"I am ready at once," said Auxentius; "I lack but a horse."

"Take mine, then, primipilus," cried Exuperius; "he is fleetest in the legion."

"And I will fasten the epistle," said Maurice. He folded it, tied a coarse thread round it, stamped it with his own signet-ring, the and gave it into the hands of the primipilus.

In less than half-an-hour, Auxentius rode out at the Prætorian gate, and struck northward through the lovely valleys of Valais. The sun poured a hotter and hotter flood of radiance into that which is now called the Val d'Entremont; the grasshopper shrilled merrily at the road side; the leaf of the oak and the elm fell silently to wither by their fallen companions; and still the unwearied centurion pressed forward. At mid-day he stopped to refresh his horse and himself at that which is now Orsieres. The shadows were lengthening as he crossed the bridge that then, as now, spanned the Drance, and lighted a moment on the further side to rest his beast. At Burgum, now Bourg, the fires flashed brighter from many a cottage, for twilight was gathering

upon the mountains; and with the last gleam of day he spurred up the steep ascent that led into Octodurus.

The palace then temporarily occupied by Maximian was like the country house of any rich patrician. At the vestibule the centurion dismounted, and inquired of the sentinel whether he could have an audience of the emperor. "Not to-night, by Mars!" replied the sol

dier.

"He has just come down to a banquet.

But what is your business?"

"I bear despatches from the tribunes of the legion at Agaunum," answered Auxentius.

"What! the Nazarene legion?" cried the other. They will look to you within. Lead your horse to the vestibule, and wait.'

Auxentius did as he was desired, and found himself in a kind of garden square, fronted by the house and its portico, and laid out in formal clumps of planes and laurels. A porter made his appearance, and bidding him go in, led his horse round to the stables of the palace, while the new comer himself was committed to the charge of the atriensis, the hall slave.

It was a trial of bitter mocking that Auxen

tius endured, as he sat that night in the guardroom of the palace, with the centurions and soldiers not actually on duty around it. All the vile stories that heathenism invented against the Church,—all the foul reproaches that Roman writers could heap upon it, these were retailed, enlarged, improved. Many a tale of Maximian's cruelty, and the patient suffering of his victims, was told as an excellent joke; and though the Great Tenth persecution, in which, if it had been possible, the elect would have fallen away, had not yet begun, there were times either of frenzy among the people, or cruelty in the magistrates, to yield stories that might well be terrifying even to a Roman centurion. He heard of torments that had never entered his imagination, of agonies that seemed past the power of human nature to endure; but he also heard how feeble women and girls had triumphed over them. And steadfastly fixing his eyes on Him Who, "when He putteth forth His own sheep, goeth before them," he endured that dreadful evening with hope and patience. They showed him his soldier's couch, in a small chamber opening from the guard-room;

I

for the primipilus of a legion, Christian though he were, was not a person to be treated with disrespect; and they promised that they would tell the emperor of his errand, as soon as he should be at leisure to attend to business on the following morning.

And so, notwithstanding the loud laugh or occasional quarrel in the hall of the guards, -notwithstanding the sounds of music and revelry from the banqueting room above, the brave centurion, when he had committed himself to GOD, and fortified himself with the sign of the Cross, lay down to rest.

And there, for this evening, I will end my story. By all these faithful servants, I am trying to lead your thoughts to their Great Master; by what they suffered for Him, to what He, as at this time, suffered both for us and for them. Think what must be the merits of His Passion, when by it His followers were enabled so gloriously to triumph in their own!

Good Friday.

THE THEBAN LEGION.

Continued.

OU may well imagine the fearful suspense of the Christian camp during the day on which Auxentius was riding to Octodurus. Little heart had the soldiers for their military exercises; little heart had the foragers for bringing in provisions; for none could tell how soon he might be called to that place where there shall be no more war, and where there is no need to labour for the meat that perisheth. The tribunes went hither and thither through the camp, exhorting all to play the man for CHRIST's sake. Now they reminded the greyheaded old veteran that all the honours he had