Waging A Real War On Christmas/Synchronized Hyperspace Event (S.H.E.)

THE GREEN MAN OF NO-MAN'S LAND
There was a young miller, who was a great gambler. Nobody could beat him. One day a man comes and challenges him. They play. Jack wins and demands a castle. There it is. They play again, and Jack loses. The man tells Jack his name is the Green Man of Noman's Land, and that unless Jack finds his castle in a year and a day he will be beheaded. The time goes by. Jack remembers his task, and sets out in cold and snow. He comes to a cottage, where an old woman gives him food and lodging. He asks her if she knows the Green Man. 'No,' she says; 'but if a quarter of the world knows I can tell you.' In the morning she mounts on the roof and blows a horn. A quarter of all the men in the world came. She asks them. They do not know the Green Man, and she dismisses them. Again she blows the horn, and the birds come. She asks them; they don't know; and she dismisses them. She sends Jack on to her elder sister, who knows more than she does. She lends Jack her horse, and gives him a ball of thread to place between the horse's ears. He comes to the second sister's house. 'It is long,' she says, 'since I saw my sister's horse.' He eats and sleeps, then asks about the Green Man. She knows not, but will tell him if half the world knows; so goes on the roof and blows a horn. Half the world come, but they do not know the Green Man. 'Go,' she says, and blows the horn again. Half the birds in the world come, but with a like result. She takes her sister's horse, and gives Jack hers, with a ball of thread, and sends him on to the eldest sister. It is the same thing there. The third sister also doesn't know, but in the morning goes on the roof and blows a horn. All the people in the world come, but do not know the Green Man. 'Go.' Again she blows, and all the birds come, but do not know. She goes down and looks in her book, and finds that the eagle is missing. She blows again; the eagle comes; and she abuses him. He explains that he has just come from the Green Man of Noman's Land. She lends Jack her horse, and bids him go till he comes to a pool and sees three white birds, to hide, and to steal the feathers of the last one to enter the water. He does so. The bird cries and demands its feathers. Jack insists on her carrying him over to her father's castle. She denies at first that she is the Green Man's daughter, but at last carries him over, and when across becomes a young lady. Jack goes up to the castle and knocks. The Green Man comes out: 'So you've found the house, Jack.' 'Yes.' The Green Man sets him tasks, the loss of his head the penalty of failure. The first task is to clean the stable. As fast as he throws out a shovelful of dirt, three return. So Jack gives it up, and the girl, coming with his dinner, does it for him. The Green Man accuses him of receiving help; he denies it. The second task is to fell a forest before mid-day. Jack cuts down three trees and weeps. The girl brings his dinner, and does it for him, warning him not to tell her father. The same accusation is met with the same denial. The third task is to thatch a barn with a single feather only of each bird. Jack catches a robin, pulls a feather from it, lets it go then, and sits down despairing. The girl brings his food, and performs his task for him, warning him of the next task, the fourth one. This is to climb a glass mountain in the middle of a lake and to bring from the top of it the egg of a bird that lays one egg only. The girl meets him at the edge of the lake, and by her suggestion he wishes her shoe a boat. They reach the mountain. He wishes her fingers a ladder. She warns him to tread on every step and not miss one. He forgets, steps over the last rung, and gets the egg; but the girl's finger is broken. She warns him to deny having had any help. The fifth task is to guess which daughter is which, as in the shape of birds they fly thrice over the castle. Forewarned by the girl, Jack names them correctly. The Green Man thereupon gives in, and Jack weds his daughter.

THE BLACK LADY
A young girl goes to service at an old castle with the Black Lady, who warns her not to look through the window. The Black Lady goes out. The girl gets bored, looks through the window, and sees the Black Lady playing cards with the devil. She falls down frightened. The Black Lady comes in and asks her what she has seen. 'Nothing saw I; nought can I say. Leave me alone; I am weary of my life.' The Black Lady beats her, and asks her again, What saw you through the window?' 'Nothing saw I,' etc. The girl runs off and meets a keeper, who takes her home, and after some years marries her. She has a child, and is bedded. Enter the Black Lady. 'What saw you through the window?' 'Nothing saw I,' etc. The Black Lady takes the child, dashes its brains out, and exit. Enter the husband. The wife offers no explanation, and the husband wants to burn her, but his mother intercedes and saves her this time. But the same thing happens again, and the husband makes a fire. As she is being brought to the stake, the Black Lady comes. 'What saw you through the window?' 'Nothing saw I,' etc. 'Take her and burn her,' says the Black Lady. They fasten her up, and bring a light. The same question, the same answer. The Black Lady sees that she is secret, so gives her back her .two children, and leaves her in peace.

THE TEN RABBITS
In a little house on the hill lived an old woman with her three sons, the youngest of them a fool. The eldest goes to seek his fortune, and tells his mother to bake him a cake. 'Which will you have--a big one and a curse with it, or a little one and a blessing in it?' He chooses a big cake. He comes to a stile and a beautiful road leading to a castle; he knocks at the castle door, and asks the old gentleman for work. He is sent into a field with the gentleman's rabbits. He eats his food, and refuses to give any to a little old man who asks for some. The rabbits run here and there. He tries to catch them, but fails to recover half of them. The gentleman counts them, and finds some missing, so cuts the eldest brother's head off, and sticks it on a gatepost. The second brother acts in the same way, and meets the same fate. The fool also will seek his fortune. He chooses a little cake with a blessing. His mother sends him with a sieve to get water for her. A robin bids him stop up the holes with leaves and clay. He does so, and brings water. He gets the cake and goes. He sees his two brothers' heads stuck on the gateposts, and stands laughing at them, saying, 'What are you doing there, you two fools?' and throwing stones at them. He enters, dines, and smiles at the old gentleman's daughter, who falls in love with him. He goes to the field, lets the rabbits go, and falls asleep. The rabbits run about here and there. An old man by the well begs food, and Jack shares his food with him. Jack hunts for hedgehogs. He can't get the rabbits back, but the old man gives him a silver whistle. Jack blows, and the rabbits return. The old gentleman counts them, and finds them correct. The girl brings Jack his dinner daily in the field. The old man tells Jack to marry her. He does so, still living as servant in the stable till the old people's death. Then he takes over the castle, and brings his mother to live 1 with him.

THE THREE WISHES
A fool lives with his mother. Once on a hillside he finds a young lady exposed to the heat of the sun, and twines a bower of bushes round her for protection. She awakes, and gives him three wishes. He wishes he were at home: no sooner said than done. On the way he catches a glimpse of a lovely lady at a window, and wishes idly that she were with child by him. She proves so, but knows not the cause. She bears a child, and her parents summon every one from far and near to visit her. When the fool enters, the babe says, 'Dad, dad!' Disgusted at the lover's low estate, the parents cast all three adrift in a boat. The lady asks him how she became with child, and he tells her. 'Then you must have a wish still left.' He wishes they were safe on shore in a fine castle of their own. They live happily there for some time, then return home, and visit the girl's parents splendidly dressed. The parents refuse to believe him the same man. He returns in his old clothes. Triumph and reconciliation. He provides for his old mother.

FAIRY BRIDE
A king has three sons, and knows not to which of them to leave his kingdom. They shoot for it with bow and arrows. The youngest shoots so far that his arrow is lost. He seeks it for a long time, and at last finds it sticking in a glass door. He enters and finds himself in the home of the Queen of the Fairies, whom he marries. After a while he returns home with his bride. An old witch who lives in the park incites the king to ask the fairy bride to fetch him a handkerchief which will cover the whole park. She does it, and then is asked to bring her brother. She refuses, but finally summons him. He enters, and terrifies the king by his threatening aspect. 'What did you call me for?' The king is too frightened to answer coherently. The fairy's brother kills him and the old witch, and vanishes. They live at the castle.

CINDERELLA
A glorious version, too long to take down, and now almost forgotten. After Cinderella's marriage the sisters live with her, and flirt with the prince. Her children are stolen, and Cinderella is turned into a sow. She protects the children, but at the instigation of the sisters (or stepmother) she is hunted by the prince's hounds and killed. The three children come to the hall, and beg for the sow's liver (its special efficacy forgotten). The children are followed and further restored to their father. Perhaps Cinderella herself comes again to life.

JACK THE ROBBER
Now we'll leave the master to stand a bit, and go back to the mother. So in the morning Jack says to his mother, 'Mother,' he says, 'give me one of them old bladders as hang up in the house, and,' he says, 'I'll fill it full of blood, and I'll tie it round your throat; and when the master comes up to ax me if I got the sheet, me and you will be having a bit of arglement, and I'll up with my fist and hit you on the bladder, and the bladder will bust, and you'll make yourself to be dead.'

Now the master comes. 'Have you got the sheet, Jack?

And just as he's axing him, he up with his fist, and hits his mother.

And the master says, 'O Jack, what did you kill your poor mother for?'

'Oh! I don't care; I can soon bring her right again.'

'No,' says the master, 'never, Jack.'

And Jack began to smile, and he says, 'Can't I? you shall see, then.' And he goes behind the door, and fetches a stick with a bit of a knob to it. Jack begin to laugh. He touches his mother with this stick, and the old woman jumped up. (This is s’posed to be an inchanted stick.)

Says the master: 'O Jack,' he says, 'what shall I give you for that stick?'

'Well, sir,' he says, 'I couldn't let you have that stick. My inchantment would be broke.'

'Well, Jack, if you'll let me have that stick, I'll never give you another thing to do as long as you live here.'

So he gave him £50 for this stick, and said he'd never give him nothing else to do for him. So the master went home to the house, and he didn't know which way to fall out with the missus, to try this stick. One day at dinner-time he happened to fall out with her; the dinner she put for him didn't please him. So he up with his fist and he knocked her dead.

In comes the poor servant-girl and says, 'O master, what ever did you kill the poor missus for?'

He says, 'I'll sarve you the same.' And he sarved her the same.

In come the wagoner, and he asked, 'What did he kill the missus and the sarvint for.' And he says, 'I'll sarve you the same,' he says. He wanted to try this stick what he had off Jack, He thought he could use it the same way as Jack. So he touched the missus with it fust, but she never rose. He touched the servant with it, and she never rose. He touched the wagoner, and he never rose. 'Well,' he says, 'I'll try the big end,' he says, and he tries the knob. So he battered and battered with the knob till he battered the brains out of the three of them.

He does no more, and he goes up to Jack and says, 'O Jack, you've ruined me for life.' He says, 'Jack, I shall have to drown you.'

So Jack says, 'All right, master.'

'Well, get in this bag,' he says; and he takes him on his back. As he was going along the road, he . . . went one field off the road, being a very methlyist man. During the time he was down there, there come a drōvyer by with his cattle. Now Jack's head was out of the sack.

'Hello! Jack, where are you going?'

'To heaven, I hope.'

'Oh! Jack, let me go. I'm an older man till you, and I'll give you all my money and this cattle.'

Jack told him to unloosen the bag to let him out, and for him to get into it. Away Jack goes with the cattle and the money. So the master comes up, taking no notice of it, and he picks the bag up, and puts it on his shoulder, and goes on till he comes to Monfort's Bridge. 1 He says, 'One, two, three'; and away he chucks him over.

Well, Jack goes now about the country, dealing in cattle. So in about three years' time he comes round the same way again, round the master's place.

So, 'Hello! Jack,' he says, 'where ever did you get them from?'

'Well, sir,' he says, 'when you throwed me, if I'd had a little boy at the turning to turn them straight down the road, I should have had as many more.'

So he says, 'Jack, will you chuck me there, and you stop at the turning to turn them.'

So Jack says,' You'll have to walk till you get there, for I can't carry you.'

