Sams. We'll soon try that, and cut short your recollections and yourself together. Stop, you inamorato of a beggarly Brahman.

Vas. Delightful words, proceed, you speak my praise.

Sams. Let him defend you if he can. Vas. Defend me! I were safe if he were here.

Sams. What! is he Sakra, or the son of Bali-Mahendra, or the son of Rembha -Kalanemi, or Subhandu-Rudra or the son of Drona-Jatayu - Chanakya — Dhundhumara or Trisanku? If he were all these together, he could not aid you. As Sita was slain by Chanakya, as Draupadi by Jatayu, so art thou by me. (Seizes her.)

loved Charudatta!

Sams. Then I suppose, she went north.

Vit. What mean you? I comprehend you not. Speak out.

Sams. I swear by your head and my feet that you may make yourself perfectly easy. Dismiss all alarm-I have killed her.

Vit. Killed her!

Sams. What, you do not believe me? then look here, see this first proof of my prowess. (Shews the body.)

Vita. Alas, I die! (Faints.)

Sams. Hey-day, is it all over with him? Stha. Revive, sir; it is I who am to blame, my inconsiderately bringing her hither has caused her death.

Vit. (Reviving.) Alas, Vasantasena !!

heard

And fascinating in thy playful sportive

ness :

Mirthful thy mind, affectionate thy heart,

Sams. Still do you repeat that name,

looks.

Alas! love's richest store, a mine exhaustless

Sams. Die, harlot, die. (Strangles her with his hands.) 'Tis done, she is no more this bundle of vice, this mansion of cruelty, has met her fate, instead of him whom she came in her love to meet. To what shall I compare the prowess of this arm? Vainly calling on her mother, she has fallen like Sita in the Bharat. Deaf to my desires, she perishes in my resentment. The Garden is empty-I may drag her away unperceived. Whoever sees this, will say it was not the deed of any other man's son. The old jackall will be here again presently. I will withdraw and observe him.

Enter the VITA and STHAVARAKA. Vita. I have brought back Sthavaraka. Where is he? Here are foot-marksthese are women's.

Sams. (Advances.) Welcome, master : you are well returned, Sthavaraka.

Vit. Now render back my pledge.
Sams. What was that?

Vit. Vasantasena.

Sams. Oh, she is gone.

Vit. Whither?

turned off to the south.

Vit. I went south too.

open,

Plundered with reckless hand, and left in ruins.

This crime will amply be avenged. A deed

Done by such hands, in such a place committed,

Will bring down infamy on all the state.
The guardian goddess of our city flies
For ever from its execrated walls.
Let me reflect-this villain may involve
Me in the crime-I will depart from
hence.

(The Prince lays hold of him.)
Detain me not, I have already been
Too long your follower and friend.

Sams. Very likely indeed. You have murdered Vasantasena, and seek to accuse me of the crime: do you imagine I am without friends?

Vit. You are a wretch.

Sams. Come, come, I will give you money, a hundred suvernas, clothes, a turban-Say nothing of what has happened, and we shall escape all censure. Vit. Keep your gifts.

Stha. Shame, shame!

Sams. Ha! ha ha! (Laughing.)

Vit. Restrain your mirth. Let there be hate between us.

That friendship that confers alone dis

grace,

I cast it from me, as a snapped

And stringless bow.

come. (Going.)

Sams. Where would you fly? In this my garden, you have murdered a female; come along with me, and defend yourself before my brother-in-law. (Seizes him.) Vit. Away, fool. (Draws his sword.) Sams. (Falls back.) Oh, very well, if you are afraid, you may depart.

Vit. I am in danger here; yes, I will join

Servillaka, and Chandana, and with them seek

The band that Aryaka has assembled.

[Exit."

