is a garden the hedge of which keeps off at a distance eternal evils,
and the door through which man attains to everlasting felicity. And I
found that a divine tranquility comes over the ascetic when he is
absorbed in meditation; for he is still, contented, unambitious,
satisfied, free from cares, has renounced the world, has escaped from
evils, is devoid of greed, is pure, independent, protected against
sorrow, above jealousy, manifests pure love, has abandoned all that is
transitory, has acquired perfect understanding, has seen the recompense
of the next world, is secure against remorse, fears no man, does none
any harm and remains himself unmolested. And the more I pondered over
asceticism the more I yearned for it so that at last I earnestly thought
of becoming an ascetic.

[Sidenote: The trials of an anchorite: the greedy dog.]

But then apprehension came upon me that I should not be able to support
the life of a hermit and that the ordinary way in which I had grown up
would prove an hindrance. I was not sure that, should I renounce the
world and adopt asceticism, I should not prove too feeble for it.
Moreover, should I give up such good works as I had previously performed
in the hope of salvation, I should be in the position of the dog who
with the bone in his mouth was going along a river. He saw his
reflection in the water, suddenly dashed forward to seize it and
consequently let fall what he had in the mouth without securing what he
wanted to get. So I grew uneasy regarding the recluse's life and was
afraid lest I should fail to bear it and thought therefore rather to
continue the career of my life.

[Sidenote: Worldly Monastic life.]