And when he got to the bridge Jack put him in the bag, and Jack counted his 'One, two, three,' same as he counted for him, and away he goes. And Jack went back and took to the farm, and making very good use of it. For many a night he let me sleep in the field with my tent for telling that lie about him.

THE FOOL WITH THE SHEEP
The youngest of three brothers is a fool, and the two others want to kill him. They induce him to get into a sack as the way to go to heaven. He does so, and they take him to the sea. They stop for a drink at a tavern. A stranger comes by with sheep. He wants to go, and takes Jack's place, and is thrown into the sea. Jack returns with the sheep. The brothers find him at home with his flock, and ask where he got them. 'At the bottom of the sea.' They want to go too, so Jack throws them in, and returns home.

THE TINKER AND HIS WIFE
Once there was a tinker and his wife, and they got into a bit of very good country for yernin’ a few shillings quick. And in this country there wasn't very little lodgings. 'Well, my wench,' he said to his wife, 'I think we'll go and take that little empty house, and keep a little beer. Well, my wench, I'll order for a barrel of beer.' He has this barrel of beer in the house. 'Now, my wench, you make the biggest penny out of it as ever you can, and I'll go off for another week's walk.'

In the course of one day a packman come by. He says, 'It's gettin' very warm, missus, isn't it?'

'No, indeed,' she says, 'it's very cold weather.'

'I've got a very big load, and it makes me sweat, and I think it's warm.'

'I sell beer here,' she says.

He says, 'Well, God bless you, put me a drop for this penny.'

It was one of the old big pennies, and was the biggest penny she ever saw there. She brought him all the barrel for it. So she takes the penny and drops it in the basin on the mantel-shelf. He was there three days drinking till he emptied the barrel of beer. The husband comes home at the end of the week.

'Well, my wench, how did you get on?'

'Well, Jack, I did very well. I sold every drop of beer.'

'Well done, my wench, we'll have another one and see how that goes. Now, my wench, bring them few shillin's down, and let's see what you made upon it.'

She brings the basin down, and says, 'You telled me to make the biggest penny on it as ever I could.'

He begin to count it, and turns the basin upside down, and empties it on the table. And what was there but the one big penny?

'Well! well!! well!!!' he says, 'you'll ruin me now for life.'

'Ah!' she says, 'Jack, didn't you tell me to make the biggest penny out of it as ever I could, and that was the biggest penny as ever I seen.'

'Well,' he says, 'my wench, I see you don't understand sellin’ beer. I think I'll buy a little pig. We've got plenty of taters and cabbage in the garden. Well, now, my wench, when the butcher comes round to kill the pig, you walk round the garden and count every cabbage that's in the garden, and you get a little stick, and stick it by every cabbage in the garden, and when the butcher slays the pig up, you revide a piece of pig up for every cabbage in the garden.'

She revided a piece of pig up for every cabbage in the garden, and stuck it on every stick round the cabbages. The husband comes home again.

'Well, my wife, how did you go on with the pig?'

'Well, Jack, I done as you told me,' she says. 'I got a stick and stuck it by every cabbage, and put a piece of mate on every stick.'

'Well! well!! well!!!' he says, 'where is the mate gone to now? You'll ruin me if I stop here much longer. Pull the fire out,' he says, 'and I'll get away from here.' And he picks up his basket and throws it on his shoulder. 'Pull that door after you,' he says.

What did she do but she pulls all the fire out and put it into her apron. The old door of the house was tumbling down, and she picks it up and put it on her back. So him being into a temper, he didn't take much notice of her behind him. They travelled on, and it come very dark. They comes to an old hollow tree by the side of the road.

'Well, my wench, I think we'll stop here to-night.'

They goes up to the top of the old tree. After they got up in the tree, the robbers got underneath them.

'Whatever you do, my wench, keep quiet. This is a robbers' den.'

The robbers had plenty of meat and everything, and they prayed for a bit of fire.

She says, 'Jack,' she says, 'I shall have to drop it.'

So she drops the fire out of her apron, and it goed down the hollow tree.

'See, what a godsend that is,' said one.

They cooked the meat as they had. 'The Lord send me a drop of vinegar,' says one.

'Thank God for that,' says that other one. 'See what a godsend ’tis to us.'

Now, the door's fastened to her back yet, and she says, 'Jack, I shall have to drop it.'

'Drop what?' he says.

'I shall have to drop the door, Jack,' she says, 'the rope's cutting my shoulders in two.'

So she drop the door down the hollow tree, and it went dummel-tummel-tummel down the tree, and these robbers thought ’twas the devil himself coming. They jumps up, and away they goes down the road as hard as ever they could go. .The time as they run, Jack's wife goes down the tree and picks up the bag of gold what they'd left. Being frightened as they'd had such godsends to ’em, they left all behind.

They had one brother as was deaf and dumb. Him being a very valuable 1 fellow, he thought he'd come back to see what was the matter. He come peepin’ round the old tree. Who happened to see him but Jack's wife. And he went 'A a a a a a' to her.

'Come here,' she says, 'I can cure your speech.'

She made motions with her own mouth for him to put his tongue out. She drew the knife slightly from behind her as he put his tongue out, and cut half of his tongue off. Him being bleeding, he went 'Awa wa wa wa wa,' putting his hand to his mouth and making motions to his brothers. And when he got back to his brothers, them seeing him bleeding, they thought sure the devil was there.

I never see Jack nor his wife nor the robbers sense after they left the tree.

WINTER
An old man and woman, very poor, live in a cottage. The old man saves up money in a stocking for winter. A beggar comes to the door. The old woman asks his name. 'Winter.' 'Here is money, my old man, saved for you.' The old husband comes home. They leave the cottage, the old woman taking the door with her (reason not given), and camp out in a tree. Robbers come and camp underneath, and quarrel over the division of their spoil. They want change for £1. One says he will have change if he goes to the devil for it. Down falls the door. The robbers think it is the devil, and fly, leaving the money. The old man and woman seize it, and return to their cottage.

THE BLACK DOG OF THE WILD FOREST
There was a king and queen in the north of Ireland, and they had one son. The son had to be revoured when he came of age by the Black Dog of the Wild Forest, and his father was very fond of his son. When he came close to the time when he had to be revoured, his father took him a shorter journey every day; and one day his father saddled the best horse as he had in his stable, and gave him as much money as he liked to take with him. He galloped away as hard as ever he could till he got benighted. He rode some hundreds and hundreds of miles, and he could see a small little light a little distance off him, maybe a hundred miles off him to the best of his knowledge in the dark, and he makes for this little light. And who was living there but an old witch.

'Well, come in, 1 my king's son,' she said, 'from the North of Ireland. I know you aren't very well.'

And so when he comes in, she puts him in the ess-hole under the fire. He hadn't been in there but twenty minutes, but in comes the Black Dog of the Wild Forest, spitting fire yards away out of his mouth, th’ owd lady and her little dog named Hear-all after him. But they beat him.

'Now,' she says, 'my king's son, please to get up. You can have your tea now. We have beat him.'

So he gets up, has his tea with her, and gives a lot of money to the old lady, which says they have got a sister living from her three hundred miles. 'And if you can get there, ten to one she will give you her advice to get safe. I will give you my favours, the bread out of my mouth, that is Hear-all, the dog. I will give you that dog with you.'

He gallops on, gallops on, till he gets benighted. He looks behind him on the way he was going; his horse was getting very tired; and he could see the Black Dog of the Wild Forest after him. And he gallops on till he comes to t’other sister's house.

'Well, come in,' she says, 'my king's son from the North of Ireland. I know you aren't very well.'

She puts him down into the ess-hole again, sir; and she had a little dog named Spring-all. If they fought hard the first night they fought fifteen times harder with Hear-all and Spring-all and th' owd lady herself.

'Well,' she said, 'my king's son, I will do the best as ever I can for you. I will give you Spring-all, and I will give you the rod. Don't forget what I tell you to do with this rod. You follow this ball of worsted. Now it will take you right straight to a river. You will see the Black Dog of the Wild Forest, and s’ever you get to this river, you hit this rod in the water, and a fine bridge will jump up. And when you get to t’other side, just hit the water, and the bridge will fall in again, and the Black Dog of the Wild Forest cannot get you.'

He got into another wild forest over the water, and he got romping and moping about the forest by himself till he got very wild. He got moping about, and he found he got to a castle. That was the king's castle as he got over there to. He got to this castle, and the gentleman put him on to a job at this castle.

So he says to him, 'Jack, are you ony good a-shooting?'

'Yes, sir,' he says, 'I can shoot a little bit. I can shoot a long way further.'

'Well, will you go out to-day, Jack, and we will have a shot or two in the forest?'

They killed several birds and wild varmints in the forest. So him being sweet upon a daughter at this big hall, her and Jack got very great together. Jack tuck her down to the river to show her what he could do with his rod, him being laughing and joking with her. The king wanted a bridge made over the river, and he said there was no one as could do it.

'My dear,' says Jack, 'I could do it,' he says.

'With what?' she says.

'With my rod.'

He touched the water with his rod, and up springs as nice a bridge as ever you have seen up out of the water. Him being laughing and joking with this young girl, he come away and forgot the bridge standing. He comes home. Next day following he goes off again shooting with the king again, and the Black Dog of the Wild Forest comes to the king's house.

He says to th’ owd lady herself, 'Whatever you do to-morrow, Jack will be going out shooting again, and you get Jack to leave his two little dogs, as I am going to devour Jack. And whatever you do, you fasten ’em down in the cellar to-morrow, and I will follow Jack to the forest where he is going shooting. And if Jack kills me, he will bring me back on the top of his horse on the front of him; and you will say to him, "O Jack, what ever are you going to do with that?" "I am going to make a fire of it," he will say. And he will burn me, and when he burns me he will burn me to dust. And you get a small bit of stick--Jack will go away and leave me after--and you go and rake my dust about, and you will find a lucky-bone. And when Jack goes to his bed, you drop this lucky-bone in Jack's ear, he will never rise no more, and you can take and bury him.'

Now the old lady was against Jack a lot for being there. So the Black Dog of the Wild Forest told th' owd lady the way to kill Jack. 'So see as when Jack brings me back and burns me, you look in my dust, and you will find a lucky-bone, and you drop it when Jack goes to bed, drop it into his ear, and Jack will never rise from his bed no more, he will be dead. Take Jack and bury him.'

Jack goes to the forest a-shooting, and the Black Dog of the Wild Forest follows him, and Jack begin to cry. Now if the fire came from his mouth the first time, it came a hundred times more, and Jack begin to cry.

'Oh dear!' he cried, 'where is my little Hear-all and Spring-all?'He had no sooner said the words, five minutes but scarcely, comes up the two little dogs, and they’s a very terrible fight. But Jack masters him and kills him. He brings home the Black Dog of the Wild Forest on the front of his horse; he brings him back, Jack, on the front of his horse; and the king says, 'What ever are you going to do with that?'

'I'm going to burn him.'

After he burns him, he burns him to dust.

The Black Dog of the Wild Forest says to th’ owd lady, When Jack burns me to dust, you get a little stick and rake my dust about, and you will find a lucky-bone. You drop that lucky-bone in Jack's ear when he goes to bed, and Jack will never waken no more, and then you can take and bury him, and after that Jack is buried there will be no more said about him.'

Well, th’ owd woman did do so, sir. When Jack went to bed, she got this lucky-bone and did as the Black Dog of the Wild Forest told her. She did drop it in Jack's ear, and Jack was dead. They take Jack off to bury him. Jack been buried three days, and the parson wondered what these two little dogs was moping about the grave all the time. He couldn't get them away.

'I think we'll rise Jack again,' he says.

