mander, my preserver, into the town, whither he was obliged to be conducted on account of his wound, his wound which he had received for my sake. He sleeps in the adjoining apartment, and I hasten to inform you of our fate and of my survival, lest an exaggerated report might alarm you, and, in the certainty of our defeat, my silence might fill you with anxiety for my welfare.

Galerius had already, during the past year, in vain waited for an opportunity to revenge on the Persians, by a decisive victory, the disgraceful end of Valerianus and the dishonour of the Roman name; but at present he sought with more haste than prudence, to give battle. An evil destiny made him select for its theatre, the boundless sandfields of Carrhae where already, in former times, Crassus with his legions had found his ruin in the treacherous soil and the glowing heat. Whether he had received false reports, or trusted too much to his own strength, at all events, he furiously attacked the Persians, far superior in number, against the advice of all his commanders. The conflict became hot: the Romans perceived the superior forces of the enemies, their own danger, but also remembered the honour of their name, and the disgrace which they had to revenge. Our troops fought with unheard-of bravery; but the faithless sand gave way beneath our feet, and the perpendicular beams of the sun made our armour an intolerable burden. The Persians continually reinforced by fresh troops, renewed themselves incessantly like the head of the Hydra, and constantly offered fresh opponents to our weary arms. Their whole strength now threw itself upon the centre of our army it was broke, and confusion and disorder soon became general. Constantine alone had sufficient presence of mind and coolness to draw his troops unconfused by the universal noise, in firmly closed ranks, towards the bridge which leads over the Euphrates, and thus to preserve the hope of retreat The dispersed bands now fled in wild haste towards the river, and many found their graves in the waters. Tiridates -to whom, as the principal cause of the war, every Persian directed his attention, and who too proud to purchase an inglorious safety by disguise, -even now galloped through the ranks

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saving what still was to be saved, denly found himself alone, surround by a great troop of Persians. Res tance was impossible. He gave h horse the spur, and galloped to th Euphrates. The enemies had reache him, no safety remained but in the waves. In full armour he threw hin self into the foaming flood, I consi dered him lost, but with giganti power he contended against the ele ment and gained the distant shore where our men received him with louci shouts of joy, The Persians then endeavoured to harass the passage of our small band, but Constantine defended the bridge with equal circumspection and courage. Then the leader of the enemies rode up -Constantine's sinple armour probably deceived him

I

he took me for his adversary, and in hopes to gain the spolia opima," he brandished his sword over me. I was standing with my back turned towards him: the powerful stroke would have killed me, had not Constantine caught it on his shield and arm. It was only at the moment of my escape, that I perceived my danger: I turned round, and my sword revenged the menaced life and the wound of Constantine. The Persian fell, his men dispersed, we rode unmolested over the bridge which was immediately broken down behind us, and now, for the first time, when we leapt from our horses, I found a moment to thank my preserver. He also now first felt his wound, and sunk half fainting into my arms. You are mine, cried he, I have purchased you with my blood! I pressed him to my heart our souls, not our lips, swore each other everlasting faith. I carried him out of the tumult, his people hastened to him, and every thing that love and attachment could think of, was done to alleviate his condition. His wound is deep, but not dangerous. I live about him, I sleep by his side, a thousand little ties join us every day closer, my heart willingly and joyfully opens itself to those sentiments, pros pects, and plans, which let me look into a happier futurity, when Constantine's relations, principles, and friendship for me, will appear in a brighter light. In such far grasping projects for mankind, private grief is lost, and in the loud call of duty towards the human race, the voice of bitter recol

tion grows silent, or, at least, leaves mind time to convince itself it we are not intended for individual ppiness, and, accordingly, to renounce my things, and to lay claim to few

The war continues to rage, the Cæsar alerius surprises the Persians at night; eir camp is stormed, the greater numr of their warriors slain, Narses himIf narrowly escapes. Agathocles dis guishes himself honourably, is on the eld of battle raised to the dignity of a ribune, and ordered to carry the gloous tidings of the victory to Dioclean, who honours him with a solemn ublic entry into Nicomedia, and rewards him with rich presents. Shortly fter, peace is concluded, and a few months later, the Augustus creates him tribune in the Jovians, the imperial ards. Already for a length of time he had entertained a high esteem for the persecuted Christians and their principles. He becomes daily more convinced of the sublimity of their re ligion, which coincides so much with his own views, that, at last, he is received amongst the number of the faith fal. His letters to Phocion, explanatory of the reasons of his conversion, are excellent.

