END OF THE STORY OF THE PARTRIDGE, THE MONKEY, AND THE ELEPHANT.[335] No. 38. BAKA JĀTAKA. The Cruel Crane Outwitted. “_The villain though exceeding clever._”--This the Master told when at Jetavana about a monk who was a tailor. There was a monk, says the tradition, living at Jetavana, who was exceeding skilful at all kinds of things that can be done to a robe, whether cutting out, or piecing together, or valuing, or sewing it. Through this cleverness of his he was always engaged in making robes, until he became known as ‘The robe-maker.’ Now what used he to do but exercise his handicraft on some old pieces of cloth, so as to make out of them a robe soft and pleasant to the touch; and when he had dyed it, he would steep it in mealy water, and rub it with a chankshell so as to make it bright and attractive, and then lay it carefully by. And monks who did not understand robe work, would come to him with new cloths, and say-- “We don’t understand how to make robes. Be so kind as to make this into a robe for us.” Then he would say, “It takes a long time, Brother, before a robe can be made. But I have a robe ready made. You had better leave these cloths here and take that away with you.” And he would take it out and show it to them. And they, seeing of how fine a colour it was, and not noticing any difference, would give their new cloths to the tailor-monk, and take the robe away with them, thinking it would last. But when it grew a little dirty, and they washed it in warm water, it would appear as it really was, and the worn-out places would show themselves here and there upon it. Then, too late, they would repent. And that monk became notorious, as one who passed off old rags upon anybody who came to him. Now there was another robe-maker in a country village who used to cheat everybody just like the man at Jetavana. And some monks who knew him very well told him about the other, and said to him-- “Sir! there is a monk at Jetavana who, they say, cheats all the world in such and such a manner.” “Ah!” thought he, “’twould be a capital thing if I could outwit that city fellow!” And he made a fine robe out of old clothes, dyed it a beautiful red, put it on, and went to Jetavana. As soon as the other saw it, he began to covet it, and asked him-- “Is this robe one of your own making, sir?” “Certainly, Brother,” was the reply. “Sir! let me have the robe. You can take another for it,” said he. “But, Brother, we village monks are but badly provided. If I give you this, what shall I have to put on?” “I have some new cloths, sir, by me. Do you take those and make a robe for yourself.” “Well, Brother! this is my own handiwork; but if you talk like that, what can I do? You may have it,” said the other; and giving him the robe made of old rags, he took away the new cloths in triumph.