n, live a perfectly purified life, and sleep
on the bare ground. The white horse could not be loosened until the
night of the full moon in _Chaitra_, which answers to the latter half
of March and the first half of April,--in fact, at Easter-time; and it
may be observed here that this is not the only strange coincidence in
the sacrifice. It was thus an adventure of romantic conquest, mingled
with deep religion and arrogant ostentation; and the entire
description of the _Aswamedha_ would prove most interesting. The horse
is found, is adorned with the golden plate, and turned loose,
wandering into distant regions; where the army of Arjuna--for it was
he who led Yudhishthira's forces--goes through twelve amazing
adventures. They come, for instance, to a land of Amazons, all of
wonderful beauty, wearing armour of pearls and gold, and equally fatal
either to love or to fight with. These dazzling enemies, however,
finally submit, as also the Rajah of the rich city of Babhruvahan,
which possessed high walls of solid silver, and was lighted with
precious jewels for lamps. The serpent people, in the same way, who
live beneath the earth in the city of Vasuki, yield, after combat, to
Arjuna. A thousand million semi-human snakemen dwelt there, with wives
of consummate loveliness, possessing in their realm gems which would
restore dead people to life, as well as a fountain of perpetual youth.
Finally, Arjuna's host marches back in great glory, and with a vast
train of vanquished monarchs, to the city of Hastinapura, where all
the subject kings have audience of Yudhishthira, and the immense
preparations begin for the sacrifice of the snow-white horse.

After all these stately celebrations, it might be expected that the
great poem would conclude with the established glories of the ancient
dynasty. But if the martial part of the colossal epic is "Kshatriyan,"
and the religious episodes "Brahmanic," the conclusion breathes the
spirit of Buddhism. Yudhishthira sits grandly on the throne; but
earthly greatness does not content the soul of man, nor can riches
render weary hearts happy. A wonderful scene, which reads like a
rebuke from the dead addressed to the living upon the madness of all
war, occurs in this part of the poem. The Pandavas and the old King
Dhritarashtra being together by the banks of the Ganges, the great
saint Vyasa undertakes to bring back to them all the departed, slain
in their fratricidal conflict. The spectacle is at