between Gelong Rinpoche and myself was substantially as below:
"I am a travelling priest making a pilgrimage through different countries in quest of Buddhist truths. I have heard of your fame, and have come to be taught one thing."
"What can that be, friend?"
"You are saving the souls of the multitude, and I wish to learn the grand secret which serves so well for your purpose."
"Friend, you know that well enough yourself. All Buddhism is in you, and you have nothing to learn from me."
"True, all Buddhism is in the Self, but in ancient days Jenzai Dōji travelled far and wide in search of fifty-three wise men, and we, the Buddhists, are all taught to derive lessons from the great hardships then undergone by him. I am far from being a Jenzai Dōji, and yet I am privileged to imitate him: it is thus that I have called on you."
"Good! I have but one means to guide me in saving souls, and the 'Grand Gospel of Salvation' is that guide of mine."
"May I have the pleasure of seeing that Gospel?" "Most certainly." The Lama here went into his cave, and, fetching out a volume, kindly lent it to me. On asking what was the gist of the Gospel of Salvation, I was told that it resolved itself into teaching that the three yānas (vehicles) were but one yāna. I then withdrew and went back to the grey cave, taking with me the borrowed volume, and I spent the rest of the day in reading through the Gospel, which I found to be a compilation, resembling in its tenets the Hohe-kyo — the Sūṭra Saḍḍharma Puṇdarīka — and in some places it even read like extracts from the last mentioned Gospel. The next day I turned cobbler, and mended my boots. On the morning following, I revisited Gelong Rinpoche and returned the Gospel. In so doing, the Lama and I had quite an argument, which, in short, was an exchange of views, based
