CHAPTER CXXIV

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Then King Vikramáditya put this question to the friend of the young merchant, who came with him, "You said that you recovered your wife alive after she was dead; how could that be? Tell us, good sir, the whole story at length." When the king said this to the friend of the young merchant, the latter answered, "Listen, king, if you have any curiosity about it; I proceed to tell the story."

Story of Chandrasvámin who recovered his wife alive after her death.

I am a young Bráhman of the name of Chandrasvámin, living on that magnificent grant to Bráhmans, called Brahmasthala, and I have a beautiful wife in my house. One day I had gone to the village for some object, by my father's orders, and a kápálika, who had come to beg, cast eyes on that wife of mine. She caught a fever from the moment he looked at her, and in the evening she died. Then my relations took her, and put her on the pyre during the night. And when the pyre was in full blaze, I returned there from the village; and I heard what had happened from my family who wept before me.

Then I went near the pyre, and the kápálika came there with the magic staff dancing [813] on his shoulder, and the booming drum in his hand. He quenched the flume of the pyre, king, by throwing ashes on it, [814] and then my wife rose up from the midst of it uninjured. The kápálika took with him my wife who followed him, drawn by his magic power, and ran off quickly, and I followed him with my bow and arrows.

And when he reached a cave on the bank of the Ganges, he put the magic staff down on the ground, and said exultingly to two maidens who were in it, "She, without whom I could not marry you, though I had obtained you, has come into my possession; and so my vow has been successfully accomplished," [815] Saying this he shewed them my wife, and at that moment I flung his magic staff into the Ganges; and when he had lost his magic power by the loss of the staff, I reproached him, exclaiming, "Kápálika, as you wish to rob me of my wife, you shall live no longer." Then the scoundrel, not seeing his magic staff, tried to run away; but I drew my bow and killed him with a poisoned arrow. Thus do heretics, who feign the vows of Siva only for the pleasure of accomplishing nefarious ends, fall, though their sin has already sunk them deep enough.

Then I took my wife, and those other two maidens, and I returned home, exciting the astonishment of my relations. Then I asked those two maidens to tell me their history, and they gave me this answer, "We are the daughters respectively of a king and a chief merchant in Benares, and the kápálika carried us off by the same magic process by which he carried off your wife, and thanks to you we have been delivered from the villain without suffering insult." This was their tale; and the next day I took them to Benares, and handed them over to their relations, after telling what had befallen them. [816]

And as I was returning thence, I saw this young merchant, who had lost his wife, and I came here with him. Moreover, I anointed my body with an ointment that I found in the cave of the kápálika; and, observe, perfume still exhales from it, even though it has been washed.

"In this sense did I recover my wife arisen from the dead." When the Bráhman had told this story, the king honoured him and the young merchant, and sent them on their way. And then that king Vikramáditya, taking with him Gunavatí, Chandravatí, and Madanasundarí, and having met his own forces, returned to the city of Ujjayiní, and there he married Gunavatí and Chandravatí.

Then the king called to mind the figure carved on a pillar that he had seen in the temple built by Visvakarman, and he gave this order to the warder, "Let an ambassador be sent to Kalingasena to demand from him that maiden whose likeness I saw carved on the pillar." When the warder received this command from the king, he brought before him an ambassador named Suvigraha, and sent him off with a message.

So the ambassador went to the country of Kalinga, and when he had seen the king Kalingasena, he delivered to him the message with which he had been entrusted, which was as follows, "King, the glorious sovereign Vikramáditya sends you this command, 'You know that every jewel on the earth comes to me as my due; and you have a pearl of a daughter, so hand her over to me, and then by my favour you shall enjoy in your own realm an unopposed sway.'" When the king of Kalinga heard this, he was very angry, and he said, "Who is this king Vikramáditya? Does he presume to give me orders and ask for my daughter as a tribute? Blinded with pride he shall be cast down." When the ambassador heard this from Kalingasena, he said to him, "How can you, being a servant, dare to set yourself up against your master? You do not know your place. What, madman, do you wish to be shrivelled like a moth in the fire of his wrath?"

When the ambassador had said this, he returned and communicated to king Vikramáditya that speech of Kalingasena's. Then king Vikramáditya, being angry, marched out with his forces to attack the king of Kalinga, and the Vetála Bhútaketu went with him. As he marched along, the quarters, re-echoing the roar of his army, seemed to say to the king of Kalinga, "Surrender the maiden quickly," and so he reached that country. When king Vikramáditya saw the king of Kalinga ready for battle, he surrounded him with his forces; but then he thought in his mind, "I shall never be happy without this king's daughter; and yet how can I kill my own father-in-law? Suppose I have recourse to some stratagem."

When the king had gone through these reflections, he went with the Vetála, and by his supernatural power entered the bedchamber of the king of Kalinga at night, when he was asleep, without being seen. Then the Vetála woke up the king, and when he was terrified, said to him laughing, "What! do you dare to sleep, when you are at war with king Vikramáditya?" Then the king of Kalinga rose up, and seeing the monarch, who had thus shown his daring, standing with a terrible Vetála at his side, and recognising him, bowed trembling at his feet, and said, "King, I now acknowledge your supremacy; tell me what I am to do." And the king answered him, "If you wish to have me as your overlord, give me your daughter Kalingasená." Then the king of Kalinga agreed, and promised to give him his daughter, and so the monarch returned successful to his camp.

And the next day, queen, your father the king of Kalinga bestowed you on king Vishamasíla with appropriate ceremonies, and a splendid marriage-gift. Thus, queen, you were lawfully married by the king out of his deep love for you, and at the risk of his own life, and not out of any desire to triumph over an enemy.

"When I heard this story, my friends, from the mouth of the kárpatika Devasena, I dismissed my anger, which was caused by the contempt with which I supposed myself to have been treated. So, you see, this king was induced to marry me by seeing a likeness of me carved on a pillar, and to marry Malayavatí by seeing a painted portrait of her." In these words Kalingasená, the beloved wife of king Vikramáditya, described her husband's might, and delighted his other wives. Then Vikramáditya, accompanied by all of them, and by Malayavatí, remained delighting in his empire.

Then, one day, a Rájpút named Krishnasakti, who had been oppressed by the members of his clan, came there from the Dakkan. He went to the palace-gate surrounded by five hundred Rájpúts, and took on himself the vow of kárpatika to the king. And though the king tried to dissuade him, he made this declaration, "I will serve king Vikramáditya for twelve years." And he remained at the gate of the palace, with his followers, determined to carry out this vow, and while he was thus engaged, eleven years passed over his head.

