If any one insults you henceforth, you have but to call me; and if I be within hearing, why, by this right arm---' And he attempted a pat on Philammon's head, which, as there was a head and shoulder's difference between them, might on the whole have been considered, from a theatric point of view, as a failure.

Whereon the little man seized the calabash of beer, and filling therewith a cow's horn, his thumb on the small end, raised it high in the air.
'To the Tenth Muse, and to your interview with her!' And removing his thumb, he sent a steady jet into his open mouth, and having drained the horn without drawing breath, licked his lips, handed it to Philammon, and flew ravenously upon the fish and onions.
Philammon, to whom the whole was supremely absurd, had no invocation to make, but one which he felt too sacred for his present temper of mind: so he attempted to imitate the little man's feat, and, of course, poured the beer into his eyes, and up his nose, and in his bosom, and finally choked himself black in the face, while his host observed smilingly-- 'Aha, rustic! unacquainted with the ancient and classical customs preserved in this centre of civilisation by the descendants of Alexander's heroes?
Judith! clear the table.

Now to the sanctuary of the Muses!' Philammon rose, and finished his meal by a monkish grace.

A gentle and reverent 'Amen' rose from the other end of the room.

It was the negress.
She saw him look up at her, dropped her eyes modestly, and bustled away with the remnants, while Philammon and his host started for Hypatia's lecture-room.
'Your wife is a Christian ?' asked he when they were outside the door.
'Ahem--! The barbaric mind is prone to superstition.