'He may esteem thee, Probus, and not thy faith. 'Tis so with me. I like not thy faith, but truly do I say it, I like thee, and would fain serve and save thee. Nay, 'tis thy firmness and thy zeal in the cause thou hast espoused that wins me. I honor those virtues. But, Probus, in thee they are dangerous ones. The same qualities in a worthier cause would make thee great. That which thou hast linked thyself to, Christian, is a downward and a dying one. Its doom is sealed. The word of Aurelian is gone forth, and, before the Ides, the blood of every Christian in Rome shall flow—and not in Rome only, but throughout the empire. The forces are now disposing over the whole of this vast realm, which, at a sign from the great Head, shall fall upon this miserable people, and their very name shall vanish from the earth. It is vain to contend. It is but the struggling of a man with the will and the arm of Jove—'

'Varus!—' Probus began.

'Nay,' said the Prefect, 'listen first. This faith of thine, Christian, which can thus easily be destroyed, cannot be that divine and holy thing thou deemest it. So judges Porphyrius, and all of highest mark here in Rome. It is not to be thought of one moment as possible, that what a God made known to man for truth, he should afterward leave defenceless, to be trodden to the dust, and its ministers and disciples persecuted, tormented, and exterminated by human force. Christian, thou hast been deceived—and all thy fellows are in the like delusion. Do thou then save both thyself and them. It is in thy power to stop all this effusion of blood, and restore unity and peace to an empire now torn and bleeding in every part.'

'And how, Varus—seeing thou wouldst that I should hear all—how shall it be done?'

'Embrace, Probus, the faith of Rome—the faith of thy father, venerable for piety as for years—the faith of centuries, and of millions of our great progenitors and thou art safe, and all thine are safe.'

Probus was silent.

'Aurelian bids me say,' continued the Prefect, 'that doing this, there is not a wish of thy heart, for thyself, or for those who are dear to thee, but it shall be granted. Wealth, more than miser ever craved, office and place lower but little than Aurelian's own, shall be thine—'

'Varus! if there is within thee the least touch of humanity, cease! Thy words have sunk into these dead walls as far as into me; yet have they entered far enough to have wounded the soul through and through. Not, Varus, though to all thou hast said and promised thou shouldst add Rome itself and the empire, and still to that the subject kingdoms of the East and West, with their treasures, and the world itself, would I prove false to myself, my faith, and my God. Nor canst thou think me base enough for such a deed. This is no great virtue in me, Varus. I hold it not such; nor may you. Go through the secret chambers of these prisons with the same rich bribe upon thy tongue, and not one so fallen wouldst thou find that he would hear thee through as I have done. Varus, thou knowest not what a Christian is! Thou canst not conceive how little a thing life is in his regard set by the side of truth. I grieve that ever I should have been so esteemed by thee as to warrant the proffers thou hast made. This injures more and deeper than these bonds, or than all thine array of engines or of beasts.'

'Be not the fool and madman,' said the Prefect, 'to cast away from thee the mercy I have brought. Except on the terms I have now named, I say there is hope neither for thee, nor for one of this faith in Rome, how ever high their name or rank.'

'That can make no change in my resolve, Varus.'

'Consider, Probus, well. As by thy renunciation thou couldst save thyself, I now tell thee that the lives of those whom thou holdest nearest, hang also upon thy word. Assent to what I have offered, and Piso and Julia live! Reject it, and they die!'

Varus paused; but Probus spoke not. He went on.

'Christian, are not these dear to thee? Demetrius too, and Felix? Where are the mercies of thy boasted faith, if thy heart is left thus hard? Truly thou mightest as well have lived and died a Pagan.'

'Again I say, Varus, thou knowest not what a Christian is. We put truth before life; and if by but a word that should deny the truth in Christ, or any jot or tittle of it, I could save the life of Piso, Julia, Felix, Demetrius, nay, and all in Rome who hold this faith, my tongue should be torn from my mouth before that word should be spoken. And so wouldst thou find every Christian here in Rome. Why then urge me more? Did Macer hear thee?'

'I hold thee, Probus, a wiser man than he. All Rome knew him mad. Cast not away thy life. Live, and tomorrow's sun shall see thee First in Rome!'

'Varus! why is this urgency? Think me not a fool and blind. Thou knowest, and Fronto and Aurelian know, that one apostate would weigh more for your bad cause than a thousand headless trunks; and so with cruel and insulting craft you weave your snares and pile to Heaven your golden bribes. Begone, Varus, and say to Aurelian, if in truth he sent thee on thy shameful errand, that, in the Fabrician prison, in the same dungeon where he cast Probus the Christian, there still lives Probus the Roman, who reveres what he once revered and loved, truth, and whom his bribes cannot turn from his integrity.'

'Die then, idiot, in thy integrity! Thou hast thrown scorn upon one, who has power and the will to pay it back in a coin it may little please thee to take it in. If there be one torment, Galilean, sharper than another, it shall be thine tomorrow; and for one moment that Macer passed upon my irons, there shall be hours for thee. Not till the flesh be peeled inch by inch from thy bones, and thy vitals look through thy ribs, and thy brain boil in its hot case, and each particular nerve be stretched till it break, shall thy life be suffered to depart. Then, what the tormentors shall have left, the dogs of the streets shall devour. Now, Christian, let us see if thy God, beholding thy distress, will pity and deliver thee.'

Saying these words, his countenance transformed by passion to that of a demon, he turned and left the cell.

Never, Fausta, I feel assured, did Aurelian commission Varus with such an errand. Fallen though he be, he has not yet fallen to that lowest deep. Varus doubtless hoped to prevail over Probus by his base proposals, and by such triumph raise his fortunes yet higher with Aurelian. It was a game worth playing—so he judged, and perhaps wisely—and worth a risk. For doubtless one apostate of the rank of Probus would have been of more avail to them, as Probus said to him, than a thousand slain. For nothing do the judges so weary themselves, and exhaust their powers of persuasion, as to induce the Christians who are brought before them to renounce their faith. So desirous are they of this, that they have caused, in many instances, those who were no Christians to be presented at their tribunals, who have then, after being threatened with torture and death, renounced a faith which they never professed. Once and again has this farce been acted before the Roman people. Their real triumphs of this sort have as yet been very few; and the sensation which they produced was swallowed up and lost in the glory—in the eyes even of the strangers who are in Rome—which has crowned us in the steadfast courage with which our people have remained quietly in their homes, throughout all this dreadful preparation, and then, when the hour of trial drew nigh, and they were placed at the bar of the judge, and were accused of their religion, confessed the charge, boasted of it, and then took their way to the prison, from which, they well knew, death only would deliver them.

* * * * *

That, Fausta, which we have long feared and looked for, has come to pass, and Probus, our more than friend, our benefactor, and almost our parent, is, by the Emperor, condemned to death; not, as from the words of Varus it might be supposed, to the same torments as those to which Macer was made subject; but to be thrown to the beasts in the Flavian, a death more merciful than that, but yet full of horror. How is it that, in the Roman, mercy seems dead, and the human nature, which he received from the gods, changed to that of the most savage beast!

Livia has been with us; and here, with us, would she now gladly remain. It is impossible, she says, for us to conceive the height of the frenzy to which Aurelian is now wrought up against the Christians. In his impatience, he can scarce restrain himself from setting his Legions in the neighboring camp at once to the work of slaughter. But he is, strange as it may seem, in this held back and calmed by the more bloody-minded, but yet more politic, Fronto. Fronto would have the work thoroughly accomplished; and that it may be so, he adheres to a certain system of order and apparent moderation, from which Aurelian would willingly break away and at once flood the streets of Rome in a new deluge of blood. Livia is now miserable and sad, as she was, but a few months ago, gay and happy. At the palace, she tells us, she hears no sounds but the harsh and grating voice of Fronto, or the smooth and silvery tones of Varus. As soon, she says, as Aurelian shall have departed for the East, shall she dwell either with us, or fly to the quiet retreat of Zenobia, at Tibur.

* * * * *

The day appointed for the death of Probus has arrived, and never did the sun shine upon a fairer one in Rome. It seems as if some high festival were come, for all Rome is afoot. Heralds parade the streets, proclaiming the death of Probus, Felix, and other Christians, in the Flavian, at the hour of noon. At the corner of every street, and at all the public places, the name of "Probus the Christian, condemned to the beasts," meets the eye. Long before the time of the sacrifice had come, the avenues leading to the theatre, and all the neighborhood of it, were crowded with the excited thousands of those who desired to witness the spectacle. There was little of beauty, wealth, fashion, or nobility in Rome that was not represented in the dense multitude that filled the seats of the boundless amphitheatre. Probus had said to me, at my last interview with him, 'Piso, you may think it a weakness in me, but I would that one at least, whose faith is mine, and whose heart beats as mine, might be with me at the final hour. I would, at that hour, meet one eye that can return the glance of friendship. It will be a source of strength to me, and I know not how much I may need it.' I readily promised what he asked, though, as you may believe, Fausta, I would willingly have been spared the trial. So that making part of that tide pouring toward the centre, I found myself borne along at the appointed hour to the scene of suffering and death.

As I was about to pass beneath the arched-way which leads to the winding passages within, I heard myself saluted by a well-known voice, and, turning to the quarter whence it came, beheld Isaac, but without his pack, and in a costume so different from that which he usually wears, that at first I doubted the report of my eyes. But the sound of his voice, as he again addressed me, assured me it could be no other than he.

'Did I not tell thee, Piso,' said he, 'that, when the Christian was in his straits, there thou wouldst see the Jew, looking on, and taking his sport? This is for Probus the very end I looked for. And how should it be otherwise? Is he to live and prosper, who aims at the life of that to which God has given being and authority? Shall he flourish in pride and glory who hath helped to pull down what God built up? Not so, Piso. 'Tis no wonder that the Christians are now in this plight. It could be no otherwise. And in every corner of this huge fabric wilt thou behold some of my tribe looking on upon this sight, or helping at the sacrifice. Yet, as thou knowest, I am not among them. There is no hope for Probus, Piso?'

'None, Isaac. All Rome could not save him.'

'Truly,' rejoined the Jew, 'he is in the lion's den. Yet as the prophet Daniel was delivered, so may it be to him. God is over all.'

'God is, indeed, over all,' I said; 'but he leaves us with our natural passions, affections, and reason, to work out our own way through the world. We are the better for it.'

'Doubtless,' said Isaac. 'Yet at times, when we look not for it, and from a quarter we dream not of, deliverance comes. So was it to Abraham, when he thought that by his own hand Isaac his son must be slain. But why to a Christian should I speak of these? Dost thou witness the sacrifice, Piso?'

'Yes, at the earnest entreaty of Probus himself.'

'I, too, shall be there. We shall both then see what shall come to pass.'

So saying, he moved away toward the lower vaults, where are the cages of the beasts, and I passed on and ascended the flight of steps leading to that part of the interior where it is the custom of Aurelian to sit. The Emperor was not as yet arrived, but the amphitheatre, in every part of it, was already filled with its countless thousands. All were seated idly conversing, or gazing about as at the ordinary sports of the place. The hum of so many voices struck the ear like the distant roar of the ocean. How few of those thousands—not one perhaps—knew for what it was that Probus and his companions were now about to suffer a most cruel and abhorred death! They knew that their name was Christian, and that Christian was of the same meaning as enemy of the gods and of the empire; but what it was which made the Christian so willing to die, why it was he was so ready to come to that place of horror and give up his body to the beasts—this they knew not. It was to them a riddle they could not read. And they sat and looked on with the same vacant unconcern, or with the same expectation of pleasure, as if they were to witness the destruction of murderers and assassins. This would not have been so, had that class of the citizens of Rome, or any of them, been present, who, regarding us with favor, and hoping that somewhat might yet come of our religion advantageous to the world, maintain a neutral position. These were not there; owing, both to their disinclination to witness scenes so brutalizing, and to apprehensions lest they should be betrayed into words or acts of sympathy, that might lead to their being confounded with the obnoxious tribe, and exposed to the like dangers. All, therefore, within the embrace of those wide-spreading walls were of one heart and one mind.

While I sat waiting the coming of the Emperor, and surrounded by those whom I knew not nor had ever seen, one who occupied a part of the same seat, accompanied by his wife and daughters, said to me,

''Tis to be hoped, sir, that so terrible an example as this will have its effect in deterring others from joining this dangerous superstition, and not only that, but strike so wholesome a terror into those who already profess it, that they shall at once abandon it, and so the general massacre of them not be necessary; which, indeed, I should be loth to witness in the streets of Rome.'

'If you knew,' I replied, 'for what it is these people are condemned to such sufferings, you would not, I am sure, express yourself in that manner. You know, I may presume, only what common report has brought to your ears.'

'Nothing else, I admit,' he replied. 'My affairs confine me from morning till night. I am a secretary, sir, in the office of the public mint. I have no time to inform myself of the exact truth of any thing but columns of figures. I am not afraid to say there is not a better accountant within the walls of Rome. But as for other things, especially as to the truth in matters of this sort, I know nothing, and can learn nothing. I follow on as the world leads.'

