ELEGANT EXTRACTS. PART II. Tales, Allegories, &c. MORAL AND SERIOUS. THE HERMIT OF THE ATHYRAS. WH HILE the seat of empire was yet at Byzantium, and that city was the centre, not only of dominion, but of learning and politeness, a certain hermit had fixed his residence in a cell, on the banks of the Athyras, at the distance of about ten miles from the capital. The spot was retired, although so near the great city, and was protected as well by woods and precipices as by the awful reverence with which, at that time, all ranks beheld the character of a recluse. Indeed, the poor old man, who tenanted the little hollow, at the summit of a crag, beneath which the Athyras rolls its impetuous torrent, was not famed for the severity of his penances, or the strictness of his mortifications. That he was either studious, or protracted his devotions to a late hour, was evident, for his lamp was often seen to stream through the trees which shaded his dwelling, when accident called any of the peasants from their beds at unseasonable hours. Be this as it may, no miracles were imputed to him; the sick rarely came to petition for the benefit of his prayers, and though some both loved him and had good reason for loving him, yet many undervalued him for the want of that very austerity which the old man seemed most desirous to avoid. It was evening, and the long shadows of the Thracian mountains were extending still farther and farther along the plains, when this old man was disturbed in his meditations by the approach of a stranger. "How far is it to Byzantium?" was the question put by the traveller. "Not far to those who know the country," replied the hermit; "but a stranger would not easily find his way through the windings of these woods, and the intricacies of the plains beyond them. Do you see that blue mist which stretches along the bounding line of the horizon as far as the trees will permit the eye to trace it? That is the Propontis: and higher up, on the left, the city of Constantinople rears its proud head above the waters. But I would dissuade thee, stranger, from pursuing thy journey farther to-night. Thou mayest rest in the village, which is half way down the hill; or if thou wilt share my supper of roots, and put up with a bed of leaves, my cell is open to thee."-" I thank thee, father," replied the youth; "I am weary with my journey, and will accept thy proffered hospitality." They ascended the rock together. The hermit's cell was the work of nature. It penetrated far into the rock, and in the innermost recess was a little chapel, furnished with a crucifix and a human skull, the objects of the hermit's nightly and daily contemplation, for neither of them received his adoration. That corruption had not as yet crept into the Christian church. The hermit now lighted up a fire of dry sticks (for the nights are very piercing in the regions about the Hellespont and the Bosphorus), and then proceeded to prepare their vegetable meal. While he was thus employed, his young guest surveyed, with surprise, the dwelling which he was to inhabit for the night. A cold rock-hole on the bleak summit of one of the Thracian hills, seemed to him a comfortless choice for a weak and solitary old man. The rude materials of his scanty furniture still more surprised him. A table fixed to the ground, a wooden bench, an earthen lamp, a number of rolls of papyrus and vellum, and a heap of leaves in a corner, the hermit's bed, were all his stock. "Is it possible," at length he exclaimed, "that you can tenant this comfortless cave, with these scanty accommodations, through choice? Go with me, old man, to Constantinople, and receive from me those conveniences which befit your years.""And what art thou going to do at Constantinople, my young friend?" said the hermit; "for thy dialect bespeaks thee a native of more southern regions. Am I mistaken, art thou not an Athenian?"-"I am an Athenian," replied the youth, by birth, but I hope I am not an Athenian in vice. I have left my degenerate birthplace in quest of happiness. I have learned from 66 |