were still ringing in her ears; she had a fearful presentiment that they were the last she would ever hear from him.

On the day of the games, the great Flavian amphitheatre presented a coup d'æil of extraordinary magnificence. The sun shone brightly on the vast assembly, and his rays were reflected back from the jewelled and glittering attire of not less than eighty thousand spectators; while the approach to the amphitheatre was crowded with the lofty chariots of the patricians and wealthy plebeians, many of them of massive silver, curiously wrought, with the trappings of their horses and mules richly embossed and ornamented with gold; while the luxurious owners made an ostenlatious display of their opulence, in the ponderous magnificence of their attire. Their long robes of purple silk floating on the soft breeze, occasionally discovered, as they were moved by art or acci. dent, their rich tunics, gorgeously embroidered with the figures of various animals; while bands of soft music, heard at different distances, completed the enchantment of the scene.

A short time before the commencement of the games, the podium, or principal gallery of the Colosseum, was filled with the Roman nobles; the most distinguished places being occupied by the senators, foreign ambassadors, and great officers of state. In the midst of these was the emperor's seat, called, by way of eminence, the suggestum ; while from the podium, the rows of benches occupied by the Roman citizens extended, in one long, graduated, and concentric series, divided only by radiating flights of steps, l which they were formed into what was called the cunei, or wedges ; and above these again was a long covered gallery, adorned by a peristyle, or encircling range of columns, and entirely reserved for the use of the Roman ladies.

On the arrival of the emperor, the signal was given for the games to commence. Immediately large dens, placed round the arena, were thrown open, and five hundred half-starved and infuriated animals rushed forth to commence their work of destruction on each other. When the people were sufficiently satiated with this spectacle, the dead and dying beasts were removed, fresh sand was strewn over the arena, and the spectators prepared to turn from the contemplation of one horror to another, more exciting than the last, as it afforded a view of human agony. A door situated under the podium flew suddenly open, and a number of tall, well-made men, having the air of soldiers, entered the arena. On beholding them, the multitude gave a loud shout of joy. Their burnished arms flashed and glittered in the sunbeams, forming a strong contrast to the wretchedness depicted on most of their countenances. When they had made the circuit of the arena, an aged Roman who directed their movements assembled them in pairs, according to their height, strength, and agility. Then, laying aside their arms, they com

to cease.

menced, with wooden swords, a series of single combats, in which they displayed surprising address. A single glance sufficed to inform the young Adrian, who, with his father, occupied a position close to the emperor, that the unfortunate brothers were, as he had expected, coupled together. Then, casting his eyes over the immense multitude, he looked anxiously around for the monk, who, however, was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a trumpet gave the signal for the pretended combats

The director of the games took from the combatants the light arms with which they had hitherto fought, and returned to them instead their real weapons. To some he gave swords and bucklers; to others, called retiurii, a trident or spear in their left hands, and a net in their right; whilst their antagonists had bucklers and helmets, on which a fish was depicted, in allusion to the net; these last were called secutores, and their weapon was a scimitar. At the commencement of the combat, when the youngest of the unfortunate brothers perceived that he was to take part against the elder, he instantly resolved on his own death, and determined not to improve any advantage he might gain over Attalus; for, thought the generous youth, I shall not be missed in our home, while my brother has a wife and children to lament his loss. Thoughts of an equally noble nature passed through the mind of Attalus, on account of the other's extreme youth ; and the two brothers therefore advanced to the deadly encounter without any visible reluctance.

Meanwhile the eyes of the young Adrian had been engaged in an unsuccessful search for the well-known figure of his friend, and he at last began to hope that the precautions he had taken had proved effectual; for he had given orders that all the doors leading into the arena should be strictly guarded, and no one on any pretence allowed to enter; when au unanimous shout of “Hoc habet !"-he bas it-caused him to turn his head towards the arena. He there beheld Attalus stretched on the ground, from a deep wound in his side, which he had succeeded in forcing his younger brother to give him. The wounded man lay perfectly motionless ; he had heard, “heard, but beeded not,” the shouts that hailed his fall, for his thoughts had already wandered to his far distant home; in fancy be again was with his wife and his innocent children, whom he should never more behold,

“ He, their sire, Butchered, to make a Roman holiday.

Meanwhile the miserable Ataulphus, whose generous purpose was thus defeated, stood looking up, with an agonized expression, to his judges, as if imploring them to spare his brother's life ; but the spectators had observed something of backwardness in the prostrate man's defence, and accordingly sealed his doom by bending back their thumbs. The unfortunate Ataulphus durst not spare bis fallen brother. He felt stunned and bewildered ;

the arena swam around him, and he mechanically raised his hand, as if to give the fatal blow. But ere it could descend, his arm was arrested by a young man in the garb of a monk, who had suddenly bounded over the low wall which separated ihe arena from the podium. It was indeed the noble Stephanos, who had arrived in time to prevent the consummation of this frightful crime. There he stood, over the prostrate Goth, his look calm, pure, and holy as ever; while, with his hands raised in an imploring attitude, he thus addressed the excited spectators :-“ Brethren, Romans, you cannot be so lost to all feeling and sense of right, as thus to compel one brother to take the life of another ? Pause, I beseech you, ere you commit this crime ; abolish these monstrous cruelties.”

But the words of the intrepid monk were arrested by a shower of stones hurled at him by the angry multitude, who were enraged at the interruption to their favourite pastime. He sank on one knee, but still endeavoured to make himself heard, though his words were scarcely audible amidst the tumult. “May God forgive you, as I do, my brethren,” said hè, as he fell beneath a fresh volley of stones, which continued for some seconds with unabated vigour; and his last faintly murmured words were, “ Jesus, receive the soul of Thy servant, and grant that my blood may be the last shed in this place!" Then, like the great proto-martyr whose name he bore, he fell asleep.

