he has sprung clean from the ground; he is in his seat. He has seized the bridle in his right hand and carried it to his mouth; he takes it between his teeth. He is now relieving his left hand of one of those torches; he holds one in each hand, somewhat away from the body, nearly horizontal. The grooms are removing the muzzle, and the rider sends his feet firmly, yet I think not very far, through the stirrups of hide, the like of which I never saw before. I wonder they are not always used."

"What of the horse? Is he motionless?"

"Not less so than a statue," replied the slave; "excepting the eyes and nostrils, which last exhibit a tremulous movement, and show scarlet, like hollow leaves or thin shells on fire. The brute's lurid eye looks wicked and dire."

"How looks the rider?"

"Calm and heedful; the occasional breath of air from the east carries away to the front the slow flame and smoke of those torches which he holds one in each hand." "What can they be for?"

"I know not," replied Claudius.

"I suppose they are intended," said the child, "to compel the horse to keep his head straight. Thus the rider need not fear the beast's teeth. The issue seems, then, to be reduced to a trial of sheer horsemanship."

"And in such a trial, most honored sir," replied the slave, "I begin to have hopes. You should see the youth. The leading-reins are now loose. The muzzle is snatched away, and the contest has begun. Surely it seems one between a wild beast and a demigod." "Is he thrown?"

"No; yes; so help me! he is off, but is off standing." "Explain; proceed I tell you, proceed!"

"The horse, after a series of violent plunges, suddenly reared till he had nearly gained a perpendicular position upon his hind legs, the fore feet pawing the air. The rider, who seemed to be as little liable to fall as though he had been a part of the animal, then quickly passed his right foot out of the far stirrup, and dropping the bridle from his teeth, slipped down on the hither side. Hark! did you hear the crash with which the fore feet have come down? The steed seemed to be very near falling backward, but after a struggle of two or three seconds recovered himself. O ye gods! just as you heard that ponderous thud with which he descended upon his fore feet, the youth darted from the ground with a spring like his first, and he is now on the brute's back as before. He stoops to the horse's neck; he has caught the bridle in his teeth, and lifts that brave, clear face again. Listen to the multitude! Oh! how the cheers thunder from a hundred thousand sympathetic voices."

"Ah, my sight!" cried the child Caligula.

"Ha! ha!" continued Claudius, transported out of himself. "Ha! ha! The beast of a horse seems astonished. How he writhes his back, curving it like some monstrous catamount. And lo! now he leaps from the ground with all four feet at the same time.” "Oh! for a few minutes' sight!" said the child. "Has not the horse tried to twist his head round, and so to bring his teeth into play?"

"Even now he tries," replied Claudius; "but he is met on either side by the torch. The fiercest beast of the desert shrinks from fire. Do you hear the tread of his hoofs, as he traces the circle of the arena, guided by those steady hands from which flames appear to flow? Faster and faster rushes the steed, always restrained and turned by the outer torch, which is brought near his head, while the inner is held farther to the rear. His sides are flecked with foam. The pace grows too rapid for a short curve, and the steed is now guided straight for the western opening in the arena opposite to where we sit. They are gone; and again hark! Is not that shout like the roar of waters on a stormbeaten shore?"

"But surely," said the imperial child, "it is not over so soon. It is like a dream.”

DISCOURAGED

Where the little babbling streamlet
First brings forth to light,

Trickling through soft velvet mosses,

Almost hid from sight;

Vowed I with delight,

"River, I will follow thee,

Through thy wanderings to the Sea!"

Gleaming 'mid the purple heather,
Downward then it sped,

Glancing through the mountain gorges,

Like a silver thread,

As it quicker fled,

Louder music in its flow,

Dashing to the vale below.

Then its voice grew lower, gentler,

And its pace less fleet,

Just as though it loved to linger

Round the rushes' feet,

As they stooped to meet
Their clear images below,
Broken by the ripples' flow.

Purple Willow-herb bent over
To her shadow fair:

Meadow sweet, in feathery clusters,

Perfumed all the air;

Silver weed was there,

And in one calm, grassy spot,

Starry, blue Forget-me-not.

Tangled weeds, below the waters,
Still seemed drawn away;

Yet the current, floating onward,
Was less strong than they;
Sunbeams watched their play,
With a flickering light and shade,
Through the screen the Alders made.

Broader grew the flowing River;
To its grassy brink

Slowly, in the slanting sun-rays,
Cattle trooped to drink;
The blue sky, I think,

Was no bluer than that stream,
Slipping onward, like a dream.

Quicker, deeper, then it hurried,
Rushing fierce and free;

But I said, "It should grow calmer

Ere it meets the Sea,

The wide purple Sea,