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"Would that this sad task had devolved on other than me," said Marcus, "for I fear I fear there is but one alternative."

"Cease, Marcus," replied the young man, "I know what you would say; but the horrors even of such a death as awaits me shall not cause me to recant."

At this instant the jailor entered and whispered in the ear of the prisoner. "Ah!" exclaimed he, "let her come in. This friend of mine is a true and faithful one, and she has nothing to fear. The jailor retired, and immediately introduced a lady, the richness of whose dress and queen-like dignity of mien revealed to Marcus her nobility of birth. He was surprised to see her clasp her hands and sob, as she looked upon Cesario; but infinitely more so, was he, when on her removing her veil, he recognized the features of Antonia, a descendant of one of the noblest and most ancient families of Rome. He however spoke not, but Cesario thus addressed her: "Can the noble Antonia deign to visit an humble captive in his cell? She certainly cannot be accustomed to such scenes."

"Soldier!" replied the lady, "though the paltry distinctions of this world may dissever us, yet in the bond of Christ we are one. Often have I visited other Christians in misfortune, and this is nothing new to me; but I can give thee no joyful tidings from the Emperor, for he heeded not my entreaties nor listened to my request.”

"It is as I expected," said Cesario, "for he has already rejected one petition. But I count it a higher honor and a greater reward hereafter to die a Christian than to live an Emperor on his throne."

The lady, after handing him some manuscript copies of the scriptures, departed, and Marcus himself, after he had learnt from him the manner in which he became acquainted with Antonia, retired, and left him to seek repose.

During the time that intervened between his confinement and the exhibition at the amphitheatre, he was often visited by the lady Antonia and his other Christian friends. His father, after that he had heard of his having been been taken at a Christian place of worship, remained indifferent to the fate of his son. Although he visited him for the first few days of his imprisonment, with the hope that he would renounce his Christian principles, his visits were a source of no consolation to Cesario.

The morning of the fatal day at last arrived. Marcus had attended upon him during the greater part of the night, but was required to be absent on duty at sunrise. The young man had failed so fast, that Marcus was doubtful whether he would be able to survive many hours. He was exceedingly affected by his parting interview, in which Cesario had, with many instructions, presented him the writings of the Apostles. The prisoner was now left alone. He sat by the only window of his apartment, and the morning breeze fanned his pale cheek, which exhibited the ravages of consumption, and raised upon it a bright hectic flush.

The city was all noise and bustle. The heavy tramp of thousands as they rushed by his prison-the hum of the multitude, which like a troubled sea, rolled on towards the amphitheatre, was unheeded by him. Once indeed he cast his eyes upon them, and thought how little sympathy he should excite in their unpitying breasts. It was with him

"The hour

When memory resumed its wonted power,

And thoughts of days gone by, came rushing on
Like sounds of many waters, mellowed down
By intervening distance."

He thought of his former peaceful life at Antioch-of his after career of his success and of the renown he might have gained, but then he thought that the honor with his God would be far greater should he die a martyr in the Christian cause.

The crowds had now assembled at the amphitheatre. From the most commanding situation of the patrician near the arena, up to the high elevation of the plebeian's stand, all was life. On this side were the seats set apart for the ladies of rank, gaily decorated with garlands. On that the superb stations of the nobles, in the center of whom, seated in an ivory chair covered with a rich canopy, was the Emperor Trajan.

The contests of the gladiators were now over, and he ordered his prefect to give the signal for introducing into the arena, the Christians Cesario and Julius.

A silence as of death reigned throughout the assembly, and a murmur half escaped their lips, as they observed the gray hairs of the one, and the countenance of the other pale and wan, both leaning on the arms of the officers for support.

The Emperor, through his prefect, informed them that pardon should now be granted, if they would publicly renounce their faith. Cesario shook his head but was unable to speak, and Julius, in the name of both, declared, that rather than give up their allegiance to Christ, they would suffer death. A cry of "vile blasphemers," from a part of the assembly, caused the Emperor to give the signal for letting loose the lion.

Cesario looked up towards the Emperor with a mild expressive

ness

"Oh, in that meek forgiving eye

There was a brightness, not of mirth

A light, whose clear intensity

Was borrowed not of earth.

Along that cheek a deepening red

Told where the feverish hectic fed,"

and as he turned his gaze upon the assembly, he caught a glance of the lady Antonia, who as she met his eye, fell with a loud shriek in

to the arms of her attendants. That cry gave the death stab to Cesario's heart, for he fell backwards into the arms of Julius. The lion with a bound prostrated them both to the earth, and seeing the old man attempting to rise again, tore him in pieces.

But Cesario stirred not, and the assembly expressing their approval, Trajan ordered the lictors to drive away the lion, and carry out his body for his friends.

*

*

*

*

That night, the soldier Marcus reflected how little in accordance with his expectation had been his enjoyment of the amphitheatre. Yale College.

C. B. J.

POETICAL DEFINITIONS.

