"To show you the admirable effect of this assonance, when joined with really good poetry, I will read you some of my lines."

Saying this, he took up the parchment before him, and read the following,

"Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis,

Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo
Bassaris, et lyncem Mænas flexura corymbis,
Evion ingeminat; reparabilis adsonat echo."

"Notice," he continued, proudly, "the fine effect of this assonance of syllables mi malleonis and bombis, vetulo and superbo; and so two in the alternate lines, bombis and corymbis, superbo and echo. This is the thing with which I intend to revolutionize our Latin verse.

"But I have no cordial supporters," he said, pettishly. "All the literary men are carried away by prejudices. The Greek models enslave them. I admire the Greek poetry above all things; but I think that something might be done to make Latin poetry have some original excellence.

"Perhaps it is a blessing for the world," he continued, "that I, who am an emperor, should be such a lover of literature, and have genius for music. By this means I can advance them. If I had been but a humble Roman, I might then have been happier. I would have produced some great epic poem-better than Lucan's Pharsalia, at any rate. But I am what I am; and I give my genius for music to the world.

"But even as it is, I can show that the cares of state are unable to repress the efforts of genius. Amid all my troubles my lyre is my best consoler. There is no power like that of music. You shall see what a proficient I am. Shall I give you Pindar ?"

And without waiting for an answer, he struck the wires, and, throwing his head back in a languishing way, he sang the

noblest lines of ancient poetry, of which the following is the best representation, though only a paraphrase :

X.

The Hope of the Jews.

T was not the smallest part of Helena's joy that the nurse began to recover health and strength with greater rapidity. Day after day found her improv

ing. The return of Labeo made her share the prevailing happiness. She obtained greater self-control, and was no longer subject to that excessive agitation which had before retarded her recovery.

When she heard of Labeo's return, she murmured, "It is all his love. He makes you happy again, and brings back your husband. And for me, too, though I have been sorely distressed, he has his own peace and rest.”

She now talked of one theme to her mistress. Day after day she talked of Him who loved us and gave himself for us. Helena listened, and gradually found herself sharing the views of the nurse. Perhaps, if left to herself altogether, the return of her husband might have mitigated her eagerness to learn of Christ. But here was one who never ceased to think of him. And so it was that, although her sorrow had departed, yet her desire after the truth remained.

The nurse undertook no argument; she only described. Women often go by intuitions, or by a certain instinct, which leads them to see what must be right. The story of the incarnation was thus unfolded to Helena. Not only did it seem to

her to be more worthy of God than the speculations of philo

sophy or mythology, but it seemed to her to be the only theory worthy of him. Out of all this there stood one great idea, which came with stronger and stronger force to her mind, till it reigned there supreme, till it drew all her belief. This was the great truth that God loves.

Here was that in which the nurse found all her comfort. The dealings of God with man left in her mind not a shadow of doubt about this. And all was summed up in Christ. She told to Helena all the story of the Revelation from the first, and all had reference to this.

to say,

He made it for happiThus she would go on turned away from him,

"God has always loved the world. ness, and he works for its happiness." "The creatures whom he made and we have all sinned against him; but he never forgot us, or despised us. He loved us so that he came to us to save us. He came and lived as I have told you, and consented to die to save us."

"Rest comes at last," she said, at another time. "All the sorrow and all the sighing and all the suspense of life shall cease. I shall see him. I know he will not cast me off at last." Tears started into her eyes. "Because I have put my trust in him, and in grief I have only clung more closely. Out of the depths I have cried.

"The dearest thought to me is that my Saviour was the Man of sorrows. There was never sorrow like that sorrow. And amid it, he knew what it was to look on a broken-hearted mother. Out of all, he brings this for me, that I may know how wondrously he loves. O Sorrow, and Love, and God! What have I to do but to give myself all up to him in whom all these were united, and wait till he calls me home?" Home, rest, peace, heaven. All these words dwelt so constantly on the lips of the nurse that they lived in Helena's mind, and she, too, gained that sublime idea of the future.

For the nurse assured her that heaven was the solution to the

mystery of earth, and that those who loved God had no home here, but yonder.

In that room Pomponia, the wife of Plautius, often made a third. Helena soon had an opportunity to read the precious manuscript of which she had heard so frequently. In that simple story, with its divine words and its momentous events, she saw new displays of the character of that One whom she sought. She heard words which sank deep within her heart; she saw actions which thrilled through her being. And out of it all there came forth, more sublimely than ever, the great truth of all truths to her,-God loves.

She found herself drawn gradually to One who thus became precious to her. She wished to give herself to him. To go to him, to confess, to pray, seemed to become a necessity of her nature. A new bond of union grew up between the mother and the boy. Now they could sit together, and talk of those things which both loved. The manuscript was there, from which Helena could read, and Marcus could listen, till he knew all.

These gradual changes went on almost imperceptibly. Helena often spoke with her husband about these things, which were prominent in her thoughts. Yet, with all their strong mutual love, there was little intellectual sympathy between these two. Labeo gave his wife all his heart, and loved her with tenderness and the most single-minded devotion. Her love for him was equally intense. But in mind, these two went in different paths. Helena and Cineas were so completely in accord that they could sometimes pursue the same train of thought, so that one could tell what the other was thinking of. They looked at things in the same way. But the husband and wife were different.

When Helena spoke of her feelings or the trials of her mind, she said much that was almost unintelligible to her husband. He listened, and often caressed her, and told her that she was