Waterbury Democrat., 1901-03-19
Spartacus to the Gladiators.

Ye call me chief; and ye do we'll to call him chief who for twelve long years has met upon the arena every shape of man or beast the broad em- pire of Rome could furnish, and who never yet lowered his arms. If there be one among you who can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl. my actions did belle my tongue. let him stand forth and say it. If there be three in all your company dare face me on the bloody sands, let them come on.
 And yet. I was not always thus-a hired butcher, a savage chief of still more savage men. My ancestors came from old Sparta and settled among the vine-clad rocks and citron groves of Syrasella.
 My early life ran as quiet as the brooks by which sDorted: and when at noon, I gathered the sheep beneath the shade. and played upon the shep- herds flute. there was friend, the son of Q neighbor. to join me in the pastime. We led our f1ocks to the same pasture and partook together our rustic meal.
 One evening after the sheep were folded, and we were seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our cottage, my erandsire. an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra: and how, in ancient times. little band of Spar tans. in defile of the mountains, had withstood whole army
 I did not then know what war was: but my cheeks burned. I knew not why. and I clasped the knees of the venerable man, until my mother. part ing the hair from my forehead. kissed my throbbing temples. and bade me go to rest and think no more of those old tales and savage wars.
 That very night the Romans landed on our coast. I saw the breast that nourished me trampled by the hoof of the war hOrse-the bleeding body of nv father flung amidst the blazing rafters of our dwelling!
 To-day I killed man in the arena and. when I broke his helmet clasps behold! he was my friend. He knew me, smiled faintly. easped. and died the same sweet smile upon his lips that had marked. when. in adventur- ous bOvhood. we sealed the lofty cliffs to pluck the first ripe grapes. and bear them home in childish triumph. 1 I told the praetor that the dead man had been my friend generous and brave: and I begged that I might bear away the body, to burn it on a funeral pile. and mourn over It's ashes. Aye! upon my knees. amid the dust and blood of the arena. I begged that poor boon. while all the assembled maids and matrons, and the holy virgins they call Vestals. and the rabble. shouted in derision, deeming it rare sport. for sooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale and tremble at sight of that piece Of bleeding clay.
 And the praetor drew back as I were pollution. and sternly Said Let the carrion rot; there are no noble men | but Romans''
 And so, ,fellowglatliators, must you, and so must I. die like dogs.
 Q Rome! Rome! thou hast been a tender nurse to me- Aye! thou hast giy- 1 en to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd lad. who never knew harsher tone than flute-note, muscles of iron and ! a heart of flint: taught him to drive ! the sword through plaited mail and 1 links of rugged brass, and warm 1t in l the marrow of his foe. to gaze into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian non. even as boy upon laughing girl! And he shall pay thee back un- til the yellow Fiber is red as frotbing wine. and in it's deepest ooze thy life blood lies curdled.
 Ne stand here now like giants, as ye are! The strength of brass is in your toughened sinews. but tomorrow some Roman Adonis breathing sweet per- fume from his curly locks, shall. with his lily fingers, pat your red brawn, and bet his sesterces upon your blood. Hafk! near ye yon lion roaring in his den? Iris three days since he has tasted flesh; but tomorrow he shall break his fast upon yours-and dain- ty meal for him ye will be!
 | If ye are beasts, then stand here like oxen. waiting for the butchers knife, If ye are men, follow me! Strike down yon guard. gain the mountain passes and there do bloody work, as did your sires, at old Thermopylae.
 Is Sparta dead? Is the old Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cover like a belabored hound beneath his masters lash? o I comrades! warriors! Thracians! if we must fight, let us fight for ourselves! l If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky by the bright