to your will. Accursed be the day when first I consented to bow before the vile images of your heathen gods."

"Come, friend! spurn from thee these rash thoughts, and thou wilt rejoice ere long at having done so, should fortune throw some one of these Christian dogs into our power to make an example of at the amphitheatre."

"O! Marcus! my heart revolts at the very thought of seeing a fellow being coolly sacrificed in his own blood by an infuriated beast. Although in battle my heart quails not at the sight of death, and my feelings have been inured to danger, yet to see one die thus defenseless and unpitied, is more than I can endure."

"Away with these faint-hearted expressions, Cesario. I hope myself to enjoy it much. Our parties are out this evening in search of some of these lurking Christians, whom, in case they should not recant, our Emperor's mildness will certainly not spare from gracing this brilliant spectacle. But the hour of my watch draws near. Wilt thou return with me?"

"I would fain remain a little longer, Marcus, to enjoy the solitude which reigns here. My thoughts agree not with the noise and bustle of the soldiery, and the loud shouts of their midnight revelings. Good evening."

But

The voice of the last speaker betokened him to be yet in the flower of youth. His commanding person, dignified mien, and open countenance, showed that he possessed all the high-souled qualities of a generous man. The father of Cesario-who was of Roman origin-had been called, shortly after the birth of his son, to reside at Antioch, for the more successful prosecution of his business. The effects of the great Apostle's labors there were at that time marked by the large numbers that espoused his faith. Among these were many of Cesario's friends. His father, with Roman firmness, continued obstinate to all their persuasive appeals, but yet allowed them privately to visit his house. Owing to his close attention to his affairs, he had no opportunity of observing the secret influence which their conversation had on the mind of his son. yet Cesario avowed it not openly, nor gave his father reason to suspect his alienation from his country's gods; but obeyed him in all things consistent with his filial duty towards him. His father early observing the quickness of his 'parts,' and his native strength of mind, gave him as liberal an education as his means could afford, and Cesario added to his outward graces those studied acquirements which nature never imparts. A sudden reverse of fortune about this time, made a wreck of the 'little all' which the father possessed, and forced him to leave Antioch, once more to make Rome his residence. The parting from his friends was a trial to the young man as severe as it was unexpected. It was with difficulty that they finally released him, after many warnings against the numerous attractions and vices of the capital. Cesario however anticipated no

danger. For him, the noise and bustle of the metropolis as yet held out no attractions. He looked not forward with pleasure to the time when he would be a sharer in its confusion, or with delight, when he might behold the gorgeous decorations of the temples of its gods. A stranger alike to each and all of these, he parted from his friends notwithstanding all their warnings, with a resolution not sufficiently fortified against their seductive influences. Soon after his arrival at Rome, he joined the army. Here he was to move in a far different sphere from that to which he had been accustomed. His amiable disposition gained him many friends; whose acquaintance, however, owing to his religious feelings, he did not at first cultivate.

The circumstances peculiar to a soldier's life, together with the taunts of the few who sought intimacy with him, soon dissipated from his mind all his former impressions. He had been successful in his military career and owing to the services which he had rendered the Emperor, whose life he had once saved, he had been offered the day before this conversation with Marcus, a high rank in the army. On the evening of that day, however, as he was strolling forth on a solitary walk, meditating upon his success, and the aid which he would be able to afford his father, he encountered one of his old friends from Antioch.

The old man chided him much upon the abandonment of his faith and recalled to the mind of Cesario all his former feelings. He now resolved to decline the station tendered to him by the Emperor, and meet with the Christians at their obscure places of worship, as often as was in his power. He had appointed the evening of his walk with Marcus as the time to visit, with the Christian Julius, one of these meetings, and tarried after the departure of Marcus for that purpose.

He had not, however, to wait long, for Julius had been for some time near them in concealment, and had overheard a part of their conversation. As soon the soldier's retiring footstep was no longer to be heard, he appeared before Cesario. His hoary locks, that trembled in the evening breeze, his tottering footstep, and thin attenuated hand, which he stretched forth to greet his friend, plainly indicated the lapse of threescore years and ten. His lofty brow and firmly compressed lips marked the independence as well as decision of his character. The difficulties through which he had passed, the dangers which he had experienced, in endeavoring to offer his worship unknown to the myrmidons of power, had imparted to the expression of his features a degree of care, and you might mark the hurried glance of his eye, as he cast a look this side and that, to see if all was quiet before he addressed his friend.

Satisfied that there were no intruders near, he relaxed his features to a more mild expression, and looking upon Cesario with an air of satisfaction, first broke silence.

"God bless thee, young man, for that just reply of thine to thy fierce companion. He thought to deter you from your resolution by showing the dangers against which we Christians are obliged to contend. But it is not fitting for a man to become a servant of Christ, unless he is willing to encounter difficulties.

"His company was not agreeable to me, Father," replied the young man, "but having sought mine and being an old friend, I could not shake him off.”

"Well, Cesario! I rejoice that he is gone, but the time of our assembling is approaching and we must hasten. We meet in a grove beyond the cemeteries of the nobles." Cesario immediately rose from the bank on which he was reclining, and drawing the old man's arm within his own, assisted him in his progress towards the place of rendezvous. They proceeded onward for some time, in silence; when the old man anxiously inquired

"Are you unwell, Cesario? You were not wont to be in such a mood, when at Antioch."