Meanwhile we hear again of Larissa. She has, in man's clothes, escaped the slaughter, but having been overtaken by the Goths, she is made prisoner, and led away into captivity. Her amiable character gains the esteem of the Gothic chief to whose share she has fallen, and the love of one of his daughters. She is obliged to disclose her sex, and the noble Fritiger embraces her as his child. At length a christian apostle, Heliodorus, arrives amongst the Goths, and converts a number of those barbarians to the religion of the Cross. He is an old friend of Larissashe desires to return to her native home, and Fritiger, though unwilling, is at length prevailed upon to let her depart. She then assumes her Christian name, Theophania, and as a traveller arrives near Nicomedia, but many circumstances persuade her, that her beloved Agathocles is about to be married

ried to Calpurnia, the daughter of Piso, then proconsul of that province. Her noble heart cannot think of tearing him from this supposed affection, she determines to sacrifice herself to fly and to suffer in silence. She retires to Nicaea, where, besides her other sor

rows, she is exposed to the importuni ties of the profligate and thoroughly depraved Marcius Alpinus, whom our readers already know as the successor of Demetrius. About this time a new horrible persecution of the Christians commences at Nicaea. Larissa, accompanied by her old friend Heliodorus, leaves the place, and goes to Nicomedia, where she takes refuge in an hospital of Christian widows, situated in the outskirts of that city. In the eastern capital, however, equal cruelties await her brethren.—

CONSTANTINE TO CNEJUS FLORIANUS.

Nicomedia, February, 303. "It is with a much troubled mind, my father, that I send you this letter. Still, this night a trusty messenger will clandestinely leave the harbour with it and bring it to Byzantium, whence it is to be forwarded in the usual way. The town is shut, and all in a hollow ferment. This morning suddenly and unexpectedly the blow has fallen which revenge and party-rage had long since secretly prepared. At daybreak strong divisions of the body-guard silently and mysteriously marched through the streets towards all the Christian churches. The fastened doors were violently burst in, the most sacred places broken open, torn out-vessels, writings, books, all thrown into one heap and burnt, and at last the churches themselves furiously destroyed and levelled to the ground. Terror and astonishment were the first effects of this unexpected event on the already afflicted Christians. But by degrees some took courage, and with inconsiderate zeal determined for their most sacred cause to resist superior force, or die on the ruins of their churches. One of such scenes caused others of a similar kind; in a few hours the whole town was in a revolutionary agitation:-în all streets, near all the temples, the great struggle of Polytheism with Christianity was exhibited on a minor scale, everywhere cruelties, dead and wounded were to be seen. The more prudent kept themselves locked up in their houses—even of the heathen the better sort were not seen taking any share in the savage excesses of their party. The mob only raged against the mob, but therefore the more revoltingly and atrociously.

The chief men among us expected

every moment to be brought to trial. I was, and am still prepared for every thing. It is more than probable that Galerius, whose violence bears the evident stamp of his savage mind, did not by these measures aim merely at the extirpation of a detested religion, but at the ruin of several individuals whom be feared..

Agathocles shared my suspicions and my anticipations. Imperious circumstances had several days ago determined him to confess his creed openly. His refusal to become instrumental against the Christians served the gloomy Galerius as a welcome pretext. In the name of the Augustus he was ordered to give up his office as a tribune. He obeyed quickly and readily. When this news was reported in the quarters of the soldiers, disturbance and clamour arose amongst his faithful men, who would not part with their beloved leader. With an impetuosity which still evinced the spirit of the old pretorians, they pressed into the imperial palace, and demanded the return of their chief. Weakness preposterously revoked what passion and revenge had inflicted in an equally preposterous manner. On their shields, with loud rejoicings, they carried their commander home to his dwelling. There he remained for some time unmolested. They did not venture to give him any charge of importance, for in their meanness they were afraid, lest he might abuse the power entrusted to him. But they surrounded him, as well as myself, from all sides with listeners and spies. We calmly bore our common fate, and kept ourselves quiet, especially this day, when caution became every prudent man. Towards the evening Agathocles left me, in order to reach his distant quarter before nightfall. He was accompanied by a single slave: mantle and cap concealed his dress and his rank, and a short sword was all his safety. On his way a confused noise and lamenting voices strike his ear.Acquainted with the scenes of to-day, he hastens towards the tumult, and finds a band of soldiers and a mob crying and shouting, gathered round the altar of a Pagan Deity, before a little temple, where they are in the act of forcing a poor woman with her child to eat of the flesh of a victim which a fanatic idol-priest forces upon them. The un

