wn affairs, and
was walking up the road trying to make a bargain with a handy man whom I
desired to engage to carry me there; but as we could not come to terms,
I parted with him and turned into the Lovedale Road at 6 P.M. I had not
gone far when I met a man dressed like a Sannyasi, who stopped and spoke
to me. He observed a ring on my finger and asked me to give it to him.
I said he was welcome to it, but inquired what he would give me in
return, he said, "I don't care particularly about it; I would rather
have that flour and sugar in the bundle on your back." "I will give you
that with pleasure," I said, and took down my bundle and gave it to him.
"Half is enough for me," he said; but subsequently changing his mind
added, "now let me see what is in your bundle," pointing to my other
parcel. "I can't give you that." He said, "Why cannot you give me your
swami (family idol)?" I said, "It is my swami, I will not part with it;
rather take my life." On this he pressed me no more, but said, "Now you
had better go home." I said, "I will not leave you." "Oh you must," he
said, "you will die here of hunger." "Never mind," I said, "I can but
die once." "You have no clothes to protect you from the wind and rain;
you may meet with tigers," he said. "I don't care," I replied. "It is
given to man once to die. What does it signify how he dies?" When I
said this he took my hand and embraced me, and immediately I became
unconscious. When I returned to consciousness, I found myself with the
Sannyasi in a place new to me on a hill, near a large rock and with a
big shola near. I saw in the shola right in front of us, that there was
a pillar of fire, like a tree almost. I asked the Sannyasi what was
that like a high fire. "Oh," he said, "most likely a tree ignited by
some careless wood-cutters."

"No," I said, "it is not like any common fire--there is no smoke, nor
are there flames--and it's not lurid and red. I want to go and see it."
"No, you must not do so, you cannot go near that fire and escape alive."
"Come with me then," I begged. "No--I cannot," he said, "if you wish to
approach it, you must go alone and at your own risk; that tree is the
tree of knowledge and from it flows the milk of life: whoever drinks
this never hungers again." Thereupon I regarded the tree with awe.

I next observed five Sannyasis approaching. They came up and joined the
one with me, entered into talk, and finally pulled out a hoo