world—"extraordinary;" nothing more or less, whatever irony some may find in the word. Even the term "crucified sophist," however offensive to our ears, had nothing necessarily offensive as used by the writer. The clever Greek has no special sympathy with the "simple people" who were content with bad security for their money, and proved such an easy prey to any designing adventurer; but all his contempt and wrath is reserved for the impostor who cheated them. On him, and not on the Christians, he pours it out unsparingly. Here is his account of Peregrinus's last moments. The great games were over, but the crowd still lingered at Olympia to see the promised spectacle. It was deferred from night to night, but at last an hour was appointed. Attended by a troop of friends and admirers (a criminal going to execution, says the merciless narrator, has usually a long train), Peregrinus approached the pile, which had been prepared near the Hippodrome.
"Then the more foolish among the crowd shouted, 'Live, for the sake of the Greeks!' But the more hard-hearted cried, 'Fulfil your promise!' At this the old man was not a little put out, for he had expected that they would surely all lay hold on him, and not let him get into the fire, but force him to live against his will. But this exhortation to 'keep his promise' fell on him quite unexpectedly, and made him paler than ever, though his colour looked like death before. He trembled, and became silent. . . . When the moon rose (for she, too, must needs look upon this grand sight)
