, 1873-03-30
.JHE KEY TO ALL MYTH0L0G|ES."
a Conversation with Marcus Au-
rcli1iS.

rc1iuS.
BYv II. sroRY, THE AMERICAN scoLF1on'
From the F'ortn'Jht'y Rtrier.
1+r.aa dark and stormy night in December.
EVERYBODY in the house had long been III Deo
mud asleep: but, deeply interested IN tho Aedl-
+stions OF Marcus Aurelius, I had prolonged my
reading until the small hours had begun to IN
rrease. and I heard the bells Of the caQncln
Convent strike for 2 o'clock. then LAID down
nv book, and began to reflect upon it, Inc hfo
f1ad nearly burned out, and, unwilling yet 10 g.
threw on to it bundle Of came and o couple
Of sticks, and again the fresh fame oafteo ou''
md gave q glow to the room. outside tne
ntorn Has fierce and passionate. us1sts oeAs
arainst the panes, shaking the old "anuo"7 o.
1le palace and lasling them with "1ld ram AZ
inter7a}s euddcn blue light flashed through
the room. followed By tramplin9 roar OF thun-
dor overhead. The fierce Libeccio howled Like
,r;1d bcast around the house, as il in search OF
It's prev. md then died away, disappointed md
crowlinc and after short interval again leaped
With fresh fury against the windows and wallis
as if maddened by their resistance. AS Sat,
quietly gazing into the fire aud muslng On many
ishadows Of thought that camo and passed, my
imagination went back in the far past when Mar
Gus Au1elias led his lcgions against the Quaol'
the Marconanni, and the Sarmat and brought
before me the weather-beaten tent IN which ne
sat SO many bleak and bitter night. after tho
duty OF the day was done, and al his men had
retired to rest. writing in his private diary those
noble meditatons, which, though meant solely
for his priynto eye, are one Of the most precious
,heritaces ne have of ancient life and thought.
Iseeued to zee him there in those bleak wilds
of panno1.ia, seated by night in his tent. At his
aide burns q Pickering torch. Scntlnels pace to
and fro, The cold wind firts and flaps the folds
OF pratorium, and shakes the golden eagle above
it. Far of is heard the howl Of the wolf prow1-
ing through the shaTdowy forests that eucom-
pass the camp; or the silence Is broken BY the
sharp, ehriu cry Of some night bird flying over
head through the dark. Now aud then comes
the clink OF armor from the tents Of tho cavalry,
or tho call OF the wntch-word along the line, or
the ncighing OF horses as the Circultores maize
their rounds. He il III and worn with toll and
caro-. he il alone; and thero, under the shadow
OF night, beside his csmp-tabe, he Rits and med
i,ates and writes upon lis wa1en tablets these
lofty et.4G:scnces OF admonition to duty and en-
couragement to virtue, those counselings OF
himself to heroic action and patient en-
durance of evil and tranquility Of
life, that breathe the highest spirit
of morality and philosophy. Little did he think,
IN his lonely watches, that the words he was
writing only for himself would stin be cherished
after long centuries had passed away, aud would
be pondered over by the descendants Of nations
which we're then uncultured bartarians, as low in
civilization as tue Pa,lnouians againsf whom he
was cncamped. Yet OF all the books that ancient
literature has left us none is to be found con-
tsining tho record Of higher and purer thought.
or more earnest and unselfish character As
of &r1t3 f7F
him which stood in the coIne- Of my room, aud
saw the sweet melancholy Of that gentle face
ere caro- and disappointment had come over it
and ruled it with lines OF age and anxiety,
strange longing came over me to soc linn anu
hear bis voice, and sad sense Of that great void
OF time and space which separated us. Where Is
be now what is be now? asked myself. In what
other distant world OF thought and being is his
epir1t moving Has it any remembrance OF the
rnst-has it any knowledge Of the present ? Yet
the hand that wrote ia now but dust which may
be floating about the nlausoleum where 1e was
buried near the Vatican: or perhaps lying IN
tint library of the Popes upon some stained
manuscript Of this very work it wrote. to be
blown carelegsy away By some studious abbe as
he ranges it on it's shelf among the other
precious records OF the past.
The hand is but dust, but the thoughts that it
recorded are freeh and living ever Since he
passed from this world, how little progress have
We made in philosophy and morality Here in
this little book are rules for the conduct OF life
which might shame almost any Christian. Here
are meditations which go to the root OF things
and explore the dim secret world which SUI
rounds us, and return again. as I an our e1-
turies have passed, and the same ques-
tions We still ask, and find no
Rnswcr. Who're heis now ho knows the secret 0,
he is beyond the desire to know it. The mystery
is solved for him, which we are guessing, and his
is either larger, ,sweeter life, growing on and OF
'-or everlasting rest. stole, he found comfort
in his philosophy, as great perhaps as Te Chris
tians find in our faith. He believed IN his gods @
as nc believe in ours. How could they satisfy q
mind like his How could these impure ane
passionate existcnces, given to human foilies ant
weaknesses, follow intrigues, to vulgar jealouses
sodegraded loves satisfy nature so N hlgh;; I; q q
we're his gods; to them lie sacrificed, in them u
trusted, looking forward to calm future with
serenity at least equal to ours, undisturbcd b.
1nisgivings; believing in justice, and in un}us
gods-believing in purity, and in impure goas
moi" said a mild voice, II did not believe i
impure and unjust GODS
And looking up I saw before me the calm lac
OF the Emperor and philosopher of whom
WAS thinking. There he stood before me as
knew him from his busts and statues with III
full brow and eyee, Lis sweet mouth, his curtin
hair, now little grizzled with age, and dec
face.
/ know not why Was not startled TO zoe hi
there, but WAS not. It seemed to me natura
rs events eeem in dream. The realities, az u
call those facts which are merely visionary an
trarsitory, vanished and the unrealities. as vi
call those of thought and being, usurped tho
place. Nothing seemed more fitting than that
should be there. To tho mind all things .:
POSSIBLE and simple, and there is no time {
epsce in thought which annihilates them.
L roso to greet my guest with the reverene
due to such presence
.1Do not disturb yourself" he said, eni1ing
II will sit here, if you please = and sospcakint
he took the seat opposite me at the fire. "s
You" he continued, ''and will endeavorto ar
ewer some Of the questions you were asking {
yourself"
sHnd known your presence should hardl,
perhaps. have dared to ask such questions, or a
least in such forn,'' sad
"Why not ask them OF me if Jou ask them o
yourself ?' he answered 'tThey were just an
natural in themselves, and tho forms Of thing
are Of little use to one who cares for the essenc
Just as the forms of the diyinties beloved