And the philosophy of sound as follows:

'Now, to proceed, you need not wonder how

It is that voices come, and beat the ears

Through things through which the eyesight cannot go ;
Because of this the reason plain appears-

Full many a thing that lets the voice go through,
The visual film to a hundred pieces tears,

'Tis of so fine a texture.'

Of the imperfections of the world he writes:

'But even had the science ne'er been mine
Of first beginnings, and how all began,

I could show clearly that no power divine
Helped at the work, and made the world for man;
So great the blunders in the vast design,

So palpably is all without a plan.

For if 'twere made for us its structure halts

In every member, full of flaws and faults.

Look at the earth; mark then, in the first place,
Of all the ground the rounded sky bends over,
Forests and mountains fill a mighty space,
And even more do wasteful waters cover,
And sundering seas; then the sun's deadly rays
Scorch part, and over part hard frosts prevail,
And nature all the rest with weeds would spoil,
Unless man thwarted her with wearying toil.
Mark, too, the babe, how frail and helpless, quite
Naked comes it from its mother's womb,
A waif cast hither on the shores of light,
Like some poor sailor, by the fierce sea's foam
Washed upon land, it lies in piteous plight,
Nor speaks; but soon, as it beholds its home,
Bleats forth a bitter cry, oh meet presage
Of its life here, its woeful heritage.'

Having described the heavens as formed from igneous ether, he proceeds,

'And this same ether rising, in its wake

Full many a seed of vivid fire up-drew.

Thus when we see the low red morning break,

Along the grasses rough and gemmed with dew,

Does a grey mist go up from off the lake,

And from the clear perennial river too;

And even at times the very meadows seem

From their green breasts to breathe a silvery stream.'

Next came vegetation,

In the beginning, then, the clods gave forth
All kinds of herbage, and a verdant sheen
Was glossy on the hills; and flowery earth
Laughed over all her meadows glad and green;
Then bushes thick, and trees of greater girth,
Orderly rising into air were seen;

Which things came forth spontaneous everywhere,
Like a bird's feathers, or a horse's hair.'

Then man was formed :

'But hardier far than we were those first races
Of men, since earth herself did them produce,
And braced them with a firmer frame than braces
Us now, and strung their arms with mightier thews.
Nor sun nor rain on them left any traces,

Nor sickness. And they never learnt the use
Of arts for ages; but like beasts they ran
Wild in the woods, the early race of man.

Their strong arms knew not how to guide the plough,
Or how to plunge the spade, and till the plain,

Or from the trees to lop the failing bow.

But what the sun had given them, and the rain,
They took, and deemed it luxury enow;
Nor knew they yet the fatal greed of gain;

But in the woods they sought their simple store,
And stripped the trees, and never asked for more.'

Passing on to explain the origin of storms, he says,—

'For do but note what time the storm-wind wild
Comes carrying clouds like mountains through the air;
Or on the mountains' sides the clouds are piled
Motionless, and each wind is in its lair,

Then may you mark those mountain masses proud,
And huge caves built of hanging rocks of cloud.'

He also tells how,

'The mighty thunderbolt

Goes through the walls of houses like a shout;'

and the causes of most of the other phenomena of nature. Treating, lastly, of diseases, the poem concludes with an appalling picture of the great plague at Athens, as described by Thucydides, when death seized those who neglected their sick, and—

'They too who stayed to tend the beds of death,
Themselves anon were seen to droop and die,
Drawing infection from the tainted breath
That thanked them for their kindness piteously.'

Mallock.

Thus it will be seen that, though full of scientific teaching, there is very little poetry in his verses; but still there are several very picturesque descriptions, always true to nature, and indications of great powers of observation and imagination. On the other hand, many of his theories are crude and imperfect, and some of his conceptions puerile and

absurd.

Unsatisfying, however, as his philosophy is, it serves to teach us how little real advance has been made by modern thinkers in solving the great mystery of life, and how much that pertains both to our present and future existence altogether passes man's understanding.

CÆSAR.

DIED B.C. 44.

OST persons of any education are more or less familiar M with the name of Julius Cæsar, as the invader of

Britain, and afterwards the first Roman Emperor. His 'Commentaries' are memoirs written by himself, descriptive of his campaigns in various parts of Europe, first against the enemies of Rome, and afterwards, from the time when he crossed the Rubicon, as an aspirant for supreme power in opposition to the actual rulers of the Republic. Unlike other historians he wrote only of what happened under his own eyes, and of his own deeds; and with his works it may be said that the certainty of modern history commences. It is also the generally acknowledged opinion of mankind that, of all men whose deeds are known, there is none whose name is so great as that of Julius Cæsar. Born of a noble family, he held successively all the higher offices of State, until, at the age of forty-one, he became Consul, and, with Pompey and Crassius, formed the first triumvirate. The following year he succeeded to the government of Gaul and Illyria, and it was from this period that he commenced the notes from which his Commentaries were composed. His style of writing is described by Cicero as simple, straightforward, agreeable, and free from rhetorical ornament. It is, however, so condensed that thrice as many words are needed in translating as he used, and skipping, or hurrying through any portion, is out of the question.

The

ordinary reader will be shocked at the wholesale slaughter and cruelty of which he was continually guilty; but it must be remembered that the Romans were indifferent to bloodshed, making as light of their own lives as of those of others; and that, although terrible deeds have been perpetrated in the name of Christianity, men's hearts have been changed by its influence, and are not as those of men in the days of Cæsar.

In describing his campaigns he makes no allusion to the motives which actuated him; but there can be no doubt that his principal object, during his command in Gaul, was so to train his legions that they might be available for the attainment of the designs which he secretly entertained against the government at Rome. He never boasts, but is liberal of praise to those under him, and speaks with equal calmness of the destruction of a legion, the defection of a tribe, or the burning of a city with its women and children. He seems never to have lost faith in himself, he feared no one, and could reduce his legions to obedience by a word.

In his first book, after giving a general definition of Gaul, he describes his first victory over the Helvetii or Swiss, who had asked permission to emigrate through his province from their native mountains to the plains below. He next promised to help the Ædui against the Germans, whose king was defiant, and other tribes who were harassing them. He advanced his army by rapid marches, and occupied a strong position; but his men were so afraid of the Germans, a yellow-haired people more ferocious than the Gauls, that they could not refrain from tears, and he had to encourage and shame them by saying he would fight with his favourite legion only. The German king now proposed a conference, in the midst of which he attacked Cæsar's guard, and afterwards put his ambassador in chains. A battle ensued, the Romans gained the day, one of the king's daughters was taken a prisoner, the ambassador was rescued, and the enemy driven back to the Rhine; after which Cæsar put his army into winter quarters, in order that he might hold his assizes and collect more soldiers.