All this passed in less time than it takes to relate it, and before the horror-siruck Honorius or Adrian could interpose; indeed, it would have been worse than useless to attempt to still the ungoverned rage of the multitude. When it was partly spent, the people paused, as if by one consent, to take breath. Alas! no need was there to continue their work; it was already finished, and the lifeless body of the young and noble monk lay stretched on that of the wounded Goth, to whom indeed it had formed a shield, which effectually protected him from the sury that had overwhelmed his preserver. When this was discovered, a universal feeling of horror seized the assembly, instead of their former rage; and when poor Adrian was horne insensible from his seat, and it was observed that Honorius himself looked nearly as pale, the feeling of shame and repentance spread.

The youthful Honorius, although greatly horrified at the scene he had just beheld, yet preserved his self-command ; and rising from his seat, said, in a clear, yet slightly agitated voice, that made itself distinctly heard throughout the vast assembly, in which-how great a contrast to the few previous moments !-there now reigned an hroken silence,-“ Romans, if indeed you deserve the name, you wait, I am sure, feel, when you are able to reflect, the atrocity

of the act you have this day committed ; and it shall never be said that Honorius could pass over such an act of wanton barbarity without notice. My soul has long revolted against these human sacrifices, and I here pronounce my fixed and unalterable decree, that the custom of gladiatorial combat be abolished at once und for ever !

A low murmur of submissive approbation ran round the im. mense multitude; and when silence was restored, Honorius continued,

“ The foul murder of the unfortunate monk will cause sorrow to many a noble heart; he was the dearest friend of the empress, and also of my sister. I command that his body be interred with all splendour, at the expense of the State, and that the captives who were engaged in this day's combat be instantly set free, and their wounds attended to."

When he had concluded these words, the emperor immediately withdrew, followed by most of his principal nobles. The sad news spread like wildfire through the before rejoicing city; and on his return to the palace, Honorius was met by a deputation of the monks whose superior had been the martyred Stephanos. They entreated permission to inter his remains in the burying-ground of their monastery, as such was always known to have been his wish. The emperor at length reluctantly consented to forego his intention of honouring the martyr by a splendid funeral, and the ashes of the saint were laid to rest in peace.

The grief of Placidia and Maria, particularly the former, was overwhelming, when they heard of the murder of their friend; but Placidia, whose affections were habitually under the control of religion, soon learned to moderate her sorrow, and in the consoling belief of " the communion of saints," she could feel comfort. What misery must not those feel on the loss of friends, who know not that the members of the Catholic Church, whether “still in the body, or whether the next world has received their spirits,” are still in communion with each other,—still members one of another! What happiness do they not lose; for they who feel this dread no separation, Death to them is not the loss of one dear, for their love extends beyond the grave; they can never experience that bitter loneliness of heart, with which we view the grave closing over one nearest and dearest to us, and feel that we have no one left to love.

But to return to my story. Poor Adrian had no such comfort, and continued insensible for hours. When he at last recovered, he immediately repaired to the monastery to which his friend bad belonged, for the purpose of being instructed in all things necessary for a Christian to believe, for such he now really was; convinced, at last, of the truth of Christianity, by a means which, at the same time that it almost broke his heart, brought with it consolation in the hope of beholding that dear friend once more ; and the same day that saw the burial of the martyr, witnessed also the consecration of another soldier of the Cross.

In a quiet, secluded burial-ground of the Christians, in the suburbs of Rome, and adjoining the chapel of the monastery, a simple cross marked the grave of the young and noble Telemachus. The setting sun shed its softest and sweetest bearns on that spot, gilding the edges of the cross, and seeming to shed a halo of glory around the martyr's grave

Say not it dies, that glory

'Tis caught unquench'd on high." He had not died in vain ; for from that hour the inhuman practice, against which he had protested with his life, was totally abolished. And that other wish so dear to the martyr's heart was also accomplished; for, ere that declining sun had sunk to rest, the youthful Adrian knelt by the early grave of his friend a baptized Christian. Long and earnestly did he pray for grace to follow, as that dear friend had done, in the steps of a Crucified SAVIOUR; that he might never be ashamed to confess His faith, but “manfully to fight under His banner, and to continue His faithful soldier and servant to his life's end." And his prayer was fully answered, but his trial was not long; for, after five years of unflinching zeal in his Master's cause, he was assassinated with his father, by command of the weak and infatuated Honorius, who had by some means been persuaded into the belief of his great general's treason; by which act he destroyed the only remaining prop of his fast falling empire.

This, dear reader, is no imaginary tale, but a true record of the self-devotion of a faithful servant of CHRIST; and if you are not weary of hearing of “the noble deeds of old,” we will, on a future occasion, again retrace together a few of the “ footsteps of saints." Meanwhile, let us fearlessly follow in the path which they have trod. Though fourteen centuries have elapsed since the gentle martyr won his crown, yet we, too, are soldiers, vowed to the service of the same Master ; still have we “one faith, one LORD;" and the noble example of the monk may teach us not to despond, or to fancy that, because our single voice, raised in the cause of truih, is feeble, it is therefore of no avail.

“ Faint not, and fret not, for threatened woe,

Watchman on Truth's grey height!
Few though the faithful, and fierce though the foe,

Weakness is aye Heaven's might."

Small as are single drops of water, it is of these that the mighty ocean is composed. “ Then faint we not for fear at the work before us, though it seem difficult, nay, almost impossible of ac

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