sacrificial fuel, Kusa grass, and logs of wood, I was coming towards our abode. I had sat under a banian tree. The kine also having been gathered together were staying under the shade of that same banian. The Asuras, beholding me, asked—'Who art thou?' They heard me answer—I am the son of Vrahaspati. As soon I had said this, the Davanas slew me and hacking my body into pieces gave my remains to jackals and wolves. And they then went to their homes in gladness of heart. O amiable one, summoned by their high-souled Bhargava, I come before thee somehow fully revived.'
"On another occasion, asked by Deva-yani, the Brahmana Kacha went into the woods. And as he was roving about for gathering flowers, the Danavas beheld him. They again slew him and pounding him into paste they mixed it with the waters of the ocean. Finding him late, the maiden again represented the matter unto her father. And summoned again by the Brahmana with the aid of his science, Kacha appearing before (his preceptor and his daughter) told evrything as it had happened. Then slaying him for the third time and burning him and reducing him to ashes the Asuras gave those ashes to the preceptor himself mixing them with his wine. And Deva-yani again spoke unto her father, saying, 'O father, Kacha had been sent to gather flowers. But he is not to be seen. It is plain he hath been lost or dead. I tell thee truly, I would not live without him.'
"Sukra hearing this said, 'O daughter, the son of Vrahaspati hath gone to the region of the dead. Though revived by my science, he is thus slain frequently. What, indeed, am I to do? O Deva-yani, do not grieve, do not cry. One like thee should not grieve for one that is mortal. Indeed, thou art, O daughter, in consequence of my prowess, worshipped thrice a day, during the ordained hours of prayer, by Brahma, Brahmanas, the gods with Indra, the Vasus, the Aswinas, the Asuras, in fact by the whole universe. It is impossible to keep him alive, for revived by me he is as often killed.' To all this Deva-yani replied, 'Why shall I, O father, not grieve for him whose grand-father is old Angira himself, whose father is Vrihaspati—that ocean of ascetic merit, who
