From that time on the two men cared for the garden. The newly arrived gardener caused flowers to blossom out of season and fruits to grow out of season, and made the garden a charming place. The king, pleased with the new gardener, dismissed the old gardener, and gave the new gardener exclusive charge of the garden. The new gardener, realizing that the garden was in his own hands, planted nimbs and pot-herbs and creepers all around the mango tree. In the course of time the nimbs grew up. Roots with roots, branches with branches, were in contact, entangled, intertwined. Merely through this contact with the sour, unpalatable nimbs, the sweet fruit of the mango turned bitter, and its flavor became like the flavor of the leaves of the nimbs. The gardener, knowing that the fruit of the mango had turned bitter, fled. The king went to the garden and ate a mango fruit. As soon as he put the mango into his mouth, perceiving that the juice tasted like the vile juice of the nimb, he was unable to swallow it, and coughing it up, spat it out. Now at that time the Future Buddha was his counsellor in temporal and spiritual matters. The king addressed the Future Buddha: “Wise man, this tree is just as well cared for now as it was of old. But in spite of this, its fruit has turned bitter. What, pray, is the reason?” And by way of inquiry he uttered the first stanza: Color, fragrance, flavor, had this mango before. Receiving the same honor, why has the mango bitter fruit? Then the Future Buddha told him the reason by uttering the second stanza: Your mango, O king, is surrounded with nimbs, Root touches root, branches entwine about branches. Through contact with the bad, therefore your mango has bitter fruit. The king, hearing his words, had every one of the nimbs and pot-herbs chopped down, the roots pulled up, the sour earth round about removed, sweet earth put in its place, and the mango fed with milk and water, sweetened water, and perfumed water. Through contact with sweet juices the mango became perfectly sweet again. The king gave the regular gardener sole charge of the garden, and after living out his allotted term of life, passed away according to his deeds. 15. _A Buddhist Henny-Penny._ _Much ado about nothing._ Jātaka 322: iii. 74-78. On a certain occasion the Teacher, referring to the self-mortification of the Hindu ascetics, said to the monks: “Monks, there is no value, no merit, in their self-mortification. It is like the ‘rat-a-tat’ the little hare heard.” Said the monks: “We do not understand what you mean by saying that it is like the ‘rat-a-tat’ the little hare heard. Tell us about it, Reverend Sir.” So in response to their request the Teacher related the following Story of the Past: