sooner than give up their faith, or even take outward part in the rites of heathenism, left the cities and took refuge in the deserts, sheltering themselves until the time of danger was over. All were not so enthusiastic. Many conformed outwardly to the pagan worship, and were allowed to remain in their homes unmolested. In this way the Christians were divided into two classes—those who preferred the desert to a denial of their faith, and those who, less inflexible in their principles, were ready to make concessions for the sake of peace. After the persecutions had ceased the two classes continued to be distinct. Men still retired to the desert, not now to escape from prison and torture and death, but from the worldly pleasures and pursuits that were absorbing the thoughts of men and hindering them from paying due attention to their eternal interests. Naturally, the hermit was still regarded as the better Christian, when compared with him who continued in the world, and took part daily in the business and pleasures of life.
Amid all its extravagance, we can discern in this development of monasticism a germ of sound principle. Multitudes of those who professed Christianity when the profession began to be a mark of honour rather than disgrace knew little and cared less for the faith which they embraced. The name of Christ was on their lips, but the spirit of paganism was in their hearts. There were, no doubt, other and better ways in which earnest men could have protested against the formality of the age than that of separating themselves from their fellows, but still, it was a protest, and we know that in some ways it had its influence in directing men's minds to the paramount claims of our holy religion.
The institution soon grew in popularity and