And when the twelfth year came, his wife, who was in another land, grieved at her long separation from him, sent him a letter; and he happened to be reading this Áryá verse which she had written in the letter, at night, by the light of a candle, when the king, who had gone out in search of adventures, was listening concealed, "Hot, long, and tremulous, do these sighs issue forth from me, during thy absence, my lord, but not the breath of life, hard-hearted woman that I am!"

When the king had heard this read over and over again by the kárpatika, he went to his palace and said to himself, "This kárpatika, whose wife is in such despondency, has long endured affliction, and if his objects are not gained, he will, when this twelfth year is at an end, yield his breath. So I must not let him wait any longer." After going through these reflections, the king at once sent a female slave, and summoned that kárpatika. And after he had caused a grant to be written, he gave him this order, "My good fellow, go towards the northern quarter through Omkárapítha; there live on the proceeds of a village of the name of Khandavataka, which I give you by this grant; you will find it by asking your way as you go along."

When the king had said this, he gave the grant into his hands; and the kárpatika went off by night without telling his followers. He was dissatisfied, saying to himself, "How shall I be helped to conquer my enemies by a single village that will rather disgrace me? Nevertheless my sovereign's orders must be obeyed." So he slowly went on, and having passed Omkárapítha, he saw in a distant forest many maidens playing, and then he asked them this question, "Do you know where Khandavataka is?" When they heard that, they answered, "We do not know; go on further; our father lives only ten yojanas from here; ask him; he may perhaps know of that village."

When the maidens had said this to him, the kárpatika went on, and beheld their father, a Rákshasa of terrific appearance. He said to him, "Whereabouts here is Khandavataka? Tell me, my good fellow." And the Rákshasa, quite taken aback by his courage, said to him, "What have you got to do there? The city has been long deserted; but if you must go, listen; this road in front of you divides into two: take the one on the left hand, and go on until you reach the main entrance of Khandavataka, the lofty ramparts on each side of which make it attract the eye."

When the Rákshasa had told him this, he went on, and reached that main street, and entered that city, which, though of heavenly beauty, was deserted and awe-inspiring. And in it he entered the palace, which was surrounded with seven zones, and ascended the upper storey of it, which was made of jewels and gold. There he saw a gem-bestudded throne, and he sat down on it. Thereupon a Rákshasa came with a wand in his hand, and said to him, "Mortal, why have you sat down here on the king's throne?" When the resolute kárpatika Krishnasakti heard this, he said, "I am lord here; and you are tribute-paying house-holders whom king Vikramáditya has made over to me by his grant."

When the Rákshasa heard that, he looked at the grant, and bowing before him, said, "You are king here, and I am your warder; for the decrees of king Vikramáditya are binding everywhere." When the Rákshasa had said this, he summoned all the subjects, and the ministers and the king's retinue presented themselves there; and that city was filled with an army of four kinds of troops. And every one paid his respects to the kárpatika; and he was delighted, and performed his bathing and his other ceremonies with royal luxury.

Then, having become a king, he said to himself with amazement; "Astonishing truly is the power of king Vikramáditya; and strangely unexampled is the depth of his dignified reserve, in that he bestows a kingdom like this and calls it a village!" Full of amazement at this, he remained there ruling as a king: and Vikramáditya supported his followers in Ujjayiní.

And after some days this kárpatika become a king went eagerly to pay his respects to king Vikramáditya, shaking the earth with his army. And when he arrived and threw himself at the feet of Vikramáditya, that king said to him, "Go and put a stop to the sighs of your wife who sent you the letter." When the king despatched him with these words, Krishnasakti, full of wonder, went with his friends to his own land. There he drove out his kinsmen, and delighted his wife, who had been long pining for him; and having gained more even than he had ever wished for, enjoyed the most glorious royal fortune.

So wonderful were the deeds of king Vikramáditya.

Now one day he saw a Bráhman with every hair on his head and body standing on end; and he said to him, "What has reduced you, Bráhman, to this state?" Then the Bráhman told him his story in the following words:

Story of Devasvámin the permanently horripilant Bráhman.

There lived in Pátaliputra a Bráhman of the name of Agnisvámin, a great maintainer of the sacrificial fire; and I am his son, Devasvámin by name. And I married the daughter of a Bráhman who lived in a distant land, and because she was a child, I left her in her father's house. One day I mounted a mare, and went with one servant to my father-in-law's house to fetch her. There my father-in-law welcomed me; and I set out from his house with my wife, who was mounted on the mare, and had one maid with her.

And when we had got half way, my wife got off the mare, and went to the bank of the river, pretending that she wanted to drink water. And as she remained a long time without coming back, I sent the servant, who was with me, to the bank of the river to look for her. And as he also remained a long time without coming back, I went there myself, leaving the maid to take care of the mare. And when I went and looked, I found that my wife's mouth was stained with blood, and that she had devoured my servant, and left nothing of him but the bones. [817] In my terror I left her, and went back to find the mare, and lo! her maid had in the same way eaten that. Then I fled from the place, and the fright I got on that occasion still remains in me, so that even now I cannot prevent the hair on my head and body from standing on end. [818]

"So you, king, are my only hope." When the Bráhman said this, Vikramáditya by his sovereign fiat relieved him of all fear. Then the king said, "Out on it! One cannot repose any confidence in women, for they are full of daring wickedness." When the king said this, a minister remarked, "Yes, king! women are fully as wicked as you say. By the bye, have you not heard what happened to the Bráhman Agnisarman here?"

Story of Agnisarman. [819]

There lives in this very city a Bráhman named Agnisarman, the son of Somasarman; whom his parents loved as their life, but who was a fool and ignorant of every branch of knowledge. He married the daughter of a Bráhman in the city of Vardhamána; but her father, who was rich, would not let her leave his house, on the ground that she was a mere child.

And when she grew up, Agnisarman's parents said to him, "Son, why do you not now go and fetch your wife?" When Agnisarman heard that, the stupid fellow went off alone to fetch her, without taking leave of his parents. When he left his house a partridge appeared on his right hand, and a jackal howled on his left hand, a sure prophet of evil. [820] And the fool welcomed the omen saying, "Hail! Hail!" and when the deity presiding over the omen heard it, she laughed at him unseen. And when he reached his father-in-law's place, and was about to enter it, a partridge appeared on his right, and a jackal on his left, boding evil. And again he welcomed the omen, exclaiming "Hail! Hail!" and again the goddess of the omen, hearing it, laughed at him unseen. And that goddess presiding over the omen said to herself, "Why, this fool welcomes bad luck as if it were good! So I must give him the luck which he welcomes, I must contrive to save his life." While the goddess was going through these reflections, Agnisarman entered his father-in-law's house, and was joyfully welcomed. And his father-in-law and his family asked him, why he had come alone, and he answered them, "I came without telling any one at home."

