Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was king in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in the kingdom of Kasi in a family, and when hw grew up he became excellent in the craft. His parents were poor. Not far from their village was another smith’s village of a thousand houses. The principal smith of the thousand was a favourite of the king, rich and of great substance.

His daughter was exceedingly beautiful, like to a nymph of heaven. People came from the villages round to have razors, axes, ploughshares and goads made, and generally saw that maiden. When they went back to their own villages, they praised her beauty in the places where men sit and talk. The Bodhisatta, being attracted by merely hearing of her, thought, “I will make her my wife;” so he took iron of the best kind, and made one delicate strong needle which pierced dice and floated on water; then he made seven sheaths for it. Then he put the needle in a tube and placing it in a case, he went to that village and asked for the street where the headsmith’s house was; then standing at the door he said, “Who will buy a needle for money from my hand? Describing the needle, and so standing by the head-smith’s house he spoke:

Quickly threaded, smooth and straight,

Polished with emery,

Sharp of point and delicate,

Needles! Who will buy?

Quickly threaded, strong and straight,

Rounded properly,

Iron they will penetrate,

Needles! Who will buy ?

At that moment the maiden was fanning her father with a palm-leaf as he lay on a little bed to allay discomfort after his early meal. Hearing the Bodhisatta’s sweet voice, she said, “Who is this hawking needles with sweet voice in a village of smiths? For what business has he come? I will find out;” she went out and spoke with him outside, standing in the verandah. The purpose of Bodhisatta prospers; it was for her sake he had come to that village. She said, “Young man! dwellers in all the kingdom come to this village for needles and the like; it is in folly you wish to sell needles in a village of smiths; though you declare the praise of your needle all day no one will take it from your hand; if you wish to get a price, go to another village”: so she spoke:

Our hooks are sold, both up and down,

Men know our needles well:

We all are smiths in this good town:

Needles! Who can sell?

In iron-work we have renown,

In weapons we excel:

We all are smiths in this good town:

Needles! Who can sell?

The Bodhisatta hearing her words said, “Lady, you say this not knowing and in ignorance”: and so he spoke:–

Though all are smiths in this good town,

Yet skill can needles sell;

For masters in the craft will own

A first-rate article.

Lady, if once your father know

This needle made by me,

On me your hand he would bestow

And all his property.

The head-smith hearing all their talk called his daughter and asked, “Who is that you are talking to?” “Father, a man selling needles.” “Then call him here.” She went and called him. The Bodhisatta saluted the head-smith and stood by. The head-smith asked, “Of what village are you?” “I am of such a village and son of such a smith.” “Why are you come here?” “To sell needles.” “Come; let us see your needle.” The Bodhisatta, wishing to declare his qualities among them all, said, “Is not a thing seen in the midst of all better than one seen by each singly?” “Quite right, friend.” So he gathered all the smiths together and in their midst said, “Sir, take the needle.” “Master, have an anvil brought and a bronze dish full of water.” This was done. The Bodhisatta took the needle-tube from the wrapper and gave it to them. The head-smith taking it asked, “Is this the needle?” “No, it is not the needle, it is the sheath.” By examining he could not see end nor tip. The Bodhisatta, taking it from them, drew off the seven sheaths with his nail and showing it to the people with “This is the needle, these are the sheaths;” he put the needle in the master’s hand and the sheaths at his feet. Then the head-smith asked, “Friend, what is the strength of this needle?” “Master, have this anvil raised up by a strong man and a water-vessel set under the anvil; then strike the needle straight into the anvil.” He had this done and struck the needle by the point into the anvil. The needle piercing the anvil lay across on the surface of the water not moving a hair’s breadth up or down. All the smiths said, “We have never heard all this time even by rumour that there are such smiths as this:” so they applauded. The head-smith called his daughter and in the midst of the assembly saying, “This maiden is a suitable match for you,” he poured water on them and gave her away. And afterwards when the head-smith died the Bodhisatta became head-smith in the village.