“One day Apelles said to me, after glancing at the drawing on which I was engaged:  ’If you were ten years younger you might do something in the field of art, for you would make an excellent model for the picture I am about to begin.  But at your present age you would not be able to sustain the fatigue of remaining in a constrained position for any length of time.’  ‘What is the subject?’ I asked.  ‘A centurion in battle,’ said he.

“The next day I appeared before Apelles with my hair cropped short and my face without a vestige of a beard.  ’Do I look young enough now to be your model?’ said I. The painter looked at me in surprise.  ‘Yes,’ said he, ’you look young enough; but of course you are the same age as you were yesterday.  However, if you would like to try the model business, I will make some sketches of you.’

“For more than a month, nearly every day, I stood as a model to Apelles for his great picture of a centurion whose sword had been stricken from his hand, and who, in desperation, was preparing to defend himself against his enemy with the arms which nature had given him.”

“Is that picture extant?” I asked.

Mr. Crowder smiled.  “None of Apelles’s paintings are in existence now,” he answered.  “While I was acting as model to Apelles—­and I may remark that I never grew tired of standing in the position he desired—­I listened with great satisfaction to the conversations between him and the friends who called upon him while he was at work.  The chief of these was Hippocrates, the celebrated physician, between whom and Apelles a strong friendship existed.

“Hippocrates was a man of great common sense.  He did not believe that diseases were caused by spirits and demons and all that sort of thing, and in many ways he made himself very interesting to me.  So, in course of time, after having visited him a good deal, I made up my mind to quit the study of art and go into that of medicine.

“I got on very well, and after a time I practiced with him in many cases, and he must have had a good deal of confidence in me, for when the King of Persia sent for him to come to his court, offering him all sorts of munificent rewards, Hippocrates declined, but he suggested to me that I should go.

“‘You look like a doctor,’ said he.  ’The king would have confidence in you simply on account of your presence; and, besides, you do know a great deal about medicine.’  But I did not go to Persia, and shortly after that I left the island of Cos and gave up the practice of medicine.  Later, in the second century before Christ, I made the acquaintance of a methodist doctor—­”

“A what?” Mrs. Crowder and I exclaimed at the same moment.

He laughed.  “I thought that would surprise you, but it is true.”

“Of course it is true,” said his wife, coloring a little.  “Does thee think I would doubt anything thee told me?  If thee had said that Abraham had a Quaker cook, I would have believed it.”