assembled round him, he solemnly declared the purpose of their coming together: to wit, that through this rite Trisanku might forthwith, in his natural body, rise to heaven.
Ere, however, we pass to consider how the ceremony went, there falls to be told another tale of the manner in which the wrath of Viswamitra overtook his rival's sons. It skills not to argue which tale deserves the greater credit—some, perchance, might venture to suppose that this was a second stroke that fell on them when the first was past. In either case, the story runs thus:
Vasishtha chanced one day to meet on the road a certain king, of whose household, among others, he was the priest. The king bade him give place, but the saint replied, with due courtesy, that it was the warrior's duty to give way to the Brahman. On this the king, enraged, smote the saint with his staff; whereupon Vasishtha cursed him to become a cannibal. Viswamitra heard this curse, though unseen himself, and willed that a man-eating fiend should possess the king. Things being thus, the king passed forth, and the first man he met was Vasishtha's eldest son, Saktri, whom he straightway devoured. In course of time, all Vasishtha's sons perished in like manner. Stricken with grief, the saint sought to slay himself in divers ways. He cast himself from the top of Mount Meru; but, soft as cotton, the rocks received him unscathed. He entered a burning forest, but the flames touched him not. He cast himself, heavily weighted, into the sea, but the waves cast him ashore; and into a river, bound, but the stream loosed his bonds and delivered him alive upon the
