No. 449.

MATTA-KUNDALI-JATAKA.

"Why in the woodland," etc. This story the Master told while sojourning in Jetavana, about a landowner whose son had died. At Savatthi, we learn that death took a beloved son of a certain landowner who used to wait upon the Buddha. Afflicted with grief for his son, the man washed not and ate not, and neither went about his own business nor waited upon the Buddha, only cried, "O my beloved son, thou hast left me, and gone before!"

As in the morning time the Master was looking abroad upon the world, he perceived that this man was ripe for attaining the Fruit of the First Path. So next day, having led his followers through the city of Savatthi in search of alms, after his meal was done, he sent the Brethren away, and attended by Elder Ananda walked to the place where this man lived. They told the landowner that the Master had come. Then they of his household prepared a seat, and

made the Master sit down upon it, and led the landowner into the Master's presence. Him after greeting, as he sat on one side, the Master addressed in a voice tender with compassion: "Do you mourn, lay Brother, for an only son?" He answered, "Yes, Sir." Said the Master, "Long, long ago, lay Brother, wise men who went about afflicted with grief for a son's death, listened to the words of the wise, and clearly discerning that nothing could bring back the lost, yet felt no grief, no not even a little." So saying, at his request the Master told a story of the past.

Once upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the son of a very wealthy brahmin, at the age of fifteen or sixteen years, was smitten by a disease, and dying came to being again in the world of the gods. From the time of his son's death, the brahmin would go to the cemetery, and make his moan, walking around the heap of ashes; and leaving undone all his duties, he walked about smitten with woe. A son of the gods, as he went about, saw the father, and devised a plan for consoling his misery. He went to the cemetery at the time of his mourning, taking upon himself the semblance of the man's very son, and adorned with all sorts of ornaments, he stood on one side, holding his head in both hands, [60] and lamenting with a loud voice. The brahmin heard the sound, and looked, and full of the love which he bore his son, stopt before him, saying, "My son, dear lad, why do you stand mourning in the midst of this cemetery?" Which question he put in the words of the following stanza:

"Why in the woodland art thou standing here,
Begarlanded, with earrings in each ear,
Fragrant of sandal, holding out thy hands?
What sorrow makes thee drop the falling tear?"

And then the youth told his tale by repeating the second stanza: