and
gleaming with a vivid green in the sun, stretched away as level and as
unbroken as the sea, to the eastern horizon. Simon Melas stared across
it with curiosity.

"Tell me, brother Paul," said he, "you who have lived here so long--what
lies at the further side of that plain?"

The old man shook his head. "There is no further side to the plain,"
said he. "It is the earth's boundary, and stretches away to eternity.
For all these years I have sat beside it, but never once have I seen
anything come across it. It is manifest that if there had been a further
side there would certainly at some time have come some traveller from
that direction. Over the great river yonder is the Roman post of
Tyras; but that is a long day's journey from here, and they have never
disturbed my meditations."

"On what do you meditate, brother Paul?"

"At first I meditated on many sacred mysteries; but now, for twenty
years, I have brooded continually on the nature of the Logos. What is
your view upon that vital matter, brother Simon?"

"Surely," said the younger man, "there can be no question as to that.
The Logos is assuredly but a name used by St. John to signify the
Deity."

The old hermit gave a hoarse cry of fury, and his brown, withered face
was convulsed with anger. Seizing the huge cudgel which he kept to beat
off the wolves, he shook it murderously at his companion.

"Out with you! Out of my cell!" he cried. "Have I lived here so long
to have it polluted by a vile Trinitarian--a follower of the rascal
Athanasius? Wretched idolater, learn once for all, that the Logos is in
truth an emanation from the Deity, and in no sense equal or co-eternal
with Him! Out with you, I say, or I will dash out your brains with my
staff!"

It was useless to reason with the furious Arian, and Simon withdrew in
sadness and wonder, that at this extreme verge of the known earth the
spirit of religious strife should still break upon the peaceful solitude
of the wilderness. With hanging head and heavy heart he made his way
down the valley, and climbed up once more to his own cell, which lay
at the crown of the hill, with the intention of never again exchanging
visits with his Arian neighbour.

Here, for a year, dwelt Simon Melas, leading a life of solitude and
prayer. There was no reason why any one should ever come to this
outermost point of human habitation. Once a young Roman officer--Caius
Crassus--rode out a day's journey from Tyras, and climbe