'I dare say,' I replied, 'you have spoken the truth. And every one here present, were he to speak, would make very much the same declaration. So here are eighty thousand citizens of Rome assembled to witness the destruction of men, of whose crime they know nothing, yet rejoicing in their death as if they were murderers or robbers! Were you charged with a false enumeration of your columns, would not you hold it basest injustice to suffer punishment before pains were taken to learn the exact truth in the case? But are you not acting the same unjust and cruel part—with all who are here—in looking on and approving the destruction of these men, about whose offence you know nothing, and have taken no pains to inquire?'

'By the gods!' exclaimed his wife, who seemed the sharper spirit of the two, 'I believe we have a Christian here! But however that may be, we should be prettily set to work, whenever some entertainment is in prospect, to puzzle ourselves about the right and the wrong in the matter. If we are to believe you, sir, whenever a poor wretch is to be thrown to the beasts, before we can be in at the sport we must settle the question—under the law I suppose—whether the condemnation be just or not! Ha! ha! Our life were in that case most light and agreeable! The Prefect himself would not have before him a more engaging task. Gods! Cornelia dear, see what a pair of eyes!'

'Where, mother?'

'There! in that old man's head. They burn and twinkle like coals of fire. I should think he must be a Christian.'

I was not sorry that a new object had attracted the attention of this lady of the secretary; and looking where she pointed, I saw Isaac planted below us and near the arena. At the same moment the long peal of trumpets, and the shouts of the people without, gave note of the approach and entrance of the Emperor. In a moment more, with his swift step, he entered the amphitheatre, and strode to the place set apart for him, the whole multitude rising and saluting him with a burst of welcome that might have been heard beyond the walls of Rome. The Emperor acknowledged the salutation by rising from his seat and lifting the crown from his head. He was instantly seated again, and at a sign from him the herald made proclamation of the entertainments which were to follow. He who was named as the first to suffer was Probus.

When I heard his name pronounced, with the punishment which awaited him, my resolution to remain forsook me, and I turned to rush from the theatre. But my recollection of Probus's earnest entreaties that I would be there, restrained me and I returned to my seat. I considered, that as I would attend the dying bed of a friend, so I was clearly bound to remain where I was, and wait for the last moments of this my more than Christian friend; and the circumstance that his death was to be shocking and harrowing to the friendly heart was not enough to absolve me from the heavy obligation. I therefore kept my place, and awaited with patience the event.

I had waited not long when, from beneath that extremity of the theatre where I was sitting, Probus was led forth and conducted to the centre of the arena, where was a short pillar to which it was customary to bind the sufferers. Probus, as he entered, seemed rather like one who came to witness what was there than to be himself the victim, so free was his step, so erect his form. In his face there might indeed be seen an expression, that could only dwell on the countenance of one whose spirit was already gone beyond the earth, and holding converse with things unseen. There is always much of this in the serene, uplifted face of this remarkable man; but it was now there written in lines so bold and deep, that there could have been few in that vast assembly but must have been impressed by it, as never before by aught human. It must have been this, which brought so deep a silence upon that great multitude—not the mere fact that an individual was about to be torn by lions—that is an almost daily pastime. For it was so, that when he first made his appearance, and as he moved toward the centre, turned and looked round upon the crowded seats rising to the heavens, the people neither moved nor spoke, but kept their eyes fastened upon him as by some spell which they could not break.

When he had reached the pillar, and he who had conducted him was about to bind him to it, it was plain, by what at that distance we could observe, that Probus was entreating him to desist and leave him at liberty; in which he at length succeeded, for that person returned, leaving him alone and unbound. O sight of misery!—he who for the humblest there present would have performed any office of love, by which the least good should redound to them, left alone and defenceless, they looking on and scarcely pitying his cruel fate!

When now he had stood there not many minutes, one of the doors of the vivaria was suddenly thrown back, and bounding forth with a roar, that seemed to shake the walls of the theatre, a lion of huge dimensions leaped upon the arena. Majesty and power were inscribed upon his lordly limbs; and as he stood there where he had first sprung, and looked round upon the multitude, how did his gentle eye and noble carriage, with which no one for a moment could associate meanness, or cruelty, or revenge, cast shame upon the human monsters assembled to behold a solitary, unarmed man torn limb from limb! When he had in this way looked upon that cloud of faces, he then turned and moved round the arena through its whole circumference, still looking upwards upon those who filled the seats—not till he had come again to the point from which he started, so much as noticing him who stood, his victim, in the midst. Then—as if apparently for the first time becoming conscious of his presence—he caught the form of Probus; and moving slowly towards him, looked steadfastly up-upon him, receiving in return the settled gaze of the Christian. Standing there, still, awhile—each looking upon the other—he then walked round him, then approached nearer, making, suddenly and for a moment, those motions which indicate the roused appetite; but as it were in the spirit of self-rebuke, he immediately retreated a few paces and lay down in the sand, stretching out his head toward Probus, and closing his eyes as if for sleep.

The people, who had watched in silence, and with the interest of those who wait for their entertainment, were both amazed and vexed, at what now appeared to be the dulness and stupidity of the beast. When however he moved not from his place, but seemed as if he were indeed about to fall into a quiet sleep, those who occupied the lower seats began both to cry out to him and shake at him their caps, and toss about their arms in the hope to rouse him. But it was all in vain; and at the command of the Emperor he was driven back to his den.

Again a door of the vivaria was thrown open, and another of equal size, but of a more alert and rapid step, broke forth, and, as if delighted with his sudden liberty and the ample range, coursed round and round the arena, wholly regardless both of the people and of Probus, intent only as it seemed upon his own amusement. And when at length he discovered Probus standing in his place, it was but to bound toward him as in frolic, and then wheel away in pursuit of a pleasure he esteemed more highly than the satisfying of his hunger.

At this, the people were not a little astonished, and many who were near me hesitated not to say, "that there might be some design of the gods in this." Others said plainly, but not with raised voices, "An omen! an omen!" At the same time Isaac turned and looked at me with an expression of countenance which I could not interpret. Aurelian meanwhile exhibited many signs of impatience; and when it was evident the animal could not be wrought up, either by the cries of the people, or of the keepers, to any act of violence, he too was taken away. But when a third had been let loose, and with no better effect, nay, with less—for he, when he had at length approached Probus, fawned upon him, and laid himself at his feet—the people, superstitious as you know beyond any others, now cried out aloud, "An omen! an omen!" and made the sign that Probus should be spared and removed.

Aurelian himself seemed almost of the same mind, and I can hardly doubt would have ordered him to be released, but that Fronto at that moment approached him, and by a few of those words, which, coming from him, are received by Aurelian as messages from Heaven, put within him a new and different mind; for rising quickly from his seat he ordered the keeper of the vivaria to be brought before him. When he appeared below upon the sands, Aurelian cried out to him,

'Why, knave, dost thou weary out our patience thus—letting forth beasts already over-fed? Do thus again, and thou thyself shall be thrown to them. Art thou too a Christian?'

