her flying hosts, kept to her
resolution. When all was lost, she took poison, and perished upon the
field where she had vowed to seek victory or death. With her decease the
success of the Britons vanished. Though they still kept the field, they
gradually yielded to the Roman arms, and Britain became in time a quiet
and peaceful part of the great empire of Rome.

_ROME SWEPT BY FLAMES._

Nero, the cruel coward under whom Rome for its sins was made to suffer,
could scarcely devise follies and atrocities enough to please his
profligate fancy. He offended the pride and sense of decorum of Rome by
forcing senators and women of the highest rank to appear as gladiators
in the arena. He exposed himself to ridicule by appearing as an actor in
the theatre at Naples, which theatre, as soon as the audience dispersed,
tumbled to pieces,--a little late so far as Nero himself was concerned.
Returning to Rome, he indulged in every species of vice and folly,
lavishing the wealth of the state with the utmost prodigality. On the
lake of Agrippa he had a pavilion erected on a great floating platform,
which was moved from point to point by the aid of boats superbly
decorated with gold and ivory, while to furnish the banquet here given,
animals of the chase were sought in the whole country round, and fish
were brought from every sea and even from the distant ocean. When night
descended a sudden illumination burst forth from all sides, and music
resounded from every grove. These are the mentionable parts of the
festival. Vile scenes were exhibited of which nothing can be said.

Finally, at a loss in what deeper excess of vice and ostentation to
indulge, the crowned reprobate set fire to Rome that he might enjoy the
spectacle of an unlimited conflagration. This wickedness, it is true, is
doubted by some historians, but we are told that during the prevalence
of the flames a crew of incendiaries threatened anyone with death who
should seek to extinguish them, and flung flaming torches into the
dwellings, crying that they acted under orders.

In all the history of Rome this fire was far the most violent and
destructive. Breaking out in a number of shops stored with combustible
goods, and driven by the winds, it raged with the utmost fury, neither
the thick walls of the houses nor the enclosures of the temples
sufficing to stay its frightful progress. The form of the streets, long,
narrow, and winding, added to the mischief, and the fl