feet are chilled in the cold and shadow of the grave, that such thoughts begin to stir in my mind. They have made me wretched, my Pertinax. They have

made me wretched."

"You do wrong to indulge them, Claudius. The gods, that have been your father's gods, should be yours also."

"But my mind receives them not, Pertinax. There is no justice in them. They are not gods of heaven, but of earth." "I do not understand you, Claudius." "I do not understand myself. There are images of singular hope and beauty. I know not how I caught them. I know not whence they come. I know not by what train of reflection I was led to them; but the past world seems to be benighted and full of horrors, and a purer future approaching."

Pertinax smiled.

"Let me not offend you, Claudius; but you remind me of the needy vagrants who have risen in the east, and some of whom have travelled hither, as vermin are said to find their way, with a mystic instinct, to the sleeping man. These Galileana, my malison upon their obstinate heads, have kindled some spark in your fancy. By the rod of Mercury! those zealots thrive marvellously. Was it not Cicero, who said, one day, in the Forum, that there could be expressed no opinion or creed so wild and ridiculous, but that some would be found to adopt it?"

"No, Pertinax; of these poor Galileans, I know nothing. I am not even acquainted with their history doctrines. All I know of them is, that they eat children, and are watching to raise a sedition in the empire. I heed them not, Pertinax. The changes which have been going on in me are the result of my own thoughts and observations. I cease to shout, "I am a Roman citizen!" I cease to attend those bloody scenes in yonder huge temple. I am tired of conquests and triumphs-of gladiators and gods of the slaughter of beasts and of men-of plague, war and famine of statues and arches-of palaces and slaves. They all show to me, as I slowly retire into the grave, like a bloated dreamcruel-wicked-false. Jupiter himself I have ceased to respect to worship to believe."

"Claudius Pompeianus! great Jove! I tremble to hear you; and I tremble the more that such thoughts and misgivings during late years, have crossed my mind. I knew not that they had

ever found entrance into another's. I shuddered at them as blasphemous, strove against, and overcame them."

"I, on the contrary," replied his friend, "gave them full license. It cannot but be, that they are the voice of nature, of truth. Look on that scene, oh, Pertinax! Behold the crowds who swarm the streets and Forum. They come to gaze on the amphitheatre. They are impatient to behold its arena -to see its balconies clothed with thou sands, and its sand wash with blood-to behold the innocent given up to the jaws of fierce beasts-and to rejoice at the sight of poor slaves butchering each other. What effect have these spectacles, except to render them more like the beasts whom they drag here to feed on the bodies of their fellow-creatures. And our emperor patronises this, and our gods do not forbid it! Oh, Pertinax, when I look abroad at such an hour as this, with the round moon asending majestically up the azure heaven, and the kindling stars scattered so gloriously above our heads; when I look on Rome as she even now spreads before us, with her temples, arcades, baths, theatres and aqueducts, her gates, bridges, walls, circuses, columns, arches and porticos, with her mighty concourse of human beings inhabiting around us at this point of time we call the present; when I reflect upon the nature of those laws and customs which prevail among us, a tremendous suggestion curdles the very blood in my heart. A thought that all this mighty empire shall one day fall-that these crowds shall be looked upon by future generations as barbarians -that these splendid palaces will lie crumbling; these temples and columns be broken and scattered about; these populous streets, empty; and yonder huge monument, now so bright and new, so crowded with statues, so attractive as a scene of amusement to the concourse of Romans, will lie an awful wreck; those gorgeous walls, stripped; those towering summits, broken; those stupendous walls, rent; those peopled balconies, lonely grass-grown. Gods! is it possible that ever Rome can pass away? That other eyes will ever gaze, ages hence, upon yonder silver, spotted moon, looking down, unchanged and unchangeably, upon the earth, while that proud palace of the emperors, this beautiful arch, yonder graceful column, that mighty Coliseum, shall be laid in the dust? Come, fever such painful thoughts into your head, oh Pertinax ?"