BEAUTY! the setting sun,—

When spire and cloud, and mountain heights around,
Are with a wreath of living glory crown'd,

As night comes on.

Love! a spirit's breath,

With fairy music borne around the heart,
Enchanting, melting, conquering every part,
Till chill'd in death.

Joy! the whistling breeze,

That comes with wanton lip and merry feet,
To dance along each hill and dale, to greet
And kiss the trees.

Praise the close of day,

When Nature chants from many tuneful throats,
Her vesper hymn;-awhile it echoing floats,
Then dies away.

Hate! the raging storm,

When thunders rush abroad with furious bound,
And keen-eyed lightnings wildly dance around
The tempest's form.

Hope! the magic fay,

That mounts its midnight steed and rides so soft
Along the rolling night, then soars aloft

At opening day.

Faith! religion's flower;

In life it shows a bud of priceless worth,

Which cost a Saviour's blood,-but blossoms forth
At dying hour.

305

ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCHES.

SUPERSTITION.

THE origin of superstition is a mystery alike to the historian and the philosopher. The former, after vain attempts to trace it out, is obliged to resort to a species of philosophy, and to conjecture that a symbolical mode of writing led the ancients by degrees from the worship of God through various representations, to the worship of the representations themselves as of a multiform Being; while the latter seeks for it in the human mind, independent of outward circumstances. On this point however, we must be content to remain in ignorance; and the truth if known might be far from complimentary to human nature. We have before us the general fact that the world was long involved in the night of superstition; and that the faint glimmering light of that philosophy which hinted at the existence of the true God and the immortality of the soul, was soon extinguished, while those who had enkindled or who nourished the flame were persecuted unto death. During this time codes of morality, equally with the superstitions on which they were based, were subject to continual change. Yet often as system followed system among the nations of the East, the result showed that each differed from its predecessor in little more than name, and that all were alike degrading.

Book after book was written, from the Zendavesta of the Egyptians to the mythologies of the Greeks and Romans; yet none of these "sacred records" exerted a salutary influence upon morals. There is however, even in the black volumes of heathenism, here and there a page illumined with almost inspired light, containing much that is beautiful and entertaining, though little that proved beneficial to mankind. This fact has led many to believe "that in the beginning, all religious truth was made known to man by direct revelation, but that this gradually faded away, leaving a few traces only to be preserved by tradition." We shall not attempt to discuss this theory, as it would be impossible for us ever to arrive at the truth.

There were, as has been said, many superstitious notions among the ancients both beautiful and instructive. Not a few of these obtained in Egypt, and as the newly discovered key to hieroglyphics has unlocked her arcana, we need not scruple to profane her "holy things." The writer recently met with various medals, &c. bearing Egyptian, oriental, and other devices, the descriptions of which he has ventured to translate from the Latin, aiming rather at correctness than beauty in his translation.

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ISIS.

"This remarkable statue of the goddess Isis, wrought in the purest crystal, rests upon a superb column of black and white porphyry. Cuperus, Pignorius and others, make mention of Isis. In her and Osiris, who was either her brother, husband, or son, (for authors are in doubt on this point,) almost the entire religious belief of the Eyptians and the oriental nations is centered. We have a complete history of these two divinities in the works of Julius Firmius, Plutarcht and L. Diodorus, unless their narratives be considered fabulous. Many of the ancient divinities were made subordinate to Isis among whom were Minerva, Proserpina, Diana, Lucina, Juno, Ceres and Terra. Hence a pillar was erected at Capua bearing this appropriate inscription,

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This agrees with what according to Plutarch, was inscribed on her temple. 'Εγώ ἔιμι πᾶν τὸ γεγονὸς, και ὄν, και ἐσόμενον. Ego sum omne quod extitit, est et erit. In like manner on another pillar she is called Myrionyma, (mille habens nomina,) et Fructifera, et Salutaris et Invicta. Fabrettus numbers her also among the most illustrious divinities of the Greeks. An interesting account of Isis may be found in the writings of Matthæus."

It is evident that much more is meant than is expressed in the inscription first quoted, and the reader may exercise his ingenuity in explaining the periods. The second and third inscriptions cannot fail to remind one of the scriptural character and attributes of the great I AM.

Cupidines navigantes in conchâ.—(In cameo.)

"Whether ancient philosophers, with their unassisted reason, acquired correct notions of a future state of rewards and punishments, is yet doubtful, since such an opinion hardly accords either with the theory that the souls of the departed enter upon a state of forgetfulness of the past, by quaffing deep oblivious draughts at the Lethæan stream; or with the Pythagorean doctrine of metempsychosis. Nevertheless, one's house is not better known to him, than are Tartarus and Elysium to the sons of the Poets.' On one point however poets differ; some placing the abode of happiness, (which is supposed to adjoin the orb of the moon,) in Spain; others in the islands on this (the eastern) side of the Atlantic; but most beyond the ocean. They all boast that the souls of heroes and the genii are borne to the Elysian fields; and in this beautiful gem three genii

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