Then he bathed and dined in the appropriate manner, and when night came on, his wife came to his sleeping apartment adorned. But he fell asleep fatigued with the journey; and then she went out to visit a paramour of hers, a thief, who had been impaled. But, while she was embracing his body, the demon that had entered it, bit off her nose; and she fled thence in fear. And she went and placed an unsheathed [821] dagger at her sleeping husband's side; and cried out loud enough for all her relations to hear, "Alas! Alas! I am murdered; this wicked husband of mine has got up and without any cause actually cut off my nose." When her relations heard that, they came, and seeing that her nose was cut off, they beat Agnisarman with sticks and other weapons. And the next day they reported the matter to the king, and by his orders they made him over to the executioners, to be put to death, as having injured his innocent wife.

But when he was being taken to the place of execution, the goddess presiding over that omen, who had seen the proceedings of his wife during the night, said to herself, "This man has reaped the fruit of the evil omens, but as he said, 'Hail! Hail!' I must save him from execution." Having thus reflected, the goddess exclaimed unseen from the air, "Executioners, this young Bráhman is innocent; you must not put him to death: go and see the nose between the teeth of the impaled thief." When she had said this, she related the proceedings of his wife during the night. Then the executioners, believing the story, represented it to the king by the mouth of the warder, and the king, seeing the nose between the teeth of the thief, remitted the capital sentence passed on Agnisarman, and sent him home; and punished that wicked wife, and imposed a penalty on her relations [822] also.

"Such, king, is the character of women." When that minister had said this, King Vikramáditya approved his saying, exclaiming, "So it is." Then the cunning Múladeva, who was near the king, said, "King, are there no good women, though some are bad? Are there no mango-creepers, as well as poisonous creepers? In proof that there are good women, hear what happened to me."

Story of Múladeva. [823]

I went once to Pátaliputra with Sasin, thinking that it was the home of polished wits, and longing to make trial of their cleverness. In a tank outside that city I saw a woman washing clothes, and I put this question to her, "Where do travellers stay here?" The old woman gave me an evasive answer, saying, "Here the Brahmany ducks stay on the banks, the fish in the water, the bees in the lotuses, but I have never seen any part where travellers stay." When I got this answer, I was quite nonplussed, and I entered the city with Sasin.

There Sasin saw a boy crying at the door of a house, with a warm [824] rice-pudding on a plate in front of him, and he said, "Dear me! this is a foolish child not to eat the pudding in front of him, but to vex himself with useless weeping." When the child heard this, he wiped his eyes, and said laughing, "You fools do not know the advantages I get by crying. The pudding gradually cools and so becomes nice, and another good comes out of it; my phlegm is diminished thereby. These are the advantages I derive from crying; I do not cry out of folly; but you country bumpkins are fools because you do not see what I do it for."

When the boy said this, Sasin and I were quite abashed at our stupidity, and we went away astonished to another part of the town. There we saw a beautiful young lady on the trunk of a mango-tree, gathering mangoes, while her attendants stood at its foot. We said to the young lady, "Give us also some mangoes, fair one." And she answered, "Would you like to eat your mangoes cold or hot?" When I heard that, I said to her, wishing to penetrate the mystery, "We should like, lovely one, to eat some warm ones first, and to have the others afterwards." When she heard this, she flung down some mango-fruits into the dust on the ground. We blew the dust off them and then ate them. Then the young lady and her attendants laughed, and she said to us, "I first gave you these warm mangoes, and you cooled them by blowing on them, and then ate them; catch these cool ones, which will not require blowing on, in your clothes." When she had said this, she threw some more fruits into the flaps of our garments.

We took them, and left that place thoroughly ashamed of ourselves. Then I said to Sasin and my other companions, "Upon my word I must marry this clever girl, and pay her out for the way in which she has made a fool of me; otherwise what becomes of my reputation for sharpness?" When I said this to them, they found out her father's house, and on a subsequent day we went there disguised so that we could not be recognised.

And while we were reading the Veda there, her father the Bráhman Yajnasvámin came up to us, and said, "Where do you come from?" We said to that rich and noble Bráhman, "We have come here from the city of Máyápurí to study;" thereupon he said to us, "Then stay the next four months in my house; shew me this favour, as you have come from a distant country." When we heard this, we said, "We will do what you say, Bráhman, if you will give us, at the end of the four months, whatever we may ask for." When we said this to Yajnasvámin, he answered, "If you ask for anything that it is in my power to give, I will certainly give it." When he made this promise, we remained in his house. And when the four months were at an end, we said to that Bráhman, "We are going away, so give us what we ask for, as you long ago promised to do." He said, "What is that?" Then Sasin pointed to me and said, "Give your daughter to this man, who is our chief." Then the Bráhman Yajnasvámin, being bound by his promise, thought, "These fellows have tricked me; never mind; there can be no harm in it; he is a deserving youth." So he gave me his daughter with the usual ceremonies.

And when night came, I said laughing to the bride in the bridal chamber, "Do you remember those warm and those cool mangoes?" When she heard this, she recognised me, and said with a smile, "Yes, country bumpkins are tricked in this way by city wits." Then I said to her, "Rest you fair, city wit; I vow that I the country bumpkin will desert you and go far away." When she heard this, she also made a vow, saying, "I too am resolved, for my part, that a son of mine by you shall bring you back again." When we had made one another these promises, she went to sleep with her face turned away, and I put my ring on her finger, while she was asleep. Then I went out, and joining my companions, started for my native city of Ujjayiní, wishing to make trial of her cleverness.

The Bráhman's daughter, not seeing me next morning, when she woke up, but seeing a ring on her finger marked with my name, said to herself, "So he has deserted me, and gone off; well, he has been as good as his word; and I must keep mine too, dismissing all regrets. And I see by this ring that his name is Múladeva; so no doubt he is that very Múladeva, who is so renowned for cunning. And people say that his permanent home is Ujjayiní; so I must go there, and accomplish my object by an artifice." When she had made up her mind to this, she went and made this false statement to her father, "My father, my husband has deserted me immediately after marriage; and how can I live here happily without him; so I will go on a pilgrimage to holy waters, and will so mortify this accursed body."

Having said this, and having wrung a permission from her unwilling father, she started off from her house with her wealth and her attendants. She procured a splendid dress suitable to a hetæra, and travelling along she reached Ujjayiní, and entered it as the chief beauty of the world. And having arranged with her attendants every detail of her scheme, that young Bráhman lady assumed the name of Sumangalá. And her servants proclaimed everywhere, "A hetæra named Sumangalá has come from Kámarúpa, and her goodwill is only to be procured by the most lavish expenditure."

