t and yet most beautiful Books of the Bible are the
three epistles which bear John's name. They are supposed to have been
written from Ephesus, in John's latter days, and every sentence in them
seems to breathe forth the peace, love, and wisdom of a very old man
who has lived close to Christ for many years. It may well be then that
these calm and loving letters were the last of all the Bible words to
be written.

Now the 'Revelation,' though placed at the end of our Bible, was not
the last Book to be written.

It was probably composed whilst Nero, the wicked Emperor, was torturing
and burning the followers of Christ. St. John's heart must have been
ready to break with distress, but the Holy Spirit comforted him, and
lifted his thoughts right up to Heaven, showing him in a vision the end
of all these things.

Among the fragments of the oldest Bibles in the world recently
discovered, the Book of Revelation takes a prominent place. Some of
these were probably written about the year 150 A.D. Let us remember
when we look on the faded pages lying in the British Museum that when
their discoloured lines were fresh and clean, men were still living who
had seen the early martyrs die.

[1] The Iliad.

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIRST BIBLE PICTURES

[Illustration: (drop cap T) Roman Scourge]

Those boys and girls who love their Bibles are fond of Bible pictures.
Even tiny children delight to see a picture of Jesus Christ holding the
little ones in His arms; and how sad children feel when they are shown
a painting or engraving of the Saviour led away to die!

We have learnt much now of the Bible, and of how the Old and New
Testaments were written, but who first thought of making pictures from
the Bible?

We shall see.

A few miles from the city of Rome, deep, deep underground, are those
wonderful networks of galleries and chambers called 'The Catacombs.'

'Catacomb' means 'scooped out.' Miles and miles of passages are there,
some low and narrow, others wide and lofty; they cross and re-cross
each other, like the streets of a town, and all are scooped out of the
solid earth.

On either side of every gallery are almost endless rows of spaces
hollowed out in the walls, one above another like the berths on board
ship. For the most part they are open and empty, but a few are still
closed. Above some of them words are faintly traced on stone slabs; a
man or woman's name perhaps, oftener still the Latin words, '