n
that, as I hear, condemns violence, and consists in the strictness with
which the passions are governed, should suppose that he was doing any
other work than entering a breach in his own citadel, by such ferocity.
But it is quite possible his wits are touched.'

'No, I presume not,' said the first; 'this is a kind of zeal which, if I
have observed aright, the Christians hold in esteem.'

As these separated to distant parts of the shop, I said to Probus, who
seemed heavily oppressed by what had occurred, 'What daemon dwells in
that body that has just departed?'

'Well do you say daemon. The better mind of that man seems oft-times
seized upon by some foul spirit, and bound--which then acts and speaks
in its room. But do you not know him?'

'No, truly; he is a stranger to me, as he appears to be to all.'

'Nevertheless, you have been in his company. You forget not the
Mediterranean voyage?'

'By no means. I enjoyed it highly, and recall it ever with delight.'

'Do you not remember, at the time I narrated to you the brief story of
my life, that, as I ended, a rough voice from among the soldiers
exclaimed, 'Where now are the gods of Rome?' This is that man, the
soldier Macer; then bound with fellow soldiers to the service in Africa,
now a Christian preacher.'

'I see it now. That man impressed me then with his thin form and
all-devouring eyes. But the African climate, and the gash across his
left cheek, and which seems to have slightly disturbed the eye upon that
side, have made him a different being, and almost a terrific one. Is he
sound and sane?'

'Perfectly so,' replied Probus, 'unless we may say that souls earnestly
devoted and zealous, are mad. There is not a more righteous soul in
Rome. His conscience is bare, and shrinking like a fresh wound. His
breast is warm and fond as a woman's--his penitence for the wild errors
of his pagan youth, a consuming fire, which, while it redoubles his
ardor in doing what he may in the cause of truth, rages in secret, and,
if the sword or the cross claim him not, will bring him to the grave. He
is utterly incapable of fear. All the racks and dungeons of Rome, with
their tormentors, could not terrify him.'

'You now interest me in him. I must see and know him. It might be of
service to him and to all, Probus, methinks, if he could be brought to
associate with those whose juster notions might influence his, and
modify them to the rule of truth.'

'I fear not. What he see