Then a distinguished hetæra of Ujjayiní, named Devadattá, came to her, and gave her her own palace worthy of a king, to dwell in by herself. And when she was established there, my friend Sasin first sent a message to her by a servant, saying, "Accept a present from me which is won by your great reputation." But Sumangalá sent back this message by the servant, "The lover who obeys my commands may enter here: I do not care for a present, nor for other beast-like men." Sasin accepted the terms, and repaired at night-fall to her palace.

And when he came to the first door of the palace, and had himself announced, the door-keeper said to him, "Obey our lady's commands. Even though you may have bathed, you must bathe again here; otherwise you cannot be admitted." When Sasin heard this, he agreed to bathe again as he was bid. Then he was bathed and anointed all over by her female slaves, in private, and while this was going on, the first watch of the night passed away. When he arrived, having bathed, at the second door, the door-keeper said to him, "You have bathed; now adorn yourself appropriately." He consented, and thereupon the lady's female slaves adorned him, and meanwhile the second watch of the night came to an end. Then he reached the door of the third zone, and there the guards said to him, "Take a meal, and then enter." He said "Very well," and then the female slaves managed to delay him with various dishes until the third watch passed away. Then he reached at last the fourth door, that of the lady's private apartments, but there the door-keeper reproached him in the following words, "Away, boorish suitor, lest you draw upon yourself misfortune. Is the last watch of the night a proper time for paying the first visit to a lady?" When Sasin had been turned away in this contemptuous style by the warder, who seemed like an incarnation of untimeliness, he went away home with countenance sadly fallen.

In the same way that Bráhman's daughter, who had assumed the name of Sumangalá, disappointed many other visitors. When I heard of it, I was moved with curiosity, and after sending a messenger to and fro I went at night splendidly adorned to her house. There I propitiated the warders at every door with magnificent presents, and I reached without delay the private apartments of that lady. And as I had arrived in time I was allowed by the door-keepers to pass the door, and I entered and saw my wife, whom I did not recognise, owing to her being disguised as a hetæra. But she knew me again, and she advanced towards me, and paid me all the usual civilities, made me sit down on a couch, and treated me with the attentions of a cunning hetæra. Then I passed the night with that wife of mine, who was the most beautiful woman of the world, and I became so attached to her, that I could not leave the house in which she was staying.

She too was devoted to me, and never left my side, until, after some days, the blackness of the tips of her breasts shewed that she was pregnant. Then the clever woman forged a letter, and shewed it to me, saying, "The king my sovereign has sent me a letter: read it." Then I opened the letter and read as follows, "The august sovereign of the fortunate Kámarúpa, Mánasinha, sends thence this order to Sumangalá, 'Why do you remain so long absent? Return quickly, dismissing your desire of seeing foreign countries.'"

When I had read this letter, she said to me with affected grief, "I must depart; do not be angry with me; I am subject to the will of others." Having made this false excuse, she returned to her own city Pátaliputra: but I did not follow her, though deeply in love with her, as I supposed that she was not her own mistress.

And when she was in Pátaliputra, she gave birth in due time to a son. And that boy grew up and learned all the accomplishments. And when he was twelve years old, that boy in a childish freak happened to strike with a creeper a fisherman's son of the same age. When the fisherman's son was beaten, he flew in a passion and said, "You beat me, though nobody knows who your father is; for your mother roamed about in foreign lands, and you were born to her by some husband or other." [825]

When this was said to the boy, he was put to shame; so he went and said to his mother, "Mother, who and where is my father? Tell me!" Then his mother, the daughter of the Bráhman, reflected a moment, and said to him, "Your father's name is Múladeva: he deserted me, and went to Ujjayiní." After she had said this, she told him her whole story from the beginning. Then the boy said to her, "Mother, then I will go and bring my father back a captive; I will make your promise good."

Having said this to his mother, and having been told by her how to recognise me, the boy set out thence, and reached this city of Ujjayiní. And he came and saw me playing dice in the gambling-hall, making certain of my identity from the description his mother had given him, and he conquered in play all who were there. And he astonished every one there by shewing such remarkable cunning, though he was a mere child. Then he gave away to the needy all the money he had won at play. And at night he artfully came and stole my bedstead from under me, letting me gently down on a heap of cotton, while I was asleep. So when I woke up, and saw myself on a heap of cotton, without a bedstead, I was at once filled with mixed feelings of shame, amusement and astonishment.

Then, king, I went at my leisure to the market-place, and roaming about, I saw that boy there selling the bedstead. So I went up to him and said, "For what price will you give me this bedstead?" Then the boy said to me, "You cannot get the bedstead for money, crest-jewel of cunning ones; but you may get it by telling some strange and wonderful story." When I heard that, I said to him, "Then I will tell you a marvellous tale. And if you understand it and admit that it is really true, you may keep the bedstead; but if you say that it is not true and that you do not believe it, [826] you will be illegitimate, and I shall get back the bedstead. On this condition I agree to tell you a marvel; and now listen!--Formerly there was a famine in the kingdom of a certain king; that king himself cultivated the back of the beloved of the boar with great loads of spray from the chariots of the snakes. Enriched with the grain thus produced the king put a stop to the famine among his subjects, and gained the esteem of men."

When I said this, the boy laughed and said, "The chariots of the snakes are clouds; the beloved of the boar is the earth, for she is said to have been most dear to Vishnu in his Boar incarnation; and what is there to be astonished at in the fact that rain from the clouds made grain to spring on the earth?"

When the cunning boy had said this, he went on to say to me, who was astonished at his cleverness, "Now I will tell you a strange tale. If you understand it, and admit that it is really true, I will give you back this bedstead, otherwise you shall be my slave."

I answered "Agreed;" and then the cunning boy said this, "Prince of knowing ones, there was born long ago on this earth a wonderful boy, who, as soon as he was born, made the earth tremble with the weight of his feet, and when he grew bigger, stepped into another world."

When the boy said this, I, not knowing what he meant, answered him, "It is false; there is not a word of truth in it." Then the boy said to me, "Did not Vishnu, as soon as he was born, stride across the earth, in the form of a dwarf, and make it tremble? And did he not, on that same occasion, grow bigger, and step into heaven? So you have been conquered by me, and reduced to slavery. And these people present in the market are witnesses to our agreement. So, wherever I go, you must come along with me." When the resolute boy had said this, he laid hold of my arm with his hand; and all the people there testified to the justice of his claim.

