never observes that his wife's work is no longer sufficient to procure them their daily bread. One day she reminds him that Chrisna was his companion at school, and in learning, and advises him to go to Dwarka, as Chrisna, if aware of his misery, will certainly help him. Soodam at last resolves to do this, and takes with him as a gift all he has in his power to bestow, a little rice, which is with some difficulty tied up in his ragged garment. Chrisna, the man who has become God, receives the Brahmin with marks of respect, and like an old friend; and himself asks for the customary gift, receives the worthless one with satisfaction; nay even puts one grain of it into his mouth; the rest he distributes. Pleased with such a reception, the Brahmin after three days takes leave of Chrisna, but is much surprised at being allowed to depart without a token of his generosity. "Perhaps," he thinks to himself, "God wishes me to remain poor," and he readily submits to this, and goes quietly home. Bat how astonished he is when he arrives there. Chrisna had ordered his heavenly builders to build a magnificent house which is standing before him, with all that pertains to it, and is famished with everything necessary for a comfortable existence. At first he fancies that he must have made some mistake, but his wife comes to meet him with a number of servants, and informs him of the god's generosity. Thus the story is related by Polier (Mythologie des Indous, 2. 66-79), and we cannot fail to recognize its similarity to ours; the man's poverty and piety, the contrast to this which is hinted at in the wife who wishes for wealth, and persuades him to make the journey to Dwarka; the meeting with the god Chrisna (though here, on the contrary, is the man who goes to him), who gladly receives his poor gift, and eats some of it, and lastly, the blessing which follows—to wit, the newly-built house. In a Chinese saga, however, the story is exactly the reverse, and the end is the same as in ours. Fo often came down to earth to prove men's hearts. It came to pass that at night-time, dressed in wretched garments, he reached a widow's hut, and begged for shelter as a poor man who had lost his way. The woman received him kindly, and made ready a bed for him. Fo went to bed early; she looked at the sleeping man with her lamp, and saw that he had no shirt, and that his coat was ragged. So she opened her chest, and cut a new shirt out of some coarse linen of her own spinning, sewed the whole night long, and early in the morning gave it to her guest, who thankfully received her gift, and said, "May God reward thee for what thou hast done for me; whatsoever thou beginnest to do when I am gone, shalt thou go on doing until the sun sets." When the guest was gone, she began to jiut the roll of linen back in the chest, and as she was considering how many yards of it she had left, she began to measure it with her arm, and the roll continually