happy woman constantly refuses. Now one of the barbarians tears the child away from her, and threatens to throw it into the sacrificial flames. The despair of the mother, the cries of the agonizing child pierce Agathocles'breast,andimpel him to do what prudence could not approve of. He presses into the circle, and proclaims peace in the name of the Emperor. He represents to them, that the edict only requires the cessation of the Christian ceremonies, not the adoption of the pagan. When does a furious mob listen to the voice of reason?— They overpower his yoice by clamour, and drag the woman by the hair to the altar. Then anger overcomes him. he tears the child from the soldier, returns it to the mother, and defends her and the boy against the aggression of the enraged people. But the multitude increases every moment. From the woman and the child their madness turns against the new object. With spears, swords, and all sorts of wea pons, with which chance and wild rage arm ignorance, they press upon him. He leaves the unfortunate woman, whose preservation perhaps may cost him his life, to the slave who accompanies him. He would fain not desert his master, yet a severe order commands obedience, and they let him fly unmolested with the rescued woman. But Agathocles becomes the victim of their rage. Se verely covered with wounds, he sinks down, and when his mantle is flung back, the nearest perceive with terror, that they have killed an officer of the body-guard. They make their escape, the frightened mob disperses-Aga thocles is left alone, swimming in blood. The slave had immediately hurried to the quarters of his master, and announced to the faithful soldiers the danger of their leader. They storm out, but when they arrive at the spot, all is lonely, and with horror and grief they find a seeming corpse. They approach, he is still breathing: with rude arts their love endeavours to stop the blood of his many wounds, and some of the soldiers, secret Christians, determine to carry him to the best place which they know under such circumstances,-into the widows' house of the Christians, who in the neighbour hood of this town occupy themselves with works of charity, and amongst whom, in these days, many a sufferer has already found protection. The

guards at the gate let them pass, on being informed of their object, and now the slave hastens back to bring me the woful tidings. My name opens the closed town gates-I fly to my friend, Pale, motionless, insensible, I find him in the hands of two women: the younger one, bathed in tears, had hardly retained sufficient presence of mind to undertake the treatment of the wound ed man. I never saw such emotion in a stranger. I stepped to Agathocles, I seized his hand, I called him by name: at last he opened his heavy eye, looked staring around him without recognizing anything, and immediately closed it again. Now the agitation of the stranger seemed to increase still more: she trembled so violently that I advised her, rather to leave him, if the sight was perhaps too horrible to her. She looked glaring at him and wild at me. For no price in the world-not for my salvation!" she answered passionately, with a trembling voice, and continued more busily her sad occupation. The surgeon came-an aged priest: he examined the wounds: with anxiety I expected his opinion. Still paler than the wounded man himself, and with a feverish trembling that shook her whole frame, the woman was waiting for his decision. At length he declared that the wounds, though dangerous, were not fatal. Here the stranger, with a ery of joy, sank down and fainted : they had to carry her away. I remained behind a while, and enquired after the stranger, whose conduct had struck me with surprise. Nothing of what I heard, was able to give me an explanation, or to lead me to any supposition. Agathocles did not recover so as to be able fully to collect his senses, and in this state I left him at last, not to endanger my own safety, and to write to you immediately the events of this remarkable day. What passes within my soul you may imagine; you know what the cause of my fellow-citizens, my future plans, and Agathocles, are to me!

The night is far advanced-the messenger waits. Farewell."

you, and to tell you, that it is impossible for me, with sufficient firmness to close my eyes against the fair pros pects that open before me.. Was it then not a mere unmeaning accident that from the shores of the Goths brought me hither that just at this moment destined me to be the nurse of the sick, and delivered the beloved friend into my care? He is a Christian. How can he give his hand to Calpurnia? How can he, who entertained such lofty ideas of the harmony of souls, love a girl that on the most important subject of man thinks so differently from him?→→→→ O Junia! what blissful consequences are hid in these questions! But as yet I must restrain my heart-as yet I dare not give myself up to them, and above all, Agathocles must not yet know who I am. However, he may feel for me, whatever may be his relation to Calpurnia, a precipitate discovery might endanger his life. As yet I must remain concealed; but time, I trust, and living near him, soon must solve my doubts, and then he shall by degrees devine who it was that wept and watched by his couch, or-I Ay with my unextinguishable grief from him, from my country, from the world, and bury myself in deep solitude, on which thy friendship alone is sometimes to cast a beam of consolation."

