suspicion with which the multitude look on those who would fain teach them knowledge and virtue; and would add to their present hatred, the yet more fatal feeling of contempt." "It

Sivan rose and was silent for a space. must be so," he said at length, with a deep sigh. “I had fully resolved, in the agony of my sorrow at the thought of losing thee, that thou shouldst fly with me from this prison and country-if not willingly, yet against thy will. At any risk, and on any terms, I had resolved to save thee; and they are even now at the door, who would enable me to effect that purpose. But I feel my determination, unchangeable as I had believed it to be, yield to thy stronger, though gentler spirit! Forgive me, noble friend," he added, taking the old man's hand in his, "I had resolved to have borne thee forcibly hence, and braved even thy displeasure, so only I might preserve thee."

"You would have done me a great wrong, my best Antipho," said Socrates, while he warmly pressed the hand which was clasped in his. "Death is not dreadful to one who hath made his whole life a preparation for it; especially when bowed down by years and infirmity, as I am. But the rebellion against lawful authority, and the injustice wherein thou wouldst have implicated me, are among the things I

account most terrible."

"It is fixed, then," said Sivan. "So dies the last spark of hope, and to-morrow's sunset will behold thy place vacant among men. Yet think not that thou wilt die alone. One at least," he pursued, forgetting in the warmth of his feelings what he was saying; "one at least, who has long walked in life at thy side,

shall be thy companion in death also. But deem not," he once more resumed, as he saw the eye of the old man fixed in grave displeasure upon him, "that I have forgotten thy lessons, or would lay violent hands on the sanctuary of mine own life. The sentinel must not leave his post, nor the servant his employ, without due permission. Thou hast said this again and again, and my soul acknowledges its truth. But

it has been granted mee-I may without blame-" he paused and hesitated, not knowing how to vindicate himself in the eyes of his friend from the suspicion of intended suicide, without, at the same time, revealing the mystery of his existence.

Socrates regarded him with a look of peculiar interest. "Noble Antipho," he said, "I have for many a year past suspected that some strange secret was connected with thine history. Thine ideas and sentiments are, in many respects, unlike those of other men, and drawn apparently from some source unknown to our day and country. Had I not been acquainted with thy origin and kindred, and so had indisputable proof that thou wert by birth, parentage, and education an Athenian, I should have often thought that I was discoursing with an inhabitant of some distant land, in habits of thought, and principles of action, wholly different from our own; or it might be with some being to whom the Gods have revealed things unknown to the general mass of men. And now the strange words thou hast let fall, would seem to encourage some such belief. But enough of this. I seek not to discover thy secret, if a secret there be ; for which, indeed, the present were no fitting time. I would only ask of thee, as the last favour thou canst

render to thy friend, that thou do not execute the purpose thou hast formed; but rather quit this city without delay, as thy kinsman Plato will, should he recover from his present sickness, and seek another country, where thou mayest pass thy life in teaching mankind the lessons of wisdom and virtue thou hast learnt. The Ever-blessed Gods have summoned me to depart from the body; but thee they have not so summoned. It is wisest and happiest to await their pleasure."

"I cannot refuse thy request," said Sivan; "I will live for thy sake until mine appointed hour shall be made manifest to me. And I promise thee to quit Athens, as soon as-as soon as all is over—that is, if thou wilt allow me to stay with thee to the last!" "Most surely," said the philosopher; "always supposing that thou canst command thyself, as he who hath been so long a lover of divine wisdom, should do. But I pray thee, my best Antipho, leave me for the present. The dawn cannot be far off; and I would be alone for the few hours that yet remain to me, before my friends visit me for the last time."

Sivan obeyed in silence. He quitted the apartment, and rejoining his slaves, bade them convey a message to Cebes, to the effect that their scheme had been frustrated. Further, he gave directions to Syrus, to be ready for immediate departure at nightfall on the ensuing day, and attend him with the boat and crew at the spot where the latter were even now assembled. Having completed every needful arrangement, he took up his station near the prison-gates; awaiting the hour of daybreak which would once more admit him to the presence of the martyr.

I seek not to dwell on that solemn and touching scene, that lives in the immortal pages of Plato; and which generation after generation has perused with sorrow and admiration-how from early dawn to sunset the condemned Criminal conversed on the highest and holiest topics with a voice as unfaltering and a brow as serene, as though he had been making summer holiday with his friends on the woody banks of the Cephisus-how when evening drew on, and the fatal cup was brought him, he received it with unruffled composure, and drank its contents, amid the choking sobs of his assembled friends, which the sight of his cheerful calmness alone prevented from bursting forth into the bitterest cries of lamentation and mourningand how, at length, he sank peacefully and painlessly to his final sleep.

Sivan stood silently by, until he beheld the eye whose expression he had so often watched, become glazed and rigid, and felt the beloved hand grow colder than monumental marble-then, without a word, he quitted the prison-proceeded to the sea-coast, and ere the darkness of night had closed in, the shores of Attica were but as a faint cloud on the distant verge of the horizon.

CHAPTER IX.

God's holy word, from all concealed,
To Jacob's sons was known.
To them His statutes were revealed,
To them and them alone.

The gifts His gracious love supplies,
He gave no heathen land,

Nor could the wisest of their wise

His wisdom understand.

147TH PSALM.

MORNING broke gloriously over the Egæan, and the bark which conveyed Sivan and his companions, danced lightly before the breeze along the surface of that loveliest sea which the sky of either hemisphere looks down upon. Island after island-some, masses of pure white marble that stood out fresh and clear against the morning sky, others with lofty crags mantled with the vine and the olive-rose in endless succession from its bosom; and far off the shores of Asia, the sacred land of poetry and tradition, lay like a soft cloud on the verge of the horizon. Sivan, whose soul was never insensible to the beauties of nature, felt his sorrow grow more tranquil as he looked on the scene around him. But if calm, it was nevertheless very deep. The death of Socrates had severed the sole remaining link which bound him to earth,