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the guide and trainer of his soulJohn of Antioch； whose fame
filled the city and began to overflow Asia； and who was called
already Chrysostom； the golden…mouthed preacher。
Hermas had felt the magic of his eloquence many a time；
and to…day； as the tense voice vibrated through the stillness；
and the sentences moved onward； growing fuller and stronger；
bearing argosies of costly rhetoric and treasures of homely
speech in their bosom； and drawing the hearts of men with a
resistless magic； Hermas knew that the preacher had never been
more potent； more inspired。
He played on that immense congregation as a master on an
instrument。 He rebuked their sins； and they trembled。 He
touched their sorrows； and they wept。 He spoke of the
conflicts； the triumphs； the glories of their faith； and they
broke out in thunders of applause。 He hushed them into reverent
silence； and led them tenderly； with the wise men of the East； to
the lowly birthplace of Jesus。
〃Do thou； therefore； likewise leave the Jewish people； the
troubled city； the bloodthirsty tyrant； the pomp of the world；
and hasten to Bethlehem； the sweet house of spiritual bread。
For though thou be but a shepherd； and come hither； thou shalt
behold the young Child in an inn。 Though thou be a king； and
come not hither； thy purple robe shall profit thee nothing。
Though thou be one of the wise men； this shall be no hindrance
to thee。 Only let thy coming be to honour and adore； with
trembling joy； the Son of God； to whose name be glory； on this
His birthday； and forever and forever。〃
The soul of Hermas did not answer to the musician's touch。
The strings of his heart were slack and soundless； there was
no response within him。 He was neither shepherd； nor king；
nor wise man； only an unhappy； dissatisfied； questioning
youth。 He was out of sympathy with the eager preacher；
the joyous hearers。 In their harmony he had no part。 Was it
for this that he had forsaken his inheritance and narrowed his
life to poverty and hardship？ What was it all worth？
The gracious prayers with which the young converts were
blessed and dismissed before the sacrament sounded hollow in
his ears。 Never had he felt so utterly lonely as in that
praying throng。 He went out with his companions like a man
departing from a banquet where all but he had been fed。
〃Farewell； Hermas；〃 they cried； as he turned from them at
the door。 But he did not look back； nor wave his hand。 He
was already alone in his heart。
When he entered the broad Avenue of the Colonnades； the
sun had already topped the eastern hills； and the ruddy light
was streaming through the long double row of archways and over
the pavements of crimson marble。 But Hermas turned his back
to the morning； and walked with his shadow before him。
The street began to swarm and whirl and quiver with the
motley life of a huge city： beggars and jugglers； dancers and
musicians； gilded youths in their chariots； and daughters of
joy looking out from their windows； all intoxicated with the
mere delight of living and the gladness of a new day。 The
pagan populace of Antiochreckless； pleasure…loving；
spendthriftwere preparing for the Saturnalia。 But all this
Hermas had renounced。 He cleft his way through the crowd
slowly； like a reluctant swimmer weary of breasting the tide。
At the corner of the street where the narrow； populous
Lane of the Camel…drivers crossed the Colonnades； a
storyteller had bewitched a circle of people around him。 It
was the same old tale of love and adventure that many
generations have listened to； but the lively fancy of the
hearers rent it new interest； and the wit of the improviser
drew forth sighs of interest and shouts of laughter。
A yellow…haired girl on the edge of the throng turned； as
Hermas passed； and smiled in his face。 She put out her hand
and caught him by the sleeve。
〃Stay；〃 she said； 〃and laugh a bit with us。 I know who
you arethe son of Demetrius。 You must have bags of gold。
Why do you look so black？ Love is alive yet。〃
Hermas shook off her hand； but not ungently。
〃I don't know what you mean；〃 he said。 〃You are mistaken
in me。 I am poorer than you are。〃
But as he passed on； he felt the warm touch of her fingers
through the cloth on his arm。 It seemed as if she had plucked
him by the heart。
He went out by the Western Gate； under the golden cherubim
that the Emperor Titus had stolen from the ruined Temple of
Jerusalem and fixed upon the arch of triumph。 He turned to
the left； and climbed the hill to the road that led to the
Grove of Daphne。
In all the world there was no other highway as beautiful。
It wound for five miles along the foot of the mountains； among
gardens and villas； plantations of myrtles and mulberries；
with wide outlooks over the valley of Orontes and the distant；
shimmering sea。
The richest of all the dwellings was the House
of the Golden Pillars； the mansion of Demetrius。 He had won
the favor of the apostate Emperor Julian； whose vain efforts
to restore the worship of the heathen gods； some twenty years
ago； had opened an easy way to wealth and power for all who
would mock and oppose Christianity。 Demetrius was not a
sincere fanatic like his royal master； but he was bitter
enough in his professed scorn of the new religion； to make him
a favourite at the court where the old religion was in
fashion。 He had reaped a rich reward of his policy； and a
strange sense of consistency made him more fiercely loyal to
it than if it had been a real faith。 He was proud of being
called 〃the friend of Julian〃； and when his son joined himself
to the Christians； and acknowledged the unseen God； it seemed
like an insult to his father's success。 He drove the boy from
his door and disinherited him。
The glittering portico of the serene； haughty house； the
repose of the well…ordered garden； still blooming with belated
flowers； seemed at once to deride and to invite the young
outcast plodding along the dusty road。 〃This is your
birthright；〃 whispered the clambering rose…trees by the gate； and
the closed portals of carven bronze said： 〃You have sold it for
a thoughta dream。〃'
II
Hermas found the Grove of Daphne quite deserted。 There was no
sound in the enchanted vale but the rustling of the light
winds chasing each other through the laurel thickets； and the
babble of innumerable streams。 Memories of the days and
nights of delicate pleasure that the grove had often seen
still haunted the bewildered paths and broken fountains。 At
the foot of a rocky eminence； crowned with the ruins of
Apollo's temple； which had been mysteriously destroyed by fire
just after Julian had restored and reconsecrated it； Hermas
sat down beside a gushing spring； and gave himself up to
sadness。
〃How beautiful the world would be； how joyful； how easy to
live in； without religion！ These questions about unseen
things； perhaps about unreal things； these restraints and
duties and sacrifices…if I were only free from them all； and
could only forget them all； then I could live my life as I
pleased； and be happy。〃
〃Why not？〃 said a quiet voice at his back。
He turned； and saw an old m