"No, never," cried the prefect. think while the globe stands, Rome will stand. I see not what power, less than a general earthquake, can reverse these mighty walls. It may not be war. Time cannot do it, and Etna and Vesuvius are too far off. No, no, my Claudius. Believe me, I have much more important themes of speculation than such air-woven theories. The Roman sports may be somewhat rough, I grant; and the gods may not be literally what they are represented to us, but gods there must be; else, whence came this goodly universe? and the people, of a surety, must be amused and fed, or, great Hermes be our witness! they would rise on their keepers, and tear them, like so many Getulian lions. What employs more of my reflection, is the growing violence of the emperor. I fear his ferocious and sanguinary nature. I, too, am sick of Rome and of him. I would fly, but where can I fly beyond the reach of a Roman emperor? What sea can I cross? What protection can I claim? I am here, as in a spacious prison, and, since the death of Marcus, I have lived in expectation of the blow, which every day renders more probable." "And yet you had the firmness to venture, yesterday, into his presence?" demanded Claudius.

"I am a Roman," was the reply; "besides, I believe in destiny."

It was thus that men's minds were undergoing a dim, unconscious preparation for the reception of Christianity. The human race were gorged with the sight of despotism and blood, and the morn of Truth was dawning upon them.

All Rome was in motion. The whole fourteen regions of the city pour forth their numbers toward the amphitheatre. From the marble palaces of the patricians went forth splendid equipages, full of beautiful ladies and gay gallants, Wagon-loads of citizens rolled heavily on through the dark, narrow streets, whose houses towered into the air, and thousands of more wretched objects of penury came forth from their miserable garrets, attracted by, the grand amusement of the Coliseum, and especially, eager to behold the emperor upon the

"Hast thou a place for me, Codrus?" "Thou shalt sit by me on the bench of my poor father's friend Varus, and if there be none other, thou shalt have my own seat, for much of the time I shall be below with the beasts and the gladiators. I have also a trifle or two pending on some of those brawny slaves, and shall like it, maybe, to be with them a moment before their coming out. So on, Sylvius. You fellow with the greasy bonnet, make way! If the fat woman spring not aside, Sylvius, leap your horse over her. To the wall, old boy! to the wall with that squalling brat! or ye will need a surgeon some of ye. On, Rapo, on!" and plunging their heels into the flanks of their high-spirited animals, the two young roués dashed in among the shrinking, struggling, and swearing pedestrians, and were soon in sight of the amphitheatre. There they found an immense concourse of chariots, guards, horsemen, lictors, magistrates, patricians, and plebeians. The edifice was already completely filled, and many were compelled to remain outside, shouting occasionally as a distinguished noble was recognised, making his way among the crowd.

"By Hercules !" exclaimed Codrus, as, with the aid of one of the officers with whom they were acquainted, the two young men gained the interior, "this same amphitheatre of ours makes no mean show. I never enter it without, a feeling of admiration, familiar as I am with every part, from the den of the lion to those lofty seats yonder of the beggars."ʼn s

"Saw you ever such a crowd here before?" asked Sylvius. "How many are there do you suppose?"

"A hundred thousand," cried the other. "It holds comfortably about eighty thousand, but the pressure here must admit at least twenty thousand. All the entrances, passages and staircases, and vomitories are crowded. Hark to those knaves in the wooden galleries. Heard you ever such a roaring and yelping as they keep up?"

"Hermes! what a wall of heads!"

cried Sylvius; "after all, there is no pleasures in the world like those of the amphitheatre. The very sight of so many thousands sloping up from the floor to the canopy, and arranged in such grand order, worth a pilgrimage." "See! they are drawing the canopy over head. I thought the sun would be somewhat too familiar with our faces."

