Again, Brahminism is aristocratic; Buddhism democratic. Brahminism is the religion of caste. It divides the nation into four classes: the priest, the warrior, the tradesman, and the serf. Besides these, but lowest of all, are pariahs, or _outcastes_—the offspring of intercourse that violated the law of caste. There can be no social mingling of the castes. The condition of the serfs is most wretched and humiliating. The laws of Menu ordain that their abode must be outside the towns, their property must be restricted to dogs and asses, their clothes should be those left by the dead, their ornaments rusty iron; they must roam from place to place; no respectable person must hold intercourse with them; they are to aid as public executioners, retaining the clothes of the dead. Now Buddhism rejected the system of caste. Gaudama taught: “The priest is born of a woman; so is the _outcaste_. My law is a law of grace for all. My doctrine is like the sky. There is room for all without exception, men, women, boys, girls, poor and rich.” The two beautiful stories that follow remind us of the spirit and behavior of our own blessed Lord. Amanda, an eminent disciple of Gaudama, meets an _outcaste_ girl, drawing water at a well. He asks for a draught. She hesitates, fearing she may contaminate him by her touch. He says, “My sister, I do not ask, what is thy caste, or thy descent; I beg for water: if thou canst, give it me.” It is also related that a poor man filled Gaudama’s alms-bowl with a single handful of flowers, while the rich could not accomplish it with ten thousand bushels of rice. But let us glance at the life of the founder of Buddhism. He is called Gaudama, Siddartha, or Buddha. Gaudama was the name of his family; Siddartha his own individual name, and Buddha, “the enlightened one,” the surname he acquired by his wisdom. He was born about the year 500 B.C., at Kapilivastu, a few days’ journey from Benares, near the base of the Himalayas. His father was an Indian prince, and ruled over a tribe called the Sakyas. Buddha is described as of a gentle, ardent, pensive, philanthropic nature. He was reared in the lap of Oriental luxury, but his earnest nature became weary with pleasure. Intimations of the wretchedness of the peasantry of India penetrated even the palace walls. The winds soughing through the strings of the Æolian harp, seemed to whisper in his ear the miseries of mankind. “We are the voices of the wandering wind, Which moan for rest, and rest can never find; Lo! as the wind is, so is mortal life, A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. “O Maya’s son! because we roam the earth, Moan we upon these strings; we make no mirth, So many woes we see in many lands, So many streaming eyes, and wringing hands.”[17]