counsel. One who was leader said to them: "Ye fish, from what the worthy crane has reported to us, we see that an untimely fate is impending. Let us make a scheme." "What manner of scheme?" said one. 66 "We must ask this same merciful crane." Then they asked him: "Merciful protector, what scheme is to be set forth? Thou alone hast power for our deliverance." Then the evil-hearted crane gazing tearfully, and looking at them all, said, with speech broken by emotion: "Alas, by an evil fate has such a disaster been prepared. Though wandering at pleasure in the water, and doing harm to none, you are beset by evil men. Yet, while I am here, let them not affright you. Listen. Not far from here is a great lake, from which the water cannot be drawn off. Owing to its size, and to the rocks that have been there as long as the pond itself, there are no marauders to slay the fish. There I will take you one by one: such is my scheme." "So be it!" cried the fishes. So he took them away one by one, and devoured one every day. One day a crab stepped out, and said to the crane: Ho, my good sir! Take me too." The crane said to himself, "I will have a taste of you as well." So he replied, "Yes, I will get you over." Then he caught one fish with his bill, and lodged the crab on his neck, and went along. At another spot he surface of the rock, and swallowed down a fish.

66

stood on the

The crab saw

this, and thought he: "Halloa! an evil-minded ruffian he is!" So he clutched him on the neck with his pair of nippers, and killed him. Then he returned to the same place, and narrated the matter to the surviving fish. "This is the case of the cat in the adage who vowed [to eat no mice]," said he.

Tale 42.

HUSBAND, WIFE, LOVER, AND MANGO TREE.

In a certain village lived an honest man who had a wife both beautiful and clever, but devoted to another man. One day she went by assignation to a grove of mango-trees, and there dallied with her lover. But the husband also

came. So the lover, seeing him approaching, jumped up hastily, and stepping aside, stood modestly concealed. Then the woman, seeing her lord, said to him, "Can I have a mango to eat?" He replied, "I will fetch you one." Quoth she: "My longing is to climb up myself and eat a mango." "Do so for yourself then," said he. So when she had climbed up the tree, she looked at her husband and said: "My dear, what do you mean by making love to another woman before my very eyes?" "What are you talking about?" said he. "There is no other woman.' "Can this be the nature of the tree [so that one sees double]?" said she. "You come up and look at me standing on the ground." When so it was done, she called her paramour, and took her fill of love. Then said the husband: "Yes, indeed, it is the nature of the tree." Whereon the lover made off.

In "Originals and Analogues of the Canterbury Tales" (pt. ii. pp. 77, fol.), published by the Chaucer Society, several interesting parallels from Boccaccio and other western storytellers are given. Reference is also given to the Bahāri Danish, not however to the Turkish "Forty Viziers," (cited in my index above), an illustration for which I am indebted to my friend Dr. Rieu, of the British Museum.

ART. XIV.-A Jātaka-Tale from the Tibetan.

WENZEL, PH.D.

By H.

IN the History of Tibet called Rgyal-rabs-gsal-vai-me-lon (The mirror illustrating the lineage of the kings') we find, as sixth chapter, the tale translated here, which corresponds to the Valāhassa Jātaka (Fausböll, ii. 127 ff., also in E. Müller's Pali Grammar, p. 128 ff.). As will be seen, the tale appears here in a richer, and quasi-dramatic, garb, with the addition of some characteristic traits, as e.g. the marvellous food that makes men forget their bygone troubles (cp. Odyssey, ix. 94 f.), etc., etc.

The Rgyal-rabs itself is a work of the 17th century A.D. It begins with the evolution of the universe (in chapter 1, cp. Rockhill, Life of the Buddha, p. 1 ff.), gives, in ch. 2, a short survey of the Lord's life, and, in ch. 3 and 4, of the beginnings of Buddhism, relates, in ch. 5, the merits of Avalokiteçvara in spreading the Law in Tibet, and goes then, ch. 6, on to our tale. Follows the origin of the Tibetan race from an ape and a rākshasī (ch. 7), the beginning of the royal line (ch. 8), finally, the chief contents and purpose of the book, life and doings of King Sronbtsan sgam-po (ch. 9-17), whereon the book closes with a sort of appendix containing the further history of the country to the time of the writer.

The work has been partially known for a long time by the extracts from the Mongolian translation thereof, called Bodhimör, given in the notes to I. J. Schmidt's edition of the Mongolian historian Ssanang Ssetzen. For my copy

of the work I had the use of two blockprints, one belonging formerly to Mr. Jäschke, now in the British Museum; the other of the University Library of St. Petersburg,

25181 (569), for which latter I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. Saleman. The first is pretty correct, the other gives a few different readings, and has a peculiar, not to say faulty, spelling.

Sixth chapter, (relating) how (Avalokiteçvara), by transforming himself into the horse king, worked the good of living beings.

When the noble Avalokiteçvara had (thus) in many ways profited living beings, he assumed, in order to give an example of how to choose virtue and to reject sin (according to the Sutra Za-ma-tog), the form of the horse king Bhalaha1 to work (further) for the good of the living beings. At this time many merchants from the South of India, whose merits were but small, had departed to the outer ocean to search for jewels. With the many implements each one wanted they had gone on board a large vessel, (but) after the expiration of seven days they were brought into danger by an unwelcome wind, thus:2 "At midday a dark cloud like a dense fog obscures the light of the sun and spreads darkness (everywhere); a fearful red wind seems to shake the foundations of the earth, (so that) the mighty trees of the forest fall. The waves of the sea spring like lions, and the breakers lash sky and earth. The merchants take hold of each other, and calling (loud) on the names of their relatives, they cry; howling in terrified lamentation, they weep, helpless and exhausted, bloody tears, nevertheless the vessel goes to wreck." Then the merchants take firm hold of some beam of the wrecked ship, and, driven in one direction by an unwelcome wind, they were carried to the island of Singhala (sic!), which was (a dwelling-place) of Rakshasīs. There the merchants, calling each other by name, came on shore (lit. the dry, viz. land). When the Rakshasīs became aware of this, they changed themselves into young and exceedingly pretty women, and,

1 sie in Divyavadana his name is spelt Bālāha, p. 120, 4 ff.; there it is a metamorphosis of Maitreya (122, 29).

2 Verses; cp. Rom. Leg. p. 333 (see appendix). 3 Perhaps of the hull.'