ed succor should
arrive--if the good cause should triumph here in Alexandria--if the
rising were to be general throughout Greek heathendom, then indeed had he
been rightly named Olympius by his parents--then he would not change
places with any god of Olympus--then the glory of his name, more lasting
than bronze or marble, would shine forth like the sun, so long as one
Greek heart honored the ancient gods and loved its native land.

This night--perhaps its last--should see a grand, a sumptuous feast; he
invited his friends and adherents--the leaders of spiritual life in
Alexandria--to a 'symposium', after the manner of the philosophers and
dilettanti of ancient Athens, to be held in the great concert-hall of the
Serapeum.

How different was its aspect from that of the Bishop's council-chamber!
The Christians sat within bare walls, on wooden benches, round a plain
table; the large room in which Olympius received his supporters was
magnificently decorated, and furnished with treasures of art in fine
inlaid work, beaten brass and purple stuffs-a hall for kings to meet in.
Thick cushions, covered with lion and panther-skins, tempted fatigue or
indolence; and when the hero of the hour joined his guests, after his
progress through the precincts, every couch was occupied. To his right
lay Helladius, the famous grammarian and high-priest of Zeus; Porphyrius,
the benefactor of the Serapeum, was on his left; even Karnis had been
allotted a place in his old friend's social circle, and greatly
appreciated the noble juice of the grape, that was passed round, as well
as the eager and intelligent friction of minds, from which he had long
been cut off.

Olympius himself was unanimously chosen Symposiarch, and he invited the
company to discuss, in the first instance, the time-honored question:
Which was the highest good?

One and all, he said, they were standing on a threshold, as it were; and
as travellers, quitting an old and beloved home to seek a new and unknown
one in a distant land, pause to consider what particular joy that they
have known under the shelter of the old Penates has been the dearest, so
it would beseem them to reflect, at this supreme moment, what had been
the highest good of their life in this world. They were on the eve,
perhaps, of a splendid victory; but, perchance, on the other hand, their
foot was already on the plank that led from the shore of life to Charon's
bark.

The subject was a familiar one and a