mere playthings in his hand. You ask if the senate
does not still exist? I answer, it does; but, as a man exists whom a
palsy has made but half alive; the body is there, but the soul is gone,
and even the body is asleep. The senators, with all becoming gravity,
assemble themselves at the capitol, and what time they sleep not away
the tedious hours in their ivory chairs, they debate such high matters
as, 'whether the tax which this year falls heavy upon Capua, by reason
of a blast upon the grapes, shall be lightened or remitted!' or 'whether
the petition of the Milanese for the construction at the public expense
of a granary shall be answered favorably!' or 'whether V. P. Naso shall
be granted a new trial after defeat at the highest court!' Not that
there is not virtue in the senate, some dignity, some respect and love
for the liberties of Rome--witness myself--but that the Emperor has
engrossed the whole empire to himself, and nothing is left for that body
but to keep alive the few remaining forms of ancient liberty, by
assembling as formerly, and taking care of whatever insignificant
affairs are intrusted to them. In a great movement like this against the
Christians, Aurelian does not so much as recognize their existence. No
advice is asked, no cooeperation. And the less is he disposed to
communicate with them in the present instance perhaps, from knowing so
well that the measure would find no favor in their eyes; but would, on
the contrary, be violently opposed. Everything, accordingly, originates
in the sovereign will of Aurelian, and is carried into effect by his arm
wielding the total power of this boundless empire--being now, what it
has been his boast to make it, coextensive with its extremest borders as
they were in the time of the Antonines. There is no power to resist him;
nor are there many who dare to utter their real opinions, least of all,
a senator, or a noble. A beggar in the street may do it with better
chance of its being respected, if agreeable to him, and of escaping
rebuke or worse, if it be unpalatable. To the people, he is still, as
ever, courteous and indulgent.

* * * * *

There is throughout the city a strange silence and gloom, as if in
expectancy of some great calamity; or of some event of dark and
uncertain character. The Christians go about their affairs as usual, not
ceasing from any labors, nor withdrawing from the scene of danger; but
with firm step and s