A friend of mine, whom I have formerly
mentioned, prevailed upon one of the interpreters of the Indian
kings to inquire of them, if possible, what tradition they have
among them of this matter: which, as well as he could learn by
those many questions which he asked them at several times, was in
substance as follows:
The visionary, whose name was Marraton, after having travelled for a
long space under a hollow mountain, arrived at length on the
confines of this world of spirits, but could not enter it by reason
of a thick forest, made up of bushes, brambles, and pointed thorns,
so perplexed and interwoven with one another that it was impossible
to find a passage through it. Whilst he was looking about for some
track or pathway that might be worn in any part of it, he saw a huge
lion couched under the side of it, who kept his eye upon him in the
same posture as when he watches for his prey. The Indian
immediately started back, whilst the lion rose with a spring, and
leaped towards him. Being wholly destitute of all other weapons, he
stooped down to take up a huge stone in his hand, but, to his
infinite surprise, grasped nothing, and found the supposed stone to
be only the apparition of one. If he was disappointed on this side,
he was as much pleased on the other, when he found the lion, which
had seized on his left shoulder, had no power to hurt him, and was
only the ghost of that ravenous creature which it appeared to be.
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