A fallen star, I am, sir!' continued he, pensively, stroking his lean stomach--'a fallen star!--fallen, if the dignity of philosophy will allow of the simile, among the hogs of the lower world--indeed, even into the hog-bucket itself.

Well, after all, I will show you the way to the Archbishop's.

There is a philosophic pleasure in opening one's treasures to the modest young.

Perhaps you will assist me by carrying this basket of fruit ?' And the little man jumped up, put his basket on Philammon's head, and trotted off up a neighbouring street.
Philammon followed, half contemptuous, half wondering at what this philosophy might be, which could feed the self-conceit of anything so abject as his ragged little apish guide; but the novel roar and whirl of the street, the perpetual stream of busy faces, the line of curricles, palanquins, laden asses, camels, elephants, which met and passed him, and squeezed him up steps and into doorways, as they threaded their way through the great Moon-gate into the ample street beyond, drove everything from his mind but wondering curiosity, and a vague, helpless dread of that great living wilderness, more terrible than any dead wilderness of sand which he had left behind.

Already he longed for the repose, the silence of the Laura--for faces which knew him and smiled upon him; but it was too late to turn back ow.