'Great Emperor,' replied the keeper, 'than those I have now let loose, there are not larger nor fiercer in the imperial dens, and since the sixth hour of yesterday they have tasted nor food nor drink. Why they have thus put off their nature 'tis hard to guess, unless the general cry be taken for the truth, "that the gods have touched them."

Aurelian was again seen to waver, when a voice from the benches cried out,

'It is, O Emperor, but another Christian device! Forget not the voice from the temple! The Christians, who claim powers over demons, bidding them go and come at pleasure, may well be thought capable to change, by the magic imputed to them, the nature of a beast.'

'I doubt not,' said the Emperor, 'but it is so. Slave! throw up now the doors of all thy vaults, and let us see whether both lions and tigers be not too much for this new necromancy. If it be the gods who interpose, they can shut the mouths of thousands as of one.

At those cruel words, the doors of the vivaria were at once flung open, and an hundred of their fierce tenants, maddened both by hunger and the goads that had been applied, rushed forth, and in the fury with which in a single mass they fell upon Probus—then kneeling upon the sands—and burying him beneath them, no one could behold his fate, nor, when that dark troop separated and ran howling about the arena in search of other victims, could the eye discover the least vestige of that holy man.—— I then fled from the theatre as one who flies from that which is worse than death.

Felix was next offered up, as I have learned, and after him more than fourscore of the Christians of Rome.

Rome continues the same scene of violence, cruelty and blood. Each moment are the miserable Christians dragged through the streets either to the tribunals of the judges, or thence, having received their doom, to the prisons.

Seeing, Fausta, that the Emperor is resolved that we shall not be among the sufferers, and that he is also resolved upon the total destruction of all within the walls of Rome, from which purpose no human power can now divert him, we feel ourselves no longer bound to this spot, and are determined to withdraw from it, either to Tibur or else to you. Were there any office of protection or humanity, which it were in our power to perform toward the accused or the condemned, you may believe that we should remain fixed to the post of duty. But the fearful sweep which is making, and yet to be made, of every living soul in Rome, leaves nothing for us to do but to stand idle and horror-struck witnesses of sufferings and wrongs, which we can do nothing to avert or relieve. Portia shares our sorrows, and earnestly entreats us to depart, consenting herself to accompany us.

* * * * *

After seeing Zenobia at Tibur, and conversing with her and Livia, whom I found there, we have resolved upon Palmyra, and already have I engaged a vessel bound to Berytus. A brief interval will alone be needful for our preparations. Portia goes with us.

* * * * *

In the midst of these preparations, news is brought us by Milo that Aurelian, hastened by accounts of disturbances in the army, has suddenly started for Thrace. But I see not that this can interfere with our movements, unless indeed.... What can mean this sudden uproar in the streets?—and now within the house itself.... My fears are true....

* * * * *

Fausta, I am a prisoner in the hands of Fronto. I now write in chains, and Julia stands at my side bound also. I have obtained with difficulty this grace, to seal my letter, and bid you farewell.

* * * * *

Thus were Piso and Julia at length in the grasp of the cruel and relentless Fronto. Aurelian's sudden departure from Rome placed the whole conduct of the enterprise he had undertaken in the hands of Varus and the priest, who were left by the Emperor with full powers to carry on and complete the work which he had begun. It was his purpose however, so soon as the difficulties in the army should be composed, himself immediately to return, and remain till the task were ended—the great duty done. But, as many causes might conspire to prevent this, they were clothed with sovereign authority to do all that the welfare of the city and the defence and security of religion might require. I will not charge Aurelian with an unnecessary absence at this juncture, that so he might turn over to his tools a work, at which his own humanity and conscience, hardened as they were, revolted—or rather that they, voluntarily, and moved only by their own superstitious and malignant minds might then be free to do what they might feel safe in believing would be an acceptable service to their great master. I will still believe, that, had he intended the destruction of Piso and Julia, he would, with that courage which is natural to him, have fearlessly and unshrinkingly done the deed himself. I will rather suppose that his ministers, without warrant from him, and prompted by their own hate alone, ventured upon that dark attempt, trusting, when it should have once been accomplished, easily to obtain the pardon of him, who, however he might affect or feel displeasure for a moment, would secretly applaud and thank them for the deed.

However this may be, Aurelian suddenly departed from Rome, and Fronto and Varus filled his place; and their first act of authority was the seizure of Piso and the Princess. At Tibur we knew nothing of these events till they were passed; we caring not to hear of the daily horrors that were acted in the city, and feeling as secure of the safety of Piso and Julia as of our own.

It was on a gloomy winter evening when they were borne away from their home upon the Coelian to the dark vaults beneath the Temple of the Sun, Fronto's own province. But here again let Piso speak for himself, as I find recorded in the fragment of a letter.

* * * * *

* * * The darkness of the night scarce permitted me to see, he says, whither we were borne, but when the guard stopped and required us to alight from the carriage in which we had been placed, I perceived that we were at the steps of the temple—victims therefore in his own regions of a man, as much more savage than Aurelian, as he than a beast of the forest. We were denied the happiness of being confined in the same place, but were thrust into separate dungeons, divided by walls of solid rock. Here, when wearied out by watching, I fell asleep. How long this lasted I cannot tell; I was wakened by the withdrawing of the bolts of my door. One, bearing a dim light, slowly opening the door, entered. Forgetting my condition I essayed to rise, but my heavy chains bound me to the floor. Soon as the noise of my motion caught the ear of the person who had entered, he said,

'So; all is safe. I am not thy keeper, sir Piso, but 'tis my province to keep the keeper—that is—visit thee every hour to see that thou art here. Yet, by the gods! if you Christians have that power of magic, which is commonly reported of you, I see not of what use it were to watch you thus. How is it with thee, most noble Piso?'

'That is of little moment; but tell me, if there is anything human in thee, where is the Princess Julia, and what is her fate?'

'Be not too much concerned,' he replied. 'She is safe, I warrant you. None but Fronto deals with her.'

'Fronto!' I could only say.

'Yes, Fronto. Fear not, he is an honorable man and a holy priest.'

'Fronto!' I was about to add more, but held my peace; knowing well that what I might say could avail nothing for us, and might be turned against us. I only asked, 'why there was such delay in examining and condemning us?'

'That is a question truly,' he replied; 'but not so easy to be answered. Few know the reason, that I can say. But what is there in the heart of Pronto that is kept from Curio? Are thy chains easy, Piso?'

'I would that they might be lengthened. Here am I bound to the floor without so much as the power to stand upright. This is useless suffering.'

'Twas so ordered by Fronto; but then if there is one in Rome who can take a liberty with him, I know well who he is. So hold thou the lamp, Piso, and I will ease thee;' and, like one accustomed to the art, he soon struck apart the chain, and again uniting it left me room, both to stand and move.

