al, into which the city was
split up, all came to him with their grievances, and, wonderful to say,
never murmured at his verdicts. Before he had been consul much more than
a year, Milan was in a quieter state than it had been for half a
century.

But the death of the bishop early in 374 threatened to plunge everything
into the old confusion. Valentinian was consulted, but refused to have
anything to do in the matter of the election of a new prelate; it was
not his business, he said. So the bishops streamed in to Milan from the
cities of the north and met in the gallery of one of the large round
churches that were built in those days. In great excitement the people
pressed in below; so much depended on who was chosen--to which party he
belonged. For hours and hours they waited, and every now and then a
murmur ran through the crowd that the announcement was about to be made;
but it died away as fast as it came, and the weary waiting began again.
At last the strain grew too great, and it was quite plain that the
smallest spark of disagreement would kindle a great fire.

A man wiser than the rest saw this, and hastened to summon Ambrose to
the spot.

'Do not delay an instant,' he cried, 'or it will be too late. Only you
can keep the peace, so come at once.'

[Illustration: 'Do not delay an instant,' he cried, 'or it will be too
late.']

Ambrose needed no urging. What his friend said was true, and, besides,
he was as a magistrate bound if possible to prevent a riot, or, if one
had already begun, to quell it.

The loud, angry voices ceased as he entered the church, and amidst a
dead silence he begged the crowd to be patient yet a little while
longer, and to remember that the choice of a bishop was one that
affected them all, and could not be made in a hurry. As he spoke he
noted that the excitement began to grow less, and by the time he had
ended the flushed faces were calm again. Then the voice of a child rang
through the church.

'Ambrose, bishop!'

'Ambrose, bishop,' echoed the people, but Ambrose stood for a moment
rooted to the spot. It was the last thing he had expected or wished, but
the continued cries brought him to himself, and hastily leaving the
church he went to the hall where he gave his judgments, the crowd
pressing on him right up to the door.

Never before or since has any man been so suddenly lifted into a
position for which he had made no previous preparation. He, a bishop!
Why, though a Chris