King Makhadeva---------------Once on a time in Mithila in the realm of Videha there was a king named Makhadeva, who was righteous and ruled righteously. For successive periods of eighty-four thousand years he had respectively amused himself as prince, ruled as viceroy, and reigned as king.All these long years had he lived, when one day he said to his barber,-Tell me, friend barber, when you see any grey hairs in my head. So one day, years and years after, the barber did find among the raven locks of the king a single grey hair, and he told the king so. Pull it out, my friend, said the king; and lay it in my palm.The barber accordingly plucked the hair out with his golden tongs, and laid it in the kings hand. The king had at that time still eighty-four thousand years more to live; but nevertheless at the sight of that one grey hair he was filled with deep emotion. He seemed to see the King of Death standing over him, or to be cooped within a blazing hut of leaves. Foolish Makhadeva! he cried; your hair has turned grey before you have been able to rid yourself of depravities. And as he thought and thought about the appearance of his grey hair, he grew aflame within; the sweat rolled down from his body; whilst his raiment oppressed him and seemed intolerable. This very day, thought he, will I renounce the world for the ascetics life.To his barber he gave the grant of a village, which yielded a hundred thousand pieces of money an year. He sent for his eldest son and said to him, My son, I have become old and my hair is turning grey. I have had my fill of human joys, and now would taste the joys divine; the time for my renunciation has come. Take the sovereignty upon yourself; as for me, I will take up my abode in the Mango-grove, far from here and there Ill tread the ascetics path.As he was thus bent on leading an ascetics life, his ministers drew near and said, What is the reason, sire, why you adopt a renunciates life?Taking the grey hair in his hand, the king said to his ministers:-Lo, behold the grey hairs that appear on my headThey are verily the messengers of death, whove come to rob my life.It is time I turned from worldly thingsand in the hermits path I must seek saving peace.And after these words, he renounced his sovereignty the same day and became a recluse. Dwelling in that very Mango-grove of Makhadeva, he there during eight-four thousand years fostered the Four Perfect States within himself, and, dying with insight full and unbroken, was reborn in the Realm of Brahma. Passing thence, he became a king again in Mithila, under the name of Nimi, and after uniting his scattered family, once more became a hermit in that same Mango-grove, winning the Four Perfect States and passing thence once more to the Realm of Brahma.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Nandivishala------------Once a calf was given to a brahmin, who called him Nandivisala and treated him with care and affection. When the bull grew up he felt obliged because the brahmin had reared him up with care. To repay the expenses incurred toward his upbringing, he decided to help him. So, one day, he advised the brahmin to put a wager of one thousand coins to prove that he possessed the strongest bull in the village, who could drag one hundred loaded carts. The brahmin accepted the proposal and made the wager of one thousand gold coins in the local market to prove the strength of his bull.A show was organised in presence of the people assembled there. The brahmin harnessed the bull with a loaded cart, which in turn was tied with another ninety-nine loaded carts. When the show was on, the Brahmin called the bull, O rascal! Now pull these carts. Quick! Quick! These words were insulting. Thus hurt, Nandi firmly fixed all his feet on the ground and did not budge an inch. The brahmin shouted and wailed; but it was all in vain because nothing could make the bull move. The brahmin thus lost the wager and paid one thousand coins to a local merchant.Back home, the brahmin lay on a cot in extreme grief. Moved with his agony the bull approached him and said, Sir! Have I ever made any mess or broken any pot in your house ever since I lived here. The Brahmin said, No. The bull then demanded, Why did you call me a rascal, when I intended to help you? So, if you lost the wager it is the fault of your tongue and not my weakness. The wrong can still be redressed and you can still win a wager of two thousand pieces, if you feel sorry for your words.The priest then made an apology and again followed the advice of the bull. This time he made the wager of two thousand coins with a local folk. A similar show was organised in presence of the people. This time the priest decked the bull with garlands and flowers. When the show was on he said, O Gentle fellow! Can you draw the carts for me? To the surprise of all, the mighty bull dragged all the hundred carts and helped the brahmin win the wager of two thousand gold coins.(Those days Ananda was the brahmin and the Bodhisatta was Nandivisala)