under foot. The Jews were picking up stones and shouting:
"He is a blasphemer! Stone him!"
A couple of the most zealous tore up the milestone sunk by the Romans, and were endeavouring to heave it at him. The stones fell with a dull thud on the skinny bones of the apostle, who yelled:
"Oh the delight of these wounds! Oh the joy of these sufferings! Oh the refreshment of this torture! I behold Jesus."
A few steps farther off, under an arbutus, and to the murmurings of a spring, old Posocharis was pressing in his arms the smooth flanks of Joessa. Annoyed at the disturbance, he growled with a choking voice, with head buried in the hair of the young girl:
"Begone, you low brutes, and do not trouble a philosopher's pastime."
After a few minutes, a centurion who was passing along the now deserted road, raised Stephanas from the ground, made him swallow a mouthful of wine, and gave him linen wherewith to bandage his wounds.
While this was going on, Gallio, sitting with his friends under Medea's tree, was saying:
"If you wish to know the successor of the master of gods and men, meditate the words of the poet:
