Rahan who resided in the monastery entered into conversation with his guest the Rahanda, 'My lord,' said he, 'Have you eaten food?' The guest, the Rahanda, replied, 'I have eaten.'-'Where did you eat,' the Rahan asked. 'In the Thugyue's house,' he replied. The Rahan who lived in the monastery was jealous at hearing that the Rahanda had been eating in the Thugyue's house, and maintained silence.

"In the cool of the evening the Thugyuè went to the monastery, and invited his teacher and the Rahanda guest to come and receive rice. After reminding his teacher to bring his Rahanda guest with him [to his house to receive alms], the Thugyuè went away.

"The occupier of the monastery, vexed with his Rahan guest, would not say a single word to him, but maintained complete silence, thinking that by doing so, the guest would not presume to remain in the monastery. The Rahanda guest, knowing the bad feeling of the Rahan who occupied the monastery, resolved to go elsewhere. Next morning the Rahan, who occupied the monastery, arose very early and put on his thingan; then, fearful of waking the Rahanda guest, in order to fulfil his duty he scratched with his finger-nail on the stone drum, and after rapping on the door with his nail, went out. When the Thugyuè saw that the Rahanda guest had not accompanied him, he said, 'Lord and master, did you not invite your Rahan guest to come?' The Rahan replied, 'Tagā, in order to arouse the Rahan guest, I beat the stone drum at the entrance of the monastery, and, moreover, rapped at the door, but I could not wake him; it must be the food which the Taga made an offering of to him yesterday, and of which he ate to satiety, that

not being yet digested, makes him sleep so. Tagā great affection for such a Rahan?'

Has the

"The Rahanda guest, when the time for collecting rice had arrived, put on his thingan, and carrying his thabet at his breast, flew up into the sky and went away to another place to receive offerings.

"The Thugyuè, after supplying his teacher with food, put a quantity into his thabet, telling him to offer it to the Rahan guest. The Rahan, who was the occupier of the monastery, said to himself, 'If this Rahan guest were to eat this nice food, he would not go away even if I dragged him out;' and in his vexation he poured out all the rice, butter, and the rest of the food, in a place where the jungle was burning. On reaching the monastery he said, 'The Rahan guest must have been a Rahanda, who knowing my feelings to him, has gone elsewhere; and I in my jealousy have destroyed his offerings.' With these words he died of his own accord. He then went into hell, where he suffered for an immense length of time. When released from hell he was a Bilū1 during the whole of five hundred existences, and never for a single day procured sufficient food to satisfy him. After completing five hundred existences as a Bilu, he was five hundred times a dog. When he died, after completing his five hundred existences as a dog, he became an embryo in the womb of a poor woman in a village of the Käsikarāg country. From the very day of his conception, his parents became miserably poor. When he was born on the expiration of the ten months, they called the child Mittapindaka. As soon as this Mittapindaka could walk alone, his parents, unable to bear hunger

1 A species of Ghoul.

2 The MS. has Kumittapindaka.

any longer, drove him away. The child, with no one to depend upon, went and found his way to Benares. At this time the Paralaun was the teacher Disāpamokkha at Benares, where he was giving instruction to five hundred young men who were his pupils. Mittapindaka also went and resided with the Paralaun, and was instructed in science and learning. From the very day that Mittapindaka came to receive instruction, the teacher Disapamokkha was much concerned to find that no offerings were made to him. Mittapindaka, moreover, began to quarrel with the other pupils; at last, not heeding the admonitions of his teacher, and being always at variance with them, he ran away. Arriving at a village, he made his living there by labouring for hire. When he was grown up, he married a poor woman in that village, by whom he had two sons. On account of this Mittapindaka, the houses of the villagers were seven times burned down; and seven times a fine was imposed on them by the king; when they raised a dam for rice cultivation, it burst seven times. At last the villagers, seeing that all these misfortunes dated from the day when Mittapindaka came among them, drove him out of the village. As he was journeying to another place with his wife and children, he lost his way, and came into a forest where a Bilu lived. The Bilu devoured his wife and children. Mittapindaka, escaping, travelled to a great distance, and reached the harbour of Gambhira; there he addressed himself to the captain of a ship, and asked to be allowed to work under him for hire; the sailors gave him employment and agreed to pay him wages.

"On the seventh day after setting sail, the vessel

remained stationary in the midst of the sea, just as if it were a fixture there. The sailors said, 'There must be some one on board our ship who ought not to be there.' So saying they cast lots, and Mittapindaka drew the lot seven times; they therefore gave him a bundle of bamboos which they made him take hold of with his hands, and throwing him overboard, sent him floating away in the midst of the sea. No sooner was

he thrown overboard than the vessel started off like a flying horse.

"From the effect of his having in a previous state of existence, in the time of the Parā Taken Kassapa, practised the Vipassana, 'instability, misery, unsubstantiality,' Mittapindaka, after floating about the sea on the bundle of bamboos, arrived at an island where there was a palace in which lived four Nats' daughters with whom he enjoyed himself for seven days. These, in consequence of their being the daughters of the Nat Vimanopeta, after enjoying seven days' happiness had to undergo seven days of misery. These Nats' daughters accordingly, after telling Mittapindaka to stay in the palace till they came back, went away to undergo their sufferings. Mittapindaka, as soon as the Nat's daughters were gone, mounted his bundle of bamboos, and floating away on the sea, arrived at an island where there was a silver palace in which were eight Nats' daughters with whom he enjoyed himself. Floating off again from the silver palace, he reached an island where there was a ruby palace in which were sixteen Nats' daughters with whom he enjoyed himself. Leaving this again, he arrived at a golden palace where there were thirty-two Nats' daughters with whom he enjoyed himself. All these Nats' daughters,

being the daughters of the Nat Vimanopeta, after enjoying seven days' happiness had to suffer seven days' misery. Although all the Nats' daughters asked him to stay in their palace, he would not remain, but seating himself on the bundle of bamboos, floated off again. At last he arrived at an island in the midst of the sea where Bilumas1 lived.

"At this time one of the Bilūmas had assumed the appearance of a goat. Mittapindaka not knowing that it was a Bilūma, and thinking he would like to eat some goat's flesh, laid hold of it by the leg to kill it. The nature of the Bilūma being that of the Nat race, by means of her power and glory she seized Mittapindaka by the leg and hurled him away; and he fell down at the gate of the city of Benares. At the gate where he fell were some of the king's shepherds, who were in pursuit of some thieves who had stolen the king's goat. At this very moment Mittapindaka was' pulling the leg of a goat, and the goat was making a great outcry. The shepherds, thinking that Mittapindaka was the thief, laid hold of him and gave him a beating, and then bound him and carried him off to take him before the king. At this juncture the Paralaun, the teacher Disapamokkha, was coming out of the city with his five hundred pupils to bathe. When he saw Mittapindaka, he said, "This is my disciple; release him." The shepherds set him free and went away, and Mittapindaka remained with the Parālaun. The Paralaun asked him where he had been all this time, and he related all his adventures. The Paralaun recited this poetry: 'He who will not listen to the words of his well-wisher will come to misery.'

1 A female Bilu.