So much hath it of beauty for the senses, such healing in its balmy words, that to it may be applied the words of Solomon: 'A closed garden, and a fountain sealed, a paradise abounding in all fruits.' For if Paradise be deemed desirable because it is watered by the delightful flow of four rivers, how much more blessed is the mind which is refreshed by the founts of one hundred and fifty psalms!"' Basil scarce heeded the sense of the passage read to him.

He could hear only the soft music of the aged voice, which lulled him into a calm full of faith and trust.
'Is not this better,' asked Benedict gently, whilst his eyes searched the young man's countenance, 'than to live for the service of kings, and to utter worldly counsel ?' 'Better far, I cannot doubt,' Basil replied with humility.
'Utter the rest of your thought,' said the abbot, smiling.

'You cannot doubt--and yet?
Utter your mind to me, dear son.' 'My father, I obey you, desiring indeed with all my soul to seek your guidance.

My heart has been too much in this world, and for one thought given to things eternal, I have bestowed a hundred upon my own sorrows, and on those of Italy.' His voice faltered, his head drooped.
'I say not,' murmured the listener, 'that you do wrong to love your country.' 'Holy father, I were a hypocrite if I spoke of my country first of all.
For all but a year gone by, another love has possessed me.

Forgive me that I dare to speak such a word before you.' The abbot turned his eyes to the window.