The murderer bribes his coachman, with costly ornaments, to hold his peace, and orders him to conduct the carriage to the porch of his palace, and there wait his coming. Nothing can be more natural and consistent with his character than the behaviour of the murderer. He has not the sense to fear the flight of the Vita, and says with a chuckle, "My worthy preceptor has taken himself off in alarm, and will not probably trust himself here again. As to the slave, as soon as I return I will put him in confinement; so my secret is safe, and I may depart without apprehension." He then handles the body to be sure that it is dead-offers to cover it with his mantle-a wise suggestion of the heart-but recollects it bears his name. He then covers it with a heap of withered leaves, and will be off to the court to enter an accusation of murder against Charudattamurder for sake of her wealth! But

lo! the rascally mendicant whom he had beaten and threatened to decapitate with the sword like a radish. How now? "I can leap the broken wall-thus I fly as the monkey Mahendra leaped through heaven, over earth and hell, from Hanuman Peak to Lanka. (Jumps down.)" The mendicant enters, and goes to hang his mantle, newly washed and ochrestained, to be a badge of his profession, on the heap of leaves. Murder will out-and here right speedily. "I covet not the other world," quoth the mendicant, "until Bauddha enables me in this to make some return for the Lady Vasantasena's charity. On the day she liberated me from the gamester's clutches, she made me her slave for ever. Hola! something sighed among yon leaves-or perhaps it was only their crackling, scorched by the sun, and moistened by my damp garment. Bless me! they spread out like the wings of a bird. (One of Vasantasena's hands appears.) A woman's hand, as I live! with rich ornaments-and another! Surely I have seen that hand before -it is-it is-it is the hand that was once stretched out to save me!" He scatters the leaves, and Vasantasena stirring, expresses by signs the want of water. He applies the wet to her face and mouth, and garment fans her, and she revives. "Do you not remember me, lady; you once redeemed me with ten suvernas ?

Vas. I remember you; ought else I have forgotten. I have suffered since.-Mend. How, lady? —Vas. As my fate deserved." He bids her drag herself to the tree she is lying below, and take hold of a creeper which he bends down to her; thus she is enabled to rise to her feet. To a Bauddha Ascetic, female contact is unlawful; and his observance of the prohibition, remarks the translator, in spite of his gratitude and regard for Vasantasena, is a curious and characteristic delineation of the denaturalizing tendency of such institutions. In a neighbouring convent, he tenderly tells her, dwells a holy sister, with whom she may rest for a while; and they walk away, he calling on the people on the streets to make way for a young female and a poor beggar: and so closes this harrowing Act.

How fares the murderer? Here he comes-splendidly dressed! He speaks. "I have bathed in limpid water, and reposed in a shady grove, passing my time like a celestial chorister of elegant form, amidst an attendant train of lovely damsels, now tying my hair, then twisting it into a braid, then opening it in flowing tresses, and again gathering it into a graceful knot. Oh! I am a most accomplished and astonishing young Prince." But he feels an "interior chasm" which must be filled up. And with what? He cannot be perfectly happy, till he goes to the Court, and registers an accusation against Charudatta of the murder of Vasantasena by strangulation. Luckily the Court is sitting -and he is at the gate. The Ninth Act is wholly occupied with the trial and condemnation of Charudatta and is an extremely curious, and in as far as Professor H. Wilson knows (and did another exist he would have known it), a solitary picture of the practical administration of Hindu law under Hindu government. Then we have the doorkeeper, who cries "here comes the Court, I must attend." Then the Judge enters, with the Provost and Recorder, and others- and the Crier sings out, "Hear, all men, the Judge's commands." The Judge then delivers his idea of the judicial character. "Amidst the conflicting details of parties engaged in legal controversy, it is difficult for the Judge to ascertain what is really in their hearts. Men accuse others of secret crimes, and even though the charge be disproved, they acknowledge not their fault, but, blinded by passion, persevere; and whilst their friends conceal their errors, and their foes exaggerate them, the character of the prince is assailed. Reproach indeed is easy, discrimination of but rare occurrence, and the quality of a judge is readily the subject of censure. A judge should be learned, sagacious, eloquent, dispassionate, impartial; he should pronounce judgment only after due deliberation and enquiry; he should be a guardian to the weak, a terror to the wicked; his heart should covet nothing, his mind be intent on nothing but equity and truth, and he

should keep aloof from the anger of the king."

All very fine and true, your Honour; yet have we a shrewd suspicion that you are a knave.