And s’ever they rise him, off opened the lid of the coffin, and little Hear-all jumped to the side of his head, and he licked the lucky-bone out of his ear. And up Jack jumped alive.

Jack says, 'Who ever put me here?'

'It was the king as had you buried here, Jack.'

Jack made his way home to his own father and mother. Going on the road Jack was riding bounded on the back of his horse's back. Hear-all says to him, 'Jack,' he says, 'come down, cut my head off.'

'Oh dear, no! Hear-all. I couldn't do that for the kindness you have done for me.'

'If you don't do it, Jack, I shall devour you.'

He comes down off his horse's back, and he kills little Hear-all. He cuts his head off, and well off timed [ofttimes] he goes crying about Hear-all, for what he done. Goes on a little further. Spring-all says to him, 'Jack, you have got to come down and serve me the same.'

Oh dear, no!' he says, 'Spring-all, I shall take it all to heart.'

'Well,' he says, 'if you don't come down, Jack,' he says, I will devour you.'

Jack comes down, and he cuts his head off, and he goes on the road, crying very much to hisself about his two little dogs. So going on this road as he was crying, he turned his head round at the back of his horse, looking behind him, and he sees two of the handsomest young ladies coming as ever he saw in his life.

'What are you crying for?' said these ladies to him.

'I am crying,' he said, 'about two little dogs, two faithful dogs, what I had.'

'What was the name of your little dogs?'

'One was named Hear-all, and the t’other was named Spring-all.'

'Would you know them two dogs if you would see them again?'

'Oh dear, yes!' says Jack. 'Oh dear, yes!' says Jack.

'Well, I am Hear-all, and this is Spring-all.'

Away Jack goes home to his father and mother, and lives very happy there all the days of his life.

THE TALE OF THE SOLDIER
There was an old soldier once, and he left the army. He went to the top of a hill that was at the upper end of the town-land, and he said, 'Well, may it be that the Mischief may come and take me with him on his back the next time that I come again in sight of this town.'

Then he was walking till he came to the house of a gentleman that was there. John asked the gentleman if he would get leave to stay in his house that night.

'Well, then,' said the gentleman, 'since thou art an old soldier, and hast the look of a man of courage, without dread or fear in thy face, there is a castle at the side of yonder wood, and thou mayest stay in it till day. Thou shalt have a pipe and baccy, a cogie full of whisky, and a Bible to read. 1

When John got his supper, he took himself to the castle. He set on a great fire, and when a while of the night had come, there came two tawny women in, and a dead man's kist between them. They threw it at the fireside, and they sprang out. John arose, and with the heel of his foot he drove out its end, and he dragged out an old hoary bodach. And he set him sitting in the great chair; he gave him a pipe and baccy, and a cogie of whisky; but the bodach let them fall on the floor.

'Poor man,' said John, 'the cold is on thee.'

John laid himself stretched in the bed, and he left the bodach to toast himself at the fireside; but about the crowing of the cock he went away.

The gentleman came well early in the morning. 'What rest didst thou find, John?'

'Good rest,' said John, 'Thy father was not the man that would frighten me.'

'Right, good John, thou shalt have two hundred pund, and lie to-night in the castle.'

'I am the man that will do that,' said John.

And that night it was the very like. There came three tawny women, and a dead man's kist with them amongst them. They threw it up to the side of the fireplace, and they took their soles out of that. John arose, and with the heel of his boot he broke the head of the kist, and he dragged out of it the old hoary man. And, as he did the night before, he set him sitting in the big chair, and gave him pipe and baccy; and he let them fall.

'Oh! poor man,' said John, 'cold is on thee.'

Then he gave him a cogie of drink, and he let that fall also.

'Oh! poor man, thou art cold.'

The bodach went as he did the night before. 'But,' said John to himself, 'if I stay here this night, and that thou shouldst come, thou shalt pay my pipe and baccy, and my cogie of drink.'

The gentleman came early enough in the morning, and he asked, 'What rest didst thou find last night, John?'

'Good rest,' said John. 'It was not the hoary bodach, thy father, that would put fear on me.'

'Och!' said the gentleman, 'if thou stayest to-night thou shalt have three hundred pund.'

'It's a bargain,' said John.

When it was a while of the night there came four tawny women, and a dead man's kist with them amongst them. And they set that down at the side of John. John arose, and he drew his foot, and he drove the head out of the kist. And he dragged out the old hoary man, and he set him in the big chair. He reached him the pipe and the baccy, the cup and the drink; but the old man let them fall, and they were broken.

'Och!' said John, 'before thou goest this night, thou shalt pay me all thou hast broken.'

But word came there not from the head of the bodach. Then John took the belt of his abersgaic, 1 and he tied the bodach to his side, and he took him with him to bed. When the heath-cock crowed, the bodach asked him to let him go.

'Pay what thou hast broken first,' said John.

'I will tell thee, then,' said the old man, 'there is a cellar of drink under, below me, in which there is plenty of drink, tobacco, and pipes. There is another little chamber beside the cellar, in which there is a caldron full of gold. And under the threshold of the big door there is a crocky full of silver. Thou sawest the women that came with me to-night?'

'I saw,' said John.

'Well, there thou hast four women from whom I took the cows, and they in extremity. They are going with me every night thus, punishing me. But go thou and tell my son how I am being wearied out. Let him go and pay the cows, and let him not be heavy on the poor. Thou thyself and he may divide the gold and silver between you; and marry thyself my old girl. But mind, give plenty of gold of what is left to the poor, on whom I was too hard. And I will find rest in the world of worlds.'

The gentleman came, and John told him as I have told thee. But John would not marry the old girl of the hoary bodach. At the end of a day or two John would not stay longer. He filled his pockets full of the gold, and he asked the gentleman to give plenty of gold to the poor. He reached the house, 1 but he was wearying at home, and he had rather be back with the regiment. He took himself off on a day of days, and he reached the hill above the town, from which he went away. But who should come to him but the Mischief.

'Hoth! hoth! John, thou hast come back?'

'Hoth on thyself!' quoth John, 'I came. Who art thou? 'I am the Mischief, the man to whom thou gayest thyself when thou was here last.'

'Ai! ai!' said John, 'it's long since I heard tell of thee, but I never saw thee before. There is glamour on my eyes; I will not believe that it is thou at all. But make a snake of thyself, and I will believe thee.'

The Mischief did this.

'Make now a lion of roaring.'

The Mischief did this.

'Spit fire now seven miles behind thee and seven miles before thee.'

The Mischief did this.

'Well,' said John, 'since I am to be a servant with thee, come into my abersgaic, and I will carry thee. But thou must not come out till I ask thee, or else the bargain's broke.'

The Mischief promised, and he did this.

Now,' said John, 'I am going to see a brother of mine that is in the regiment. But keep thou quiet.'

So now John went into the town; and one yonder and one here would cry, 'There is John the desairtair.' There was gripping of John, and a court held on him; and so it was that he was to be hanged about mid-day on the morrow. And John asked no favour but to be floored with a bullet.

The Coirneal said, 'Since he was an old soldier, and in the army so long, that he should have his asking.'

On the morrow, when John was to be shot, and the soldiers foursome round all about him, 'What is that they are saying?' said the Mischief. 'Let me amongst them, and I won't be long scattering them.'

'Cuist! cuist! ' said John.

'What's that speaking to thee?' said the Coirneal.

'Oh! it's but a white mouse,' said John.

'Black or white,' said the Coirneal, 'don't thou let her out of the abersgaic, and thou shalt have a letter of loosing, and let's see no more of thee.'

John went away, and in the mouth of night he went into a barn where there were twelve men threshing. 'Oh! lads,' said John, 'here's for you my old abersgaic; and take a while threshing it, it is so hard that it is taking the skin off my back.'

They took as much as two hours of the watch at the abersgaic with the twelve flails; and at last, every blow they gave it, it would leap to the top of the barn, and it was casting one of the threshers now and again on his back. When they saw that, they asked him to be out of that, himself and his abersgaic; they would not believe but that the Mischief was in it.

Then he went on his journey, and he went into a smithy where there were twelve smiths striking their great hammers. 'Here's for you, lads, an old abersgaic, and I will give you half-a-crown, and take a while at it with the twelve great hammers; it is so hard that it is taking the skin off my back.'

But that was fun for the smiths; it was good sport for them, the abersgaic of the soldier. But every sgaile it got, it was bounding to the top of the smithy. 'Go out of this, thyself and it,' said they; 'we will not believe that the Bramman 1 is in it.'

So then John went on, and the Mischief on his back; and he reached a great furnace that was there.

'Where art thou going now, John?' said the Mischief. 'Patience a little, and thou 'It see that,' said John.

'Let me out,' said the Mischief, 'and I will never put trouble on thee in this world.'

'Nor in the next?' said John.

'That's it,' said the Mischief.

'Stop, then,' said John, 'till thou get a smoke.'

And so saying, John cast the abersgaic and the Mischief into the middle of the furnace: and himself and the furnace went as a green flame of fire to the skies.

THE MAGIC SHIRT
'There was a king and a knight, as there was and will be, and as grows the fir-tree, some of it crooked and some of it straight; and he was a king of Eirinn,' said the old tinker, and then came a wicked stepmother, who was incited to evil by a wicked hen-wife. The son of the first queen was at school with twelve comrades, and they used to play at shinny every day with silver shinnies and a golden ball. The hen-wife, for certain curious rewards, gave the step-dame a magic shirt, and she sent it to her stepson, 'Sheen Billy,' and persuaded him to put it on. He refused at first, but complied at last, and the shirt was a great snake about his neck. Then he was enchanted and under spells, and all manner of adventures happened; but at last he came to the house of a wise woman who had a beautiful daughter, who fell in love with the enchanted prince, and said she must and would have him.

'It will cost thee much sorrow,' said the mother.

'I care not,' said the girl, 'I must have him.'

'It will cost thee thy hair.'

'I care not.'

'It will cost thee thy right breast.'

'I care not if it should cost me my life,' said the girl.

And the old woman agreed to help her to her will. A caldron was prepared and filled with plants; and the king's son was put into it and stripped to the magic shirt, and the girl was stripped to the waist. And the mother stood by with a great knife, which she gave to her daughter. Then the king's son was put down in the caldron; and the great serpent, which appeared to be a shirt about his neck, changed into its own form, and sprang on the girl and fastened on her; and she cut away the hold, and the king's son was freed from the spells. Then they were married, and a golden breast was made for the lady.

Throughout the course of Christianity's existence, it has had a few run ins with the Roma. If you have heard Christian Lore of Vampires, like stakes in the heart and all of that, those types of ideas come from the Roma. They also had concepts of Vampire Watermelons and Pumpkins, they would come from ground up Watermelon or Pumpkin, and they would look like the full regular fruit, but they were vicious.

In the Roma language "God" is called "Devla" and sometimes even "Devel", and this has caused some confusion with Christians for obvious reasons. And throughout the course of Christianity, they have thought that the Roma were worshiping the Devil. The Roma word for "Devil" is "Beng" though, and the word "Devla" comes from the Hindu word "Deva" which is the Sanskrit word for "God".

The Roma word for "Vampire" is "Mullo". They usually came back to life because someone did not do burial rites properly. The Roma would hire the child of a Vampire and a Human (Dhampir) to track the vampire and kill it. They would then stake the body down, decapitate it and bury it, then put stakes in the grave.