Then, having made me his prisoner, bound by my own agreement, he, accompanied by his attendants, took me to his mother in the city of Pátaliputra. And then his mother looked at him, and said to me, "My husband, my promise has to-day been made good, I have had you brought here by a son of mine begotten by you." When she had said this, she related the whole story in the presence of all.

Then all her relations respectfully congratulated her on having accomplished her object by her wisdom, and on having had her disgrace wiped out by her son. And I, having been thus fortunate, lived there for a long time with that wife, and that son, and then returned to this city of Ujjayiní.

"So you see, king, honourable matrons are devoted to their husbands, and it is not the case that all women are always bad." When king Vikramáditya had heard this speech from the mouth of Múladeva, he rejoiced with his ministers. Thus hearing, and seeing, and doing wonders, that king Vikramáditya [827] conquered and enjoyed all the divisions of the earth.

"When the hermit Kanva had told during the night this story of Vishamasíla, dealing with separations and reunions, he went on to say to me who was cut off from the society of Madanamanchuká; 'Thus do unexpected separations and reunions of beings take place, and so you, Naraváhanadatta, shall soon be reunited to your beloved. Have recourse to patience, and you shall enjoy for a long time, son of the king of Vatsa, surrounded by your wives and ministers, the position of a beloved emperor of the Vidyádharas.' This admonition of the hermit Kanva enabled me to recover patience; and so I got through my time of separation, and I gradually obtained wives, magic, science, and the sovereignty over the Vidyádharas. And I told you before, great hermits, how I obtained all these by the favour of Siva, the giver of boons."

By telling this his tale, in the hermitage of Kasyapa, Naraváhanadatta delighted his mother's brother Gopálaka and all the hermits. And after he had passed there the days of the rainy season, he took leave of his uncle and the hermits in the grove of asceticism, and mounting his chariot, departed thence with his wives and his ministers, filling the air with the hosts of his Vidyádharas. And in course of time he reached the mountain of Rishabha his dwelling-place; and he remained there delighting in the enjoyments of empire, in the midst of the kings of the Vidyádharas, with queen Madanamanchuká, and Ratnaprabhá and his other wives; and his life lasted for a kalpa.

This is the story called Vrihatkathá, told long ago, on the summit of mount Kailása, by the undaunted [828] Siva, at the request of the daughter of the Himálaya, and then widely diffused in the world by Pushpadanta and his fellows, who were born on the earth wearing the forms of Kátyáyana and others, in consequence of a curse. And on that occasion that god her husband attached the following blessing to this tale, "Whoever reads this tale that issued from my mouth, and whoever listens to it with attention, and whoever possesses it, shall soon be released from his sins, and triumphantly attain the condition of a splendid Vidyádhara, and enter my everlasting world."

END OF THE COLLECTION OF TALES CALLED THE KATHÁ SARIT SÁGARA.

NOTES TO VOLUME I

[1] Dr. Brockhaus explains this of Ganesa, he is probably associated with Siva in the dance. So the poet invokes two gods, Siva and Ganesa, and one goddess Sarasvatí, the goddess of speech and learning.

[2] Sítkára a sound made by drawing in the breath, expressive of pleasure.

[3] There is a double meaning: padártha also means words and their meanings.

[4] Possibly the meaning is that the mountain covers many thousand yojanas.

[5] This mountain served the gods and Asuras as a churning stick at the churning of the ocean for the recovery of the Amrita and fourteen other precious things lost during the deluge.

[6] Siva himself wears a moon's crescent.

[7] The Sanskrit word Asti meaning "thus it is" is a common introduction to a tale.

[8] The linga or phallus is a favourite emblem of Siva. Flame is one of his eight tanus or forms.

[9] He was burnt up by the fire of Siva's eye.

[10] Compare Kumára Sambhava Sarga V, line 86.

[11] Reading tatsanchayáya as one word. Dr. Brockhaus omits the line. Professor E. B. Cowell would read priyam for priye.

[12] One of Siva's favourite attendants.

[13] Attendants of Siva, presided over by Ganesa.

[14] For the ativiníta of Dr. Brockhaus's text I read aviníta.

[15] Pramatha, an attendant on Siva.

[16] Kausámbí succeeded Hastinápur as the capital of the emperors of India. Its precise site has not been ascertained, but it was probably somewhere in the Doabá, or at any rate not far from the west bank of the Yamuná, as it bordered upon Magadha and was not far from the Vindhya hills. It is said that there are ruins at Karáli or Karári about 14 miles from Allahábád on the western road, which may indicate the site of Kausámbí. It is possible also that the mounds of rubbish about Karrah may conceal some vestiges of the ancient capital--a circumstance rendered more probable by the inscription found there, which specifies Kata as comprised within Kausámba mandala or the district of Kausámbí. [Note in Wilson's Essays, p. 163.] See note on page 281.

[17] A tree of Indra's Paradise that grants all desires.

[18] More literally, the goddess that dwells in the Vindhya hills. Her shrine is near Mirzápúr.

[19] Dr. Brockhaus makes parusha a proper name.

[20] Ficus Indica.

[21] Pumán = Purusha, the spirit.

[22] Prakriti, the original source or rather passive power of creating the material world.

[23] Prajápati.

[24] The spirit was of course Brahmá whose head Siva cut off.

[25] It appears from an article in Mélusine by A Bart, entitled An Ancient Manual of Sorcery, and consisting mainly of passages translated from Burnell's Sámavidhána Bráhmana, that this power can be acquired in the following way, "After a fast of three nights, take a plant of soma (Asclepias acida;) recite a certain formula and eat of the plant a thousand times, you will be able to repeat anything after hearing it once. Or bruise the flowers in water, and drink the mixture for a year. Or drink soma, that is to say the fermented juice of the plant for a month. Or do it always." (Mélusine, 1878, p. 107; II, 7, 4-7.)

In the Milinda Pañho, (Pali Miscellany by V. Trenckner, Part. I, p. 14,) the child Nágasena learns the whole of the three Vedas by hearing them repeated once.

[26] A grammatical treatise on the rules regulating the euphonic combination of letters and their pronunciation peculiar to one of the different Sákhás or branches of the Vedas.--M. W. s. v.

[27] i. e., died.

[28] Here we have a pun which it is impossible to render in English. Anátha means without natural protectors and also poor.

[29] Taking chháyá in the sense of sobhá. It might mean "affording no shelter to the inmates."

[30] Dr. Brockhaus translates the line--Von diesem wurde ich meinem Manne vermählt, um seinem Hauswesen vorzustehen.

[31] Like the Roman fascinum. guhya = phallus.

