se, his steps were more feeble, his heart grew heavier within him,
his wanderings through the city were less and less resolute and
prolonged. At length his powers totally deserted him; the last-left
members of his congregation, as they approached his abode with the
last-left provision of food which they possessed, found him prostrate
with exhaustion at his garden gate. They bore him to his couch, placed
their charitable offering by his side, and leaving one of their number
to protect him from the robber and the assassin, they quitted the house
in despair.

For some days the guardian remained faithful to his post, until his
sufferings from lack of food overpowered his vigilance. Dreading that,
in his extremity, he might be tempted to take from the old man's small
store of provision what little remained, he fled from the house, to
seek sustenance, however loathsome, in the public streets; and
thenceforth Numerian was left defenceless in his solitary abode.

He was first beheld on the scenes which these pages present, a man of
austere purpose, of unwearied energy; a valiant reformer, who defied
all difficulties that beset him in his progress; a triumphant teacher,
leading at his will whoever listened to his words; a father, proudly
contemplating the future position which he destined for his child. Far
different did he now appear. Lost to his ambition, broken in spirit,
helpless in body, separated from his daughter by his own act, he lay on
his untended couch in a death-like lethargy. The cold wind blowing
through his opened window awakened no sensations in his torpid frame;
the cup of water and the small relics of coarse food stood near his
hand, but he had no vigilance to discern them. His open eyes looked
steadfastly upward, and yet he reposed as one in a deep sleep, or as
one already devoted to the tomb; save when, at intervals, his lips
moved slowly with a long and painfully drawn breath, or a fever flush
tinged his hollow cheek with changing and momentary hues.

While thus in outward aspect appearing to linger between life and
death, his faculties yet remained feebly vital within him. Aroused by
no external influence, and governed by no mental restraint, they now
created before him a strange waking vision, palpable as an actual event.

It seemed to him that he was reposing, not in his own chamber, but in
some mysterious world, filled with a twilight atmosphere, inexpressibly
soothing and gentle to his aching