ith our souls filled with the glory which shall be, then they shrink
abashed, and flee away in confusion." Cheer up, friend! such thoughts
are of the night, the hour of Satan and of the powers of darkness; and
with the dawn they flee away.'

'And yet things are revealed to men upon their beds, in visions of the
night.'

'Be it so. Nothing, at all events, has been revealed to thee upon thy
bed, except that which thou knowest already far better than Satan does,
namely, that thou art a sinner. But for me, my friend, though I doubt
not that such things are, it is the day, and not the night, which brings
revelations.'

'How, then?'

'Because by day I can see to read that book which is written, like the
Law given on Sinai, upon tables of stone, by the finger of God Himself.'

Arsenius looked up at him inquiringly. Pambo smiled.

'Thou knowest that, like many holy men of old, I am no scholar, and knew
not even the Greek tongue, till thou, out of thy brotherly kindness,
taughtest it to me. But hast thou never heard what Anthony said to a
certain Pagan who reproached him with his ignorance of books? "Which is
first," he asked, "spirit, or letter?--Spirit, sayest thou? Then know,
the healthy spirit needs no letters. My book is the whole creation,
lying open before me, wherein I can read, whensoever I please, the word
of God."'

'Dost thou not undervalue learning, my friend?'

'I am old among monks, and have seen much of their ways; and among them
my simplicity seems to have seen this--many a man wearing himself with
study, and tormenting his soul as to whether he believed rightly this
doctrine and that, while he knew not with Solomon that in much learning
is much sorrow, and that while he was puzzling at the letter of God's
message, the spirit of it was going fast and faster out of him.'

'And how didst thou know that of such a man?'

'By seeing him become a more and more learned theologian, and more and
more zealous for the letter of orthodoxy; and yet less and less loving
and merciful--less and less full of trust in God, and of hopeful
thoughts for himself and for his brethren, till he seemed to have
darkened his whole soul with disputations, which breed only strife,
and to have forgotten utterly the message which is written in that book
wherewith the blessed Anthony was content' 'Of what message dost thou
speak?'

'Look,' said the old abbot, stretching his hand toward the Eastern
desert, 'and judge, like a wise m