else and put his cake in the Master's almsbowl. And the Master declined all other cakes offered him, and ate the poor man's cake. Forthwith the whole city talked of nothing but how the All-Enlightened One had not disdained to eat the poor man's bran-cake. And from porters to nobles and King, all classes flocked to the spot, saluted the Master, and crowded round the poor man, offering him food, or two to five hundred pieces of money, if he would make over to them the merit of his act.

Thinking he had better ask the Master first, he went to him and stated his case. "Take what they offer," said the Master, "and impute your righteousness to all living creatures." So the man set to work to collect the offerings. Some gave twice as much as others, some four times as much, others eight times as much, and so on, till nine crores of gold were contributed.

Returning thanks for the hospitality, the Master went back to the monastery, and after instructing the brethren and imparting his blessed teaching to them, retired to his perfumed chamber.

In the evening the King sent for the poor man, and created him Lord Treasurer.

Assembling in the Hall of Truth, the brethren spoke together of how the Master, not disdaining the poor man's bran-cake, had eaten it as though it were ambrosia; and how the poor man had been enriched and made Lord Treasurer, to his great good fortune. And when the Master entered the Hall and heard what they were talking of, he said, "Brethren, this is not the first time that I have not disdained to eat that poor man's cake of bran. I did the same when I was a Tree-sprite, and then too was the means of his being made Lord Treasurer." So saying, he told this story of the past.

ONCE on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Future Buddha was a Tree-sprite dwelling in a castor-oil plant. And the villagers of those days were superstitious about gods. A festival came round, and the villagers offered sacrifices to their respective Tree-sprites. Seeing this, a poor man showed worship to the castor-oil tree. All the others had come with garlands, odors, perfumes, and cakes; but the poor man had only a cake of husk-powder and water in a cocoanut shell for his tree.