and embarking on this, as one who risks himself on a raft, so to sail through life, unless one could be carried more safely, and with less risk, on a surer conveyance or on some Divine Word?

"This passage he used often to quote, till we both used the term as a well-known formula, expressing some power from heaven, greatly to be desired, which should make all things plain.

"But, as the months passed on, he grew feebler, and there was nothing that could rouse him from his deep depression. I saw, at last, that he was dying.

"And so, at last, he passed away," said Cineas, in a scarce audible voice. "He left me-my friend, my more than father; and, as he lay in my arms in that last hour, the last words that I heard him speak were,—

There was silence for a long time. Cineas was the first to break it.

"Alas," said he, "all life and all religion are full of perplexity! What can make it vanish? Never can it, till we arrive at that other life in which we all believe. Then we shall know the

truth. Do you remember those noble lines of Pindar, Helena, that we used to sing when we were together in our dear home in Athens? Let us sing them again, dearest sister, and carry our hearts back to childhood, and our thoughts up to heaven.” At this invitation, Helena rose, and took a lyre that lay upon one of the seats. Then, after a brief prelude, she sang the following, while Cineas accompanied her :—

"In the happy fields of light,

Where Phoebus with an equal ray

Illuminates the balmy night,

And gilds the cloudless day;

In peaceful, unmolested joy

The good their smiling hours employ.

Them no uneasy wants constrain

To vex the ungrateful soil,

To tempt the dangers of the billowy main,

Or break their strength with unabated toil,
A frail, disastrous being to maintain;

But, in their joyous, calm abodes,

The recompense of justice they receive,
And, in the fellowship of gods,
Without a tear eternal ages live."

"Without a tear eternal ages live!'" repeated Helena. "There are no words in all our literature equal to these. Oh, for that life! But how can we find it?"

"God will lead us, dear sister," said Cineas.

And, as Pomponia looked at these two with their earnest hearts, her eyes filled with tears, and she breathed a prayer that God would indeed guide them to that knowledge of himself which is life eternal.

A

IX.

The Return.

FEW weeks afterward they were seated in the room, when an unusual disturbance suddenly arose out

side. There was the quick tramp of horse-hoofs and the shout of the household servants. Helena turned pale as death, and, starting up, staggered toward the door, like one in a dream, murmuring some inarticulate words. Cineas dashed past her, and hurried out, but was encountered by a man in the costume of a Roman officer, who rushed into the room, and, without saying a word, caught Helena in his arms. He strained her to his heart, as though he would never part with her again. Not a word was spoken. All stood mute. Sulpicia looked earnestly at the new-comer, and all her boasted Roman fortitude gave way completely. Large tears flowed down her face, and, clasping her hands, she looked upward in ecstasy. Helena did nothing but weep and sob and cling to the one whom she loved so fondly. At last her husband quietly disengaged himself, and fondly embraced his venerable mother. Then he looked around for his son.

"Where is Marcus?" said he, and that was the first word he spoke.

"There," said Helena, pointing to where Marcus stood.

The little boy stood at the end of the room, with a pale face and a strange mixture of joy and bashfulness in his expression. Tears stood in his large, spiritual eyes, which were fixed on his father.

"My darling!" cried his father, and, seizing him in his arms, he covered him with kisses. Marcus clung to him, and hid his face on his shoulder for a moment, then took another long look at him, and hugged him again and again, twining his arms about his neck. Labeo then, carrying his son in his arms, went to greet Cineas, who had just entered. Their greeting showed their warm-hearted affection.

All was joy. Labeo had a kind word for all. He gave orders for universal festivity for three days, and sacrifices, and then came to the room to answer all the questions that every one was eager to ask him.

He was very tall, with a magnificent head and strongly marked Roman features. His frame was most powerful-only less than gigantic; and his whole mien and tone showed that he was accustomed to command. In him there was less intellect than

in Cineas, but more force, or, at least, more appearance of it. He was the ideal of the Roman-strong, resolute, and self-contained a representative man of the race which had conquered the world.

Yet this strong man--this Roman-had a depth of affection which cannot easily be described. All his heart seemed to yearn over his wife and child. He never let Marcus leave his arms, but held him there while he sat, and carried him about while he walked. Marcus, too, returned his father's affection with equal intensity. He seemed to rest in his father's arms in perfect peace, with the air of one who had nothing more to wish for. Helena sat on one side of him, clasping his arm, and pressing it to her heart; while Sulpicia sat gravely on the other, not yet having regained all her self-control, but often stealing a look, such as a mother only can give to her idolized son, with the usual stern expression of her face softened into a milder

one.

Labeo had much to tell them.

He had emerged from behind clouds and darkness into the light of home; he had come back

as though from the dead; and the events of that dark period were full of interest to all.

He told about the march of his army to Mona, their destruction of the stronghold of the druids, and the confidence which they all felt that the country was completely subjugated. He described the surprise and horror that filled every mind when they heard of the rising of the Britons, and the fierce thirst for vengeance that rose in the minds of the soldiers.

"Although the accounts were exaggerated by fugitives, yet none of us for a moment ever doubted that we could restore

affairs, and punish the enemy. We at once marched back across the island to London, only meeting with scattered bands of barbarians. Here Suetonius at first intended to collect the scattered bands of our soldiers from different garrisons; but we heard that an immense army of Britons was approaching. Suetonius was determined to gain a decisive victory, and so he resolved to fall back, till he received more reinforcements. We gave up the town, but allowed all the inhabitants, who wished, to come with us. The Britons came after us as we fell back. At last, all the scattered soldiers had joined us, and our army amounted to ten thousand men. Then Suetonius resolved to fight.

"He chose a spot surrounded by woods, with a narrow opening, and a thick forest in the rear. An open plain was in front. Here the Britons found us, and prepared to attack. They brought an incredible multitude, and were so sure of victory that they placed their wives and children in waggons within sight, where they might behold the valour of their husbands. This is a common practice with these Northern barbarians; for their women encourage them by their cries.

"Boadicea went round among them in her chariot, with her two daughters, telling her people of her wrongs, and urging them to vengeance. The Britons were all wild with disorder, dancing