THE VAMPIRE
THERE was an old woman in a village. And grown-up maidens met and span, and made a 'bee.' 1 And the young sparks came and laid hold of the girls, and pulled them about and kissed them. But one girl had no sweetheart to lay hold of her and kiss her. And she was a strapping lass, the daughter of wealthy peasants; but three whole days no one came near her. And she looked at the big girls, her comrades. And no one troubled himself with her. Yet she was a pretty girl, a prettier was not to be found. Then came a fine young spark, and took her in his arms and kissed her, and stayed with her until cock-crow. And when the cock crowed at dawn he departed. The old woman saw he had cock's feet. 2 And she kept looking at the lad's feet, and she said, 'Nita, my lass, did you see anything?'

'I didn't notice.'

'Then didn't I see he had cock's feet?'

'Let be, mother, I didn't see it.'

And the girl went home and slept; and she arose and went off to the spinning, where many more girls were holding a 'bee.' And the young sparks came, and took each one his sweetheart. And they kissed them, and stayed a while, and went home. And the girl's handsome young spark came and took her in his arms and kissed her and pulled her about, and stayed with her till midnight. And the cock began to crow. The young spark heard the cock crowing, and departed. What said the old woman who was in the hut, 'Nita, did you notice that he had horse's hoofs?'

'And if he had, I didn't see.'

Then the girl departed to her home. And she slept and arose in the morning, and did her work that she had to do. And night came, and she took her spindle and went to the old woman in the hut. And the other girls came, and the young sparks came, and each laid hold of his sweetheart. But the pretty girl looks at them. Then the young sparks gave over and departed home. And only the girl remained neither a long time nor a short time. Then came the girl's young spark. Then what will the girl do? She took heed, and stuck a needle and thread in his back. And he departed when the cock crew, and she knew not where he had gone to. Then the girl arose in the morning and took the thread, and followed up the thread, and saw him in a grave where he was sitting. Then the girl trembled and went back home. At night the young spark that was in the grave came to the old woman's house and saw that the girl was not there. He asked the old woman, 'Where's Nita?'

'She has not come.'

Then he went to Nita's house, where she lived, and called, 'Nita, are you at home?'

Nita answered, ['I am'].

'Tell me what you saw when you came to the church. For if you don't tell me I will kill your father.'

'I didn't see anything.'

Then he looked, 1 and he killed her father, and departed to his grave.

Next night he came back. 'Nita, tell me what you saw.' I didn't see anything.'

'Tell me, or I will kill your mother, as I killed your father. Tell me what you saw.'

'I didn't see anything.'

Then he killed her mother, and departed to his grave. Then the girl arose in the morning. And she had twelve servants. And she said to them, 'See, I have much money and many oxen and many sheep; and they shall come to the twelve of you as a gift, for I shall die to-night. And it will fare ill with you if you bury me not in the forest at the foot of an apple-tree.'

At night came the young spark from the grave and asked, Nita, are you at home?'

'I am.'

'Tell me, Nita, what you saw three days ago, or I will kill you, as I killed your parents.'

'I have nothing to tell you.'

Then he took and killed her. Then, casting a look, he departed to his grave.

So the servants, when they arose in the morning, found Nita dead. The servants took her and laid her out decently. They sat and made a hole in the wall and passed her through the hole, and carried her, as she had bidden, and buried her in the forest by the apple-tree.

And half a year passed by, and a prince went to go and course hares with greyhounds and other dogs. And he went to hunt, and the hounds ranged the forest and came to the maiden's grave. And a flower grew out of it, the like of which for beauty there was not in the whole kingdom. 1 So the hounds came on her monument, where she was buried, and they began to bark and scratched at the maiden's grave. Then the prince took and called the dogs with his horn, and the dogs came not. The prince said, 'Go quickly thither.'

Four huntsmen arose and came and saw the flower burning like a candle. They returned to the prince, and he asked them, 'What is it?'

'It is a flower, the like was never seen.'

Then the lad heard, and came to the maiden's grave, and saw the flower and plucked it. And he came home and showed it to his father and mother. Then he took and put it in a vase at his bed-head where he slept. Then the flower arose from the vase and turned a somersault, 2 and became a full-grown maiden. And she took the lad and kissed him, and bit him and pulled him about, and slept with him in her arms, and put her hand under his head. And he knew it not. When the dawn came she became a flower again.

In the morning the lad rose up sick, and complained to his father and mother, 'Mammy, my shoulders hurt me, and my head hurts me.'

His mother went and brought a wise woman and tended him. He asked for something to eat and drink. And he waited a bit, and then went to his business that he had to do. And he went home again at night. And he ate and drank and lay down on his couch, and sleep seized him. Then the flower arose and again became a full-grown maiden. And she took him again in her arms, and slept with him, and sat with him in her arms. And he slept. And she went back to the vase. And he arose, and his bones hurt him, and he told his mother and his father. Then his father said to his wife, 'It began with the coming of the flower. Something must be the matter, for the boy is quite ill. Let us watch to-night, and post ourselves on one side, and see who comes to our son.'

Night came, and the prince laid himself in his bed to sleep. Then the maiden arose from the vase, and became there was never anything more fair--as burns the flame of a candle. And his mother and his father, the king, saw the maiden, and laid hands on her. Then the prince arose out of his sleep, and saw the maiden that she was fair. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her, and lay down in his bed, slept till day.

And they made a marriage and ate and drank. The folk marvelled, for a being so fair as that maiden was not to be found in all the realm. And he dwelt with her half a year, and she bore a golden boy, two apples in his hand. 1 And it pleased the prince well.

Then her old sweetheart heard it, the vampire who had made love to her, and had killed her. He arose and came to her and asked her, 'Nita, tell me, what did you see me doing?'

'I didn't see anything.'

'Tell me truly, or I will kill your child, your little boy, as I killed your father and mother. Tell me truly.'

'I have nothing to tell you.'

And he killed her boy. And she arose and carried him to the church and buried him.

At night the vampire came again and asked her, 'Tell me, Nita, what you saw.'

'I didn't see anything.'

'Tell me, or I will kill the lord whom you have wedded.'

Then Nita arose and said, 'It shall not happen that you kill my lord. God send you burst.' 1

The vampire heard what Nita said, and burst. Ay, he died, and burst for very rage. In the morning Nita arose and saw the floor swimming two hand's-breadth deep in blood. Then Nita bade her father-in-law take out the vampire's heart with all speed. Her father-in-law, the king, hearkened, and opened him and took out his heart, and gave it into Nita's hand. And she went to the grave of her boy and dug the boy up, applied the heart, and the boy arose. And Nita went to her father and to her mother, and anointed them with the blood, and they arose. Then, looking on them, Nita told all the troubles she had borne, and what she had suffered at the hands of the vampire.

The Roma have the Wheel of Law, in Buddhism/Hindu and in much of the word (such as in the American armed forces and national flags around the world) it is known as the Dharmacakra. The idea of a wheel representing "Unity" or "Strength" is a very old one. As mentioned before, it is just like the concept where someone breaks a single stick, the puts a bundle of sticks together and shows that they are not as easy to break when they are together. When the wheel is used in a similar analogy, each spoke is given a value, then the metaphor is made that if you have all of those values, you will be strong like the wheel, which uses the idea of spread out surface area and points of pressure to take impact better than a solid stone or wooden wheel that was solid instead of spoked.

Another symbol that is popular in Hindu/Buddhist culture is the "Eternal knot" also know as the "Gordian Knot" to some people. It is a symbol that is used in loading symbols on video games still today. The actual real life "Gordian Knot" that was tied with a rope was said to have been in Turkey, and whoever untied it was supposed to be emperor. Alexander the Great got to it and cut it in half with a sword.

Turkey is also where the story of "King Midas" comes from, who is know for having "The Midas Touch" that turned things in to Gold. Another ruler was known as "Tantalus" and his story is the word "Tantalize" comes from, because he was Tantalized for eternity.

According to one Egyptian story, the Pharaoh wanted to know what the oldest language in the world was, so he took 2 children and had them raised in isolation, they were fed but there was no other contact with humans. After the children were let out, the first word they said was "Bekos" which is Phrygian (Ancient Turkish) for "Bread".

You have probably heard of the Greek "Oracles", these were known as "Sibyls" to the Greek people, since Oracle is a modern word. They were known for being veiled, which is a quality of the Goddess Cybele.

The Wheel of Law has been spread through all of these cultures, but in Buddhism it has a more specific meaning. I have already explained the aspect of Strength that is symbolized by the wheel, but there is also the aspect of "Turning" the wheel, or "Changing" the spiritual path. Buddha aka Sid Hartha was said to have "Turned the Wheel of Dharma". In this form it is more thought of as a steering wheel, like for a boat, instead of a wheel like on the axles of a cart. This can also go further to symbolize cycles, and the idea that "What goes around comes around" etc.

Buddhist Parables
THE TWIN TRUTHS
For the proper understanding of Buddhism these opening stanzas are all-important. One of the Buddha's key-thoughts was what modern psychologists call the "law of apperception": the value of things depends upon our attitude to them.

Part of Gautama's work of reform was a "transvaluation of values," a shifting of emphasis; and, like the Stoics, he taught the indifference of the things of sense. "Men are disturbed," said Epictetus, "not by things, but by the view they take of things."

1. Mind it is which gives to things their quality, their foundation, and their being: whoso speaks or acts with impure mind, him sorrow dogs, as the wheel follows the steps of the draught-ox.

2. Mind it is which gives to things their quality,

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their foundation, and their being: whoso speaks or acts with purified mind, him happiness accompanies as his faithful shadow.

3. "He has abused me, beaten me, worsted me, robbed me"; those who dwell upon such thoughts never lose their hate.

4. "He has abused me, beaten me, worsted me, robbed me "; those who dwell: not upon such thoughts are freed of hate.

5. Never does hatred cease by hating; by not hating does it cease: this is the ancient law.

6. If some there are who know not by such hatred we are perishing, and some there are who know it, then by their knowledge strife is ended.

7. As the wind throws down a shaky tree, so Mara (Death) o’erwhelms him who is a seeker after vanity, uncontrolled, intemperate, slothful, and effeminate.

8. But whoso keeps his eyes from vanity, controlled and temperate, faithful and strenuous, Mara cannot overthrow, as the wind beating against a rocky crag.

9. Though an impure man don the pure yellow robe (of the Bhikkhu), himself unindued with temperance and truth, he is not worthy of the pure yellow robe.

10. He who has doffed his impurities, calm and clothed upon with temperance and truth, he wears the pure robe worthily.

11. Those who mistake the shadow for the

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substance, and the substance for the shadow, never attain the reality, following wandering fires (lit. followers of a false pursuit).

12. But if a man knows the substance and the shadow as they are, he attains the reality, following the true trail.

13. As the rain pours into the ill-thatched house, so lust pours into the undisciplined mind.

14. As rain cannot enter the well-thatched house, so lust finds no entry into the disciplined mind.

15. Here and hereafter the sinner mourns: yea mourns and is in torment, knowing the vileness of his deeds.

16. Here and hereafter the good man is glad: yea is glad and rejoices, knowing that his deeds are pure.

17. Here and hereafter the sinner is in torment: tormented by the thought "I have sinned"; yea rather tormented when he goes to hell.

18. Here and hereafter the good man rejoices; rejoices as he thinks "I have done well": yea rather rejoices when he goes to a heaven.

19. If a man is a great preacher of the sacred text, but slothful and no doer of it, he is a hireling shepherd, who has no part in the flock.

20. If a man preaches but a little of the text and practises the teaching, putting away lust and hatred and infatuation; if he is truly wise and detached and seeks nothing here or hereafter, his lot is with the holy ones.

ZEAL
Zeal or earnestness (appamādo) plays an important part in Buddhist Ethics. The way is steep, therefore let the wayfarer play the man.

Zeal may be displayed either in strenuous mind-culture or in deeds of piety—these are the equivalents of "Faith" and "Works" in the Buddhist system.

