ss of people, and save Hypatia. He had been wedged against a pillar,
unable to move, in the great church.

The little fruit porter, alone of all her disciples, fought his way
through the mob, only to be thrown down the steps.

When all was over in the church, and Hypatia was dead, and the mob had
rushed out, Philammon sank down exhausted outside, and the little porter
burst out into a bitter agony of human tears.

"She is with the gods," said the porter at last.

"She is with the God of gods," answered Philammon.

Then he felt that he must arise and flee for his life. He had gone forth
to see the world, and he had seen it. Arsenius was in the right after
all. Home to the desert. But first he would go himself, alone, and find
Pelagia, and implore her to flee with him.

* * * * *

Abbot Pambo, as well as Arsenius, had been dead several years; the
abbot's place was filled, by his own dying command, by a hermit from the
neighbouring deserts, who had made himself famous for many miles round
by his extraordinary austerities, his ceaseless prayers, and his loving
wisdom.

While still in the prime of his manhood, he was dragged, against his own
entreaties, to preside over the laura of Scetis. The elder monks
considered it an indignity to be ruled by so young a man; but the
monastery throve and grew rapidly under his government. His sweetness,
patience, and humility, and, above all, his marvellous understanding of
the doubts and temptations of his own generation, soon drew around him
all whose sensitiveness or waywardness had made them unmanageable in the
neighbouring monasteries.

Never was the young Abbot Philammon heard to speak harshly of any human
being, and he stopped, by stern rebuke, any attempt to revile either
heretics or heathens.

One thing was noted, that there mingled always with his prayers the
names of two women. And when some worthy elder, taking courage from his
years, dared to hint kindly that this caused some scandal to the weaker
brethren, "It is true," answered he. "Tell my brethren that I pray
nightly for two women, both of them young, both of them beautiful; both
of them beloved by me more than I love my own soul; and tell them that
one of the two was an actress, and the other a heathen." The old monk
laid his hand on his mouth and retired.

The remainder of his history it seems better to extract from an
unpublished fragment of the lives of the saints.

"Now w