irrational and animal asceticism of the monk, to the logical and
methodic self-restraint of one who, like your humblest of
philosophers, aspires to a life according to the pure reason.'

'And pray,' asked Philammon, half laughing, 'who has been your tutor
in philosophy?'

'The fountain of classic wisdom, Hypatia herself. As the ancient
sage--the name is unimportant to a monk--pumped water nightly that
he might study by day, so I, the guardian of cloaks and parasols, at
the sacred doors of her lecture-room, imbibe celestial knowledge.
From my youth I felt in me a soul above the matter-entangled herd.
She revealed to me the glorious fact, that I am a spark of Divinity
itself. A fallen star, I am, sir!' continued he, pensively,
stroking his lean stomach--'a fallen star!--fallen, if the dignity
of philosophy will allow of the simile, among the hogs of the lower
world--indeed, even into the hog-bucket itself. Well, after all, I
will show you the way to the Archbishop's. There is a philosophic
pleasure in opening one's treasures to the modest young. Perhaps
you will assist me by carrying this basket of fruit?' And the
little man jumped up, put his basket on Philammon's head, and
trotted off up a neighbouring street.

Philammon followed, half contemptuous, half wondering at what this
philosophy might be, which could feed the self-conceit of anything
so abject as his ragged little apish guide; but the novel roar and
whirl of the street, the perpetual stream of busy faces, the line of
curricles, palanquins, laden asses, camels, elephants, which met and
passed him, and squeezed him up steps and into doorways, as they
threaded their way through the great Moon-gate into the ample street