21. Zeal is the way to Nirvāna. Sloth is the day of death. The zealous die not: the slothful are as it were dead.

22. The wise who know the power of zeal delight in it, rejoicing in the lot of the noble.

23. These wise ones by meditation and reflection, by constant effort reach Nirvāna, highest freedom.

24. Great grows the glory of him who is zealous in meditation, whose actions are pure and deliberate, whose life is calm and righteous and full of vigour.

25. By strenuous effort, by self-control, by temperance, let the wise man make for himself an island which the flood cannot overwhelm.

26. Fools in their folly give themselves to sloth: the wise man guards his vigour as his greatest possession.

27. Give not yourselves over to sloth, and to dalliance with delights: he who meditates with earnestness attains great joy.

28. When the wise one puts off sloth for zeal, ascending the high tower of wisdom he gazes sorrowless upon the sorrowing crowd below! Wise himself, he looks upon the fools as one upon a mountain-peak gazing upon the dwellers in the valley.

29. Zealous amidst the slothful, vigilant among the sleepers, go the prudent, as a racehorse outstrips a hack.

30. By zeal did Sakra reach supremacy among the gods. Men praise zeal; but sloth is always blamed.

31. A Bhikkhu who delights in zeal, looking askance at sloth, moves onwards like a fire, burning the greater and the lesser bonds.

32. A Bhikkhu who delights in zeal, looking askance at sloth, cannot be brought low, but is near to Nirvāna

THE MIND
33. This trembling, wavering mind, so difficult to guard and to control—this the wise man makes straight as the fletcher straightens his shaft.

34. As quivers the fish when thrown upon the ground, far from his home in the waters, so the mind quivers as it leaves the realm of Death.

35. Good it is to tame the mind, so difficult to control, fickle, and capricious. Blessed is the tamed mind.

36. Let the wise man guard his mind, incomprehensible, subtle, and capricious though it is. Blessed is the guarded mind.

37. They will escape the fetters of Death who control that far-wandering, solitary, incorporeal cave-dweller, the mind.

38. In him who is unstable and ignorant of the law and capricious in his faith, wisdom is not perfected.

39. There is no fear in him, the vigilant one whose mind is not befouled with lust, nor embittered with rage, who cares nought for merit or demerit.

40. Let him who knows that his body is brittle as a potsherd, make his mind strong as a fortress; let him smite Mara with the sword of wisdom, and let him guard his conquest without dalliance.

41. Soon will this body lie upon the ground, deserted, and bereft of sense, like a log cast aside.

42. Badly does an enemy treat his enemy, a foeman his foe: worse is the havoc wrought by a misdirected mind.

43. Not mother and father, not kith and kin can so benefit a man as a mind attentive to the rights.

FLOWERS
44. Who shall conquer this world, and the realm of Death with its attendant gods? Who shall sort the verses of the well-preached Law, as a clever weaver of garlands sorts flowers?

45. My disciple shall conquer this world and Death with its attendant gods: it is he who shall sort the verses of the well-preached Law as a clever garland-maker sorts flowers.

46. Let him escape the eye of Mara, regarding his body as froth, knowing it as a mirage, plucking out the flowery shafts of Mara.

47. He who is busy culling pleasures, as one plucks flowers, Death seizes and hurries off, as a great flood bears away a sleeping village.

48. The Destroyer treads him underfoot as he is culling worldly pleasures, still unsated with lusts of the flesh.

49. As a bee taking honey from flowers, without hurt to bloom or scent, so let the sage seek his food from house to house.

60. Be not concerned with other men's evil words or deeds or neglect of good: look rather to thine own sins and negligence (lit. "sins of commission and omission": things done and undone).

51. As some bright flower—fair to look at, but lacking fragrance—so are fair words which bear no fruit in action.

52. As some bright flower, fragrant as it is fair, so are fair words whose fruit is seen in action.

53. As if from a pile of flowers one were to weave many a garland, so let mortals string together much merit.

54. No scent of flower is borne against the wind, though it were sandal, or incense or jasmine: but the fragrance of the holy is borne against the wind: the righteous pervade all space (with their fragrance).

55. More excellent than the scent of sandal and incense, of lily and jasmine, is the fragrance of good deeds.

56. A slight thing is this scent of incense and of sandal-wood, but the scent of the holy pervades the highest heaven.

57. Death finds not the path of the righteous and strenuous, who are set free by their perfect wisdom.

58, 59. As on some roadside dung-heap, a flower blooms fragrant and delightful, so amongst the refuse of blinded mortals shines forth in wisdom the follower of the true Buddha.

THE FOOL
60. Long is the night to the watcher, long is the league to the weary traveller: long is the chain of existence to fools who ignore the true Law.

61. If on a journey thou canst not find thy peer or one better than thyself, make the journey stoutly alone: there is no company with a fool.

62. "I have sons and wealth," thinks the fool with anxious care; he is not even master of himself, much less of sons and wealth.

63. The fool who knows his folly is so far wise: but the fool who reckons himself wise is called a fool indeed.

64. Though for a lifetime the fool keeps company with the wise, yet does he not learn righteousness, as spoon gets no taste of soup.

65. If but for a moment the thoughtful keep company with the wise, straightway he learns righteousness, as tongue tastes soup.

66. Fools and dolts go their way, their own worst enemies; working evil which bears bitter fruit.

67. That is no good deed which brings remorse, whose reward one receives with tears and lamentation.

68. But that is the good deed which brings no remorse, whose reward the doer takes with joy and gladness.

69. Honey sweet to the fool is his sin—until it ripens: then he comes to grief.

70. If once a month the fool sips his food from a blade of the sacred grass—his is no fraction of the Arahat's worth.

71. Evil does not straightway curdle like milk, but is rather like a smouldering fire which attends the fool and burns him.

72. When the fool's wisdom bears evil fruit it bursts asunder his happiness, and smashes his head.

73, 74. If one desire the praise of knaves, or leadership amongst the Bhikkhus, and lordship in the convents, and the reverence of the laity, thinking "Let layman and religious alike appreciate my deeds; let them do my bidding and obey my prohibitions," if such be his fond imaginings, then will ambition and self-will wax great.

75. One is the road leading to gain, another is that leading to Nirvāna: knowing this, let the Bhikkhu, the follower of Buddha, strive in solitude, not seeking the praise of men.

THE WISE MAN
76. Look upon him who shows you your faults as a revealer of treasure: seek his company who checks and chides you, the sage who is wise in reproof: it fares well and not ill with him who seeks such company.

77. Let a man admonish, and advise, and keep others from strife! So will he be dear to the righteous, and hated by the unrighteous.

78. Avoid bad friends, avoid the company of the evil: seek after noble friends and men of lofty character.

79. He who drinks in the law lives glad, for his mind is serene: in the law preached by the Noble the sage ever finds his joy.

80. Engineers control the water; fletchers straighten the arrow; carpenters fashion their wood. Sages control and fashion themselves.

81. As some massive rock stands unmoved by the storm-wind, so the wise stand unmoved by praise or blame.

82. As a deep lake, clear and undefiled, so are sages calmed by hearing the law.

83. Freely go the righteous; the holy ones do not whine and pine for lusts; unmoved by success or failure, the wise show no change of mood.

84. Desire not a son for thyself nor for another, nor riches nor a kingdom; desire not thy gain by another's loss; so art thou righteous, wise, and good.

85. Few amongst men are they who reach the farther shore: the rest, a great multitude, stand only on the bank.

86. The righteous followers of the well-preached law, these are the mortals who reach the far shore. But hard is their journey through the realm of Death.

87, 88. Leaving the way of darkness, let the sage cleave to the way of light: let him leave home for the homeless life, that solitude so hard to love (Nirvāna). Putting away lust and possessing nothing, let the sage cleanse himself from every evil thought.

89. They are serene in this world, whose mind is perfected in that clear thought which leads to Arahatship, whose delight is in renunciation, free from taints, and lustrous.

THE ARAHAT
90. No remorse is found in him whose journey is accomplished, whose sorrow ended, whose freedom complete, whose chains are all shaken off.

91. The mindful press on, casting no look behind to their home-life; as swans deserting a pool they leave their dear home.

92. Some there are who have no treasure here, temperate ones whose goal is the freedom which comes of realising that life is empty and impermanent: their steps are hard to track as the flight of birds through the sky.

93. He whose taints are purged away, who is indifferent to food, whose goal is the freedom which comes of realising life's emptiness and transciency, is hard to track as the flight of birds in the sky.

94. Even the gods emulate him whose senses are quiet as horses well-tamed by the charioteer, who has renounced self-will, and put away all taints.

95. No more will he be born whose patience is as the earth's, who is firm as a pillar and pious, pure as some unruffled lake.

96. Calm is the thought, calm the words and deeds of such a one, who has by wisdom attained true freedom and self-control.

97. Excellent is the man who is not credulous, who knows Nirvāna, who has cut all bonds, destroyed the germs of rebirth, cast off lust.

98. In the village or the jungle, on sea or land, wherever lives the Arahat, there is the place of delight.

99. Pleasant are the glades where the herd come not to disport themselves: there shall the Holy take their pleasure, who seek not after lust.

THE THOUSANDS
100. Better than a thousand empty words is one pregnant word, which brings the hearer peace.

101. Better than a thousand idle songs is a single song, which brings the hearer peace.

102. Better it is to chant one verse of the law, that brings the hearer peace, than to chant a hundred empty songs.

103. If one were to conquer a thousand thousand in the battle—he who conquers self is the greatest warrior.

104, 105. Self-conquest is better than other victories: neither god nor demi-god, neither Mara nor Brahma, can undo the victory of such a one, who is self-controlled and always calm.

106. If month by month throughout a hundred years one were to offer sacrifices costing thousands, and if for a moment another were to reverence the self-controlled—this is the better worship.

107. If one for a hundred years tended the sacred fire in the glade, and another for a moment reverenced the self-controlled, this is the better worship.

108. Whatsoever sacrifice or offering a man makes for a full year in hope of benefits, all is not worth a quarter of that better offering—reverence to the upright.

109. In him who is trained in constant courtesy and reverence to the old, four qualities increase: length of days, beauty, gladness, and strength.

110. Better than a hundred years of impure and intemperate existence is a single day of moral, contemplative life.

111. Better is one day of wise and contemplative life than a thousand years of folly and intemperance.

112. Better one day of earnest energy than a hundred years of sloth and lassitude.

113. Better one day of insight into the fleeting nature of the things of sense, than a hundred years of blindness to this transiency.

114. Better one day of insight into the deathless state (Nirvāna), than a hundred years of blindness to this immortality.

115. Better one day of insight into the Supreme Law, than a hundred years of blindness to that Law.

VICE
116. Cling to what is right: so will you keep the mind from wrong. Whoso is slack in well-doing comes to rejoice in evil.

117. If one offends, let him not repeat his offence; let him not set his heart upon it. Sad is the piling up of sin.

118. If one does well, let him repeat his well-doing: let him set his heart upon it. Glad is the storing up of good.

119. The bad man sees good days, until his wrong-doing ripens; then he beholds evil days.

120. Even a good man may see evil days till his well-doing comes to fruition; then he beholds good days.

121. Think not lightly of evil "It will not come nigh me." Drop by drop the pitcher is filled: slowly yet surely the fool is saturated with evil.

122. Think not lightly of good "It will not come nigh me." Drop by drop the pitcher is filled: slowly yet surely the good are filled with merit.

123. A trader whose pack is great and whose caravan is small shuns a dangerous road; a man who loves his life shuns poison: so do thou shun evil.

124. He who has no wound can handle poison: the unwounded hand cannot absorb it. There is no evil to him that does no evil.

