ilosophers can determine."

He seemed to think awhile, and began again: "Enjoyment's the great rule;
ask yourself, 'Have I made the most of things?' that's what I say to the
rising generation. Many and many's the time when I have not turned them to
the best account. Oh, if I had now to begin life again, how many things
should I correct! I might have done better this evening. Those abominable
pears! I might have known they would not be worth the eating. Mutton, that
was all well; doves, good again; crane, kid; well, I don't see that I
could have done much better."

After a few minutes he got up half asleep, and put out all the lights but
one small lamp, with which he made his way into his own bed-closet. "All
is vanity," he continued, with a slow, grave utterance, "all is vanity but
eating and drinking. It does not pay to serve the gods except for this.
What's fame? what's glory? what's power? smoke. I've often thought the hog
is the only really wise animal. We should be happier if we were all hogs.
Hogs keep the end of life steadily in view; that's why those toads of
Christians will not eat them, lest they should get like them. Quiet,
respectable, sensible enjoyment; not riot, or revel, or excess, or
quarrelling. Life is short." And with this undeniable sentiment he fell
asleep.

CHAPTER VII.

PERSECUTION IN THE OFFING.

Next morning, as Jucundus was dusting and polishing his statues and other
articles of taste and devotion, supplying the gaps in their ranks, and
grouping a number of new ones which had come in from his workmen, Juba
strutted into the shop, and indulged himself from time to time in an
inward laugh or snigger at the various specimens of idolatry which grinned
or frowned or frisked or languished on all sides of him.

"Don't sneer at that Anubis," said his uncle; "it is the work of the
divine Callista."

"That, I suppose, is why she brings into existence so many demons,"
answered Juba; "nothing more can be done in the divine line; like the
queen who fell in love with a baboon."

"Now I come to think," retorted Jucundus, "that god of hers is something
like _you_. She must be in love with you, Juba."

The youth, as was usual with him, tossed his head with an air of lofty
displeasure; at length he said, "And why should she not fall in love with
me, pray?"

"Why, because you are too good or too bad to need her plastic hand. She
could