Considering these things, the king gave orders for a council of learned men to be called, in order that they might study the solution of his problem, and devise, if possible, some method by which his sons might be taught the lessons of morality and wisdom. Among the wise men who were thus called together, there was a great philosopher named Vishnu-sārman[231] who understood the principles of ethics. He declared that as these young princes were born of good family there was still a hope of their reformation, and he offered to give them the necessary instruction. His proposition was gladly accepted by the anxious father, and soon the class was called together on the roof of the palace to receive the instruction of the sage. The teacher decided to interest his listeners, and also to convey the lessons of morality by repeating fables. Therefore, with many wise admonitions, and carefully pointing the moral of each lesson, he told them the following stories: THE PIGEONS AND THE RAT. Near the Godāvarī river there stood a large Salmali tree, on which the birds found their nightly rest. One morning, when the darkness had just departed, leaving the moon—friend of the night flowers—still in his mansion, a raven who sat in the tree saw a fowler approaching like the genius of death, and he said to himself, “This morning an enemy appears, and I know not what poisonous fruit is ripening.” The fowler went on, however, fixing his net and scattering grains of rice. Soon a flock of pigeons, led by their prince Ćitāgriva, or _painted neck_, came flying that way. They saw the rice and were eagerly descending, when the leader counseled caution, for he feared a snare; but led away by their appetites, they all flew downward upon the rice, being followed, even by the leader, who was unwilling to desert the flock. In a moment more they were snared. But although covetousness had brought them into trouble, the leader counseled that a wise unity of action might even yet deliver them from it. He ordered that they should all fly together, and doing so, they raised the net and carried it along with them. They were followed by the fowler, who expected to see them soon fall into his power. In a wood near by dwelt a rat, who was a friend of Ćitāgriva’s, and to him they directed their flight, coming down near his hole. The prisoned birds then besought him to gnaw the strings that held them. The rat replied that “to abandon our own is not the conduct of moralists. Let a man for the sake of relieving his distresses preserve his wealth; by his wealth let him preserve his wife, and by both wife and riches let him preserve himself.” “I am but weak,” said he, “and my teeth are small, but as long as they remain unbroken will I continue to cut thy strings.” And gnawing diligently away, he severed their bonds and received them as guests.