Master smiled at my eager face. Like all biographical sketches,
his words had given the outward facts without revealing the inner
man.

"Guruji, I would like to hear some stories of your childhood."

"I will tell you a few-each one with a moral!" Sri Yukteswar's
eyes twinkled with his warning. "My mother once tried to frighten
me with an appalling story of a ghost in a dark chamber. I went
there immediately, and expressed my disappointment at having missed
the ghost. Mother never told me another horror-tale. Moral: Look
fear in the face and it will cease to trouble you.

"Another early memory is my wish for an ugly dog belonging to
a neighbor. I kept my household in turmoil for weeks to get that
dog. My ears were deaf to offers of pets with more prepossessing
appearance. Moral: Attachment is blinding; it lends an imaginary
halo of attractiveness to the object of desire.

"A third story concerns the plasticity of the youthful mind. I
heard my mother remark occasionally: 'A man who accepts a job under
anyone is a slave.' That impression became so indelibly fixed that
even after my marriage I refused all positions. I met expenses by
investing my family endowment in land. Moral: Good and positive
suggestions should instruct the sensitive ears of children. Their
early ideas long remain sharply etched."

Master fell into tranquil silence. Around midnight he led me to
a narrow cot. Sleep was sound and sweet the first night under my
guru's roof.