125. Whoso is offended by the inoffensive man, and whoso blames an innocent man, his evil returns upon him as fine dust thrown against the wind.

126. Some go to the womb; some, evil-doers, to hell; the good go to heaven; the sinless to Nirvāna.

127. Not in the sky, nor in mid-ocean, nor in mountain-cave can one find sanctuary from his sins.

128. Not in the sky, not in mid-ocean, not in mountain-cave can one find release from the conquering might of death.

PUNISHMENT
129. All fear the rod, all quake at death. Judge then by thyself, and forbear from slaughter, or from causing to slay.

130. To all is life dear. Judge then by thyself, and forbear to slay or to cause slaughter.

131. Whoso himself desires joy, yet hurts them who love joy, shall not obtain it hereafter.

132. Whoso himself desires joy and hurts not them who love it, shall hereafter attain to joy.

133. Speak not harshly to any one: else will men turn upon you. Sad are the words of strife: retribution will follow them.

134. Be silent as a broken gong: so wilt thou reach peace; for strife is not found in thee.

135. As the herdsman drives out his cows to the pasture, so Old Age and Death drive out the life of men.

136. Verily the fool sins and knows it not: by his own deeds is the fool tormented as by fire.

137. He who strikes those who strike not and are innocent will come speedily to one of these ten states:

138. To cruel torment, loss, accident, severe illness, and madness he will come:

139. To visitation from the King, grievous slander, loss of kith and kin, and perishing of his wealth he will come:

140. Ravaging fire will destroy his houses, and after death the poor wretch will go to hell.

141. Not nakedness, nor matted hair, not dirt, nor fastings, not sleeping in sanctuaries, nor ashes, nor ascetic posture—none of these things purifies a man who is not free from doubt.

142. If even a fop fosters the serene mind, calm and controlled, pious and pure, and does no hurt to any living thing, he is the Brahmin he is the Samana, he is the Bhikkhu.

143. Is there in all the world a man so modest that he provokes no blame, as a noble steed never deserves the whip? As a noble steed stung by the whip, be ye spirited and swift.

144. By faith, by righteousness, by manliness, by meditation, by just judgment, by theory and practice, by mindfulness, leave aside sorrow—no slight burden.

145. Engineers control the water, fletchers fashion their shafts, carpenters shape the wood: it is themselves that the pious fashion and control.

OLD AGE
146. Where is the joy, what the pleasure, whilst all is in flames? Benighted, would ye not seek a torch?

147. Look at this painted image, wounded and swollen, sickly and full of lust, in which there is no permanence;

148. This wasted form is a nest of disease and very frail: it is full of putrid matter and perishes. Death is the end of life.

149. What delight is there for him who sees these grey bones scattered like gourds in autumn?

150. Here is a citadel of bones plastered with flesh and blood, and manned by old age and death, self-will and enmity.

151. As even the king's bright chariot grows old, so the body of man also comes to old age. But the law of the holy never ages: the holy teach it to the holy.

152. The simpleton ages like the ox: his weight increases, but not his wisdom.

153. Many births have I traversed seeking the builder; in vain! Weary is the round of births.

154. Now art thou seen, O Builder. Nevermore shalt thou build the house! All thy beams are broken; cast down is thy cornerstone. My mind is set upon Nirvāna; it has attained the extinction of desire.

155. They who have not lived purely nor stored up riches in their youth, these ruefully ponder, as old herons by a lake without fish.

156. They who have not lived purely nor stored up riches in their youth, are as arrows that are shot in vain: they mourn for the past.

SELF
157. If a man love himself, let him diligently watch himself: the wise will keep vigil for one of the three watches of the night.

158. Keep first thyself aright: then mayest thou advise others. So is the wise man unblameable.

159. If one so shapes his own life as he directs others, himself controlled, he will duly control others: self, they say, is hard to tame.

160. A man is his own helper; who else is there to help? By self-control man is a rare help to himself.

161. The ill that is begun and has its growth and its being in self, bruises the foolish one, as the diamond pierces its own matrix.

162. As the creeper overpowers the tree, so he whose sin is great, works for himself the havoc his enemy would wish for him.

163. Ill is easy to do; it is easy to do harm: hard indeed it is to do helpful and good deeds.

164. Whoso fondly repudiates the teaching of the noble and virtuous Arahats, following false doctrine, is like the bamboo which bears fruit to its own destruction.

165. Thou art brought low by the evil thou hast done thyself; by the evil thou hast left undone art thou purified. Purity and impurity are things of man's inmost self; no man can purify another.

166. Even for great benefit to another let no man imperil his own benefit. When he has realised what is for his own good, let him pursue that earnestly.

THE WORLD
167. Let no man foster evil habits; let no man live in sloth: let none follow false doctrines, none prolong his sojourn in this world.

168. Up! Idle not, but follow after good. The good man lives happy in this world and the next.

169. Follow after virtue, not after vice. The virtuous live happy in this world and the next.

170. The king of Death sees not him who regards the world as a bubble, a mirage.

171. Come then, think of the world as a painted chariot of the king—a morass where fools are sinking, where the wise take no pleasure.

172. He who in former days was slothful, and has put off sloth, lights up the world as the moon freed of the clouds.

173. He who covers his idle deeds with goodness lights up the world as the moon freed of clouds.

174. Blinded are the men of this world; few there are who have eyes to see: few are the birds which escape the fowler's net; few are they who go to heaven.

175. Through the sky fly the swans: Rishis too pass through the air. The wise leave the world altogether, deserting Mara and his hosts.

176. There is no wrong he would not do who breaks one precept, speaking lies and mocking at the life to come.

177. Misers go not to the realm of gods: therefore he is a fool who does not delight in liberality. The wise delighting in liberality come thereby with gladness to the other world.

178. Good is kingship of the earth; good is birth in heaven; good is universal empire; better still is the fruit of conversion.

THE BUDDHA
179. Into his victory which is never reversed there enters no element of weakness; through what fault can you lead captive the faultless one, the Buddha whose sphere is Nirvāna?

180. By what fault will you lead captive the faultless Buddha, whose sphere is Nirvāna? In him are no clinging meshes of desire to lead him captive.

181. The gods themselves emulate the truly wise and mindful, who are busy in meditation and prudent, delighting in the peace of Nirvāna.

182. Arduous is human birth; arduous is mortal life: arduous is hearing of the Law: arduous the uprising of Buddhas.

183. "Eschew all evil: cherish good: cleanse your inmost thoughts"—this is the teaching of Buddhas.

184. "Patience and fortitude is the supreme asceticism: Nirvāna is above all," say the Buddhas. He is no recluse who harms others: nor is he who causes grief an ascetic (samana).

185. Hurt none by word or deed, be consistent in well-doing: be moderate in food, dwell in solitude, and give yourselves to meditation—this is the advice of Buddhas.

186. Not by a shower of gold is satisfaction of the senses found: "little pleasure, lasting pain," so thinks the sage.

187. The follower of the true Buddha finds no delight even in divine pleasures: but his joy is in the destruction of desire (tānhā).

188. Often do men in terror seek sanctuary in mountains or jungles, by sacred groves or trees;

189. In them is no safe sanctuary; in them is not the supreme sanctuary; in them is not that sanctuary whither a man may go and cast aside his cares.

190. But he who goes for sanctuary to the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Sangha looks in his wisdom for the four noble truths:

191. "Sorrow, the arising of sorrow, the cessation of sorrow, and the noble eightfold path which leads to their cessation."

192. Here truly is the sure sanctuary: here is the supreme sanctuary: here is the sanctuary where a man may go and cast aside his care.

193. Hard to find is the Exalted One: he is not born in every place: happy dwells the household into which he, the wise one, is born:

194. A blessing is the arising of Buddhas, a blessing is the true preaching. Blessed is the unity of the Sangha, blessed is the devotion of those who dwell in unity.

195, 196. Immeasurable is the merit of him who does reverence to those to whom reverence is due, Buddha and his disciples, men who have left behind them the trammels of evil, and crossed beyond the stream of sorrow and wailing, calmed and free of all fear.

BLISS
197. O Joy! We live in bliss; amongst men of hate, hating none. Let us indeed dwell among them without hatred.

198. O Joy! In bliss we dwell; healthy amidst the ailing. Let us indeed dwell amongst them in perfect health.

199. Yea in very bliss we dwell: free from care amidst the careworn. Let us indeed dwell amongst them without care.

200. In bliss we dwell possessing nothing: let us dwell feeding upon joy like the shining ones in their splendour.

201. The victor breeds enmity; the conquered sleeps in sorrow. Regardless of either victory or defeat the calm man dwells in peace.

202. There is no fire like lust; no luck so bad as hate. There is no sorrow like existence: no bliss greater than Nirvāna (rest).

203. Hunger is the greatest ill: existence is the greatest sorrow. Sure knowledge of this is Nirvāna, highest bliss.

204. Health is the greatest boon; content is the greatest wealth; a loyal friend is the truest kinsman; Nirvāna is the Supreme Bliss.

205. Having tasted the joy of solitude and of serenity, a man is freed from sorrow and from sin, and tastes the nectar of piety.

206. Good is the vision of the Noble; good is their company. He may be always happy who escapes the sight of fools.

207. He who consorts with fools knows lasting grief. Grievous is the company of fools, as that of enemies; glad is the company of the wise, as that of kinsfolk.

208. Therefore do thou consort with the wise, the sage, the learned, the noble ones who shun not the yoke of duty: follow in the wake of such a one, the wise and prudent, as the moon follows the path of the stars.

AFFECTION
209. He who gives himself to vanity and not to the truly profitable, shunning the true pursuit, and grasping at pleasure, will come to envy him who has sought the true profit.

210. Let no man cleave to what is pleasant or unpleasant: parting with the pleasant is pain, and painful is the presence of the unpleasant.

211. Take a liking to nothing; loss of the prize is evil. There are no bonds for him who has neither likes nor dislikes.

212. From attachment comes grief, from attachment comes fear. He who is pure from attachment knows neither grief nor fear.

213. From affection come grief and fear. He who is without affection knows neither grief nor fear.

214. From pleasure come grief and fear. He who is freed from pleasure knows neither grief nor fear.

215. From lust come grief and fear. He who is freed from lust knows neither grief nor fear.

216. From desire come grief and fear. He who is free of desire knows neither grief nor fear.

217. The man of counsel and insight, of righteousness and truth, who minds his own affairs, him the crowd holds dear.

218. If a man's heart be set upon the Ineffable (Nirvāna), his mind brought to perfection, and every thought freed from lust, he is called the strong swimmer who forges his way against the stream.

219. When, after long voyaging afar, one returns in safety home, kinsfolk and friends receive him gladly;

220. Even so his good deeds receive the good man, when he leaves this world for the next, as kinsfolk greet a dear traveller.

ANGER
221. Put away anger, eschew self-will, conquer every bond; no suffering touches him who does not cling to phenomenal existence, but calls nothing his own.

222. Whoso controls his rising anger as a running chariot, him I call the charioteer: the others only hold the reins.

223. By calmness let a man overcome wrath; let him overcome evil by good; the miser let him subdue by liberality, and the liar by truth.

224. Speak the truth, be not angry, give of thy poverty to the suppliant: by these three virtues a man attains to the company of the gods.

225. The innocent, the sages, those whose action is controlled, these go to the eternal state where they know not sorrow (Nirvāna).

226. All taints pass away from them who are ever vigilant and active day and night, with faces set towards Nirvāna.

227. This is an ancient law, O Atula, not the jaw of a day; men blame the silent and they blame the talker; even the man of few words they blame. No one in the world gets off unblamed.

