the character of the monks and the
shape of the letter by which they are designated, and that, for example,
those who are placed under Z have a tortuous character, whilst those
under I have an upright mind. If I were you, brother, I should go and
assure myself of this with my own eyes, and I should know no rest
until I had seen such a wonderful thing. I should not fail to study the
regulations of the various communities which are scattered along the
banks of the Nile, so as to be able to compare one with another. Such
study is befitting a religious man like yourself. You have heard say,
no doubt, that Abbot Ephrem has drawn up for his monastery pious
regulations of great beauty. With his permission, you might make a copy
of them, as you are a skilful penman. I could not do so, for my hands,
accustomed to wield the spade, are too awkward to direct the thin reed
of the scribe over the papyrus. But you have the knowledge of letters,
brother, and should thank God for it, for beautiful writing cannot be
too much admired. The work of the copyist and the reader is a great
safeguard against evil thoughts. Brother Paphnutius, why do you not
write out the teachings of our fathers, Paul and Anthony? Little by
little you would recover, in these pious works, peace of soul and mind;
solitude would again become pleasant to your heart, and soon you would
be in a condition to recommence those ascetic works which your journey
has interrupted. But you must not expect much benefit from excessive
penitence. When he was amongst us, our Father Anthony used to say,
'Excessive fasting produces weakness, and weakness begets idleness.
There are some monks who ruin their body by fasts improperly prolonged.
Of them it may be said that they plunge a dagger into their own breast,
and deliver themselves up unresistingly into the power of the devil.'
So said the holy man, Anthony. I am but a foolish old man, but, by the
grace of God, I have remembered what our father told us."

Paphnutius thanked Palemon and promised to think over his advice. When
he had passed the fence of reeds which enclosed the little garden,
he turned round and saw the good old gardener engaged in watering his
salads, whilst the pigeon walked about on his bent back, and at that
sight Paphnutius felt ready to weep.

On returning to his cell, he found there a strange turmoil, as though
it were filled with grains of sand blown about by a strong wind, and
on looking closer, he saw t