The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1876-02-17

wait with eager expectancy the entrance
of him whose immense strength is as yet
only known to them by rumor. One OF
the doors around the arena opens, and, at
tended by a guard, a youth enters-he
whom but q short while ago we left with
thoughts 50 tar away from the present
scene Taller than the tallest Of his guards
he stands in the middle of the arena, with
the broad sunshine upon him looking more
kingly and noble than any throughout that
vast assembly, for he is one of Natures
kings, and they-panderers to the will of
a tyrant. They gaze at him with coniect-
ures whether his death will furnish good
sport or no. He sees in them pitiless rob-
bers, who, coveting greater possessions,
have ruthlessly ravaged with fire and
sword his once prosperous kingdom. His
eye kindles with a fierce defiance, which
is changed to hope as they give him his
native weapons, and tell him that, instead
of being killed like a dog he is permitted
by Roman clemency to fight for his liberty
And what clemency! One that arrays
against him in succession the most skilled
gladiators. all of whom he must Kill to
gain the promised boon. His first antag
onist comes on confident in his trained
skill-but his sword breaks like a reed I'M
der the stroke which cleaves his head in
twain. Another and another follow; but
their tate is the same. Cries of rage are
now heard on every side Rome's honor
is at stake, an enemy shall never triumph
over her The rest of the band are hurled
against him; still he fights on, despite the
wounds which are fast draining his lite's
strength from him He falls, yet not till
but one remains to triumph over him. The
sword is at his throat; there is q hush, the
gladiator looks around tor the sign of
mercy, but not a thumb is reversed; he is
but barbarian, let him die. They do not
hesitate moment in their silent decree OF
death, but their eXecutioner torbears to
anticipate what is already so nigh. The
angry cry of kill r' rises from the crowd
ed seats. The dying man turns his glazing
eyes upward towards the vast audience,
while in his ear echoes the din OF that
mighty armament whose Warlike pre-
paratons are even now resounding thro'-
out his native hills. He sees imperial
Rome PROSTATE at the feet of Alaric, and,
with proud smile of triumph, he dies
content.
But the day is fast waning, and the last
is vet to be enacted The arena is again
prepared with greater care The dead
bodies are dragged out and left for burial
to the careless attendants A deep silence
pc rvades the assembly. so intense is the
expectation for what is coming. One of
the doors leading from the Coliseum cells
opens, and, preceded by guard, the last
actors in to-day's sports enter. One of
them is an old man whose white locks riy
al the snow-like arena on which he stands;
true patriarch amidst his little band,
he cheers them by his words of comfort
and strengthens them by his own andaunt
ed bearing. One is a maiden. who shrink
ing from the cruel gaze OF the crowd,
turns trustingly TO him who stands in
calm composure by her side. Both Young
i'll years, but old in the experience OF lies
troubles. What a wedding day for them
is this, where Death is the presiding min
lister! Between youth and old age stands
one in the prime of his manhood, the
strong support and stay of his weaker
companions Truly noble band linked
together by Il tie which deties all the pow
Ell of human strength and cruelty to break
1.-THE tie of Christian hope and faith
Meanwhile at one end of the arena an
altar has been erected to Jupiter; and the
priests of that god with their attendants
clad in imposing vestments leading the
sacred bull, have entered, and ranging
round the altar are now about to offer
sacrifice Rome has granted her victims
this respite they have but to pay homage
to the Thunderer and they are saved from
cruel death.
The sacrifice commences; the bull Is
slain and his blood poured out to Jupiter.
The whole assembly rise and bow in hon
or of the father OF gods. But do they who
stand in the centre bow MOI The Jew,
torgetful Of his ancient religion and his s;-
cred temple, bows to the god OF those who
Knocked the one and destroyed the other
The Syrian, thinking to gain purchases
tor his far-tamed merchandise, bows not
to the rain-bearing Jupiter, but to the COL
den god in the well filled purses of his
patrons The Persian bows outwardly to
the Son OF Saturn, but inwardly to his god
whose setting beams are now reddening
the western Sky. The Egyptian unmind-
tul OF his Isis and his defied Nile acknowl-
edges the god of those who stood awestruck
before Memnon and the everlasting pyra-
mids. The British savage torgets his hoary
III ultto ftlli llOl lHlll DOW5 W DlODluldGC
his cruel captors. There is no nation rep
resented in that mixed multitude that
does not acknowledge Roman supremacy
There is no creed that does not bow in
seWile alteration to her god, save one, and
that one faithfully represented by Il little
band OF tour. Throughout the whole GER
emony they pay their humble sacrifice to
a God before whom in those days to come
Jupiter and his Olympian deities are to
vanish like the morning mists. In the 81
lence their hymn of praise sounds sweet
above the muttured lamentations Of the
priests. But, Rome's fury knows no
bounds. The offered mercy has been re-
jected; the pagan pageantry leaves the
arena, and the Christian martyrs await, in
faith, their death An iron gate is thrown
open, and lion, exceling in size all that
have been let loose to-day leaps into the
arena and stands eying with curiosity
that brave little band before him and
the awe struck multitude above him
His prey is within the reach of another
bound; but he does not take it, the up
turned faces and the knees bent in silent
prayer awe him before whom everyone
has hitherto fled in terror But, reused
by the shouts OF the crowd, he RECEIVERS
his wonted terocity. The spell is broken
One sullen roar, a bound. the sound of
crashing bones, mingled with the prayer
tor pardon on the guilty people, and all
is over. The silent multitude gaze at the
bloody sight below and see its redness re-
tected in the western skies With dread
iorebodings they hasten to their homes,
trying with carousals and gaiety to stiie
the feeling of tear they cannot account for
and the Coliseum sports are ended
| There is one more act in to-day's drama,
but no heather goddess presides over it.
The stage is larger than the Coliseum
arena. but the sun has never shone upon
it. We are in the famous catacombs of
Rome. Without, the city of the living is
hushed in repose; within, the city of the
dead resounds with sad mourning With
out is the gloomy darkness Of superstition
within, the bright light of the Gospel. In
one common tomb are the mortal remains
of those whose immortal souls have al
ready joined the "noble army of martyrs -
| A round If ora uathara1 taarf,,l hn1J