[2] The Tipitaka (Sanskrit, Tripitika) (1) _Vinaya_; (2) _Sutta_; (3) _Abhidhamma_. The Pāli scriptures were originally written on palm leaves and preserved, layer upon layer, in the three "baskets." This, at least, is one explanation of the use of this term. [3] Gotama is the Pāli form (common in S. Asia) of the Sanskrit Gautama, more familiar to Western readers. [4] Sanskrit, _Karma_. [5] Sanskrit, _Nirvāna_. [6] Sanskrit, _Maitri_. II. BUDDHISM IN CEYLON 1. On a Hillside near Kandy. Over against this sketch of Buddhism as it appears in Burma let us consider a scene in a neighbouring land, the island of Ceylon, where for twenty-five hundred years, the religion of the yellow robe has held almost undisputed sway. Here it has a supreme opportunity, and has often used it nobly, building a great civilisation for a thousand years. It is early spring. The rains are over, and in the brilliant moonlight, the Singhalese peasants have gathered from their little malarial villages to listen to _bana_, the preaching of the Buddhist Law. (a) _The Dullness and Superstition of Village Life in Southern Ceylon_.--Life is dull in these villages, and any incident and any teaching will be welcome. It is a strange world in which these people live, "a world of bare and brutal facts; of superstition, of grotesque imagination; a world of hunger and fear and devils, where a man is helpless before the unseen, unintelligible forces surrounding him." As in Burma, so in Ceylon, demonism is inextricably interwoven with the Buddhism of the people. In Ceylon, however, it is a darker and more sinister demonism, blending with a far more sombre and pessimistic Buddhism. Devils and anti-devils, exorcists and monks, incantations and prayers to Buddha mingle in the dim confused minds of these poor Kandyan villagers. It is not very long since human sacrifices were made to the "demons" of disease. (b) _The Themes of the Hillside Preacher_.--This darker pessimism speaks through the monotonous sing-song of the yellow-robed monk on the hillside, as he speaks to the villagers, urging upon them that life is transient and full of sorrow, that none the less their chief duty is to avoid taking the life of the meanest animal, not even killing the malarial mosquito or the plague-bringing rat against which government edicts have gone out. Here religion is in conflict with science and with family love: which is to die, my child or the rat? There can in the end of the day be but one answer.