have been a person of importance, with your experience and knowledge of
men."

Mr. Crowder shook his head. "No," said he; "not so. To make myself of
importance in that time I must have been a soldier, and the profession of
arms, you know, is one I have always avoided. A man who cannot be killed
should take care that he be not wounded."

"I am so glad that thee did take care," ejaculated Mrs. Crowder; "but
even I cannot see how thee kept out of fighting in those disorderly
times."

"I did not keep out of it altogether, but in every possible way I tried
to do so, and for the most part succeeded. Whenever I was likely to be
involved in military operations, I let my hair and beard grow, and the
white-haired old man was usually exempted. I have had far more experience
in keeping out of battles than any other human being has had in the art
of winning them. But what you two want is a story, and I will give you
one.

"During some of the earlier years of the seventh century, I was living
in Ravenna, and there I had three or four scholars whom I taught
occasionally. I did not dare to keep a regular school, with fixed hours
and all that; but while I was not working at my trade, which was then
that of a mason, I gave lessons to some young people in the neighborhood.
Sometimes I taught in the evening, sometimes in bad weather when we did
not work out of doors. No one of my scholars showed any intelligence,
except a girl about eighteen years old. Her father, I think, was a
professional robber, for his family lived very well, and he was generally
absent from home at the head of a little band of desperate fellows, of