headlong valor. Pass after pass was penetrated, citadel after citadel was seized. With Vespasian, a campaign meant incessant action. But little time for rest was allowed either

to his own soldiers or to those of the enemy.

Yet, even in such a war as this, so crowded with events, it was not possible but that there should be some periods of rest. Short as these were, they yet occurred, and the soldiers formed their camps, and rested for a while from their labors. These were the times that were most dreaded by Cineas and Labeo.

For then, when all was secure, and the army rested in the well-fortified camp, and action for a while was suspended, the activity of mind which the business of war created was succeeded by a reaction, and from all their excitement they had to fall back upon idleness, and all the thoughts that inaction could foster.

For with them thought at such times meant memory, and memory meant misery. All that was sweet in past life now became turned to bitterness, from the fact that all was lost, and every pleasing recollection gave only a sting to the heart, which still yearned over the past and longed after it in its desolation. All that past was overshadowed by that great cloud of grief in which it had all terminated, and thought, which reverted to early life, went on through that life till it came to the gloom of that death-chamber in Britain.

Their only chance of peace or calm lay in incessant action, and when that ceased, then all within grew dark and gloomy. Before Cineas there came the form of that lost one to whom all his soul had been so closely bound, and all the joys of that early life, which once had been so sweet, now were turned into sorrows unspeakable by the thought that all had ended in death. Before Labeo there arose the form of his idolized boy, with his last words of love and longing, words which lingered yet, and sounded in his ears always, as though they would enforce attention and rouse him to obey them.

At such times the two friends instinctively sought each other's society, feeling in the silent sympathy of one another's hearts a peace and a comfort that nothing else could give. They did not speak many words with one another; they sat in silence; but sometimes, in low, mournful tones, they would talk of their old days at Athens, and while speaking of the times when they were boys together, they sometimes felt almost as if they were boys again. Yet in that boyhood at Athens there was one who was always present, enlightening the scene, whose merry, girlish laugh rang down through the years, and whose fair, delicate form rose before them among the images of that past which they thus recalled. Her name was never mentioned by either, but each felt that she stood prominent in the thoughts of the other, and, though they did not trust themselves to name her, they yet carried her in their hearts as the centre around which all memories gathered.

Of Rome or of Britain they never spoke. That was different. For those places were connected with a time when Helena was with Labeo all his own, and when his home was filled with sunshine by the bright beauty of that boy whom he so adored. Nothing which was in any way, however remote, connected with Marcus, was ever alluded to by Labeo. That was too sacred for even a distant allusion; the grief was all his own, and Cineas could not understånd the fathomless depths of a father's love and longing.

So passed the hours of rest, irksome and painful to both, and the effort was made to beguile their thoughts by plans of war, but the effort was often useless, and the only remedy for both lay in renewed action.

The action, however, was never long delayed. The short periods of rest were soon over, the camp was broken up and the march began once more, and the fight, and the struggle, with its dangers and vicissitudes, gave its own occupation to the mind.

Into that struggle they rushed with renewed ardor, flying

from thoughts so sad, flying from themselves, and seeking to renew that remedy which they had found before.

Thus the campaign went on, and month after month passed, and the Jews fell back farther and farther, evermore facing the invader, and never dreaming of giving up. For now the whole nation had roused itself as it had never done before, and all the patience, and all the expectation, and all the longing of all its past life now sought satisfaction. Faith looked for the great Deliverer, and still, through defeat and ruin, awaited his appearance.

XXXVI.

JOTAPATA.

HE Roman army had been delayed for weeks before Jotapata. The city was one of the strongest in the country, and here all the scattered bands of Jewish warriors, who had fallen back before the invader, had taken refuge. The siege was carried on by the Romans with the utmost skill and vigor, but the Jews fought with such energy, they were so vigilant in defence, and so active in their sorties, that but little progress was made. The gain of one day was lost on the next.

The Roman army thus lay before the city, still preparing those engines common to the war in those days, employing all the means of attack then known, and carrying on their operations with that patient perseverance which always distinguished them.

Labeo, as usual, had been most active in urging his men to the attack. His battering-rams were brought up most frequently, and hurled most furiously against the massive walls; his men rushed most desperately to the assault, whether by scaling-ladders or by movable towers; and the balistas and catapults which he employed were worked most incessantly. On the other hand, if he annoyed the Jews most, he also suffered most from them; he was exposed to the most frequent attacks, and was forced to make use of the most watchful vigilance.

On one day they had been fighting desperately. The Jews had been fired with new ardor by the advent of a skilful

leader, who was conspicuous on the walls, and stimulated his followers to acts of extraordinary daring. Burning material was showered down upon the soldiers who worked the rams. Boiling oil was poured upon those who sought to scale the walls. One movable wooden tower, which had been just finished after extraordinary labor, was reduced to ashes, and the Romans were forced to retire, wearied and exhausted, to their camp.

Labeo, worn out by the day's
The wearied guards

There they retired to rest. labor, flung himself upon his couch. kept a languid watch.

Suddenly a shout was heard, a wild on the instant by shouts of fury and wild alarm spread through the camp. to their feet. Labeo was up first, and self, rushed to the scene of tumult.

cry

of alarm, followed of vengeance. The The soldiers started hastily arming him

The camp was filled with confusion. From every side the soldiers came flocking, some half-armed, others unarmed, an agitated crowd. The guards were falling back, and already within the ramparts there was a host of Jews, who, in their fierce onset, swept all before them. At their head was the leader whose valor had been so conspicuous on the walls that day. He it was who had planned this night attack, and he was leading on his men to victory.

Labeo saw it all at once. In an instant he had gained his presence of mind. He issued his commands, formed his men, and presented a well-ordered front to the triumphant enemy. The Jews rushed forward. The Romans withstood the shock. In that hour of alarm and terror, they stood erect and bold, half-armed, yet without fear, inspired by the cool orders of Labeo, and by their own firm discipline. Again and again the Jews flung themselves upon their enemies, but the Romans stood their ground. Then began a close hand-to-hand fight, in which each assailant singled out his man and attacked him personally.

In that fight the leader of the Jews was particularly dis