“The prospect of wedding a frog at the end of fifteen transmigrations,” said the youths, “doth not in any respect commend itself to us.  Are there no means by which the course of study may be accelerated?”

“Undoubtedly,” said the Indians, “by the practice of religious austerities.”

“Of what nature are these?” inquired the young men.

“The intrepid disciple,” said the sages, “may chain himself to a tree, and gaze upon the sun until he is deprived of the faculty of vision.  He may drive an iron bar through his cheeks and tongue, thus preventing all misuse of the gift of speech.  It is open to him to bury himself in the earth up to his waist, relying for his maintenance on the alms of pious donors.  He may recline upon a couch studded with spikes, until from the induration of his skin he shall have merited the title of a rhinoceros among sages.  As, however, these latter practices interfere with locomotion, and thus prevent his close attendance on his spiritual guide, it is rather recommended to him to elevate his arms above his head, and retain them in that position until, by the withering of the sinews, it is impossible for him to bring them down again.”

“In that case,” cried Rufus, “farewell philosophy! farewell Euphronia!”

There is reason to believe that Mnesitheus would have made exactly the same observation if Rufus had not been beforehand with him.  The spirit of contradiction and the affectation of superiority, however, led him to reproach his rival with pusillanimity, and he went so far that at length he found himself committed to undergo the ordeal:  merely stipulating that, in consideration of his being a foreigner, he should be permitted to elevate the right arm only.

The king of the country most graciously came to his assistance by causing him to be fastened to a tree, with his uplifted arm secured by iron bands above his head, a fan being put in his other hand to protect him against the molestations of gnats and mosquitoes.  By this means, and with the assistance of the monks who continually recited and expounded the Buddhist scriptures in his ears, some time even before his arm had stiffened for ever, the doctrine of the misery of existence had become perfectly clear to him.

Released from his captivity, he hastened back to Europe to claim the guerdon of his sufferings.  History is silent respecting his adventures until his arrival at Berytus, where the strange wild-looking man with the uplifted arm found himself the centre of a turbulent and mischievous rabble.  As he seemed about to suffer severe ill-usage, a personage of dignified and portly appearance hastened up, and with his staff showered blows to right and left upon the rioters.

“Scoundrels,” he exclaimed, “finely have ye profited by my precepts, thus to misuse an innocent stranger!  But I will no longer dwell among such barbarians.  I will remove my school to Tarsus!”

The mob dispersed.  The victim and his deliverer stood face to face.