'There,' said he, as he took again the lamp, 'for one who hates a Christian as he does death, that's a merciful deed. But I can tell thee one thing, that it will not ease thee long.'

'That I can believe. But why, once more, is there this delay?'

'I know not, Piso, whether I should tell thee, but as I doubt not Fronto would, were he here, I surely may do the same, for if there are two men in Rome, Piso, whose humors are the same and jump together, I and Fronto are they. There is a dispute then, noble Piso, between Varus and Fronto about the lady Julia—' and without heeding my cries the wretch turned and left the vault, closing after him the heavy door.

How many days, in the torture of a suspense and ignorance worse than death, I lay here, I cannot tell. Curio came as often as he said to see that all was safe, but there was little said by either; he would examine my chain and then depart. On the night—the last night I passed in that agony—preceding my examination by Varus and Fronto, I was disturbed from my slumbers by the entrance of Curio. He advanced with as it seemed to me an unusually cautious step, and I rose expecting some communication of an uncommon nature. But what was my amazement, as the light fell upon the face of him who bore it, to see not Curio but Isaac. His finger was on his lips, while in his hand he held the implements necessary for sawing apart my chains.

'Piso!' said he in a whispered tone, 'thou art now free,—I could not save Probus, but I can save thee—horses fleet as the winds await thee and the Princess beyond the walls, and at the Tiber's mouth a vessel takes you to Berytus. Curio lies drunk or dead, it matters little which, in a neighboring vault.' And he set down the lamp and seized my chain. The strange devotion of this man moved me; and, were it but to reward his love, I could almost have slipped my bonds. But other thoughts prevailed.

'Isaac, you have risked your life and that of your household in this attempt; and sorry am I that I can pay thee only with my thanks. I cannot fly.'

'Piso! thou surely art not mad? Why shouldst thou stay in the hands of these pagan butchers—'

'Were this, Isaac, but the private rage of Fronto, gladly would I go with thee—more gladly would I give Julia to thy care. But it is not so. It is, as thou knowest, for our faith that we are here and thus; and shall we shrink from what Probus bore?'

'Piso, believe me—'tis not for thy faith alone that thou art here, but for thy riches, and thy wife—'

'Isaac! thou hast been deceived. Sooner would they throw themselves into a lion's den for sport, than brave the wrath of Aurelian for such a crime. Thou hast been deceived.'

'I have it,' replied the Jew, 'from the mouth of the miscreant Curio, who has told me of fierce disputes, overheard by him, between Varus and Pronto concerning the lady Julia.'

'Their dispute has been, doubtless, whether she too should be destroyed; for to Fronto is well known the constant love which Aurelian still bears her. Curio is not always right.'

'And is this my answer, Piso?' said Isaac. 'And, if I cannot prevail with thee, shall I not still see thy wife? Over her perchance—'

'No, Isaac; it would be of no avail. Her answer would be the same as mine.'

'Nevertheless, Piso, I believe that what I have heard and surmised is so. Fronto and Varus, who have played with the great Aurelian as a toyman with his images, may carry even this.'

'Were it so, I put my trust in God, and to him commend myself and Julia. For this our faith are we ready to bear all that man can devise or do.'

Seeing that further argument was vain, Isaac, with eyes that overflowed as any woman's, embraced me and left the cell.

* * * * *

On the day which followed the visit of Isaac was I placed before Fronto and Varus.

It was in the great room of the temple that the Prefect and the Priest awaited their victims. It was dimly illuminated, so that the remoter parts were lost in thick darkness. So far as the eye could penetrate it, a crowd of faces could be discerned in the gloom, of those who were there to witness the scene. All, whom my sight could separate from the darkness, were of the Roman priesthood, or friends of Fronto. Not that others were excluded—it was broad day, and the act was a public one, and authorized by the imperial edict—but that no announcement of it had been made; and by previous concert the place had been filled with the priests and subordinate ministers of the Roman temples. I knew therefore that not a friendly eye or arm was there. Whatever it might please those cruel judges to inflict upon myself or Julia,—there was none to remonstrate or interpose. With what emotions, when I had first been placed before those judges, did I await the coming of Julia, from whom I had now been so long parted! Fervently did I pray that the mercy of Fronto would first doom her, that she might be sure of at least one sympathising and pitying heart.

On the right of the Prefect, upon a raised platform, were set the various instruments of torture and death, each attended by its half naked minister.

I had not stood long, when upon the other side of the room the noise of the dividing crowd told me that Julia was entering, and in a moment more she was standing at a little distance from me, and opposite Fronto—I being opposite the Prefect. Our eyes met once—and no more. As I could have desired, Fronto first addressed her.

'Woman! thou standest here charged with impiety and denial of the gods of Rome; in other words, with being a follower of Christ the Nazarene. That the charge is true, witnesses stand here ready to affirm. Dost thou deny the charge? Then will we prove its truth.'

'I deny it not,' responded Julia, 'but confess it. Witnesses are not needed. The Christian witnesses for himself.'

'Dost thou know the penalty that waits on such confession?'

'I know it, but do not fear it.'

'But for thee to die so, woman, is of ill example to all in Rome. We would rather change thee. We would not have thee die the enemy of the gods, of Rome, and of thyself. I ask thee then to renounce thy vain impiety!'

Julia answered not.

'I require thee, Christian, to renounce Christ!'

Still Julia made no reply.

'Know you not, woman, I have power to force from thee that, which thou wilt not say willingly?'

'Thou hast no such power, Priest. Thou wert else God.'

'Thy tender frame cannot endure the torture of those engines. It were better spared such suffering.'

'I would gladly be spared that suffering,' said Julia; 'but not at the expense of truth.'

'Think not that I will relent. Those irons shall rack and rend thee in every bone and joint, except thou dost renounce that foul impostor, whose curse now lies heavy upon Rome and the world.'

'Weary me not, Priest, with vain importunity. I am a Christian, and a Christian will I die.'

'Prepare then the rack!' cried Fronto, his passions rising; 'that is the medicine for obstinacy such as this. Now bind her to it.'

Hearing that, I wildly exclaimed,

'Priest! thou dar'st not do it for thy life! Touch but the hair of her head, and thy life shall answer it. Aurelian's word is pledged, and thou dar'st not break it.'

'Aurelian is far enough from here,' replied the priest. 'But were he where I am, thou wouldst see the same game. I am Aurelian now.'

'Is this then thy commission, had from Aurelian?'

'That matters not, young Piso. 'Tis enough for thee to know that Fronto rules in Rome. No more! Hold now thy peace! Where an Empress has sued in vain, there is no room for words from thee. Slaves! bind her, I say! To the rack with her!'