The 24th, evening.

“My doubts are solved-my fate is decided! Oh! it was foolish, it was presumptuous, even for a moment to give way to such unfounded hopes!

"Last night, when it was already growing dark, I ventured to enter his apartment. He looked at me kindly, and saluted me as his mute benefactress. I bowed without answering, and occu pied myself at a table arranging his bandages. Just then a waiting woman of the house came to inform Agathocles, that one of his slaves was there wishing to speak to him. He bade him come in. Just God! who came?-A beautiful boy in a neat slave-dress entered. The light-brown hair floated in rich tresses around his white forehead and blooming cheeks. The charming form flitted nearer his bed. I recognised her it was Calpurnia! Agathocles, also, who before had looked upon her with surprise, guessed the

3 s*

truth. He was alarmed visibly. Cal he exclaimed, but with inconceivable composure the frivolous girl interrupted him: Callias, yes your faithful Callias it is, who could not possibly hear of the danger of his master with out convincing himself of it. With these words she stood by his bed. He took her hand. I saw him blushing and growing pale again,-I saw the glowing looks she cast upon him,-the happy intoxication with which his bright eye was gliding over the charming form and with rapture dwelt on the beauti ful features before him, Then I heard him thanking her, with deeply affected voice, for her kindness, and the terror that first had chained me to the spot, melted into wild sorrow. A violent sobbing so overwhelmed me, that the happy couple, surprised, looked round I fled. Oh! God! thus end

at me.

my hopes !"

Our occupation was not yet finished, when the fine young man entered who on the previous evening had evinced so much sympathy for Agathocles. The eyes of the patient flashed with joy. Constantine?' he exclaimed, and the stranger clung to his breast. Long they held each other embraced. That then was Constantine, the son of the occidental Cæsar, who once had saved Agathocles' life. Now I could explain his sympathy of last night. How endeared did he become to me by this. love! How gladly would I have sunk to his feet, to thank him for the life of his friend! Thus, then, do I still love him! Thus, then, this flame will never become extinct! Thus, then, no levity, no grievance, is able to heal me! Oh I am weak even to contemptibility. I condemn myself for it; but I can-I cannot help it. Deeply with my existence, with the finest threads of my life, this love is intertwined,-only with them will it be severed. O do not be angry with me, Junia! I fly soonsoon to you!"

:

THEOPHANIA TO JUNIA MARCELLA.

Nicomedia, 26th February, 303. "What awaits me! To what dreadful step will the rugged Heliodorus force me! I am to discover myself to Agathocles, now, under these circumstances, and without delay! If I refuse to do so, in a suitable manner,he has threatened to go himself, and without regard to my feelings,-for what are love and delicacy to such austere virtue to tell it straightforward, What is left to me ?"

Some hours later.

"Like an angel sent from God, suddenly the thought has come to me, to address myself to the noble Constantine. He is Agathocles' friend; he cannot be wanting in that delicacy which the treatment of this relation requires. I shall write to him: my letter will contain my preservation in Trachene, my liberation by Heliodorus, my sojourn in Synthium, in Nicaea, and the reasons which hitherto have guided my actions. Constantine would not be so noble as fame and features proclaim him to be, if he had no feeling for my situation, no firm will to solve the painful relation between us, in such a manner as is best for his friend and for me. He knows his heart, he will be able to judge of the effect which this discovery must have upon him. Oh, if he-I shall pressingly entreat him so-if he could arrange it so, that Agathocles himself would be satisfied never to see me again! It is a dreadful idea! I conceive its necessity, bat still I tremble at it. I cannot yet embrace it entirely.-Never!"

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Later.

With the certainty that I am to see him no more, I have yesterday and to-day enjoyed the sole happiness left to me.

To enter his room I dared no more, since eight days ago Calpurnia's visit drove me from it. Tabitha has undertaken the care of him: I, in return, wait upon her patients; but in the adjoining room I linger as long as I am able. There I hear him breathing, speaking, sighing,-ah! for whom? It is a painful enjoyment, but it is my sole, my last! Soon I shall be obliged to renounce even this! Then his voice