ists. These were a race of men with whom he was perfectly unacquainted, and of whose existence he knew merely by the references to their productions, which were sprinkled in the commentaries of his "best editions." In the pride of boyish learning, Vivian had limited his library to Classics, and the proud leaders of the later schools did not consequently grace his diminutive book-case. In this dilemma he flew to his father, and confessed by his request that his favourites were not all-sufficient.
"Father! I wish to make myself master of the latter Platonists. I want Plotinus, and Porphyry, and Iamblichus, and Syrianus, and Maximus Tyrius, and Proclus, and Hierocles, and Sallustius, and Damascius."
Mr. Grey stared at his son, and burst into a fit of laughter.
"My dear Vivian! are you quite convinced that the authors you ask for are all pure Platonists? or have not some of them placed the
