came near, gathering about Him in a ring, to listen, whenever,—standing with feet crossed beneath the beautiful kodumbha-tree—He played upon His flute. Some say, indeed, that at such moments the lotus-buds lying on the Jumna waters opened, and the river itself bent out of its straight course. And it is said that in Brindaban owing to the presence of the Lord Krishna, the weather never grew too hot, nor did the grass grow thirsty. It was always cool and fragrant; the trees were always in blossom; and a gentle breeze played always upon the foreheads of the cowherds.
One game was played there regularly once a year. It was a game of triumph over Kansa. For the Tyrant of Mathura had not forgotten his old eagerness to slay the future Avenger of his People, and he continued now and again to despatch his malicious emissaries to Brindaban, there to work the death of the young Krishna. Once he sent Bak-Asur, the great Crane; and once it was Metrasur, the Demon-Sheep. It was the death of the latter of these which caused such great rejoicing throughout the whole country-side, that its anniversary has been kept every year, from then till now.
When the spring was at its loveliest, on the eve of the full moon of Phalgun—that most beautiful month of all the twelve—when the fragrance of
