he inquiringly, laying emphasis upon a form not used by Romans.

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"Yes," said the old man, "I did so; I am a Christian."

Julius half uttered an exclamation of joy. "And I,” said he, "and my friend are not Christians, but we wish to know something of them, and I was taking him to one of their meetings."

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"And I was taking my daughter to one," said the old man. He stopped and seized the hands of Cineas and Julius, one in each of his. Oh, young men-my saviours and benefactors -may the great God grant this to you, to know him through Christ Jesus, as I know him."

He then walked onward. "I am a Christian, yet I have shed blood this night. But what else could I do? I would not do it for myself, but could I do otherwise when she was in such danger? No; no."

Julius did not understand such scruples. He declared that he should like to have killed them all-even if the leader himself had fallen. “And you, Roman soldier as you are,” said he, "what else can you do but fight, if you are attacked?"

The old man said nothing to this, but continued on and talked about something else. At last they reached a door, and here the old man paused. "You are too late for the meeting," said he, "and my home is of the humblest kind; but if you will come up and rest for a while, I shall consider myself honoured." Both Julius and Cineas expressed their pleasure, and followed the old man into the house.

The house was a lofty one, like most of the common habitations in Rome. They followed the old man up flight after flight of steps, until at last they reached the very topmost story. Here they entered a small room, and this was the home of their new acquaintance. In this room there was a couch, a closet on the top of which were a few small vases, a chest, and some Another room adjoined this, which belonged to his

seats.

daughter. The young men sat down, and the maiden brought a lamp, and after putting out their torches, the dull glimmer of the single lamp alone illumined the apartment.

The old man told them that his name was Eubulus, and that of his daughter Lydia. Julius and Cineas had now more leisure to regard the appearance of their new acquaintances. Eubulus was a man of venerable aspect, with crisp gray hair, and beard cut close, with strongly marked features, that would have been hard and stern, if it had not been for a certain sweetness and gentleness of expression mingled a kind of sadness that predominated there. His speech was somewhat abrupt, not from rudeness, but rather from a kind of pre-occupation of mind. His daughter had no resemblance whatever to him. A sweet and gentle face, with large, dark, luminous eyes, such as are peculiar to the south, with heavy masses of dark and thick clustering hair, and rich olive complexion; a face that showed much womanly purity and tenderness, with the most delicate sensitiveness; and in the depths of those dark eyes of hers there lay a power of love and devotion which could be capable, if aroused, of daring all things and enduring all things. Yet she was a shrinking and timid girl now, not yet recovered from her fright, grateful to her preservers, yet almost afraid to look at them; gently obeying her father's wishes, doing his bidding quickly yet quietly, and then retreating like a timid fawn into her own room. Julius followed her with his eyes, and looked into that dark room where she had retreated, as though by his gaze he would draw her back.

I shed blood to No! no! I cannot

"I have shed blood this night," said the centurion, after a pause; "but I call God to witness that it was not for myself; no, sooner would I die a thousand times. save my child-my pure and spotless one. have sinned in that. Could I give up my darling to these fiends?"

"Sinned?" cried Julius, in deep amazement. "That blow

that you struck for her was the holiest and noblest act of your life, and I, for my part, thank God that I have lived, if only for this, that I might strike a blow in the same cause. The work that I have done this night is that which I shall ever remember with joy. Could you repent when you recall that sweet girl as she crouched in terror behind you? Can you dare to wish that you had flung down your sword and given her up? Away!"

Julius rose to his feet, trembling with indignation. Eubulus caught his hand in both of his own, and pressed it to his heart.

"Noble friend! Your words give me peace. You cannot know what horror the thought of shedding blood can cause the Christian. But you speak peace to my conscience. No-for that sweet child I would slay a score of enemies."

"And I-a thousand!" burst forth Julius, impetuously.

Eubulus said nothing, but his eyes lighted up with pleasure as he looked at the young man who stood before him in his generous enthusiasm.

"I am astonished at what you have said!" exclaimed Cineas, in unfeigned surprise. "The enemies of the Christians charge them with cowardice and baseness; and what greater baseness could there be than this, that a father should quietly and without resistance give up his own daughter to a band of ruffians? A religion which teaches this cannot come from God."

"Say no more," said Eubulus; "I am ashamed of my own feelings. He will forgive what I have done."

"Forgive!" cried Cineas. "Is that the word?-forgive! He will approve of it. He will give you his praise. O my friend, do not abuse that religion of yours, which has in it so much that is great and pure, or else you will make it inferior to philosophy, and you will turn away from it one earnest soul that seeks, above all things, for the truth. I am that one; but if in you, a Christian, I find such sentiments as these, what can I think? Will I not be forced to think that it is all baseness, and poverty of spirit, and abject meanness?"

“No, no,” said Eubulus.

“If you are an inquirer, you must For all men are weak and

not judge by me or any other man. frail. We are full of sin and iniquity. Judge from the words of the Holy One himself, and from these only; not from the sinful lives of his sinful followers, and least of all from me; for I am the weakest of his servants. I strive to do his will, but I cannot. My life is passed in struggles after a better nature; but, woe is me! my struggles seem to be all in vain. And therefore my conscience is tender, and I suspect sin in every action, and I feel that all which I do is sinful; but he is my hope. He has been the hope of my life. He will not desert me. I trust in him."

Eubulus covered his face with his hands.

The two friends remained for some time longer, and at length took their departure. They walked home in silence, each filled with his own thoughts-Cineas wondering at this new manifestation of tenderness of conscience and susceptibility to remorse, or at least to repentance; Julius thinking of nothing but that bright vision which had dazzled him, and thrown a glorious radiance over the humble abode of the centurion.

XVI.

A Christian Meeting.

HE events of this night gave Cineas a strong desire to see more of the Christians. He waited with some impatience for that day which they esteemed so sacred, that he might go with Julius to their meeting, and see and learn what it was that animated their hearts, and gave holy motives to all their lives. He began to understand the power which their religion exerted over these men, which made them so watchful over every action, so sensitive to faults, so quick to repentance. He wondered at this new manifestation of human feeling, and thought that if he himself were thus to weigh every thought and examine every action, he might find much to condemn, and many things of which he might not approve. Philosophy had never shown this. He had never learned thus to look in upon his heart and test all its impulses, and examine all its emotions. The internal struggles which he had experienced had all referred to that effort which he made to separate himself from the attraction of material things. He had sought to live an intellectual life, to regard the world from a philosophical height, and despise its grosser cares; but now he began to discover, in a dim and uncertain way, a mightier task-the effort to make all thought and feeling absolutely pure and holy. The discovery at first filled him with a kind of dismay, for he felt that this absolute purity of motive must be unattainable; yet he saw that the