lethargy the sentinels (as we are told was done by an angel to the gaolers of Peter’s prison), rolled back the triple gates of bronze, strewed the sweet moghra-flowers thickly beneath his horse’s feet to muffle every sound, and he was free.  Free?  Yes—­to resign every earthly comfort, every sensuous enjoyment, the sweets of royal power, the homage of a Court, the delights of domestic life:  gems, the glitter of gold:  rich stuffs, rich food, soft beds:  the songs of trained musicians, and of birds kept prisoners in gay cages, the murmur of perfumed waters plashing in marble basins, the delicious shade of trees in gardens where art had contrived to make nature even lovelier than herself.  He leaps from his saddle when at a safe distance from the palace, flings the jewelled rein to his faithful groom, Channa, cuts off his flowing locks, gives his rich costume to a hunter in exchange for his own, plunges into the jungle, and is free: 

    To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet,
      Making its dusty bed, its loneliest wastes
    My dwelling, and its meanest things my mates: 
      Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear,
    Fed with no meals save what the charitable
      Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp,
    Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush. 
      This will I do because the woeful cry
    Of life and all flesh living cometh up
      Into my ears, and all my soul is full
    Of pity for the sickness of this world: 
      Which I will heal, if healing may be found
    By uttermost renouncing and strong strife.

Thus masterfully does Sir Edwin Arnold depict the sentiment which provoked this Great Renunciator.  The testimony of thousands of millions who, during the last twenty-five centuries, have professed the Buddhistic religion, proves that the secret of human misery was at last solved by this divine self-sacrifice, and the true path to Nirvana opened.

The joy that he brought to the hearts of others, Buddha first tasted himself.  He found that the pleasures of the eye, the ear, the taste, touch and smell are fleeting and deceptive:  he who gives value to them brings only disappointment and bitter sorrow upon himself.  The social differences between men he found were equally arbitrary and illusive; caste bred hatred and selfishness; riches strife, envy and malice.  So in founding his Faith he laid the bottom of its foundation-stones upon all this worldly dirt, and its dome in the clear serene of the world of Spirit.  He who can mount to a clear conception of Nirvana will find his thought far away above the common joys and sorrows of petty men.  As to one who ascends to the top of Chimborazo or the Himalayan crags, and sees men on the earth’s surface crawling to and fro like ants, so equally small do bigots and sectarians appear to him.  The mountain climber has under his feet the very clouds from whose sun-painted shapes the poet has figured to himself the golden