me.

"Not for you? Why not? Yes it is, for you as well as for I want you there".

"No, no; I'm a barbarian,-you are like a god."

"A god! I am only a child, but I hope to go there, for children are loved and welcomed there; and don't you wish to go there?"

"I wish it, but I must go elsewhere."

"Elsewhere!"

"Yes, to live again as a warrior, or perhaps as an animal. Who knows? I don't."

Yes; but not here, not as a warrior.

No;

angel, in that golden world, if you only

Don't you wish to?"

"I wish to be with you," said Galdus, lovingly, taking the thin white hand of Marcus in both of his, and looking at him with adoring fondness.

"Don't you love God?"

"You are my God."

"O Galdus!

Don't

Don't dare to say that. Only one is God.

you love him?"

"I know nothing about him. I fear him."

"Fear him!"

"Yes; all that I ever heard about one God, or many gods, makes me fear one and all. They are all fierce and terrible. Let me keep away from them all, and be near you."

"You do not know him then," said Marcus, in mournful

accents.

"Those who know him best, fear him most."

"Who?"

"The Druids. They are our priests. They are the only ones who tell us of him."

"They don't know him," said Marcus, positively.

66

Why not? They are wise, venerable men, with gray hair

and long white beards. They live in groves, and sometimes

see him, and he tells them what he wants.”

"And if he does, do you not know how good he is?”

"Good! he is terrible."

"Terrible! how?"

"He thirsts for blood.

Nothing but blood. I have seen

my own brother laid on a stone, and the priest plunge his sharp knife in his throat."

Marcus shuddered, and looking earnestly at the Briton, asked,

"Why, what do these murderers do that for?"

"Because he wants blood. I have seen worse than this. I have seen a great cage filled with men, women, and children, and these priests kindled fires around it and burned them

all up."

Marcus moaned, and hid his face against the breast of the Briton.

"Oh, horror!" he cried at last, "what do they mean by this? What do they think? Do they think they know him? What do they think he is? It is not God that they worship. It is the devil. He tells them lies. He is the one that wants blood."

"Whoever it is," said Galdus, quietly, "that is what they do, and that is why I fear him, and think him terrible."

"They

"But this is all wrong," said Marcus, passionately. do not know him. He loves us. He hates blood. These dreadful things are dreadful to him."

"Loves us?" repeated Galdus, slowly.

"Yes."

"I don't understand. He sends thunder and lightning, and storms and tempests. How can he love us?

thunder I fear him most."

When I hear the

"And I," said Marcus, "have no fear, for I know how good he is. Why should I fear the thunder? He gives us food and

light, and the sweet flowers, and the bright sunshine. That shows what care he takes of us."

"I didn't think of that," said Galdus, slowly.

"And then, you know, he has been here. He wished to take us all to heaven, and so he came and lived among us—and died. Haven't I often told you this?"

"Yes; but I don't understand it," said Galdus, with a bewildered air. "You are different from me. I learned to fear him, and now, when you tell me such things as these, I think they were done for you and not for me."

"He went

"For all," said Marcus, in a sweet, low voice. about all the time among poor people, and sick people, and little children, and spoke kind words; and when he saw any one suffering, he at once went there and comforted him."

"As you did to me," said Galdus, with glistening eyes and tremulous voice, “in that place where I lay struck down by a coward, and all men left me to myself, where they had thrown me, as if I were a dog; and you came with your fair face, and I looked up and thought I saw a vision. For you stood with tears in your eyes; and then I first heard your dear sweet voice, and you spoke pityingly, as a mother might speak, and I was astonished; but I worshipped you in my heart. When you talk to me of your God, and tell me how he came to the poor and the suffering, then I think of you as you came there, and I see nothing but you. I know not your God. I know mine. You are my God, and I worship you."

And the rude, strong Briton pressed Marcus in his arms, strongly yet tenderly; and the boy felt the beating of the stout heart in that giant frame, which now was shaken with emotion, and he knew how strong a hold he had on the affection of that fierce and rugged nature.

"You love me, dear Galdus, and I know it well, but don't say that I am your God. I love you, but there is one that oves you better."

"No, no-that is impossible. I know how you love me. And you have made me forget my country."

"He loves you," said Marcus, with childish persistency. "He will give you a better country."

"I cannot think of him. You are the only one that I can think of, when you talk of love, and piety, and such things."

"Oh, if you only knew him, and could think of him as I do," said Marcus, "then you would love him, and you would know that anything that I have done is nothing to all that he has done! If I came to you when you were so wounded and suffering, be sure that it was because he sent me there to you. He was there, but you did not see him. He has done far more than this, too; he has died for you, to make you love him, and bring you to heaven at last."

"That is the way you always talk," said Galdus, "but I cannot see how it is. I don't understand it."

So they spake, and still, as Marcus told his childish faith, Galdus could only say that he did not understand. To all this Cineas listened, and marvelled much, and wondered where the boy had obtained that deep conviction which he expressed, speaking of it always as he would speak of some self-evident truth, something which he had always known, and supposed all other men knew as well as he.

XIX.

At Court.

HE fortunes of Labeo had been advancing in the meanwhile. Some time before, Nero had given him a tribuneship-an office once powerful, but

now with very little authority. However, it was a step onward in that path in which Labeo wished to advance, and the manner in which it was given was a mark of great and unusual distinction, for he was not required to hold the office of quæstor, which generally preceded it. During the year of his tribuneship, he acted with great moderation and reserve, understanding well the character of the times, and knowing that in Nero's reign the want of exertion was the truest distinction. After this was over, he was made prætor, and conducted himself with the same judgment and silent dignity. He had no occasion, as it fortunately happened, to sit in judgment, for that branch of the magistrate's business did not fall to his share. The prefect of the city had charge of the public offences, and nothing remained for him but the exhibition of public spectacles and the amusement of the populace. He conducted these at once with magnificence and economy, so that while there was no profuse expenditure, he yet was secure of popularity.

He found himself as welcome as ever at Court, and Nero still with extraordinary constancy jested at his "Cato." Had it been the affections of the emperor that were concerned, or the public interest, or the wishes of the people, his favour to Labeo