The conversation was interrupted by the formalities usual on commencing the exhibition. Amid heavy thunders of applause and loud acclamations, the emperor himself entered the arena. He was clad in a fantastic garb, and, at first, had over his shoulder the lion's hide and the club of Hercules. Before, however, commencing the display of his skill, these useless appendages were laid aside. He occupied a part of the arena divided from the rest, where perfectly protected by a high scaffold and a net of golden wire, he was quite safe from the beasts.' The imperial performer began by several exhibitions of his dexterity, which excited the liveliest delight. At an incredible distance was set up a board, on which was painted the figure of a Parthian wearing upon his bosom a star. Upon this star twelve times in succession he placed an arrow, and with so much accuracy, that each succeeding shaft splintered the last. On preparing to launch the twelfth, the applause subsided into a dead silence, except that cries were here and there heard of "Human skill cannot add another! It is impos. sible!" and a voice of one of his flatterers sounded through the hush

again with new enthusiasm by the ap pearance of a creature so extraordinary, as to occasion among the auditory as much astonishment as delight. It was the celebrated camelopardalis or giraffe, a tall, gentle creature, quite unknown to the Roman auditory. At the same time a huge rhinoceros and a gigantic elephant appeared, and after the people had amused themselves awhile with their motions, each one fell beneath the javelin or the arrow, not even the scaly hide of the rhinoceros protecting him from the fatal stroke. The elephant, his bulky form fallen heavily to the ground, had not yet ceased from the convulsions of death, when one hundred lions leaped together upon the arena, roaring, lashing their sides with their tails, and springing round the space (so much larger than that to which they had been accustomed) with all the aroused wildness of recovered freedom, goaded to fury by rage and hunger. The vast concave was filled with their frightful bellowings. It was a hideous sight to watch their actions. Some lay sullenly down, yawning and showing their jaws and teeth, but apparently too long sobered by confinement to have left any of their ancient spirit. Some sprang up the walls, as if ravenous to reach the seats of the spectators, and then were heard shrieks and shrinkings, mingled with laughter and applause, for the audience were completely safe from these fierce creatures, though the near sight of their immense size and diabolical ferocity, and thirst for human flesh, appalled the bravest. Several leaped upon the dying elephant, and some on that of the tender giraffe, both of which were soon torn to pieces amid shouts of laughter. Others had also attacked the rhinoceros, when the emperor, laying aside one hundred arrows, again mounted his pedestal and successively laid each of the mighty beasts dead. This feat was more agreeable to the spectators than the preceding; but the next was greeted with much more lively joy; and when it' was announced that the largest and fiercest lion that had ever been seen in Rome, was about to be turned loose upon an unarmed gladiator, whom the emperor meant to save from the very claws of the raging beast, the whole vast concourse stirred themselves in their places with the deep hum of excitement heard only in such immense assemblies; and sage philosophers, grave senators, poets, historians, dignified matrons and beautiful women, leaned forward with eager and breathless interest and delight.

SOME moments elapsed before any new figure appeared in the arena. The carcasses of the beasts were removed, and the imperial actor took some refreshment after his fatigue. At length a new proclamation ushered in the lion. I know not what there is about this animal of superhuman majesty and terror. His sublime front resembles that of Jove in wrath, but with the might and grandeur of the god, he unites the burning restlessness, the merciless and fiery anguish and despair of some evil demon who has for ages groaned in the lurid regions of hell. This huge beast was of an immense stature. Food had long been withheld, to render his ferocity more gnawing and desperate. As he trod slowly around, after a dozen or two ineffectual leaps to. ward the spectators, (each one again creating shrieks and a rush back among

the crowd in the first gallery, as if the intense fury of the creature would have lent him veritable wings), he stopped in the centre, and casting his malignant and burning eyes around, gave a tremendous roar that shook the whole building.

The

It happened at this moment that a dispute arose upon one of the benches, which disturbed the assembly. quarrel was respecting the right of precedence, and at length reached such a height, that the disputants were beside themselves with rage, and totally regardless of consequences. At length, as a bright blade glittered in the air, at the scene of contention, a burst of indignation from all parts of the assembly almost drowned the roar of the lion, and a centurion grasped the uplifted arm of the youth who forgetful of the imperial presence, had attempted to strike his foe to the death. The noise of so immense a concourse is not easily quelled. A thousand various cries rent the air. In a pause of the commotion, the prefect of the city, at the command of the emperor, demanded the name of the offender and the cause of the dispute,

and the voice of the centurion was heard in reply, stating the aggressor was the son of a senator.