An officer of the Court calls"By command of his honour the Judge, I ask who waits to demand justice?-Sams. (advancing.) Oh! ho! The Judges are seated-I demand justice-I, a man of rank-a Vasudeva, and brother-in-law of the Rajah-I have a plaint to enter." The Judge oracularly remarks an eclipse of the rising sun forewarns the downfall of some illustrious character"-but puts off the plaint till to-morrow. The great man threatens to tell the Rajah-and the Judge remembers that it is one of his prime duties-" to keep aloof from the anger of the king." "The blockhead has it in his power to procure my dismissal-his plaint shall be heard." Samsthanaka then puts his hands on the Judge's head, and sitting down by his side, says, "I will sit even here." He then states his charge against Charudatta, plainly impli cating himself by his blunders, and, at one unlucky word, putting his foot on the record, and wiping it out. Vasantasena's mother is called, and most reluctantly confesses that her daughter had gone the night before to the house of Charudatta. The Judge now thinks it time to order the attendance of the accused.

"Officer, repair to Charudatta, and say to him, the Magistrate, with all due respect, requests to see him at his perfect convenience." He immediately appears-appalled by fearful omens. His left eye throbs

with repeated croak a crow an swers his fellow's call-on his path the black snake unfolds his spiry length, and expands his hooded neck between his venomed fangs, protruding his hissing tongue-he slips where there is no plashy mire. "Yes, deathTerrible death awaits me--be it soIt is not mine to murmur against destiny, Nor doubt that righteous which the gods

ordain.

Off. This is the court, sir, enter.

Char. (Entering, and looking round.) The prospect is but little pleasing. The court looks like a sea-its coun

sellors

the door frame.)

More inauspicious omens-they attend Each step I take-fate multiplies its favours."

For a while things do not look very black, and the Judge is anxious to establish his innocence. "How can such a man have committed such a crime? He has exhausted in lavish munificence the ocean of his disregarded wealth, and is it possible that he, who was among the best, and who has ever shewn the most princely liberality, should have been guilty of a deed most hateful to a noble mind, for the sake of plunder ?" But Charudatta had at first hesitatedfrom shame to acknowledge his liaison with the Courtezan-nor would nor could he say more-than "that he did not see her depart from his house, and knew not how." At this juncture in comes Viraka, the kicked Captain of the Watch, and swears to having heard the driver of Charudatta's coach say that he was driving Vasantasena to the gardens of Pushpakarandaka to meet his

master.

But where is the body of the murdered woman? Viraka is sent to look for it in the gardens, and returning instanter, says, "I have been to the garden, and have ascertained that a female body has been carried off by the beasts of prey.-Judge. How know you it was a female body?Vir. By the remains of the hair, and the marks of the hands and feet." The Judge is at a loss what to believe and thus gives vent to his perplexity before a crowded court :"How difficult it is to discover the

truth! The more one investigates, the greater is the perplexity; the points of law are sufficiently clear here; but the understanding still labours like a cow in a quagmire." In this quandary he turns to the prisoner and says, "Come, Charudatta, speak the truth." He deplores affectingly the death of his beautiful and beloved handmaid; and the murderer now tells the Judges they will be held as the defendant's friends and abettors, if he allows him longer to remain seated in his presence. The officers remove him from his

seat, and he sits down on the ground. The murderer then ejaculates to himself, "Ha! ha! my deeds are now safely deposited on another's head. I will go and sit near Charudatta. Come, Charudatta, look at me-confess; say honestly, I killed Vasantasena."

"Char. Vile wretch, away. Alas, my

humble friend

My good Maitreya, what will be thy grief To hear of my disgrace, and thine, dear wife,

The daughter of a pure and pious race! Alas! my boy, amidst thy youthful sports, How little think'st thou of thy father's shame?

Where can Maitreya tarry? I had sent him

To seek Vasantasena, and restore
The costly gems her lavish love bestowed
Upon my child-where can he thus de-
lay?"

Maitreya is passing the court gate, and hearing of the jeopardy of his best friend, rushes in, and after some touching appeals to the Judge on the impossibility of such a crime by such a man, he strikes Samsthanaka, who had called him "a hypocritical scoundrel;" and in the struggle which ensues, out of his girdle fall Vasantasena's jewels given by her to the little lad to purchase a GOLDEN TOY-CART. The proof is complete, and Charudatta is condemned to death. "Let the ornaments of Vasantasena be suspended to the neck of the criminal-let him be conducted by beat of drum to the southern cemetery, and there let him be impaled, that by the severity of this punishment, men may be in future deterred from the commission of such atrocious acts." He bequeaths his helpless family to Maitreyaasking him to befriend his wife, and