of the Nat having made a short and easy road, they arrived at the Getavana monastery the same evening; here Kakkhupāla, hearing sounds of Brahminical shells1 and elephants, asked what it was, when he was astonished to hear that he was in the Savatthi country. "Why," said he, "when I came here formerly I was a very long time on the journey."-"Yes," replied the Nat, "but you see I knew a short cut." Then the Rahanda knew that this must be the Nat-King.

The Sakka Nat-King having conducted Kakkhupāla to the monastery where he formerly resided, created for him a numerous company of Rahans to be his associates, and then went to Kulla-pāla to acquaint him with his brother's arrival. Kulla-pāla went at once to the monastery, and when he saw his brother, he fell down, and embraced his feet and wept, saying, "Oh, my Lord, although I could not foresee this misfortune, did I not try to prevent you from becoming a Rahan?" then he made two of his slaves probationers for the priesthood, and ordered them to attend upon him.

Some time after this some village Rahans, who were going to contemplate Parā Taken, and were passing from monastery to monastery, arrived near Kakkhupāla's residence, and were going to contemplate the Rahanda when very heavy rain came on, which compelled them to defer their visit till the morrow. The rain did not cease till midnight, and in the early morning, as Kakkhupāla was walking up and down his verandah, earnestly engaged in his duties, the insects which had come out of the ground, owing to its being damp from the previous rain, were constantly being crushed

1 A sort of trumpet.

by his footsteps. When the Rahans arrived, and saw in the verandah all the dead insects, they asked who had been walking there, and on hearing that it was Kakkhupāla, they reviled him, saying, "When he had his sight he would never walk up and down his verandah, but was always lying down; but now that he is blind he has taken to walking there, and destroys numbers of lives." Not satisfied with abusing him, they went to Parā Taken, and told him how Kakkhupāla destroyed insects by walking in his verandah. Parā Taken asked them if they had seen him killing them, and they said they had not. "Well," said Para Taken, you did not see him kill the insects, neither did he see the insects; a Rahanda's heart can never wish for the destruction of life." Then the Rahans said, "Lord and God, how comes it that although he is a Rahanda, he is blind?" Para Taken replied, "Rahans! Kakkhupāla's blindness is the consequence of sins committed in a previous existence." The Rahans asked what these sins had been, and Parā Taken continued, "Rahans! this Kakkhupāla a long time ago was a doctor in Benares, and was in the habit of wandering through the different towns and villages practising medicine. Seeing one day a woman suffering from blindness, he said to her, 'If I cure your eyes, what will you give to me?' She replied,

If you really give me back my sight, my sons, my daughters, and myself shall all be your slaves.' The doctor agreed to this, and with one application of his medicine restored her sight. The woman, however, being afraid of being enslaved with her whole family, pretended to be still blind; and when the doctor came and asked her if she was cured, she replied that she

could not yet sec, and that her eyes were more painful even than before. The doctor, enraged at her deceit, went home to procure some medicine which should make her blind again, and told his wife about it; his wife said nothing, and the doctor applied the medicine and rendered the woman again totally blind. Kakkhupāla Mahāthera was that doctor; his sin followed steadily behind him, just as the cart-wheel follows the draught bullock."

THE END OF THE STORY OF KAKKHUPALA MAHATHERA.

CHAPTER II.

STORY OF MADDHAKUNDALI.

PARA TAKEN, while he was in the Savatthi country, preached the law as follows, giving as an illustration of it an account of the Thuthe's1 son, Maddhakundali.

In the Savatthi country there lived a Thuthe named Adinnapubbaka; he was called by this name because he would never give away anything to any one. This Thuthe had an only son, whom he loved very dearly, but he was so niggardly that, rather than pay a goldsmith for his work, he made him a pair of earrings2 with his own hands, and on that account his son received the name of Maddhakundali.

One day Maddhakundali became very seriously ill, when his father, fearing the expense of medicine and attendance, shut the boy up in the house, in order that no one should know anything about it; the

The same as Thugyuè, one of the wealthy class.

2 The earrings worn by the Burmese are hollow cylinders of gold, about one and a half inches long and three-quarters of an inch in diameter, thrust into the lobe of the ear; for this purpose the lobe of the ear is pierced in the ordinary manner, and the aperture gradually enlarged by introducing substances constantly but by very slow degrees increasing in size. These earrings are worn by both men and women.

mother, seeing the child so ill, begged him to send for a doctor, but the Thuthe cried out, "Woman! would you squander all my wealth?" Then he went himself to a doctor, and, explaining the symptoms of the discase, asked him what remedy should be employed: the doctor, seeing what a hard man he was, told him that the root and bark of the Hu-Hu-NyāNya tree would be beneficial. The Thuthe went home and treated the invalid as he had been directed, but the disease increased in severity, and became beyond all remedy; then, when it was too late, he sent for the doctor. The doctor, the moment he saw the lad, knew at once that there was no hope, so he said, "I am very busy just now, and have no time to attend to this case; you had better send for some one else." The Thuthe then, fearing that all his relatives and friends might get a sight of his wealth, had the boy carried into one of the outer rooms of the house.1

This means that the miser was afraid that if the boy died, the people, who would be sure to come and see the corpse the moment they heard of the death, would, if it were laid out in any of the principal rooms, observe his plate, jewels, etc. These alone constitute the wealth of the Burmese, who rarely, if ever, hoard actual money, but keep all their property in the more portable form of gold and jewels.

His expectation of being inundated with visitors alludes to the way of conducting the funeral ceremonies in Burmah, which bear a very strong resemblance to an Irish wake. The moment that the breath has left the body all the people in the house (but more especially the women) raise the most fearful shrieks; as soon as the first paroxysms of grief have passed away, they send invitations to all their friends and neighbours to attend the ceremonies. These come at once in great numbers, with a band of music and a party of professional mourners hired for the occasion. The nearest relative sits at the head of the corpse, eulogies of the