"It is the will of the emperor," cried the prefect, "that the prisoner should should answer and defend himself, if he hath defence to make. Let him speak in his defence."

A tall and handsome youth rose, and said in a voice firm but full of lofty passion, "Of what am I accused? I have but returned insult with insult, and blow with blow."

You are accused of contempt and sedition in the presence of the emperor." "Whoever makes it, the accusation is false," was the bold reply.

"What if the emperor himself stand thy accuser ?"

All

There was a moment's silence. Rome knew the hatred of Commodus to the senators, their families and adherents. The very lion, with his huge yawn, and pacing slowly on around the arena, was forgotten.

"The emperor repeats to thee, Lucius Codrus, what if he himself stand thy accuser ?"

"Truth is immutable," replied the indignant boy. "Falsehood is always false."

A deep murmur ran round the crowd. "Oh Jove!" "Oh Mercury!" "Her. cules aid him !" "He is mad!" burst from a hundred lips. There was a momentary pause.

"Ask him," cried a shrill voice from the highest gallery, "if he be not related to the family of the Antonines ?"

This family will be remembered by the student of history as having been sought out for sacrifice by Commodus with peculiar anxiety.

The question was put by the prefect at the emperor's orders.

"I am," cried the youth, "the last relative of that injured family."

The presence of the emperor, and the brutal amusements in which they were engaged, seemed to animate the spectators with one uniform spirit of merciless cruelty. The same Romans who, without the walls of the Coliseum, and in the absence of their ferocious monarch, would have execrated his persecution of the Antonines, now courted his favour by loud murmurs of anger and revenge. Various cries again broke simultaneously from the huge slope of faces.

"To the axe-to the axe with the last of the Antonines." While others shouted, "To the Tarpeian rock!"

At length the same shrill voice which

had detected his relationship with Arius Antoninus, shrieked above the general tumult. "The lion-the lion! hurl him over the balcony upon the arena!” A simultaneous peal of applause,-the ladies with smiles of delight leaning forward and waving their hands in token of approbation, denoted the superior propriety of this suggestion.

After a pause, during which the emperor conversed with some of his officers who had descended upon his platform, proclamation was made that the insolent criminal should be thrown to the lion, but that the imperial mercy not casting him to utter condemnation, would deign to destroy the royal beast with an arrow before he had torn his prey to pieces.

Theon, a Greek slave, who was himself to be cast to the lion, and who stood on another platform ready for the leap, received the jocose gratulations of his friends. In the meantime Codrus, who was no other than our young roué who had entered the amphitheatre so merrily with his friend Sylvius, was taken down before Commodus. He had a large wager pending upon this very attempt of the emperor to save, by a timely arrow, a human victim from the jaws of the lion. He had personally inspected the lion before he made the wager, and had confidently betted that no human hand could save him from at least slaughtering the prey. This Codrus was a hot-headed youth, whose passion often carried him beyond the bounds of reason. The near sight of the arena and the lion, cooled his courage, and almost overwhelmed him with affright. Pale, trembling, sinking with horror, he was brought upon the platform of the emperor, who received him with a savage smile.

"So, Codrus, thou art the last of the Antonines! I would have spared thee, poor boy, yet thou must needs thrust thyself into the lion's den. But lift thy head. Die like thine ancestors-like a Roman; and thou must die. What, knave, kneeling? Out on thee!"

"I was mad," cried Codrus; for he heard the lion roar close to his back. “I was mad, noble emperor; my life! my life! my life!"

"Shame upon thy cowardice, slave and dog. Thou meritest death were it but for thy craven heart. But, off from my feet. Will the fool back from my feet? I tell thee it is but a jest, Codrus, it is but a jest; I will save thee, boy. By the immortal Jove! thou art as safe as if in thy own palace. Down with thee, knave!"