[32] I read tat for táh according to a conjecture of Professor E. B. Cowell's. He informs me on the authority of Dr. Rost that the only variants are sá for táh and yoshitá for yoshitah. Dr. Rost would take evamkrite as the dative of evamkrit. If táh be retained it may be taken as a repetition "having thus prepared it, I say, the women give it." Professor Cowell would translate (if táh be retained) "the women then do not need to receive anything to relieve their fatigue during the cold and hot weather."

Professor E. B. Cowell has referred me to an article by Dr. Liebrecht in the Zeitschrift der Morgenländischen Gesellschaft.

He connects the custom with that of the Jewish women mentioned in Jeremiah VII. 18, "The women knead their dough to make cakes to the queen of heaven," and he quotes a curious custom practised on Palm Sunday in the town of Saintes. Dulaure states that in his time the festival was called there La fête des Pinnes; the women and children carried in the procession a phallus made of bread, which they called a pinne, at the end of their palm branches; those pinnes were subsequently blessed by the priest, and carefully preserved by the women during the year. This article has been republished by the learned author in his "Zur Volkskunde" (Heilbronn, 1879) p. 436 and f f. under the title of "der aufgegessene Gott." It contains many interesting parallels to the custom described in the text.

[33] Literally bodiless--she heard the voice, but saw no man.

[34] Vara = excellent ruch = to please.

[35] I. e. Palibothra.

[36] Wilson remarks (Essays on Sanskrit Literature, Vol. I, p. 165). "The contemporary existence of Nanda with Vararuchi and Vyádi is a circumstance of considerable interest in the literary history of the Hindus, as the two latter are writers of note on philological topics. Vararuchi is also called in this work Kátyáyana, who is one of the earliest commentators on Pánini. Nanda is the predecessor or one of the predecessors of Chandragupta or Sandrakottos; and consequently the chief institutes of Sanskrit grammar are thus dated from the fourth century before the Christian era. We need not suppose that Somadeva took the pains to be exact here; but it is satisfactory to be made acquainted with the general impressions of a writer who has not been biassed in any of his views by Pauránik legends and preposterous chronology."

[37] I. e., of learning and material prosperity.

[38] Literally the gate of the Ganges: it is now well known under the name of Haridvár (Hurdwar).

[39] Dr. Brockhaus renders the passage "wo Siva die Jahnaví im goldenen Falle von den Gipfeln des Berges Usínara herabsandte."

[40] Skanda is Kártikeya and his mother is of course Durgá or Párvatí the consort of Siva.

[41] This may be compared with Grimm's No. 60, "Die zwei Brüder." Each of the brothers finds every day a gold piece under his pillow. In one of Waldau's Böhmische Märchen, Vogelkopf und Vogelherz (p. 90) a boy named Fortunat eats the heart of the Glücksvogel and under his pillow every day are found three ducats. See also Der Vogel Goldschweif, in Gaal's Märchen der Magyaren, p. 195.

[42] In this case the austerities which he had performed in a former birth to propitiate Siva.

[43] This story is, according to Dr. Rajendra Lál Mitra, found in a MS. called the Bodhisattva Avadána. (Account of the Buddhist Literature of Nepal, p. 53).

[44] I. e., bali, a portion of the daily meal offered to creatures of every description, especially the household spirits. Practically the bali generally falls to some crow, hence that bird is called balibhuj.

[45] A similar incident is found in Grimm's Fairy Tales translated by Mrs. Paull, p. 370. The hero of the tale called the Crystal Ball finds two giants fighting for a little hat. On his expressing his wonder, "Ah", they replied, "you call it old, you do not know its value. It is what is called a wishing-hat, and whoever puts it on can wish himself where he will, and immediately he is there." "Give me the hat," replied the young man, "I will go on a little way and when I call you must both run a race to overtake me, and whoever reaches me first, to him the hat shall belong." The giants agreed and the youth taking the hat put it on and went away; but he was thinking so much of the princess that he forgot the giants and the hat, and continued to go further and further without calling them. Presently he sighed deeply and said, "Ah, if I were only at the Castle of the golden sun."

Wilson (Collected Works, Vol. III, p. 169, note,) observes that "the story is told almost in the same words in the Bahár Dánish, a purse being substituted for the rod; Jahándár obtains possession of it, as well as the cup, and slippers in a similar manner. Weber [Eastern Romances, Introduction, p. 39] has noticed the analogy which the slippers bear to the cap of Fortunatus. The inexhaustible purse, although not mentioned here, is of Hindu origin also, and a fraudulent representative of it makes a great figure in one of the stories of the Dasa Kumára Charita" [ch. 2, see also L. Deslongchamps Essai sur les Fables Indiennes, Paris, 1838, p. 35 f. and Grässe, Sagen des Mittelalters, Leipzig, 1842, p. 19 f.] The additions between brackets are due to Dr. Reinholdt Rost the editor of Wilson's Essays.

The Mongolian form of the story may be found in Sagas from the Far East, p. 24. A similar incident is also found in the Swedish story in Thorpe's Scandinavian Tales, entitled "the Beautiful Palace East of the Sun and North of the Earth." A youth acquires boots by means of which he can go a hundred miles at every step, and a cloak, that renders him invisible, in a very similar way.

I find that in the notes in Grimm's 3rd Volume, page 168, (edition of 1856) the passage in Somadeva is referred to, and other parallels given. The author of these notes compares a Swedish story in Cavallius, p. 182, and Pröhle, Kindermärchen, No. 22. He also quotes from the Sidi Kür, the story to which I have referred in Sagas from the Far East, and compares a Norwegian story in Ashbjörnsen, pp. 53, 171, a Hungarian story in Mailath and Gaal, N. 7, and an Arabian tale in the continuation of the 1001 Nights. See also Sicilianische Märchen by Laura Gonzenbach, Part I, Story 31. Here we have a table-cloth, a purse, and a pipe. When the table-cloth is spread out one has only to say--Dear little table-cloth, give macaroni or roast-meat or whatever may be required, and it is immediately present. The purse will supply as much money as one asks it for, and the pipe is something like that of the pied piper of Hamelin,--every one who hears it must dance. Dr. Köhler in his notes, at the end of Laura Gonzenbach's collection, compares (besides the story of Fortunatus, and Grimm III. 202,) Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmärchen, II. 73 and 193. Curze, Popular Traditions from Waldock, p. 34. Gesta Romanorum, Chap. 120. Campbell's Highland Tales, No. 10, and many others. The shoes in our present story may also be compared with the bed in the IXth Novel of the Xth day of the Decameron.

See also Ralston's Russian Folk-Tales, p. 230 and Veckenstedt's Wendische Sagen, p. 152.

