hese moving bodies were myriads of little
jackals. That night he saw in a dream, a high stone column surmounted by
a human face, and he heard a voice which said--

"Ascend this pillar!"

On awaking, he felt confident that this dream had been sent from heaven.
He called his disciples, and addressed them in these words--

"My beloved sons, I must leave you, and go where God sends me. During my
absence obey Flavian as you would me, and take care of our brother Paul.
Bless you. Farewell."

As he strode away, they remained prostrate on the ground, and when they
raised their heads, they saw his tall dark figure on the sandy horizon.

He walked day and night until he reached the ruins of the temple,
formerly built by the idolaters, in which he had slept amongst the
scorpions and sirens on his former strange journey. The walls, covered
with magic signs, were still standing. Thirty immense columns, which
terminated in human heads or lotus flowers, still supported a heavy
stone entablature. But, at one end of the temple, a pillar had shaken
off its old burden, and stood isolated. It had for its capital the head
of a woman which smiled, with long eyes and rounded cheeks, and on her
forehead cow's horns.

Paphnutius, on seeing it, recognised the column which had been shown him
in his dream, and he calculated that it was thirty-two cubits high. He
went to the neighbouring village, and ordered a ladder of that height to
be made; and when the ladder was placed against the pillar, he ascended,
knelt down on the top, and said to the Lord--

"Here, then, O God, is the abode Thou hast chosen for me. May I remain
here, in Thy Grace, until the hour of my death."

He had brought no provisions with him, trusting in divine providence,
and expecting that charitable peasants would give him all that he
needed. And, in fact, the next day, about the ninth hour, women came
with their children, bringing bread, dates, and fresh water, which the
boys carried to the top of the column.

The top of the pillar was not large enough to allow the monk to lie at
full length, so that he slept with his legs crossed and his head on
his breast, and sleep was a more cruel torture to him than his wakeful
hours. At dawn the ospreys brushed him with their wings, and he awoke
filled with pain and terror.

It happened that the carpenter who had made the ladder feared God.
Disturbed at the thought that the saint was exposed to the sun and rain,
and fearing th