glossy, green leaves flashing with a separate light as these thousands of perpetually moving mirrors caught the sun. The restlessness and activity of these bo-leaves, vibrating and striking together with a tinkling noise like the patter of soft raindrops on still nights, make the pipul the most grateful shade-tree, and the reflections of its glossy leaves suggest always the first stir of a rising breeze. This flashing, sparkling, flickering play of light all over the tree gives the pipul its unique and individual character—something like the dazzling, glittering trees that one sees in pictures by imperfect vitascope. The pipul trembles to this day in reverence for the one who became Buddha beneath its branches, and as symbol of the continual change and motion, the impermanency of the world. The pipul whispers to Rishaba,the Hindus say, every word it hears, for which reason it is never planted in the bazaar where trade must employ the lie. Brahmans claim that Brahma planted the pipul-tree, and that Vishnu, who in his ninth avatar became Buddha, was born beneath a pipul-tree. The Hindu pilgrims, who come in such thousands every year to offer unleavened cakes and repeat mantras to this tree at Buddha-Gaya, before worshiping the print of Vishnu's footsteps at Brahm-Gaya, believe that a service beneath its branches will relieve their ancestors for one hundred generations back.
The Bo-tree was always worshiped, swept around, sprinkled with milk and perfumes, and hung with offerings in the Buddha's lifetime, and he taught, from his seat beneath it, that he was but one of a series of Buddhas who appear on earth as faith