See also the story of "Die Kaiserin Trebisonda" in a collection of South Italian tales by Woldemar Kaden, entitled "Unter den Olivenbäumen" and published in 1880. The hero of this story plays the same trick as Putraka, and gains thereby an inexhaustible purse, a pair of boots which enable the wearer to run like the wind, and a mantle of invisibility. See also "Beutel, Mäntelchen und Wunderhorn" in the same collection, and No. XXII in Miss Stokes's Indian Fairy Tales. The story is found in the Avadánas translated by Stanislas Julien: (Lévêque, Mythes et Légendes de L'Inde et de la Perse, p. 570, Liebrecht, Zur Volkskunde, p. 117.) M. Lévêque thinks that La Fontaine was indebted to it for his Fable of L' Huître et les Plaideurs. See also De Gubernatis, Zoological Mythology, Vol. I, pp. 126-127, and 162.

We find a magic ring, brooch and cloth in No. XLIV of the English Gesta. See also Syrische Sagen und Märchen, von Eugen Prym und Albert Socin, p. 79, where there is a flying carpet. There is a magic table-cloth in the Bohemian Story of Büsmanda, (Waldau, p. 44) and a magic pot on p. 436 of the same collection; and a food-providing mesa in the Portuguese story of A Cacheirinha (Coelho, Contos Portuguezes, p. 58). In the Pentamerone No. 42 there is a magic chest. Kuhn has some remarks on the "Tischchen deck dich" of German tales in his Westfälische Märchen, Vol. I, p. 369.

For a similar artifice to Putraka's, see the story entitled Fischer-Märchen in Gaal, Märchen der Magyaren, p. 168, Waldau, Böhmische Märchen, pp. 260 and 564, and Dasent's Norse Tales, pp. 213 and 214.

[46] Compare the way in which Zauberer Vergilius carries off the daughter of the Sultán of Babylon, and founds the town of Naples, which he makes over to her and her children: (Simrock's Deutsche Volksbücher, Vol. VI, pp. 354, 355.) Dunlop is of opinion that the mediæval traditions about Vergil are largely derived from Oriental sources.

[47] I. e., infantry, cavalry, elephants, and archers.

[48] Literally she was splendid with a full bosom, ... glorious with coral lips. For uttama in the 1st half of sloka 6 I read upama.

[49] Considered to be indicative of exalted fortune.--Monier Williams.

[50] The bimba being an Indian fruit, this expression may he paralleled by "currant lip" in the Two Noble Kinsmen I. I. 216 or "cherry lip" Rich. III. I. I. 94.

[51] Goddess of eloquence and learning.

[52] See Dr. Burnett's "Aindra grammar" for the bearing of this passage on the history of Sanskrit literature.

[53] And will not observe you.

[54] Instead of the walls of a seraglio.

[55] This story occurs in Scott's Additional Arabian Nights as the Lady of Cairo and her four Gallants, [and in his Tales and Anecdotes, Shrewsbury, 1800, p. 136, as the story of the Merchant's wife and her suitors]. It is also one of the Persian tales of Arouya [day 146 ff.]. It is a story of ancient celebrity in Europe as Constant du Hamel or la Dame qui attrapa un Prêtre, un Prévôt et un Forestier [Le Grand d'Aussy, Fabliaux et Contes. Paris, 1829, Vol. IV, pp. 246-56]. It is curious that the Fabliau alone agrees with the Hindu original in putting the lovers out of the way and disrobing them by the plea of the bath. (Note in Wilson's Essays on Sanskrit Literature, edited by Dr. Rost, Vol. I, p. 173.) See also a story contributed by the late Mr. Damant to the Indian Antiquary, Vol. IX, pp. 2 and 3, and the XXVIIIth story in Indian Fairy Tales collected and translated by Miss Stokes, with the note at the end of the volume. General Cunningham is of opinion that the dénouement of this story is represented in one of the Bharhut Sculptures; see his Stúpa of Bharhut, p. 53. A faint echo of this story is found in Gonzenbach's Sicilianische Märchen, No. 55, pp. 359-362. Cp. also No. 72(b) in the Novellæ Morlini. (Liebrecht's Dunlop, p. 497.)

Cp. the 67th Story in Coelho's Contos Populares Portuguezes, and the 29th in the Pentamerone of Basile. There is a somewhat similar story in the English Gesta (Herrtage, No. XXV) in which three knights are killed.

A very similar story is quoted in Mélusine, p. 178, from Thorburn's Bannu or our Afghan Frontier.

[56] Dr. Brockhaus translates "alle drei mit unsern Schülern."

[57] This forms the leading event of the story of Fadlallah in the Persian tales. The dervish there avows his having acquired the faculty of animating a dead body from an aged Bráhman in the Indies. (Wilson.)

[58] Compare the story in the Panchatantra, Benfey's Translation, p. 124, of the king who lost his body but eventually recovered it. Benfey in Vol. I, page 128, refers to some European parallels. Liebrecht in his Zur Volkskunde, p. 206, mentions a story found in Apollonius (Historia Mirabilium) which forms a striking parallel to this. According to Apollonius, the soul of Hermotimos of Klazomenæ left his body frequently, resided in different places, and uttered all kinds of predictions, returning to his body which remained in his house. At last some spiteful persons burnt his body in the absence of his soul. There is a slight resemblance to this story in Sagas from the Far East, p. 222. By this it may be connected with a cycle of European tales about princes with ferine skin &c. Apparently a treatise has been written on this story by Herr Varnhagen. It is mentioned in the Saturday Review of 22nd July, 1882 as, "Ein Indisches Märchen auf seiner Wanderung durch die Asiatischen und Europäischen Litteraturen."

[59] Or Yogananda. So called as being Nanda by yoga or magic.

[60] I read ásvásya.

[61] Compare this with the story of Ugolino in Dante's Inferno.

[62] Dr. Liebrecht in Orient und Occident, Vol. I, p. 341 compares with this story one in the old French romance of Merlin. There Merlin laughs because the wife of the emperor Julius Cæsar had twelve young men disguised as ladies-in-waiting. Benfey, in a note on Dr. Liebrecht's article, compares with the story of Merlin one by the Countess D'Aulnoy, No. 36 of the Pentamerone of Basile, Straparola IV. I, and a story in the Suka Saptati. This he quotes from the translation of Demetrios Galanos. In this some cooked fish laugh so that the whole town hears them. The reason is the same as in the story of Merlin and in our text.