At that I sprang madly forward, thinking only of her rescue from those murderous fangs, but was at the same instant drawn violently back both by my chains and the arms of those who guarded me. The tormentors descended from their engines to fulfil the commands of Fronto, and, laying hold of Julia, bore her, without an opposing word, or look, or motion, toward their instruments of death. And they were already binding her limbs to the accursed wheels, while Fronto and Varus both drew nigh to gloat over her agonies, when a distant sound, as of the ocean lashed by winds, broke upon the ears of all within that hell. Even the tormentors paused in their work, and looked at each other and at Fronto, as if asking what it should mean.

The silence of death fell upon the crowd—every ear strained to catch the still growing sound and interpret it.

''Tis but the winter wind!' cried Fronto. 'On, cowards, with your work!'

But, ere the words had left his lips, or those demons could wind the wheels of their engine, the appalling tumult of a multitude rushing toward the temple became too fearfully distinct for even Pronto or Varus to pretend to doubt its meaning. But why it was, or for what, none could guess; only upon the terror-struck forms of both the Prefect and the Priest might be read apprehensions of hostility that from some quarter was aiming at themselves. Fronto's voice was again heard:

'Bar the great doors of the temple! let not the work of the gods be profanely violated.'

But the words were too late; for, while he was yet speaking, O Fausta, how shall I paint my agony of joy! there was heard from the street and from the porch of the temple itself the shouts of as it were ten thousand voices,

"Tacitus is Emperor!" "Long live the good Tacitus!"

Freedom and life were in those cries. The crowds from the streets swept in at the doors like an advancing torrent. Varus and Fronto, followed by their myrmidons, vanished through secret doors in the walls behind them, and among the first to greet me and strike the chains from my limbs were Isaac and Demetrius.

'And where is the lady Julia?' cried Isaac.

'There!'

He flew to the platform, and, turning back the wheels, Julia was once more in my arms.

'And now,' I cried, 'what means it all? Am I awake or do I dream?'

'You are awake,' replied Demetrius. 'The tyrant is dead! and the senate and people all cry out for Tacitus.'

I now looked about me. The mob of priests was fled, and around me I beheld a thousand well-known faces of those who already had been released from their dungeons. Christians, and the friends of Christians, now filled the temple.

'We were led hither,' continued Demetrius, 'by your fast friend and the friend I believe of all, Isaac. None but he, and those to whom he gave the tidings, knew where the place of your confinement was; nor was the day of your trial publicly proclaimed, although we found the temple open. But for him we should have been, I fear, too late. But no sooner was the news of Aurelian's assassination spread through the city, than Isaac roused your friends and led the way.'

As Demetrius ceased, the name of "Tacitus Emperor," resounded again throughout the temple, and the crowds then making for the streets, about which they careered mad with joy, we were at liberty to depart; and accompanied by Isaac and Demetrius, were soon beneath our own roof upon the Coelian.

With what joy then, in our accustomed place of prayer, did we pour forth our thanksgivings to the Overruling Providence, who had not only rescued ourselves from the very jaws of death, but had wrought out this great deliverance of his whole people! Never before, Fausta, was Christianity in such peril; never was there a man, who, like Aurelian, united to a native cruelty that could behold the shedding of blood with the same indifference as the flowing of water, a zeal for the gods and a love of country that amounted quite to a superstitious madness. Had not death interposed—judging as man—no power could have stayed that arm that was sweeping us from the face of the earth.

The prisons have all been thrown open, and their multitudes again returned to their homes. The streets and squares of the capital resound with the joyful acclamations of the people. Our churches are once more unbarred, and with the voice of music and of prayer, our people testify before Heaven their gratitude for this infinite mercy.

The suddenness of this transition, from utter hopelessness and blank despair to this fulness of peace, and these transports of joy, is almost too much for the frame to bear. Tears and smiles are upon every face. We know not whether to weep or laugh; and many, as if their reason were gone, both laugh and cry, utter prayers and jests in the same breath.

* * * * *

Soon as we found ourselves quietly in possession again of our own home, surrounded by our own household, Portia sitting with us and sharing our felicity, the same feeling impelled us at once to seek Livia and Zenobia. The Empress was, as we had already learned, at Tibur, whither she had but this morning fled, upon finding all interference of no avail, hoping—but how vainly—that possibly her mother, than whose name in Rome none was greater, save Aurelian's—might prevail, where the words had fallen but upon deaf ears and stony hearts. Our chariot bore us quickly beyond the walls, and toward the palace of the Queen. As we reached the entrance, Zenobia at the same moment, accompanied by Livia, Nicomachus, and her usual train, was mounting her horse for Rome. Our meeting I need not describe. That day and evening were consecrated to love and friendship; and many days did we pass there in the midst of satisfactions of double worth, I suppose, from the brief interval which separated them from the agonies which but so lately we had endured.

All that we have as yet learned of Aurelian is this, that he has met the fate that has waited upon so many of the masters of the world. His own soldiers have revenged themselves upon him. Going forth, as it is reported, to quell a sudden disturbance in the camp, he was set upon by a band of desperate men—made so by threats of punishment which he ever keeps—and fell pierced by a hundred swords. When more exact accounts arrive, you shall hear again.

Tacitus, who has long been the idol of the Senate, and of the best part of the people of Rome, famed, as you know, for his wisdom and his mild virtues, distinguished too for his immense wealth and the elegance of his tastes, was at once, on the news of Aurelian's death, proclaimed Emperor; not so much, however, by any formal act of the Senate, as by the unanimous will of all—senators and people. For, in order that the chance of peace may be the greater, the Senate, before any formal and public decree shall be passed, will wait the pleasure of the army. But, in the meantime, he is as truly Emperor as was Aurelian—and was, indeed, at the first moment the news of the assassination arrived. His opinions concerning the Christians also, being well known, the proclamation of his name as Augustus, was at the same time one of safety and deliverance to our whole community. No name in Rome could have struck such terror into the hearts of Varus and Fronto, as that of Tacitus—"Tacitus Emperor!"

After our happy sojourn at Tibur, and we had once more regained our home upon the Coelian, we were not long, as you may believe, in seeking the street Janus, and the dwelling of Isaac. He was happily within, and greeted us with heartiest welcome.

'Welcome, most noble Piso,' he cried, 'to the street Janus!'

'And,' I added, 'to the house of a poverty-pinched Jew! This resembles it indeed!'

'Ah! are you there, Piso? Well, well, if I have seemed poor, thou knowest why it has been, and for what. Welcome too, Princess! enter, I pray you, and when you shall be seated I shall at once show you what you have come to see, I doubt not—my assortment of diamonds. Ah! the news of your arrival has spread, and they are before me—here, Piso, is the woman of the desert, and the young Ishmael, and here, lady, are two dark-eyed nymphs of Ecbatana. Children, this is the beautiful Princess of Palmyra, whose name you have heard more than once.'

