Leaving the head of the elephant, he at once bounded off in great haste, and thrusting his head through the passage of exit made his way out.
By reason of the decomposed state of the carcass all the hairs that had been washed off by the rain were matted together in the aforesaid passage. The jackal was quite bewildered at the sight of the hairless body of the elephant, which resembled the trunk of a palm-tree. After rushing about for a moment, he stopped, sat down, and took a steady look at the carcass, thinking, "This unpleasant business has not been brought about by any other (than myself). Greed's the cause and the means. On account of greed I've done all this. From this time forth I'll not give way to covetousness. Never again, indeed, will I enter the carcass of an elephant." With anxious heart he uttered the following gâthâ:—
"Never again, not e'en once more indeed,
Never again, not here or there forsooth,
Never again, dead tuskers will I seek,
Or in them dwell, so scared was I just now."
And when he had thus spoken he fled from that place, and never again dared even to stop and look at that or any other elephant's carcass; and from that time forth he was free from covetousness.
Visavanta Jâtaka.[1]
The Serpent arid the Medicine-man.
In times very remote, when Brahmadatta reigned at Benares, the Bodhisat was reborn in the family of a poison-doctor, and he lived by practising as a medicine-man. It happened that a certain person was bitten by a serpent. His relatives, without delay, quickly fetched a doctor, who said, "I usually extract serpent-poison by the use of drugs; but I'll have that serpent which has bitten the man brought here, and I'll e'en make it draw out the poison from the place that has been wounded." "Having caused the serpent to be brought here, make it draw out the venom," said they. He had the serpent
- ↑ Jâtaka Book, vol. i. No. 69, p. 310.
