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To one thing, however, we may pledge ourselves, that Juba had no intention of shaking, even for one evening, the nerves of Jucundus; yet shaken they were till about the same time twenty-four hours afterwards. And when in that depressed state, he saw nothing but misery on all sides of him. Juba was lost; Agellius worse.

Callista in prison!” cried Agellius with surprise and distress, “what do you mean, Jucundus?” “Yes, it’s a fact; Callista is in prison,” answered he, “and on suspicion of Christianity.” “Callista! Christianity!” said Agellius, bewildered, “do I hear aright? She a Christian! oh, impossible, uncle! you don’t mean to say that she is in prison.

“I thought you’d like to hear something about dear, sweet Callista,” said her brother. “Yes, I should indeed!” answered Jucundus. “By Esculapius! they’re all mad together!” “Well, it is like madness!” cried Aristo, with great vehemence. “The world’s going mad!” answered Jucundus, who was picking up, since he began to talk, an exercise which was decidedly good for him. “We are all going mad!

It’s an opinion: there have been other opinions before them, and there will be other opinions after. Let them alone and they’ll die away; make a hubbub about them and they’ll spread.” “Spread?” cried Jucundus, who was under the twofold excitement of personal feeling and of wine, “spread, they’ll spread? yes, they’ll spread. Yes, grow, like scorpions, twenty at a birth.

“O my good, dear uncle! O Jucundus, Jucundus!” cried Agellius, “is it possible? do my ears hear right? What is it you ask me to do?” and he burst into tears. “Is it conceivable,” he said, with energy, “that you are in earnest in recommending me—I say in recommending me—a marriage which really would be no marriage at all?”

Enter in imagination into a town like Sicca, and you will understand the great Apostle’s anguish at seeing a noble and beautiful city given up to idolatry. Enter it, and you will understand why it was that the poor priest, of whom Jucundus spoke so bitterly, hung his head, and walked with timid eyes and clouded brow through the joyous streets of Carthage.

He could not bear his anger, and he had a fear of his authority; but what was to be done? Jucundus, in utter insensibility to certain instincts and rules which in Christianity are first principles, had, without intending it, been greatly dishonouring Agellius, and his passion, and the object of it. Uncle and nephew had been treading on each other’s toes, and each was wincing under the mischance.

And here, in this ill-omened Africa, the evil eye has looked at her, and she thinks herself a Christian, when she is just as much a hippogriff, or a chimæra.” “Well, but, Aristo,” said Jucundus, “I was going to tell you who is at the bottom of it all.

On the second night he was released by his uncle’s confidential slave, who brought him up to a small back closet on the ground floor, which was lighted from the roof, and next morning, being the second day after the riot, Jucundus came in to have his confidential conversation with him.

Tully has given us an admirable sketch of natural history, in his second book concerning the nature of the Gods; and that in a style so raised by metaphors and descriptions, that it lifts the subject above rallery and ridicule, which frequently fall on such nice observations when they pass through the hands of an ordinary writer. No. 122. Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. PUBL. SYR. Frag.