having set the city on fire, but rather on account of their sullen hatred of the whole human race. They were put to death with exquisite cruelty, and to their sufferings Nero added mockery and derision. Some were covered with the skins of wild beasts and left to be devoured by dogs, others were nailed to the cross, numbers were burnt alive, and many, covered over with inflammable matter, were lighted up when the day declined, to serve as torches during the night. For the convenience of seeing this tragic spectacle, the emperor lent his own gardens. He added the sports of the circus and assisted in person, sometimes driving a curricle and occasionally mixing with the rabble in his coachman's dress. At length the cruelty of these proceedings filled every breast with compassion. Humanity relented in favor of the Christians. The manners of that people were, no doubt, of a pernicious tendency, and their crimes called for the hand of justice; but it was evident that they fell a sacrifice, not for the public good, but to glut the rage and cruelty of one man only. ness it owes to the Browns. For centuries, in their quiet, dogged, homespun way, they have been subduing the earth in most English countries and leaving their mark in American forests and Australian uplands. Wherever the fleets and armies of England have won renown, there stalwart sons of the Browns have done yeomen's work. One The Browns are a fighting family. may question their wisdom or wit or beauty, but about their fight there can be no question. Wherever hard knocks of any kind, visible or invisible, are going, there the Brown who is nearest must shove in his carcass. And these carcasses for the most part answer very well to the characteristic propensity; they are a square-headed and snake-necked generation, broad in the shoulder, deep in the chest and thin in the flank, carrying no lumber. Then, for clanship, they are as bad as Highlanders; it is amazing the belief they have in one another. With them there is nothing like the Browns, to the third and fourth generation. 'Blood is thicker than water is one of their pet sayings. They can't be happy unless they are always meeting one another. Never were such people for family gatherings which, were you a stranger or sensitive, you might think had better not have been gathered together. For during the whole time of their being together they luxuriate in telling one another their minds on whatever subject turns up, and their minds are wonderfully antagonist and all their opinions are downright beliefs. Till you've been among them some time and understand them, you can't think but that they are quarrelling. Not a bit of it; they love and respect one another ten times the more after a good set Dead ere the world's glad youth had touched its prime, family arguing-bout, and go back, one to his | The withered body of a girl was brought, curacy, another to his chambers and another to his regiment, freshened for work and more than ever convinced that the Browns are the height of company. This family training, too, combined with their turn for combativeness, makes them eminently quixotic. They can't let anything alone which they think going wrong. They must speak their mind about it, annoying all easy-going folk, and spend their time and money in having a tinker at it, however hopeless the job. It is an impossibility to a Brown to leave the most disreputable lame dog on the other side of a stile. Most other folk get tired of such work. The old Browns, with red faces, white whiskers and bald heads, go on believing and fighting to a green They have always a crotchet going till the old man with the scythe reaps and garners them away for troublesome old boys, as they are. And the most provoking thing is that no failures knock them up, or make them hold their hands, or think you or me, or other sane people, in the right. age. old And seen by lonely Arabs lying hid But when they had unloosed the linen band was found, Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand, ground, Did wondrous show of starry blossoms bear, air. With such strange arts this flower did allure Forsook the cup where he was wont to dwell; For not a thing of earth it seemed to be, In vain the sad narcissus, wan and white At its own beauty, hung across the stream; The purple dragon-fly had no delight With its gold-dust to make his wings Ah! no delight the jasmine-bloom to kiss, For love of it the passionate nightingale Forgot the hills of Thrace, the cruel king, And the pale dove no longer cared to sail Through the wet woods at time of blossoming, But round this flower of Egypt sought to float With silvered wing and amethystine throat. While the hot sun blazed in his tower of blue | It never feels decay, but gathers life A cooling wind crept from the land of From the pure sunlight and the snows, And the warm south with tender tears of dew Drenched its white leaves when Hesperos uprose Amid those sea-green meadows of the sky On which the scarlet bars of sunset lie. But when o'er wastes of lily-haunted field The tired birds had stayed their amorous tune, And, broad and glittering like an argent shield, High in the sapphire heavens hung the moon, Did no strange dream or evil memory make Each tremulous petal of its blossoms shake? Ah no! To this bright flower a thousand years Seemed but the lingering of a summer's day'; It never knew the tide of cankering fears Which turn a boy's gold hair to withered gray, The dread desire of death it never knew, rue. For we to death with pipe and dancing go, Nor would we pass the ivory gate again, As some sad river wearied of its flow Through the dull plains, the haunts of common men, Leaps lover-like into the terrible sea, We mar our lordly strength in barren strife With the world's legions, led by clamorous Care; air; supreme 'Twas no choice plant in hothouse bred To their rich owners thoughts as fair As did that simple, lowly thing To that unhappy man of care, Who from the hedgeside, free to all, Had plucked himself that blossom small. No floweret in a lady's dress, Where all beside is meet and bright, And she in her own loveliness Seems but another flower of light, So touching to the gazer's sight, That star amidst the gloom of night- |