as a Christian by an envious brother-in-law and compelled to flee to the
mountains in order to save his life. He took up his abode in a cave
shaded by a palm that afforded him food and clothing. "And that no one
may deem this impossible," affirms Jerome, "I call to witness Jesus and
his holy angels that I have seen and still see in that part of the
desert which lies between Syria and the Saracens' country, monks of whom
one was shut up for thirty years and lived on barley bread and muddy
water, while another in an old cistern kept himself alive on five dried
figs a day."

It is impossible to determine how much of the story which follows is
historically true. Undoubtedly, it contains little worthy of belief, but
it gives us some faint idea of how these hermits lived. Its chief value
consists in the fact that it preserves a fragment of the monastic
literature of the times--a story which was once accepted as a credible
narrative. Imagine the influence of such a tale, when believed to be
true, upon a mind inclined to embrace the doctrines of asceticism. Its
power at that time is not to be measured by its reliability now. Jerome
himself declares in the prologue that many incredible things were
related of Paul which he will not repeat. After reading the following
story, the reader may well inquire what more fanciful tale could be
produced even by a writer of fiction.

The blessed Paul was now one hundred and thirteen years old, and
Anthony, who dwelt in another place of solitude, was at the age of
ninety. In the stillness of the night it was revealed to Anthony that
deeper in the desert there was a better man than he, and that he ought
to see him. So, at the break of day, the venerable old man, supporting
and guiding his weak limbs with a staff, started out, whither he knew
not. At scorching noontide he beholds a fellow-creature, half man, half