ndred years before Zarathustra (or Zoroaster), the first of
the great leaders of the Aryan race (the name which the Eastern branch
of the Indo-European race had given to itself), had taught his people
to regard life as a continuous struggle between Ahriman, and Ormuzd, the
Gods of Evil and Good. Buddha's father was Suddhodana, a mighty chief
among the tribe of the Sakiyas. His mother, Maha Maya, was the daughter
of a neighbouring king. She had been married when she was a very young
girl. But many moons had passed beyond the distant ridge of hills and
still her husband was without an heir who should rule his lands after
him. At last, when she was fifty years old, her day came and she went
forth that she might be among her own people when her baby should come
into this world.

It was a long trip to the land of the Koliyans, where Maha Maya had
spent her earliest years. One night she was resting among the cool trees
of the garden of Lumbini. There her son was born. He was given the name
of Siddhartha, but we know him as Buddha, which means the Enlightened
One.

In due time, Siddhartha grew up to be a handsome young prince and when
he was nineteen years old, he was married to his cousin Yasodhara.
During the next ten years he lived far away from all pain and all
suffering, behind the protecting walls of the royal palace, awaiting the
day when he should succeed his father as King of the Sakiyas.

But it happened that when he was thirty years old, he drove outside of
the palace gates and saw a man who was old and worn out with labour
and whose weak limbs could hardly carry the burden of life. Siddhartha
pointed him out to his coachman, Channa, but Channa answered that there
were lots of poor people in this world and that one more or less did not
matter. The young prince was very sad but he did not say anything and
went back to live with his wife and his father and his mother and tried
to be happy. A little while later he left the palace a second time.
His carriage met a man who suffered from a terrible disease. Siddhartha
asked Channa what had been the cause of this man's suffering, but the
coachman answered that there were many sick people in this world and
that such things could not be helped and did not matter very much. The
young prince was very sad when he heard this but again he returned to
his people.

A few weeks passed. One evening Siddhartha ordered his carriage in order
to go to the river and bathe. Suddenly hi