Then they led us to the guest chamber, which they informed us was a "propitious place," for once it had been slept in by a noted saint.
Here a fire was lit, and, wonder of wonders! clean garments, including linen, all of them ancient and faded, but of good quality, were brought for us to put on.
So we washed--yes, actually washed all over--and having arrayed ourselves in the robes, which were somewhat small for Leo, struck the bell that hung in the room and were conducted by a monk who answered it, back to the kitchen, where the meal was now served.

It consisted of a kind of porridge, to which was added new milk brought in by the "Master of the Herds," dried fish from a lake, and buttered tea, the last two luxuries produced in our special honour.

Never had food tasted more delicious to us, and, I may add, never did we eat more.

Indeed, at last I was obliged to request Leo to stop, for I saw the monks staring at him and heard the old abbot chuckling to himself.
"Oho! The Monastery of the World, where folk grow _hungry_," to which another monk, who was called the "Master of the Provisions," replied uneasily, that if we went on like this, their store of food would scarcely last the winter.

So we finished at length, feeling, as some book of maxims which I can remember in my youth said all polite people should do--that we could eat more, and much impressed our hosts by chanting a long Buddhist grace.
"Their feet are in the Path! Their feet are in the Path!" they said, astonished.
"Yes," replied Leo, "they have been in it for sixteen years of our present incarnation.