It was a pretty little circle, Fausta, as the eye need behold; and gathered together here by how strange circumstances! The very sun of peace and joy seemed breaking from the countenance of Isaac. He caressed first one and then another, nor did he know how to leave off kissing and praising them.

When we had thus sat, and made ourselves known all around to each other, Julia said to Isaac, 'that she should hope often to see him and them in the same way; but however often it might be, and at whatever other times, she begged, that annually, on the Ides of January, she with Piso might be admitted to his house and board, to keep with them all a feast of grateful recollection. Whatever it is that makes the present hour so happy to us all, we owe, Isaac, to you.'

'Lady! to the providence of the God of Abraham!'

'In you, Isaac, I behold his providence.'

'Lady, it shall be as you say—on the Ides of January, will we, as the years go round, call up to our minds these dark and bloody times, and give thanks for the great redemption. Were Probus but with you, and to be with you, Piso, your cup were full. And he had been here, but for the voice of one, who just as the third lion had been uncaged, fixed again the wavering mind of Aurelian, who then, madman-like, set on him that forest-full of beasts. At that moment, I found it, Piso, discreetest to depart.'

'And was your hand in that too, Isaac? Were those lions of your training? and that knave's lies of your telling?'

'Verily thou mayest say so.'

'But was that the part of a Jew?'

'No,' said Julia, 'it was only the part of Isaac.'

'Probus,' said Isaac, 'was the friend of Piso and Julia, and therefore he was mine. If now you ask how I love you so, I can only say, I do not know. We are riddles to ourselves. When I first saw thee, Piso, I fancied thee, and the fancy hath held till now. Now, where love is, there is power—high as heaven, deep as hell. Where there is the will, the arm is strong and the wits clear. Mountains of difficulty and seas of danger sink into mole-hills and shallow pools. Besides, Piso, there is no virtue in Rome but gold will buy it, and, as thou knowest, in that I am not wanting. Any slave like Curio, or he of the Flavian, may be had for a basket-full of oboli. With these two clues, thou canst thread the labyrinth.'

Though our affairs, Fausta, now put on so smiling a face, we do not relinquish the thought of visiting you; and with the earliest relenting of the winter, so that a Mediterranean voyage will be both safe and pleasant, shall we turn our steps toward Palmyra.

Demetrius greatly misses his brother, But what he has lost, you have gained.

What at this moment is the great wonder in Rome is this—a letter has come from the Legions in Thrace in terms most dutiful and respectful toward the Senate, deploring the death of Aurelian, and desiring that they will place him in the number of the gods, and appoint his successor. This is all that was wanted to confirm us in our peace. Now we may indeed hail Tacitus as Augustus and Emperor. Farewell.

* * * * *

Piso has mentioned with brevity the death of Aurelian, and the manner of it as first received at Rome. I will here add to it the account which soon became current in the capital, and which to this time remains without contradiction.

Already has the name of Menestheus occurred in these memoirs. He was one of the secretaries of the Emperor, always near him and much in his confidence. This seemed strange to those who knew both, for Menestheus did not possess those qualities which Aurelian esteemed. He was selfish, covetous, and fawning; his spirit and manner those of a slave to such as were above him—those of a tyrant to such as were below him. His affection for the Emperor, of which he made great display, was only for what it would bring to him; and his fidelity to his duties which was exemplary, grew out of no principle of integrity, but was merely a part of that self-seeking policy that was the rule of his life. His office put him in the way to amass riches, and for that reason there was not one perhaps of all the servants of the Emperor who performed with more exactness the affairs entrusted to him. He had many times incurred the displeasure of Aurelian, and his just rebuke for acts of rapacity and extortion, by which, never the empire, but his own fortune was profited; but, so deep and raging was his thirst of gold, that it had no other effect than to restrain for a season a passion which was destined, in its further indulgence, to destroy both master and servant.

Aurelian had scarcely arrived at the camp without the walls of Byzantium, and was engaged in the final arrangements of the army previous to the departure for Syria—oppressed and often irritated by the variety and weight of the duties which claimed his care—when, about the hour of noon, as he was sitting in his tent, he was informed, "that one from Rome with pressing business craved to be heard of the Emperor."

He was ordered to approach.

'And why,' said Aurelian, as the stranger entered, have you sped in such haste from Rome to seek me?'

'Great Caesar, I have come for justice!'

'Is not justice well administered in the courts of Rome, that thou must pursue me here, even to the gates of Byzantium?'

'None can complain,' replied the Roman, 'that justice hath been withheld from the humblest since the reign of Aurelian—'

'How then,' interrupted Aurelian, 'how is it that thou comest hither? Quick! let us know thy matter?'

'To have held back,' the man replied, 'till the return of the army from its present expedition, and the law could be enforced, were to me more than ruin.'

'What, knave, has the army to do with thee, or thou with it? Thy matter, quick, I say.'

'Great Caesar,' rejoined the other, 'I am the builder of this tent. And from my workshops came all these various furnishings, of the true and full value of all of which I have been defrauded—'

'By whom?'

'By one near the Emperor, Menestheus the noble secretary.'

'Menestheus! Make out the case, and, by the great god of Light, he shall answer it. Be it but a farthing he hath wronged thee of, and he shall answer it. Menestheus?'

'Yes, great Emperor, Menestheus. It was thus. When the work he spoke for was done and fairly delivered to his hands, agreeing to the value of an obolus and the measure of a hair, with the strict commands he gave, what does he when he sees it, but fall into a rage and swear that 'tis not so—that the stuff is poor, the fashion mean and beggarly, the art slight and imperfect, and that the half of what I charged, which was five hundred aurelians, was all that I should have, with which, if I were not content and lisped but a syllable of blame, a dungeon for my home were the least I might expect; and if my knavery reached the ear of Aurelian, from which, if I hearkened to him, it should be his care to keep it, my life were of less value than a fly's. Knowing well the power of the man, I took the sum he proffered, hoping to make such composition with my creditors, that I might still pursue my trade, for, O Emperor, this was my first work, and being young and just venturing forth, I was dependent upon others. But, with the half price I was allowed to charge, and was paid, I cannot reimburse them. My name is gone and I am ruined.'

'The half of five hundred—say you—was that the sum, and all the sum he paid you?'

'It was. And there are here with me those that will attest it.'

'It needs not; for I myself know that from the treasury five hundred aurelians were drawn, and said, by him, for this work—which well suits me—to have been duly paid. Let but this be proved, and his life is the least that it shall cost him. But it must be well proved. Let us now have thy witnesses.'

Menestheus at this point, ignorant of the charge then making against him, entered the tent. Appalled by the apparition of the injured man, and grasping at a glance the truth, all power of concealment was gone, conscious guilt was written in the color and in every line and feature of the face.

