to heavenly things.

The "venerable" George was not unknown to them by repute, at least. He
had begun his career as seller of pork to the Roman army. It was a
position in which a clever man might have made a comfortable fortune.
But George was not a clever man, and he was in too great a hurry to
get rich. Such impudent dishonesty as his could not pass unnoticed; a
precipitate flight alone saved him from a State prison. He was said to
have been ordained a priest by the Arians before he was even a
Christian. In that case he was no priest, but a useful tool in their
hands, for he was capable of anything.

Ignorant and unlettered, he had studied neither theology nor the
Scriptures; he was, moreover, a man of bad life, heartless, cruel and
greedy. His aim both as Patriarch and as pork-butcher was to make
money--as much and as quickly as possible. This was the "wise teacher
who was to raise them from the things of earth to those of Heaven."
The faithful, with true instinct, prepared for the worst.

They had not long to wait. Even Gregory had been humane compared with
George of Cappadocia. Monasteries were burned down; Bishops, priests,
virgins, widows--all, in fact, who were faithful to the Church--were
insulted, tortured or slain. Many died in consequence of the treatment
they had received; others were forced into compliance. The troops of
the Emperor, with an Arian at their head, were there to do George's
bidding.

The new Patriarch, undisturbed by the sufferings of his victims, was
busy enriching himself. Gradually he got control of all the trades in
the city; he even made himself chief undertaker and passed a law by
which those who dared to bury their dead in a coffin not of his
providing could be severely punished. That his coffins cost a small
fortune was only to be expected. At the end of two years he had
exhausted the patience of the Alexandrians, pagans and Christians
alike. There was a popular rising, in which the Patriarch, not having
the qualities of a hero, fled for his life. For the next three years
he wandered about in the East, lending a hand to every Arian scheme.

In the meantime, where was Athanasius? No one knew or, at least, so it
seemed. He had vanished into the darkness of the night. He was
invisible, but his voice could not be silenced, and it was a voice
that moved the world. Treatise after treatise in defense of the true
Faith; letter after letter to the Bishops of Egypt, to his friends and
to