228. There never was, nor will be, nor is there now to be found, one wholly blamed or wholly praised.

229, 230. But who is worthy to blame him whom the wise praise after daily scrutiny, who is himself wise and without blemish as a medal of purest gold? Even the gods seek to emulate such a one; even Brahma praises him.

231. Guard against evil deeds: control the body. Eschew evil deeds and do good.

232. Guard against evil words; control the tongue. Eschew evil words and speak good ones.

233. Guard against evil thoughts; control the mind. Eschew evil thoughts and think good ones.

234. The wise, controlled in act, in word, in thought, are well controlled indeed.

SIN
235. Thou art withered as a sere leaf: Death's messengers await thee. Thou standest at the gate of death, and hast made no provision for the journey.

236. Make to thyself a refuge; come, strive and be prudent: when thy impurities are purged, thou shalt come into the heavenly abode of the Noble.

237. Thy life is ended; thou art come into the Presence of Death: there is no resting-place by the way, and thou hast no provision for the journey.

238. Make for thyself a refuge; come, strive and play the sage! Burn off thy taints, and thou shalt know birth and old age no more.

239. As a smith purifies silver in the fire, so bit by bit continually the sage burns away his impurities.

240. It is the iron's own rust that destroys it: it is the sinner's own acts that bring him to hell.

241. Disuse is the rust of mantras; laziness the rust of households; sloth is the rust of beauty; neglect is the watcher's ruin.

242. Impurity is the ruin of woman; and avarice the ruin of the giver: ill-deeds are the rust of this world and the next.

243. More corrosive than those is the rust of ignorance, the greatest of taints: put off this rust and be clean, O Bhikkhus.

244. Life is easy for the crafty and shameless, for the wanton, shrewd, and impure:

245. Hard it is for the modest, the lover of purity, the disinterested and simple and clean, the man of insight.

246, 247. The murderer, the liar, the thief, the adulterer, and the drunkard—these even in this world uproot themselves.

248. Know this, O man, evil is the undisciplined mind! See to it that greed and lawlessness bring not upon thee long suffering.

249. Men give according to faith or caprice. If a man fret because food and drink are given to another, he comes not day or night to serene meditation (i.e. Samādhi).

250. He in whom this (envious spirit) is destroyed and wholly uprooted, he truly day and night attains serene meditation.

251. There is no fire like lust, no ravenous beast like hatred, no snare like folly, no flood like desire.

252. To see another's fault is easy: to see one's own is hard. Men winnow the faults of others like chaff: their own they hide as a crafty gambler hides a losing throw.

253. The taints of this man are ever growing. He is far from the purification of taints (Arahatship), the censorious one who is ever blaming others.

254. There is no path through the sky: there is no "religious" apart from us. The world without delights in dalliance: the Blessed Ones are freed from this thrall.

255. There is no path through the sky; there is no "religious" apart from us. Nothing in the phenomenal world is lasting; but Buddhas endure immovable.

THE RIGHTEOUS
256, 257. Hasty judgment shows no man just. He is called just who discriminates between right and wrong, who judges others not hastily, but with righteous and calm judgment, a wise guardian of the law.

258. Neither is a man wise by much speaking: he is called wise who is forgiving, kindly, and fearless.

259. A man is not a pillar of the law for his much speaking: he who has heard only part of the law and keeps it indeed, he is a pillar of the law and does not slight it.

260. No man is made an "elder" by his grey locks; mere old age is called empty old age.

261. He is called "elder" in whom dwell truth and righteousness, harmlessness and self-control and self-mastery, who is without taint and wise.

262. Not by mere eloquence or comeliness is a man a "gentleman," who is lustful, a miser, and a knave.

263. But he in whom these faults are uprooted and done away, the wise and pure is called a gentleman.

264. Not by his shaven crown is one made a "religious" who is intemperate and dishonourable. How can he be a "religious" who is full of lust and greed?

265. He who puts off entirely great sins and small faults—by such true religion is a man called "religious."

266. Not merely by the mendicant life is a man known as a mendicant: he is not a mendicant because he follows the law of the flesh;

267. But because, being above good and evil, he leads a pure life and goes circumspectly.

268, 269. Not by silence (mona) is a man a sage (muni) if he be ignorant and foolish: he who holds as it were the balance, taking the good and rejecting the bad, he is the sage: he who is sage for both worlds, he is the true sage.

270. A man is no warrior who worries living things: by not worrying is a man called warrior.

271, 272. Not only by discipline and vows, not only by much learning, nor by meditation nor by solitude have I won to that peace which no worldling knows. Rest not content with these, O Bhikkhus, until you have reached the destruction of all taints.

THE PATH
Happiness is for Gautama, as for Aristotle, "the bloom upon virtue." The path which leads to the Supreme Bliss is the path of morality defined as the Noble Eightfold Path. If a man follow this, he is happy here and hereafter.

It consists of:

Right Views,

Right Aspirations,

Right Speech,

Right Action,

Right Livelihood,

Right Effort,

Right Mindfulness,

Right Contemplation.

[paragraph continues] This is described by Gautama as a Middle Path between the extreme of sensuality on the one hand and asceticism on the other; or between superstitious credulity and sceptical materialism. It is a truly noble ideal: yet one must never forget that "Righteousness" throughout is Buddhistically defined: e.g. "Right Views"

means a correct grasp of the Buddhist teaching that all is transient, all is sorrowful, all is unreal. Again, "Right Contemplation" is the practice of Samādhi, concentration of the mind upon Buddhist ideas, such as the above. The highest "Livelihood," again, is to live upon the alms of the faithful.

273. Best of paths is the Eightfold; the four truths are the best of truths: purity is the best state; best of men is the seer.

274. This is the way; there is none other that leads to the seeing of Purity (Nirvāna.) Do you follow this path: that is to befool Mara.

275. Travelling by this way you'll end your grief: it is the way I preached when I learnt to throw off my bonds.

276. ’Tis you who must strive: the Blessed Ones are only preachers. They who strive and meditate are freed from Mara's bonds.

277. "All is passing": when one sees and realises this, he sits loose to this world of sorrow: this is the way of purity.

278. "All is sorrow": when one sees and realises this, he sits loose to this world of sorrow; this is the way of purity.

279. "All is unreal": when one sees and realises this, he sits loose to this world of sorrow this is the way of purity.

280. He who fails to strive when ’tis time to strive, young and strong though he be, slothful and enmeshed in lust, the sluggard, never finds the path to wisdom.

281. Whoso guards his tongue and controls his mind and does nothing wrong: keeping clear these three paths, he will achieve the way shown by the wise.

282. From meditation springs wisdom; from neglect of it the loss of wisdom. Knowing this path of progress and decline, choose the way that leads to growth of wisdom.

283. Cut down the jungle (I do not mean with an axe!). For from the jungle of lust springs fear, and if you cut it down, you will be disentangled, O Bhikkhus!

284. Whilst the entanglement of a man with a woman is not utterly cut away, he is in bondage, running to her as a sucking calf to the cow.

285. Pluck out the bond of self as one pulls up an autumn lotus. Forge thy way along the path of safety, Nirvāna, shown by the Blessed.

286. "Here will I pass the wet season; here the winter and summer," thinks the fool, unmindful of what may befall.

287. Then comes Death and sweeps him away infatuated with children and cattle, and entangled with this world's goods, as a flood carries off a sleeping village.

288. There is no safety in sons, or in father, or in kinsfolk when Death overshadows thee: amongst thine own kith and kin is no refuge:

289. Knowing this clearly, the wise and righteous man straightway clears the road that leads to Nirvāna.

MISCELLANY
290. If at the cost of a little joy one sees great joy, he who is wise will look to the greater and leave the less.

291. Whoso seeks his own pleasure by another's pain, is entangled in hate and cannot get free.

292. Duty neglected; evil done: the taints of the proud and slothful wax ever more and more.

293. But those who are ever pondering the nature of the body, who run not after evil, who are constant in duty—in these, the vigilant and wise, taints come utterly to an end.

294. Having destroyed Mother and Father and two noble Kings, with the whole Kingdom and its Vizier, innocent goes the Brahmin!

295. Innocent goes the Brahmin having destroyed Mother and Father and two Brahmin Kings, and the five Roads and their fierce guardians.

296. The followers of Gautama are evervigilant; their thought day and night is set upon Buddha.

297-301. The followers of Gautama are ever vigilant; day and night is their thought set upon the Dhamma, the Sangha, the body, compassion (not harming), mind-culture.

302. Hard it is to leave home as a recluse! hard also to live at home as a householder; hard is the community life; the lot of the wanderer in the world is also hard.

303. The faithful, upright man is endowed with (the true) fame and wealth, and is honoured wherever he goes.

304. Far off are seen the Holy Ones, like the Himālayas: the unholy pass unseen as arrows shot in the darkness.

305. Alone when eating, alone when sleeping, alone when walking, let a man strongly control himself and take his pleasure in the forest glade.

HELL
306. The liar goes to hell, and the villain who denies his crime; these mean ones are alike in the world beyond.

307. Though clad in yellow robe, the man of many sins who is uncontrolled is born in hell: the sinner is punished by his sin.

308. Better to swallow a ball of red-hot iron than to live uncontrolled upon the bounty of the faithful.

309. Four evil consequences follow the sluggard and the adulterer: retribution, broken slumber, an evil name, and in the end hell.

310. That way lie retribution and an evil character, the short-lived joy of trembling sinners, and a heavy penalty from the ruler. Therefore run not after thy neighbour's wife.

311. As pampas-grass clumsily handled cuts the hand, so is the community life: abused, it brings a man to hell.

312. All duties carelessly performed; all vows slightingly observed; the recluse life that is open to suspicion—these bear no great fruit.

313. If a duty is to be done, do it with thy might: a careless recluse scatters contagion broadcast.

314. Better leave undone a bad deed; one day the doer will lament: good it is to do the good deed which brings no remorse.

315. As a fortress guarded within and without, so guard thyself. Leave no loophole for attack! They who fail at their post mourn here, and hereafter go to hell.

316. Some are ashamed at what is not shameful, and blush not at deeds of shame: these perverse ones go to hell.

317. They who see fear where there is no fear, and tremble not at fearful things: these perverse ones go to hell.

318. They who think evil where there is no evil, and make light of grievous sin: these perverse ones go to hell.

319. But whoso calls sin sin, and innocence innocence: these right-minded ones go to happiness.

THE ELEPHANT
The elephant is the symbol in Buddhism of endurance and solitary strength.

320. I will endure abuse as the elephant endures the arrow in the battle: evil is the crowd.

321. Men lead the tamed elephant into battle; upon his back the king rides: he who is tamed and endures abuse patiently is praised of men.

322. Noble are the tamed mules; noble the blood-horses of Sindh, and the great elephants of war: better is he who has tamed himself.

323. Not by bridling them will one journey to the unknown shore (Nirvāna), but by bridling himself.

324. Dhānapālako, the great elephant, is hard to control in the time of rut: he will not taste his food in captivity, but longs after the elephant-grove.

325. If one becomes a sluggard or a glutton, rolling over in gross sleep like a stall-fed hog, again and again does he come to the womb, the foolish one!

326. This mind of mine would wander in days of old whither desire and lust and caprice led it: now will I control it as a mahout controls the elephant in rut.

327. Be ye zealous: guard your thoughts. As an elephant sunk in the mud extricate yourselves from the clutches of evil.

328. If you can find a dutiful friend to go with you, a righteous and prudent man not caring for hardships, go with him deliberately.

329. If you cannot find such a one, travel alone as a king leaving a conquered realm, or as the elephant in the jungle.

330. It is better to be alone; there is no companionship with a fool: travel alone and sin not, forgetting care as the elephant in the jungle.

