2. When the most excellent Phra was in the Weloowon monastery, alluding to Dewadat, who aimed at harming him, he spoke as follows: “At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was then a jackal, presiding over 500 other jackals of his own tribe. His dwelling-place was in a cemetery. One day it happened that the inhabitants of Radzagio made a great feast, where every one ate and drank as much as he liked. The repast was nearly over when some one asked for a last piece of meat, to give the finishing-stroke to his appetite. He was told that not the smallest morsel remained. On hearing this unwelcome news, he rose up, laying hold of a wooden club, and went straight to the cemetery. Then stretching himself on the ground, he lay down as if dead. Phralaong, cautiously drawing near to the pretended dead body, smelt it from a becoming distance, and soon discovered the snare laid for him. Coming up close to him, he suddenly seized the club with his teeth, pulling it with all his might. The young man did not let go his hold. The animal, withdrawing, said to the hunter: “Young man, I perceive now that you are not dead.” The hunter, goaded with shame and anger, rose up, and with more energy than dexterity flung his club at the jackal; but he missed him. “Go away,” said he, “wretched beast; you may boast that you have escaped this time.” “Yes,” mildly replied the jackal; “I have been saved from your club; but no one shall ever be able to preserve you from the punishment in the eight great hells.” Having thus spoken, he soon disappeared. The young man, having washed away in the ditch the dust that covered him, walked back, quite disappointed, into the town. The hunter was the same that subsequently became Dewadat. As to the jackal, he is the same that has since become Buddha. _THE PIGEON AND THE HUNTER._ 3. When Phra was in the Dzetawon monastery, desiring to give instruction to the young son of a nobleman, named Ootara, he spoke as follows. At the time the Princes Bramanas reigned at Baranathee, Phralaong was a pigeon. There was then a man in that country who was wont to catch pigeons, bring them to his house, and carefully feed them until they became fat, when he then sold them at a high rate. Together with other pigeons, Phralaong was caught and brought over to the house. But he would not peck the grain that was spread before him. “Should I eat,” said he to himself, “I will soon get fat, and then be sold like others.” He soon became wretchedly thin. Surprised at this, the hunter took the pigeon out of the cage, placed it on the palm of his hand to examine it more closely and find the cause of its great leanness. Phralaong, watching the opportunity of a favourable moment when the attention of his guardian was called to some other object, flew away to his own old place, leaving the hunter quite vexed at and ashamed of his confiding simplicity. The hunter is in these days Dewadat; and the pigeon is now Buddha himself.