Besides, in truth, I 'm not prepared:
My thoughts on other matters go,
This is my wedding night, you know.
What more he urged I have not heard,
His reasons could not well be stronger,
So Death the poor delinquent spared,
And left to live a little longer.

Yet calling up a serious look,
His hour-glass trembled while he spoke,
Neighbor, he said, farewell. No more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour,
And further, to avoid all blame
Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation,
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have
Before you 're summoned to the grave:
Willing, for once, I 'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve;

In hopes you 'll have no more to say
But when I call again this way,
Well pleased the world will leave.
To these conditions both consented,
And parted perfectly contented.

What next the hero of our tale befell,
How long he lived, how wise, how well,
How roundly he pursued his course,

And smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse,
The willing muse shall tell:

He chaffered then, he bought, he sold,

Nor once perceived his growing old,

Nor thought of Death as near;

His friends not false, his wife no shrew,
Many his gains, his children few,

He passed his hours in peace;

But while he viewed his wealth increase,
While thus along life's dusty road

The beaten track content he trod,

Old time whose haste no mortal spares

Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,

Brought him on his eightieth year.

And now one night in musing mood,

As all alone he sate,

Th' unwelcome messenger of fate
Once more before him stood.

Half stilled with anger and surprise,
So soon returned! old Dobson cries.
So soon, d' ye call it! Death replies:
Surely, my friend, you 're but in jest;

Since I was here before

"T is six-and-thirty years at least,
And you are now fourscore.

So much the worse, the clown rejoined,
To spare the aged would be kind;
However, see your search be legal
And your authority,-Is 't regal?
Else you are come on a fool's errand,

With but a secretary's warrant.

Besides, you promised me three warnings,

Which I have looked for nights and mornings;

But for that loss of time and ease

I can recover damages.

I know, cries Death, that at the best,
I seldom am a welcome guest;

But don't be captious, friend, at least;
I little thought you 'd still be able
To stump about your farm and stable;
Your years have run to a great length,
I wish you joy though of your strength.
Hold, says the farmer, not so fast,
I have been lame these four years past.
And no great wonder, Death replies;
However, you still keep your eyes,
And sure to see one's loves and friends,
For legs and arms would make amends.
Perhaps, says Dobson, so it might,

But, latterly, 've lost my sight.

This is a shocking story, faith,

Yet there's some comfort still, says Death; Each strives your sadness to amuse,

I warrant you have all the news.

There's none, cries he, and if there were,
I've grown so deaf, I could not hear.
Nay then, the spectre stern rejoined,

These are unjustifiable yearnings;
If you are lame and deaf and blind,

You 've had your three sufficient warnings
So come along, no more we 'll part:
He said, and touched him with his dart;
And now old Dobson, turning pale,
Yields to his fate, so ends my tale.

THE DEVOTED WIFE

Translated from the Dhammapada, and from Buddhaghosa's

"W

comment

While eagerly man culls life's flowers,
With all his faculties intent,

Of pleasure still insatiate

Death comes and overpowereth him.

HILE eagerly man culls life's flowers." This doctrinal instruction was given by The Teacher while dwelling at Savatthi, and it was concerning a woman called Husband-honorer. The affair began in the Heaven of the Suite of the Thirty-three.

They say that a god of that heaven named Garlandwearer went to his pleasure-grounds in company with a thousand celestial nymphs. Five hundred of these goddesses ascended trees and threw down flowers, while five hundred picked up the flowers that were thrown down and decked the god therewith. One of these goddesses, while on the bough of a tree, fell from that existence, her body vanishing like the flame of a lamp.

Then she was conceived in a high-caste family of Savatthi, and was born with a reminiscence of her previous existences. And saying to herself, "I am the wife of the god Garlandwearer," she made offerings of perfumes, garlands, and the like, with the prayer that in her next rebirth she might again be with her husband. And when at the age of sixteen years she married into another family, with ticket-food, and fortnightly food, she continued to give alms, saying, "May this prove efficacious in bringing about my rebirth with my husband."

Thereupon the priests gave her the name of Husbandhonorer, for they said: "She works early and late, and her only desire is for her husband."

Husband-honorer continually took care of the hall where

the priests sat. She brought forward the drinking water, and spread out the mats to sit on. And when other people were desirous of giving ticket-food and other alms, they would bring it to her, and say, "Dear lady, prepare this for the congregation of the priests." And by going to and fro in this manner, she acquired the fifty-six salutary qualities, all at one time.

Then she conceived, and at the end of ten lunar months she brought forth a son; and when he was old enough to walk, another, until she had four sons.

One day, after she had given alms and offerings, and had listened to the Doctrine, and kept the precepts, she died toward night-fall from a sudden disease, and was reborn into the presence of her husband.

The other goddesses had continued to deck the god throughout the whole interval.

"We have not seen you since morning," said the god. "Where have you been?"

"I fell from this existence, my lord."

66 Are you in earnest ?”

"It was precisely so, my lord."

"Where were you born?"

66

At Savatthi, in a family of high caste." "How long were you there?"

"My lord, at the end of ten months I issued from my mother's womb, and at the age of sixteen years I married into another family; and having borne four sons, and having given gifts and done other meritorious deeds with the prayer that I might again be with you, I have been born into your presence."

66

How long is the life of men?"

"Only a hundred years."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, my lord.”

"If that is the length of life to which men are born, pray, now, do they pass the time asleep and reckless, or do they give gifts and do other meritorious deeds?"

66

Nothing of the kind, my lord. Men are always reckless, as if they were born to a life of an incalculable number of years, and were never to grow old and die."

At this the god Garland-wearer became exceedingly agi. tated.

"Men, it appears, are born to a life of only one hundred years, yet they recklessly lie down and sleep away their time. When will they ever get free from misery?"

A hundred of our years make one day and night of the Gods of the Suite of the Thirty-three; thirty such days and nights their month; and twelve such months their year. And the length of their lives is a thousand such celestial years, or in human notation thirty-six million years. Thus for that god.not one day has passed; but like a moment had the interval seemed to him. And thus he thought, “Recklessness for short-lived men is extremely unsuitable."

On the next day, when the priests entered the village, they found the hall had not been looked after; the mats had not been spread, and the drinking water had not been placed. Then they inquired,

66 Where is Husband-honorer?"

"Reverend sirs, how could you expect to see her? Yesterday, after your worships had eaten and departed, she died at even-tide."

When the priests heard this, the unconverted among them, calling to mind her benefactions, were unable to restrain their tears, while those in whom depravity had come to an end had their elements of being agitated.

After breakfast they returned to the monastery, and made inquiry of The Teacher:

"Reverend Sir, Husband-honorer worked early and late doing many kinds of meritorious deeds, and prayed only for her husband. Now she is dead. Where, pray, has she been reborn?"

"With her husband, O priests."

But, Reverend Sir, she is not with her husband."

"O priests, it was not this husband she was praying for. She had a husband named Garland-wearer, a God of the Suite of the Thirty-three, and fell from that existence while he was decorating himself with flowers. Now she has returned and been born again at his side."

"Reverend Sir, is it really so?"

"Assuredly, O priests."