saints" are almost as much ruinate as those of the "empire of the
Romans." So goes the world, because there is a living God.


"The old order changeth, giving place to the new;
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."


But though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens outside
still bloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered through them,
perpetual as Nature's self; and perpetual as Nature, too, endures
whatever is good and true of that afternoon's work, and of that
finding of the legend of St. Antony in the monk's cabin, which fixed
the destiny of the great genius of the Latin Church.

The story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, {32} runs
thus:--


The life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written and
sent to the monks in foreign parts by our Father among the saints,
Athanasius, Archbishop of Alexandria.

You have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having
determined either to equal or even to surpass them in your training
towards virtue; for there are monasteries already among you, and the
monastic life is practised. This purpose of yours one may justly
praise; and if you pray, God will bring it to perfection. But since
you have also asked me about the conversation of the holy Antony,