be counted. But Buddha
is more than a prophet; his followers say that he has appeared on earth
many times, and that the last time he came in the form of an Indian
prince who, instead of living in careless luxury, left his home and
wandered forth among the people to discover the meaning of life. When he
found it, after deep meditation, he left certain precepts and rules to
his followers. Some of them are very good, resembling our own
Commandments: "Thou shalt not kill," "Thou shalt not lie," "Thou shalt
not steal," "Thou shalt not drink intoxicating liquor." But, unlike the
Mohammedans, the Buddhists do not believe in God. Their idea of blissful
happiness at the last is to melt away into a kind of nothingness of
perfect peace, with no desires, no worries, and no cares.

All over the East you find temples which are supposed to contain some
part of Buddha's person, hairs, teeth, even a collar-bone! Of course it
is impossible that these things should be genuine, and in any case, if
they were, there is nothing sacred about them. The worshippers always
say they do not look upon Buddha as a god, but only a great spiritual
teacher, yet the poor and ignorant come and worship and bow down in
these temples, and there is no doubt that to them the image itself
stands for a god. The tooth which is here is kept in many caskets, one
within the other, and it is never shown except on very great occasions.
Mr. Hunter saw it once, and says it is not a human tooth at all, but a
great thing like a boar's tusk or possibly an elephant's tooth. He
couldn't get a good look at it, anyway he saw enough to be quite sure
that it is not human at all, and the same may be said without doubt of
all similar relics.

What a lovely scene! The graceful dark-skinned crowd in their softly
flowing garments of the purest pinks you ever saw, with sulphur yellow
and rich red draperies thrown over them, are idling by the hoary grey
steps of the temple and dropping bits of bread into the ponds in front.
They are feeding the tortoises, fat lazy beasts who will hardly move to
snap at the fragments unless they fall before their very noses. These
beasts are supposed to be sacred too, and so they have an uncommonly
good time of it. This massive building, temple and palace in one, was
inhabited by the old line of native kings who made Kandy their capital.

We must get back to the station or we may miss Mr. Hunter. When we
arrive there we find there is no sign of him,