"No, Father! but I can no longer claim that buoyancy of feeling, which was then a source of pleasure to my friends as well as of gratification to myself. The renunciation of my allegiance-that thought, has ever gnawed like a canker worm in my breast. The excitement of battle has for the time driven it away, but the calm moments of subsequent reflection have been attended with pangs of remorse, that seem to cause my life blood gradually to ooze away. My comrades and superiors ascribed to the favor of the gods their victories, and honored him, as under their especial eye and inspiration, who fought the bravest there. I then thought of the nothingness of their views of the little power their gods could have to preserve their lives in times of danger, and then too came the thoughts of my injured Savior, than whom none else could have saved my life. And now, (pointing to a huge monument of an ancient patrician family, ornamented with statues and busts of the gods,) now, when I look at the splendid mausoleums of the departed great, and think that equally with the humble Christian, whose carcass they throw to the dogs, their bodies moulder there to dust, it levels these distinctions. Such thoughts as these make me sad, Julius, and have robbed me of my youthful gaiety."

The old man sighed, but made no reply. They now approached the place of meeting.

It was situated amid some old ruins, the walls of which in addition to the obstruction which the trees afforded, effectually obscured the glimmering of the lamps. There was but a single entrance, at which the old man now softly knocked. He was evidently expected, for on his making the reply of "a brother," to the demand of "Who's there," the door was without any hesitation opened. The aspect of the inmates presented a novel scene to Cesario. Around an elevation in the center of the apartment, on which was spread a sup

per, which they were about to take in commemoration of the death of their Lord, were seated several females, closly veiled. A sigh, which escaped the lips of one, as he entered, attracted his attention.

The dignity of her mein bespoke the nobility of her birth, and the wide difference between her station and that of her more humble companions. As Cesario advanced, she drew aside her veil, and he started as he recognized the features of a noble lady, whom he had seen at the palace the day before, when he was presented to the Emperor. There was an air of sadness in her expression, which excited in his breast a feeling of sympathy, and as soon as he had received the warm congratulations of the elders he sat down beside her.

"Are you conscious, noble lady," inquired he, "of your danger in coming to this place?"

"I am well aware of the danger of it, sir," replied she, "but are you not the soldier whom the Emperor honored with his smile of approbation, and do you not know your own danger, should your presence here be known at the court?"

The loud sound of voices from without, interrupted their conversation, and roused Cesario, who sprang towards the entrance. He was withheld however by a faint shriek from the lady, who raising her arms implored him not rashly to endanger his life. He however entreated her to be under no apprehension, as they might be but mere passers by. But here the clangor of arms and the loud demand for admittance too plainly informed them that they were soldiers. Cesario instinctively sought for his sword, but alas! he had left it at the camp.

"It is well," said Julius, who coming up at that moment had observed him; "but we must hurry these females to yonder place of concealment," (pointing at the same time to the entrance of a passage from which he had removed the stone by which it was before obscured.) The females immediately ran towards it and were safely concealed; but Cesario, notwithstanding the entreaties of the lady, united with those of Julius, could not be induced to enter, but chose to abide the danger with his companions. They had but just turned towards the door, after closing the passage, when the soldiers bursting it open, sprang towards the party with loud shouts of exultation. The leader of the company, on seeing Cesario, paused in astonishment, and closely observing him, exclaimed, "can it be possible that you are in such a place as this, my friend. Would to Jove that it had fallen to the lot of some other party to have discovered you. I little thought of finding thee here."

He immediately ordered the soldiers to take the party, six in number, into custody, and himself led the way out of the grove. They had not advanced far, however, before they were met by another party under Marcus, which immediately joined them and proceeded with them towards the city.

The leader was closely engaged in conversation with Marcus, whom he informed concerning the capture of Cesario. Marcus expressed much surprise, having been in his company during the early part of the evening, but readily inferred the cause of his remaining after he himself had departed, when he was told that a young man, whose description answered to Cesario, had been seen by the spies, coming from the place where he had left him. He immediately ordered his companion to take charge of both parties, telling him that he would forthwith proceed to the city, that he might engage some of his most influential friends to plead with the Emperor, and obtain the release of Cesario.

But it was all to no purpose. In vain they called to his recollection the services Cesario had rendered him-the imminent danger he had incurred in order to preserve his life; the Emperor remained inflexible, and declared that unless he renounced his religion and worshipped Supreme Jove, his life should not be spared. At this declaration, even the firm nerves of Marcus were for once relaxed, and his lip quivered as he thought of his friend suffering that fate at the very idea of which he had shuddered. He well knew the firm determination of the character of his friend, and that not even the prospect of such a death would make him waver.

He, therefore, with a mournful pace, made his way to Cesario's place of confinement. Before his arrival, however, he was overtaken by a soldier, who informed him that his presence was required in the camp, and it was noon before he was able to visit his friend. The old jailor expressed much sympathy for the situation of bis prisoner, it having been excited in his behalf by the mild demeanor and winning manner of Cesario. He informed Marcus of his fears with regard to the state of the young man's health, who during his attendance had been troubled with an incessant cough, which caused him much pain. The suspicions of Marcus were then confirmed, that Cesario's exposure of himself without the necessary precautions, during his watch on a stormy night a short time previous, had materially injured his constitution. He desired the jailor to show him to his apartment. Marcus on his entrance was much struck with the change in the appearance of his friend, whom he found reclining on a miserable couch. He was pale, and the expression of his countenance was sad, but the calmness blended with it there, could by its unison move with pity the most relentless heart. A tear started in the veteran's eye, and a pang shot through his breast, as he thought how much more sad would be that face on his informing him there was no hope of pardon. His countenance was lighted up with a placid smile as he observed his comrade approaching, and he extended his hand to bid him welcome.

"Ab, Marcus," said he, " this gloomy apartment and these cruel chains form a strange contrast with the honors of the world's ambition, yet I covet more the heavenly honors I hope to receive, than the loftiest station Trajan can bestow."