“Very well, I will,” the charioteer replied. But he did not show it to them all together. He took the eldest at once to the forest in the chariot, and showed him the tree at the time when the buds were just sprouting from the stem. To the second he showed it when the leaves were green, to the third at the time of blossoming, and to the fourth when it was bearing fruit. After this it happened that the four brothers were sitting together, and some one asked, “What sort of a tree is the Judas tree?” Then the first brother answered: “Like a burnt stump!” And the second cried, “Like a banyan tree!” And the third—“Like a piece of meat!” And the fourth said, “Like the acacia!” They were vexed at each other’s answers, and ran to find their father. “My Lord,” they asked, “what sort of a tree is the Judas tree?” “What did you say to that?” he asked. They told him the manner of their answers. Said the king: “All four of you have seen the tree. Only when the charioteer showed you the tree, you did not ask him, 'What is the tree like at such a time?’ or 'at such another time?’ You made no distinctions, and that is the reason for your mistake.” And he repeated the first stanza:— “All have seen the Judas tree— What is your perplexity? No one asked the charioteer What its form the livelong year!” THE RIVER FISH AND THE MONEY Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was king of Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the family of a landed proprietor. When he grew up, he became a wealthy man. He had a young brother. Afterwards their father died. They determined to arrange some business of their father’s. This took them to a village, where they were paid a thousand pieces of money. On their way back, as they waited on a river-bank for the boat, they ate a meal out of a leaf-pottle. The Bodhisatta threw what he left into the Ganges for the fishes, giving the merit to the river-spirit. The spirit accepted this with gratification, which increased her divine power, and on thinking over this increase of her power, became aware what had happened. The Bodhisatta laid his upper garment upon the sand, and there he lay down and went to sleep. Now the young brother was of a rather thievish nature. He wanted to filch the money from the Bodhisatta and keep it himself; so he packed a parcel of gravel to look like the parcel of money, and put them both away. When they had got aboard, and were come to mid-river, the younger stumbled against the side of the boat, and dropped overboard the parcel of gravel, as he thought, but really the money. “Brother, the money’s overboard!” he cried. “What’s to be done?” “What can we do? What’s gone is gone. Never mind about it,” replied the other.