of us is acquainted with the fact that when I was a child I had a child-consciousness, that when I was a young man, I had a youth-consciousness, and that when I have grown to full manhood, I have a man-consciousness, and that when I am an old man, I shall have an old-man consciousness. My personality is thus constantly changing, in no case being the same. Which of these consciousnesses shall I call my real and true ego or soul and wish its immortality?

Of course, we have to admit that there is a unity of consciousness in our mental activities. But how fragile and inconstant is this so-called unity! This is so, not only in pathological cases, but in our normal condition. When I have an idea, I am the idea; when I have a desire, I am the desire; when I will, I am the will; for it is not warranted by experience to say that I have such and such thoughts or desires or impulses. But I am those thoughts or desires or impulses. I am constantly shifting from one thing to another, now a desire, now an idea, and so forth. However hard you may endeavor to catch this sort of "Wandering Jew," you will find it so slippery, so evasive, so inconstant, and finally you have to give it up as wasting labor.

A learned scholar was once very much troubled with the problem of the soul. He utterly lost peace of mind, and spent many years in agony and vexation, when at last he was informed of the news of the arrival of a saintly Buddhist

monk in his land. He hastened to the monastery where the monk was settled in his temporary sojourn, and most piteously implored him to be instructed in spiritual discourse. The monk was, however, apparently so absorbed in his contemplation that he did not even turn his head to acknowledge a stranger. The scholar was not disappointed, however, and it is said that he stood at the same spot for a period of seven days and nights. Finally, he drew a sword which he carried in the belt as was the fashion of the time, and cut off his own left arm, which he reverentially presented to the inscrutable mystic, saying: "This is a token of my sincere desire to be instructed in your religion. I have been searching for my soul for so many years, and I am indescribably vexed in my spirit. Please be gracious enough to pacify my soul." The Buddhist monk then slowly turned toward the supplicant and said, "Where is your soul? Bring it to me, and I will have it pacified." The scholar said, "The very trouble is that I cannot find it." The monk exclaimed, "Pacified is your soul!" and it happened that upon hearing this a sort of spiritual flashlight went across the mind of the scholar.

A favorite parable used by Buddhists to illustrate the unreality of soul or self (I take these two meaning the same thing), is that of the house. The house is composed of the roof, walls, posts, floor, windows, and so forth. Now, take each