a great river, and pour out such a torrent, that it will be able to take a kingdom and give it to you.'

And Sakka went away. But thenceforward the hatchet made fire for the eldest hermit; when the second struck one side of his drum, the elephants ran away; and the third enjoyed his curds.

Now at that time a wild boar, straying in a forsaken village, saw a gem of magical power. When he seized this in his mouth, he rose by its magic into the air, and went to an island in the midst of the ocean. Then thinking, "Here now I ought to live," he descended, and took up his abode in a convenient spot under an Udumbara-tree. And one day, placing the gem before him, he fell asleep at the foot of the tree.

Now a certain man of the land of Kasi had been expelled from home by his parents, who said, "This fellow is of no use to us." So he went to a seaport, and embarked in a ship as a servant to the sailors. And the ship was wrecked; but by the help of a plank he reached that very island. And while he was looking about for fruits, he saw the boar asleep; and going softly up, he took hold of the gem.

Then by its magical power he straightway rose right up into the air! So, taking a seat on the Udumbara-tree, he said to himself, "Methinks this boar must have become a sky-walker through the magic power of this gem. That's how he came to be living here! It's plain enough what I ought to do; first of all I'll kill and eat him, and then I can get away!"

So he broke a twig off the tree and dropped it on his head. The boar woke up, and not seeing the gem, ran about, trembling, this way and that way. The man seated on the tree laughed. The boar, looking up, saw him, and dashing his head against the tree, died on the spot. But the man descended, cooked his flesh, ate it and rose into the air.

As he passed along the summit of the Himalaya range, he saw a hermitage; and descending at the hut of the eldest hermit, he stayed there two or three days and waited on the hermit; and thus became aware of the magic power of the

hatchet.

"I must get that," thought he. And he showed the hermit the magic power of his gem, and said, “Sir, do you take this and give me your hatchet." The ascetic, full of longing to be able to fly through the air,* did so. But the man, taking the hatchet, went a little way off and letting it go, said, "O hatchet! cut off that hermit's head and bring the gem to me!" And it went, and cut off the hermit's head and brought him the gem.

Then he put the hatchet in a secret place, and went to the second hermit, and stayed there a few days. And having thus become aware of the magic power of the drum, he exchanged the gem for the drum; and cut off this hermit's head too in the same way as before.

Then he went to the third hermit, and saw the magic power of the milk-bowl; and exchanging the gem for it, caused his head to be cut off in the same manner. And taking the Gem, and the Hatchet, and the Drum, and the Milkbowl, he flew away up into the air.

Not far from the city of Benares he stopped, and sent by the hand of a man a letter to the king of Benares to this effect, "Either do battle, or give me up your kingdom!" No sooner had the king heard that message, than he sallied forth, saying, "Let us catch the scoundrel!"

But the man beat one side of his drum, and a fourfold army stood around him! And directly he saw that the king's army was drawn out in battle array, he poured out his milkbowl; and a mighty river arose, and the multitude, sinking down in it, were not able to escape! Then letting go the hatchet, he said, "Bring me the king's head!" And the hatchet went, and brought the king's head, and threw it at his feet; and no one had time even to raise a weapon!

Then he entered the city in the midst of his great army, and caused himself to be anointed king, under the name of Dadhi-vahana (The Lord of Milk), and governed the kingdom with righteousness.

* It is a common belief in India that by extreme asceticism one may attain the power of passing to a distance through the air.

THE CRANE AND THE CRAB.

LONG ago the Bodisat [Buddha] was born to a forest life as the Genius of a tree standing near a certain lotus pond. Now at that time the water used to run short at the dry season in a certain pond, not over large, in which there were a good many fish. And a crane thought, on seeing the fish-"I must outwit these fish somehow or other and make a prey of them." And he went and sat down at the edge of the water, thinking how he should do it.

When the fish saw him, they asked him, "What are you sitting there for, lost in thought?”

"I am sitting thinking about you,” said he.

"O sir! what are you thinking about us?" said they. "Why," he replied; "there is very little water in this pond, and but little for you to eat; and the heat is so great! So I was thinking, 'What in the world will these fish do now?'"' "Yes, indeed, sir! what are we to do?" said they.

