ns further even
than that of Rome, and we are galled by this yoke which you have laid
upon us."

"Are not our laws just?" asked the Governor.

"The code of Caesar is just, but it is always the code of Caesar. Our own
laws were made for our own uses and our own circumstances, and we would
fain have them again."

"You speak Roman as if you had been bred in the Forum; you wear a Roman
toga; your hair is filleted in Roman fashion--are not these the gifts of
Rome?"

"We would take all the learning and all the arts that Rome or Greece
could give, but we would still be Britain, and ruled by Britons."

The viceroy smiled. "By the rood of Saint Helena," said he, "had you
spoken thus to some of my heathen ancestors, there would have been an
end to your politics. That you have dared to stand before my face and
say as much is a proof for ever of the gentleness of our rule. But I
would reason with you for a moment upon this your request. You know well
that this land has never been one kingdom, but was always under many
chiefs and many tribes, who have made war upon each other. Would you in
very truth have it so again?"

"Those were in the evil pagan days, the days of the Druid and the
oak-grove, your excellency. But now we are held together by a gospel of
peace."

The viceroy shook his head. "If all the world were of the same way of
thinking, then it would be easier," said he. "It may be that this
blessed doctrine of peace will be little help to you when you are face
to face with strong men who still worship the god of war. What would you
do against the Picts of the north?"

"Your excellency knows that many of the bravest legionaries are of
British blood. These are our defence."

"But discipline, man, the power to command, the knowledge of war, the
strength to act--it is in these things that you would fail. Too long
have you leaned upon the crutch."

"The times may be hard, but when we have gone through them, Britain will
be herself again."

"Nay, she will be under a different and a harsher master," said the
Roman. "Already the pirates swarm upon the eastern coast. Were it not
for our Roman Count of the Saxon shore they would land to-morrow. I see
the day when Britain may, indeed, be one; but that will be because you
and your fellows are either dead or are driven into the mountains of the
west. All goes into the melting pot, and if a better Albion should come
forth from it, it will be after ages of strife, and neither