efallen you?'

'Nothing worth your notice, gentle Decius,' the philosopher replied,
calmly and gravely. 'Let us rather examine this rare treatise of
Plotinus, which by good fortune I yesterday discovered among rubbish
thrown aside.'

'Nay,' insisted Decius, 'but your wound must be washed and dressed; it
may else prove dangerous. I fear this was no accident?'

'If you must know,' answered the other with good-natured peevishness,
'I am accused of magic. The honest folk who are my neighbours,
prompted, I think it likely, by a certain senator who takes it ill that
his son is my disciple, have shown me of late more attention than I
care for, and to-day as I came forth, they pursued me with cries of
"Sorcerer!" and the like, whereupon followed sticks and stones, and
other such popular arguments. It is no matter. Plotinus begins--'

Simplicius was one of the last philosophers who taught in Athens, one
of the seven who were driven forth when Justinian, in his zeal for
Christianity, closed the schools. Guided by a rumour that supreme
wisdom was to be found in Persia, the sages journeyed to that kingdom,
where disappointment awaited them. After long wanderings and many
hardships, Simplicius came to Rome, and now had sojourned here for a
year or two, teaching such few as in these days gave any thought to
philosophy. Poor, and perhaps unduly proud, he preferred his own very
humble lodging to the hospitality which more than one friend had
offered him; and his open disregard for religious practices, together
with singularities of life and demeanour, sufficiently explained the
trouble that had come upon him. Charges of sorcery were not uncommon in
Rome at this time. Some few years ago a commission of senators had sat
in judgment upon two nobles accused of magic, a leading article of
proof against one of them being that he had a horse which, when
stroked, gave off sparks of fire. On this account Decius was much
troubled by the philosopher's story. When the wound had been attended
to, he besought Simplicius not to go forth again to-day, and with some
difficulty prevailed.

'Why should it perturb you, O most excellent Decius,' said the sage,
'that a lover of wisdom is an offence to the untaught and the foolish?
Was it not ever thus? If philosophy may no longer find peace at Athens,
is it likely that she will be suffered to dwell at ease in Rome?'

'Alas, no!' admitted Decius. 'But why, dear master, should you invite
the attacks of