331. Good are companions in time of need; contentment with thy lot is good; at the hour of death, merit is a good friend, and good is the leaving of all sorrow.

332. Good is reverence for mother and father: good, too, reverence for recluses and sages.

333. Good is lifelong righteousness; and rooted faith is good: good is the getting of wisdom, and good the avoiding of sin.

DESIRE
Tanhā (desire) is defined as the hankering after pleasure, or existence, or success (or all three). (Mahavagga xvi. 20.) It is the germ from which springs all human misery: birth, old age, and suffering. To be rid of Tanhā is to be free of pain, to pass into the Beyond, the painless dream-world of Nirvāna.

334. As the "maluwa" creeper, so spreads the desire of the sluggard. From birth to birth he leaps like a monkey seeking fruit.

335. Whoso is subdued by this sordid clinging desire, his sorrows wax more and more, like "birana" grass after rain.

336. But his sorrows drop off like water from the lotus leaf, who subdues this sordid, powerful desire.

337. I give you this good counsel, all ye who are gathered here: cut out desire as one digs up the grass to find the fragrant root. Let not Mara break you again and again as the river breaks the rushes.

338. A tree, though it be cut down, yet springs up again, if its roots are safe and firm: thus sorrow, if it be not uprooted, springs repeatedly to birth.

339. If man's desires flow unchecked, the waves of his lust and craving bear him off—misguided one!

340. Everywhere flow the streams; everywhere the creeper sprouts and takes hold. If thou seest this creeper growing, be wise! pluck it out by the roots.

341. Men hug delights; they foster some pet sin, hankering after which they suffer birth and old age.

342. Dogged by lust, men double like a hunted hare. Fast bound in its fetters, they go through long ages to misery.

343. Dogged by lust, they double like a hunted hare. Throw off thy lust, O Bhikkhu, if thou wouldst be free.

344. Whoso has left the tangle of home-life for the solitude of the jungle, and goes back to it, regard him thus: "Lo, one who was freed, and ran back to his chains."

345. Iron and wood and hemp—these sages call not heavy bonds, but rather love of bejewelled women, and the care for children and wives.

346. This is a heavy bond indeed: light though it seem, it drags men down, and is not easily cut off. Yet some there are who cut even this asunder, and leave behind them pleasure and lust, with no backward glance.

347. Some again there are who fall into the meshes of their own lust as the spider falling into her own net: even this the wise cut through, leaving sorrow behind, with no backward glance.

348. Lay aside past, future, and present, escaping the world: wholly freed in mind, thou shalt not again return to birth and old age.

349. Desire waxes great in him who is oppressed by wandering thoughts, fired with lust and seeking after pleasure. So doth he make his fetters strong.

350. Whoso delights in calming his thoughts and looks askance at the things of sense, will thus come to an end, and cut the bonds of Mara.

351. This will be his last body, who has reached the goal, who is fearless, detached, and un-blameable: who has pulled out the rivets of existence.

352. He who is detached and not grasping, a clever student of the law and its meaning, knowing the words and their order, he is called the enlightened; this is his last birth.

353. "All conquering and all knowing am I, detached, untainted, untrammelled, wholly freed by destruction of desire. Whom shall I call Teacher? Myself found the way."

354. The gift of the Law surpasses every gift; the savour of the Law surpasses every savour; the pleasure of the Law surpasses every pleasure. The destruction of desire conquers all sorrow.

355. Wealth kills the fool if he look not to the Beyond: for greed of wealth fools kill each other.

356. Weeds are the bane of fields, and lust the bane of the crowd. Therefore a gift given where there is no lust bears much fruit.

357-9. Weeds are the bane of fields; wrath, infatuation, and avarice are the bane of the crowd. A gift given where there is neither wrath, nor infatuation, nor avarice bears much fruit.

THE BHIKKHII
360. Good is restraint of eye and ear: of smell and taste.

361. Good is restraint of action and of speech; restraint of mind and of every sense is good. The Bhikkhu restrained in all things casts aside every care.

362. Best amongst the temperate is he who is temperate in hand and foot and tongue: the man of inward joy and calm, him I call Bhikkhu.

363. The Bhikkhu who is temperate and moderate in speech, not puffed up, but a wise preacher and interpreter—sweet are his words!

364. He who abides in the law and takes his pleasure therein, revolving it in his mind and pondering it, he is a Bhikkhu who falls not away from the Law.

365. Let him neither make much of his own gain, nor envy that of others: the Bhikkhu who envies others attains not the true meditation.

366. Even the gods praise that Bhikkhu whose own gain is slight, yet who covets not the gain of other men, but lives pure and strenuous.

367. He who clings not to self-hood and to existence, but mourns at the vanity of this fleeting world, he is called Bhikkhu.

368. The Bhikkhu who lives kindly and trusts in Buddha's Teaching he approaches Nirvāna, the calm and blissful end of rebirth.

369. Bale out the ship, O Bhikkhu, then will it go lightly; cut the thongs of lust and hate; so wilt thou come to Nirvāna.

370. Cut the five bonds, leave other five, and take in their place five more: he who has got beyond the five evil states is said to have crossed the flood.

371. Keep vigil, O Bhikkhu, be not slothful, let not your mind dally with delights: suffer not the pangs of hell, and wail not as the flames devour you, "O day of woe"!

372. There is no meditation apart from wisdom; there is no wisdom apart from meditation. Those in whom wisdom and meditation meet are not far from Nirvāna.

373. Divine pleasure is his who enters into solitude, the Bhikkhu who is calmed and sees the law with the seeing eye:

374. Whenever he ponders the beginning and the end of the elements of being, he finds joy and bliss; nectar it is to those who know.

375. This is the beginning in my teaching for a wise Bhikkhu; self-mastery, contentment, and control by the precepts: to cultivate those who are noble, righteous, and zealous friends;

376. To be hospitable and courteous, this is to be glad and to make an end of sorrow.

377. As jasmine sheds its withered blossoms so, O Bhikkhus, do you put away lust and hatred.

378. He who is controlled in act, in speech, in thought, and altogether calmed, having purged away worldliness, that Bhikkhu is called calm.

379. Come, rouse thyself! Examine thine own heart. The Bhikkhu who is thus self-guarded and mindful will live in happiness.

380. Each man is his own helper, each his own host; therefore curb thyself as the merchant curbs a spirited horse.

381. The glad Bhikkhu who puts his trust in Buddha's Preaching goes to Nirvāna, calm and blissful end of rebirth.

382. Let the young Bhikkhu apply himself to Buddha's Preaching: so will he light up the world as the moon escaped from the clouds.

THE BRAHMIN
383. Play the man and stem the flood of passion! Cast off your lusts, O Brahmin; having known the ending of the perishable, thou knowest the imperishable, O Brahmin.

384. When the Brahmin has travelled the twofold path of meditation, then indeed his chains fall off him, for he knows the truth.

385. Him I call the Brahmin whom desire assails not from within nor from without, in whom is no fear, he is indeed free.

386. Him I call Brahmin who is meditative, clean of heart, solitary, who has done his duty and got rid of taints, who has reached the goal of effort.

387. The sun shines by day, the moon lights up the night; radiant is the soldier in his panoply, radiant the Brahmin in his meditation; but the Buddha in his brightness is radiant day and night.

388. By Brahmin mean one who has put away evil; for his serenity is a man called Samano; for excluding his own sin is a man called recluse.

389. Do no evil to a Brahmin; let not the Brahmin return evil for evil. Woe to him who kills a Brahmin; yea, rather, woe to that Brahmin who loses his temper!

390. It is no slight benefit to a Brahmin when he learns to hold his impulses in check; from whatever motive evil temper is controlled, by that control grief is truly soothed.

391. By whomsoever no evil is done in deed, or word, or thought, him I call a Brahmin who is guarded in these three.

392. As the Brahmin honours the burnt-sacrifice, so do thou honour him, from whomsoever is learnt the law of the true Buddha.

393. Not by matted locks, nor by lineage, nor by caste is one a Brahmin; he is the Brahmin in whom are truth and righteousness and purity.

394. What boots your tangled hair, O fool, what avails your garment of skins? You have adorned the outer parts, within you are full of uncleanness.

395. A man clothed in cast-off rags, lean, with knotted veins, meditating alone in the forest, him I call a Brahmin.

396. Not him do I call Brahmin who is merely born of a Brahmin mother; men may give him salutation as a Brahmin, though he be not detached from the world: but him I call a Brahmin who has attachment to nothing.

397. Him I call a Brahmin who has cut the bonds, who does not thirst for pleasures, who has left behind the hindrances.

398. Whoso has cut the cable, and the rope and the chain with all its links, and has pushed aside the bolt, this wise one I call a Brahmin.

399. Whoever bears patiently abuse and injury and imprisonment, whose bodyguard is fortitude, he is the Brahmin.

400. He is the Brahmin who does not give way to anger, who is careful of religious duties, who is upright, pure, and controlled, who has reached his last birth.

401. He who clings not to pleasures as water clings not to the lotus leaf, nor mustard-seed to the needle-point, him I call Brahmin.

402. He is the Brahmin who in this very world knows the end of sorrow, who has laid the burden aside and is free.

403. Whoso is wise with deep wisdom, seeing the right way and the wrong, and has reached the goal, him I call Brahmin.

404. He is the Brahmin who is not entangled either with householders or with recluses, who has no home and few wants.

405. He who lays down the rod, who neither kills, nor causes the death of creatures, moving or fixed, he is the Brahmin.

406. Not opposing those who oppose, calm amidst the fighters, not grasping amidst men who grasp, he is the Brahmin.

407. He is the Brahmin from whom anger, and hatred, and pride, and slander have dropped away, as the mustard-seed from the needlepoint.

408. If one were to preach gentle, and instructive, and truthful words by which no man is offended, he is the Brahmin.

409. Whoso takes nothing small or great, good or bad, unless it be given him, he is the Brahmin.

410. In whom are found no longings, who is free and detached from this world and the next, he is the Brahmin.

411. Him I call a Brahmin in whom lust is not found, who has cast off doubt, who knows the path that leads to Nirvāna (the deathless state) and reaches it.

412. Who in this life has passed from the grip of either merit or demerit, free of sorrow, cleansed and purified, him I call Brahmin.

413. Who is clear as the moon, pure, and limpid, and serene, who has quenched his thirst for life;

414. Who has passed through this impassable quagmire of rebirth, and infatuation, has waded through it and got beyond it, who is meditative and supplies no fuel to the fires of lust and doubt, him I call a Brahmin.

415. Who in this life, deserting his lusts, goes from home into solitude, and has quenched lust, and with it the desire to be reborn;

416. Who in this life deserts craving, and goes from home into solitude, who has quenched craving, and with it the desire to be reborn, him I call Brahmin.

417. Who has left behind him human pleasures and passed beyond heavenly ones, and is freed from all entanglement of delight;

418. Who has left aside both gusto and disgust, who is cooled and has in him no spark of rebirth, victor in all worlds, and hero, him I call Brahmin.

419. He is the Brahmin who fully knows the perishing of living things and their uprising, who is detached and happy and wise.

420. He is the Brahmin whose way is not known to gods, nor heavenly minstrels, nor immortals; the Arahat pure of all taint, him I call the Brahmin.

421. Whoso has nothing left, of past or future or present states, who is poor and grasps at nothing, him I call Brahmin.

422. The Leader Supreme, the heroic, the great Rishi, the Victor without lust and purified, the Buddha, he is the Brahmin.

423. He is the Brahmin indeed who knows his former lives, and who knows heaven and hell, who has reached the end of births, the sage whose knowledge is perfect, and who is perfect with all perfection.