'Menestheus!' said Aurelian, 'knowest thou this man?'

'He is Virro, an artisan of Rome;' replied the trembling slave.

'And what think you makes him here?'

The Secretary was silent.

'He has come, Menestheus, well stored with proofs, beside those which I can furnish, of thy guilt. Shall the witnesses be heard? Here they stand.'

Menestheus replied not. The very faculty of speech had left the miserable man.

'How is it,' then said Aurelian in his fiercest tones, 'how is it that again, for these paltry gains, already rolling in wealth—thou wilt defile thy own soul, and bring public shame upon me too, and Rome! Away to thy tent! and put in order thine own affairs and mine. Thou hast lived too long. Soldiers, let him be strongly guarded.—Let Virro now receive his just dues. Men call me cruel, and well I fear they may; but unjust, rapacious, never, as I believe. Whom have I wronged, whom oppressed? The poor of Rome, at least, cannot complain of Aurelian. Is it not so, sirrah?'

'Rome,' he replied, 'rejoices in the reign of Aurelian. His love of justice and of the gods, give him a place in every heart.'

Whether Aurelian would have carried into execution the threat, which in a moment of passion he had passionately uttered, none can tell. All that can be said is this, that he rarely threatened but he kept his word. This the secretary knew, and knew therefore, that another day he might never see. His cunning and his wit now stood him in good stead. A doomed man—he was a desperate man, and no act then seemed to him a crime, by which his doom might be averted. Retiring to his tent to fulfil the commands of the Emperor, he was there left alone, the tent being guarded without; and then as his brain labored in the invention of some device, by which he might yet escape the impending death, and save a life which—his good name being utterly blasted and gone, could have been but a prolonged shame—he conceived and hatched a plan, in its ingenuity, its wickedness, and atrocious baseness, of a piece with his whole character and life. In the handwriting of the Emperor, which he could perfectly imitate, he drew up a list of some of the chief officers of the army—by him condemned to death on the following day. This paper, as he was at about the eleventh hour led guarded to his place of imprisonment, he dropt at the tent door of one whose name was on it.

It fell into the intended hands; and soon as the friendly night had come the bloody scroll was borne from tent to tent, stirring up to vengeance the designated victims. No suspicion of fraud ever crossed their minds; but amazed at a thirst of blood so insatiable, and which, without cause assigned, could deliver over to the axe his best and most trusted friends, Carus, Probus, Mucapor—they doubted whether in truth his reason were not gone, and deemed it no crime, but their highest duty, to save themselves by the sacrifice of one who was no longer to be held a man.

After the noon of this day the army had made a short but quick march to Heraclea. Aurelian—the tents being pitched—the watch set—the soldiers, weary with their march, asleep—himself tired with the day's duty—sat with folded arms, having just ungirded and thrown from him his sword. His last attendant was then dismissed, who, passing from the tent door, encountered the conspirators as they rushed in, and was by them hewn to the ground. Aurelian, at that sound, sprang to his feet. But alone, with the swords of twenty of his bravest generals at his breast—and what could he do? One fell at the first sweep of his arm; but, ere he could recover himself—the twenty seemed to have sheathed their weapons in his body. Still he fought, but not a word did he utter till the dagger of Mucapor, raised aloft, was plunged into his breast, with the words,

'This Aurelia sends!'

'Mucapor!' he then exclaimed as he sank to the ground, 'canst thou stab Aurelian?' Then turning toward the others, who stood looking upon their work, he said, 'Why, soldiers and friends, is this? Hold, Mucapor, leave in thy sword, lest life go too quick; I would speak a word—' and he seized the wrist of Mucapor and held it even then with an iron grasp. He then added, 'Romans! you have been deceived! You are all my friends, and have ever been. Never more than now—' His voice fell.

Probus then reaching forward, cried out, unfolding at the same moment the bloody list,

'See here, tyrant! are these thy friends?'

The eyes of Aurelian, waking up at those words with all the intentness of life, sought the fatal scroll and sharply scanned it—then closing again, he at the same moment drew out the sword of Mucapor, saying as he did so,

''Tis the hand of Menestheus—not mine. You have been deceived.' With that he fell backwards and expired.

Those miserable men then looking upon one another—the truth flashed upon them; and they knew that to save the life of that mean and abject spirit they there stood together murderers of the benefactor of many of them—the friend of all—of a General and Emperor whom, with all his faults, Rome would mourn as one who had crowned with a new glory her Seven Hills. How did they then accuse themselves for their unreasonable haste—their blind credulity! How did they bewail the cruel blows which had thus deprived them of one, whom they greatly feared indeed, but whom also they greatly loved! above all, one whom, as their master in that art which in every age has claimed the admiration of the world, they looked up to as a very god! Some reproached themselves; some, others; some threw themselves upon the body of Aurelian in the wildness of their remorse and grief; and all swore vengeance upon the miscreant who had betrayed them.

Thus perished the great Aurelian—for great he truly was, as the world has ever estimated greatness. When the news of his assassination reached Rome, the first sensation was that of escape, relief, deliverance; with the Christians, and all who favored them, though not of their faith, it was undissembled joy. The streets presented the appearances which accompany an occasion of general rejoicing. Life seemed all at once more secure. Another bloody tyrant was dead, by the violence which he had meted out to so many others, and they were glad. But with another part of the Roman people it was far otherwise. They lamented him as the greatest soldier Rome had known since Caesar; as the restorer of the empire; as the stern but needful reformer of a corrupt and degenerate age; as one who to the army had been more than another Vespasian; who, as a prince, if sometimes severe, was always just, generous, and magnanimous. These were they, who, caring more for the dead than for the living, will remember concerning them only that which is good. They recounted his virtues and his claims to admiration—which were unquestionable and great—and forgot, as if they had never been, his deeds of cruelty, and the wide and wanton slaughter of thousands and hundreds of thousands, which will ever stamp him as one destitute of humanity, and whose almost only title to the name of man was, that he was in the shape of one. For how can the possession of a few of those captivating qualities, which so commonly accompany the possession of great power, atone for the rivers of blood which flowed wherever he wound his way?

* * * * *

I have now ended what I proposed to myself. I have arranged and connected some of the letters of Lucius Manlius Piso, having selected chiefly those which related to the affairs of the Christians and their sufferings during the last days of Aurelian's reign. Those days were happily few. And when they were passed, I deemed that never again, so fast did the world appear to grow wiser and better could the same horrors be repeated. But it was not so; and under Diocletian I beheld that work in a manner perfected, which Aurelian did but begin. I have outlived the horrors of those times, and at length, under the powerful protection of the great Constantine, behold this much-persecuted faith secure. In this I sincerely rejoice, for it is Christianity alone, of all the religions of the world, to which may be safely intrusted the destinies of mankind.

END.