I was assured that my every hearer understood English, that most of them were familiar with religious discussions, and some were men of letters. The object of my lecture was not to establish resemblances between the Birthlegends of Christ and Buddha, but rather to point out that in their respective myths were reflected their different aims, one, happiness in another world; the other, happiness in this world.

Beside me on the platform sat Sumangala, Priest of Adam's Peak, Primate of the Buddhist world, with whom I afterwards had much conversation. He was amiable as well as erudite and acute. Our first conversation related to the Theosophists, who had a hall in Colombo in which I heard a Buddhist neophyte preach Sunday morning, in English, a sermon showing familiarity with Ingersoll's works. In the recent attack of Catholics on the Buddhist procession, Colonel Olcott had hastened to Colombo and demanded of the government redress for the Buddhists. These were naturally grateful to him, but Sumangala was troubled by the expositions of Buddhism given by the Theosophists. The pretended Mahatmas, such as "Kotthume," he declared non-existent. In Buddhist traditions there were famous ancient Rishis, but they are now thought of only as Abraham and other patriarchs are by Christians; no real Buddhist imagines any of them still living.

The Priest of Adam's Peak presides over Widyoaya College, the Buddhist institution some miles out of Colombo, whose faculty invited me to meet them and the students there. My particular friend, the Hon. P. Ramanathan (Brahman), solicitor-general of Ceylon, called to say that if I would go he would accompany me and interpret what was said. It was arranged that the séance

AT WIDYOAYA COLLEGE

131 should occur about dawn, in order to escape the heat in our drive. Mr. Ramanathan came to my hotel with his carriage at daybreak, and we drove five or six miles through the enchanted land. For by this time I had fairly delivered myself up to the sense of being in Fairyland, and it was without any surprise that I alighted at the ideal college.

About twenty-five were present, a third of them being priests, others Pali scholars and young students. They were all Buddhists except the friend who came with me, he being, however, a sympathetic student of Buddhist literature. I was conducted to a chair in front of the chief priest, who sat on a circular platform, with a table before him, on which lay his ancient palm-leaf books. We were sheltered from the glowing sky, but no walls were around us. The palm-trees rustled in the breeze, the birds sang their matins, the breath of flowers and blossoming trees interfused incense of the fresh day with thoughts that, after two thousand years, had power to blossom out of their palm leaves and send forth an odour sweeter than laurel or lotos. Sumangala in his orange-coloured garment smiled on us all as he took his place. Opening one of the three Pitakas, the Arugutta-ranikaya Sutta, written before 250 B. C., he read in a clear sweet voice Buddha's plea for free thought then never translated into English and to me new. At certain parts he was moved, his voice tended to intone, and his eyes rose glowing upon us, as if demanding homage for sublime ideas. I obtained a careful version of the passage as read (Sumangala had slightly abbreviated it), and it is here given.

Buddha came to Bihar. There certain princes welcomed him, telling him whence they came. They said: "Various priests and Brahmans pass through our towns and

preach their own doctrines, speaking ill of the doctrines of others. Each set is followed by another, who tell us what was preached before them is not true, saying 'Listen to us!' They who go into and they who come from the wilderness meet here. Thus our mind is unsettled; we do not know what to believe." Buddha said: "That is but natural. Now hear what I have to say! Accept not the doctrines that are mere hearsay what somebody says another is preaching. No doctrine is to be accepted because believed by one's father or grandfather. Sometimes a clever man clothes a doctrine in fine language. Not because a doctrine is thus decorated is it to be believed. Not because a doctrine is written in a book is it to be believed. Sometimes a preacher will express a doctrine logically; but not because it is so expressed is it to be believed. Sometimes a doctrine is conveyed by the Nyaya system of logic, but not even for that is it to be accepted. Sometimes a doctrine may appear acceptable on its face; not merely for that is it to be believed. Sometimes a preacher caters to the existing belief of his hearers; not for that is his doctrine to be believed. Not because a preacher conducts himself according to orthodox rules is his doctrine. to be believed. Not because your master or teacher says it is true should you accept a doctrine.

"But this is the way doctrine should be accepted. In your own mind you must judge. What the wise have rejected, and you yourself know to be bad, that reject. There is covetousness; will it bring good or evil?" "Evil," answered the princes. "The coveteous man," said Buddha, "might murder, steal, commit adultery, bear false witness, influencing others and causing them to follow his ways; will he not suffer a long time?" "Yes," they replied. "Supposing hatred engendered, will good or evil follow? Through hatred a man may murder, steal, bear false witness; will he not suffer pain?" "Yes," replied the princes. "Mental obscurity, demerits, crimes - have the wise praised or rejected them?" "They have rejected them." "If one accepts these as good, evil will follow. If a man purifies his mind of covetousness, he will enjoy happiness. If a man destroys all hatred, he