As the sons were immersed in the ocean, intent on the worship of Vishnu, that deity appeared to them, and, hearing their request, said, "Receive the boon you have desired; for I, the giver of good, am content with you." Whilst the Prachetasas were absorbed in their devotions, "the trees grew and overshadowed the unprotected earth, the people perished, the winds could not blow, the sky was shut out from view by the boughs, and mankind unable to labour for ten thousand years. When the sages saw this, wind (which tore up the trees) and flames (which then consumed them) issued from their mouths, and the forests were soon cleared away. Soma, the sovereign of the vegetable world, seeing nearly all the trees destroyed, went to the patriarchs and said, Restrain your indignation, and listen to me. I will make an alliance between you and the trees. Prescient of futurity, I have nourished this maiden, the daughter

of the woods. She is called Marisha, and, as your bride, she shall be the multiplier of the race of Druva. From a portion of your and my lustre the patriarch Daksha shall be born, who, endowed with a part of me and composed of your vigour, shall be resplendent as fire, and shall multiply the human race.'"

Soma then informs the brothers respecting Marisha's origin. "There was formerly a sage named Kandu, eminent in wisdom and austerity, on the banks of the Gomati. Indra sent the nymph Pramlocha to divert the sage from his devotions: they lived together for 150 years, during which time the Muni was given up to pleasure. The nymph at the close of this period asked leave to depart, but the Muni entreated her to continue with him. And though at the end of several centuries she preferred the same request, again and again she was asked to remain.

"On one occasion, as the sage was going forth from their cottage in a great hurry, the nymph asked where he was going. 'The day,' he replied, 'is drawing fast to a close. I must perform the Sandhya worship, or a duty will be neglected.' The nymph smiled mirthfully as she rejoined, 'Why do you talk, grave sir, of this day drawing to a close; your day is a day of many years, a day that must be a marvel to all: explain what this means.' The Muni said, 'Fair maiden, you came to the river-side at dawn. I beheld you then, and you entered the hermitage. It is now the revolution of evening, and the day is gone. What is the meaning of this laughter? Tell me the truth.' Pramlocha answered, 'You say rightly, venerable Brahman, that I carne hither at morning dawn, but several hundred years have passed since the time of my arrival. This is the truth.'" She informed him that they had lived