he Apostles, by the authority of councils, and by the testimony
of the martyrs,--if I did not know that the sufferings of the body are
necessary for the salvation of the soul--if I were, like thee, lost in
ignorance of sacred mysteries--I would return at once amongst the men of
this day, I would strive to acquire riches, that I might live in ease,
like those who are happy in this world, and I would say to the votaries
of pleasure, 'Come, my daughters, come, my servants, come and pour out
for me your wines, your philtres, your perfumes.' But you, foolish old
man! you deprive yourself of all these advantages; you lose without
hope of any gain; you give without hope of any return, and you imitate
foolishly the noble deeds of us anchorites, as an impudent monkey
thinks, by smearing a wall, to copy the picture of a clever artist.
What, then, are your reasons, O most besotted of men?"

Paphnutius spoke with violence and indignation, but the old man remained
unmoved.

"Friend," he replied, gently, "what matter the reasons of a dog sleeping
in the dirt or a mischievous ape?"

Paphnutius' only aim was the glory of God. His anger vanished, and he
apologised with noble humility.

"Pardon me, old man, my brother," he said, "if zeal for the truth has
carried me beyond proper bounds. God is my witness, that it is thy
errors and not thyself that I hate. I suffer to see thee in darkness,
for I love thee in Jesus Christ, and care for thy salvation fills my
heart. Speak! give me your reasons. I long to know them that I may
refute them."

The old man replied quietly--

"It is the same to me whether I speak or remain silent. I will give my
reasons without asking yours in return, for I have no interest in you
at all. I care neither for your happiness nor your misfortune, and it
matters not to me whether you think one way or another. Why should I
love you, or hate you? Aversion and sympathy are equally unworthy of the
wise man. But since you question me, know then that I am named Timocles,
and that I was born at Cos, of parents made rich by commerce. My father
was a shipowner. In intelligence he much resembled Alexander, who is
surnamed the Great. But he was not so gross. In short, he was a man of
no great parts. I had two brothers, who, like him, were shipowners. As
for me, I followed wisdom. My eldest brother was compelled by my father
to marry a Carian woman, named Timaessa, who displeased him so greatly
that he could not live with