"If you will only do as I bid you, I will take you in my beak to a fine large pond, covered with all kinds of lotuses, and put you into it," answered the crane.

"That a crane should take thought for the fishes is a thing unheard of, sir, since the world began. It's eating us, one after the other, that you're aiming at!"

"Not I! So long as you trust me, I won't eat you. But if you don't believe me that there is such a pond, send one of you with me to go and see it."

Then they trusted him, and handed over to him one of their number—a big fellow, blind of one eye, whom they thought sharp enough in any emergency, afloat or ashore. Him the crane took with him, let him go in the pond, showed him the whole of it, brought him back and let him go again close to the other fish. And he told them all the glories of the pond. And when they heard what he said, they exclaimed, "All right, sir! You may take us with you."

Then the crane took the old purblind fish first to the bank of the other pond, and alighted in a Varana-tree growing on the bank there. But he threw it into a fork of the tree, struck

it with his beak and killed it; and then ate its flesh, and threw its bones away at the foot of the tree. Then he went back and called out

"I've thrown that fish in; let another come!"

And in that manner he took all the fish, one by one, and ate them, till he came back and found no more!

But there was still a crab left behind there; and the crane thought he would eat him too, and called out

"I say, good crab, I've taken all the fish away, and put them into a fine large pond. Come along. I'll take you too!" 'But how will you take hold of me to carry me along?" "I'll bite hold of you with my beak."

"You'll let me fall if you carry me like that. I won't go with you!"

"Don't be afraid! I'll hold you quite tight all the way." Then said the crab to himself, "If this fellow once got hold of fish, he would never let them go in a pond! Now if he should really put me into the pond, it would be capital; but if he doesn't-then I'll cut his throat and kill him!" So he said to him

"Look here, friend, you won't be able to hold me tight enough; but we crabs have a famous grip. If you let me catch hold of you round the neck with my claws, I shall be glad to go with you.”

And the other did not see that he was trying to outwit him and agreed. So the crab caught hold of his neck with his claws as securely as with a pair of blacksmith's pincers, and called out, "Off with you, now!"

And the crane took him and showed him the pond, and then turned off towards the Varana-tree.

"Uncle!" cried the crab, "the pond lies that way, but you are taking me this way!"

"Oh, that's it, is it?" answered the crane. "Your dear little uncle, you very sweet nephew, you call me! You mean me to understand, I suppose, that I am your slave, who has to lift you up and carry you about with him! Now cast your eye upon the heap of fish-bones lying at the root of yonder Varana-tree. Just as I have eaten those fish, every one of them, so I will devour you as well!"

"Ah! those fishes got eaten through their own stupidity," answered the crab; "but I'm not going to let you eat me. On the contrary, it is you that I am going to destroy. For you in your folly have not seen that I was outwitting you. If we die, we die both together; for I will cut off this head of yours, and cast it to the ground!" And so saying, he gave the crane's neck a grip with his claws, as with a vice.

Then gasping, and with tears trickling from his eyes, and trembling with the fear of death, the crane besought him, saying, "O my Lord! Indeed I did not intend to eat you. Grant me my life!"

"Well, well! step down into the pond and put me in there."

And he turned round and stepped down into the pond, and placed the crab on the mud at its edge. But the crab cut through his neck as clean as one would cut a lotus-stalk with a hunting-knife, and then only entered the water!

When the Genius who lived in the Varana-tree saw this strange affair, he made the wood resound with his plaudits, uttering in a pleasant voice the verse

"The villain, though exceeding clever,
Shall not prosper by his villany.

He may win indeed, sharp-witted in deceit,
But only as the Crane here from the Crab!"

THE BOOK OF GOOD COUNSEL.

THE Hitopadesa, or Book of Good Counsel, is the later Sanskrit version of the Jatakas, or Buddhist Birth-Stories. The constant references to the Buddha are omitted, and the book appears as a manual of instruction for princes. The sage Vishnu-Sarnam tells the sons of King Sadarsana tales and fables, interspersed with moral verses, to impress on them the proper rules of conduct and governing. The four grand divisions treat of the Winning of Friends, the Parting of Friends, War and Peace. The verses are thought to be older than the stories illustrating them, but of this there is no certainty.