[63] Cp. the following passage in a Danish story called Svend's exploits, in Thorpe's Yuletide Stories, page 341. Just as he was going to sleep, twelve crows came flying and perched in the elder trees over Svend's head. They began to converse together, and the one told the other what had happened to him that day. When they were about to fly away, one crow said, "I am so hungry; where shall I get something to eat?" "We shall have food enough to-morrow when father has killed Svend," answered the crow's brother. "Dost thou think then that such a miserable fellow dares fight with our father?" said another. "Yes, it is probable enough that he will, but it will not profit him much as our father cannot be overcome but with the Man of the Mount's sword, and that hangs in the mound, within seven locked doors, before each of which are two fierce dogs that never sleep." Svend thus learned that he should only be sacrificing his strength and life in attempting a combat with the dragon, before he had made himself master of the Man of the Mount's sword. So Sigfrid hears two birds talking above his head in Hagen's Helden-Sagen, Vol. I, p. 345. In the story of Lalitánga extracted by Professor Nilmani Mukerjea from a collection of Jaina tales called the Kathá Kosha, and printed in his Sáhitya Parichaya,

## Part II, we have a similar incident.

[64] Compare the "mole cinque-spotted" in Cymbeline.

[65] Compare Measure for Measure.

[66] Cp. the story of OEdipus and the Mahábhárata, Vanaparvan, C. 312. where Yudhishthira is questioned by a Yaksha. Benfey compares Mahábhárata XIII (IV, 206) 5883-5918 where a Bráhman seized by a Rákshasa escaped in the same way. The reader will find similar questioning demons described in Veckenstedt's Wendische Sagen, pp. 54-56, and 109.

[67] Reading chuddhis for the chudis of Dr. Brockhaus' text.

[68] Sâmanta seems to mean a feudatory or dependent prince.

[69] Benfey considers that this story was originally Buddhistic. A very similar story is quoted by him from the Karmasataka. (Panchatantra I, p. 209) cp. also c. 65 of this work.

[70] Probably his foot bled, and so he contracted defilement.

[71] The preceptor of the gods.

[72] See the Mudrá Rákshasa for another version of this story. (Wilson, Hindu Theatre, Vol. II.) Wilson remarks that the story is also told differently in the Puránas.

[73] Sanskrit, Prákrit and his own native dialect.

[74] I change Dr. Brockhaus's Sákásana into Sákásana.

[75] As, according to my reading, he ate vegetables, his blood was turned into the juice of vegetables. Dr. Brockhaus translates machte dass das herausströmende Blut zu Krystallen sich bildete.

[76] A celebrated place of pilgrimage near the source of the Ganges, the Bhadrinath of modern travellers. (Monier Williams, s. v.)

[77] Pratishthána according to Wilson is celebrated as the capital of Saliváhana. It is identifiable with Peytan on the Godávarí, the Bathana or Paithana of Ptolemy,--the capital of Siripolemaios. Wilson identifies this name with Saliváhana, but Dr. Rost remarks that Lassen more correctly identifies it with that of Srí Pulimán of the Andhra dynasty who reigned at Pratishthána after the overthrow of the house of Saliváhana about 130 A. D.

[78] Fabulous serpent-demons having the head of a man with the tail of a serpent.--(Monier Williams, s. v.)

[79] It seems to me that tvam in Dr. Brockhaus' text must be a misprint for tam.

[80] I. e., rich in virtues, and good qualities.

[81] From the Greek dênarion = denarius. (Monier Williams s. v.) Dramma = Gr. drachmê is used in the Panchatantra; see Dr. Bühler's Notes to Panchatantra, IV and V, Note on p. 40, l. 3.

[82] Literally wood-carriers.

[83] He had made money without capital, so his achievements are compared to pictures suspended in the air?

[84] hetaira.

[85] The vita or roué meant "conciliation" but the chanter of the Sáma Veda took it to mean "hymn."

[86] I. e., seize him with curved hand, and fling him out neck and crop. The Precentor supposed them to mean a crescent-headed arrow.

[87] I.e., rich in accomplishments.

[88] Indra's pleasure-ground or Elysium. For a similar Zaubergarten see Liebrecht's translation of Dunlop's History of Fiction, p. 251, and note 325; and Gonzenbach's Sicilianische Märchen, Vol. I, p. 224. To this latter story there is a very close parallel in Játaka No. 220, (Fausböll, Vol. II, p. 188) where Sakko makes a garden for the Bodhisattva, who is threatened with death by the king, if it is not done.

[89] Guhyaka here synonymous with Yaksha. The Guhyakas like the Yakshas are attendants upon Kuvera the god of wealth.

[90] The tilaka a mark made upon the forehead or between the eyebrows with coloured earths, sandal-wood, &c., serving as an ornament or a sectarial distinction. Monier Williams s. v.

[91] The negative particle má coalesces with udakaih (the plural instrumental case of udaka) into modakaih, and modakaih (the single word) means "with sweetmeats." The incident is related in Táránátha's Geschichte des Buddhismus in Indien, uebersetzt von Schiefner, p. 74.

[92] So explained by Böhtlingk and Roth s. v. cp. Taranga 72 sl. 103.

[93] He afterwards learns to speak in the language of the Pisáchas, goblins, or ogres.

[94] Called also Kumára. This was no doubt indicated by the Kumára or boy, who opened the lotus.

[95] The chátaka lives on rain-drops, but the poor swan has to take a long journey to the Mánasa lake beyond the snowy hills, at the approach of the rainy season.

[96] Kártikeya.

[97] More literally sprinkling her with water. See also the 60th Tale in Gonzenbach's Sicilianische Märchen, Vol. II, p. 17.

[98] Skanda is another name of Kártikeya.

[99] This grammar is extensively in use in the eastern parts of Bengal. The rules are attributed to Sarvavarman, by the inspiration of Kártikeya, as narrated in the text. The vritti or gloss is the work of Durgá Singh and that again is commented on by Trilochana Dása and Kavirája. Vararuchi is the supposed author of an illustration of the Conjugations and Srípati Varmá of a Supplement. Other Commentaries are attributed to Gopí Nátha, Kula Chandra and Visvesvara. (Note in Wilson's Essays, Vol. I. p. 183.)

[100] Rishis.

[101] Sanskára means tendency produced by some past influence, often works in a former birth. This belief seems to be very general in Wales, see Wirt Sikes, British Goblins, p. 113. See also Kuhn's Herabkunft des Feuers, p. 93, De Gubernatis, Zoological Mythology, Vol. II, p. 285.

[102] For the idea cp. Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 1. (towards the end) and numerous other passages in the same author.

[103] Brockhaus renders it Fromme, Helden und Weise.

[104] Vaisvánara is an epithet of Agni or Fire.

[105] Siva.

[106] Cp. the 1st story in the Vetála Panchavinsati,