tolemy, together with the other articles of value which had
been found upon his person. Ptolemy sent this seal to Caesar to complete
the proof that its possessor was no more. Caesar received _this_
memorial with eager though mournful pleasure, and he preserved it with
great care. And in many ways, during all the remainder of his life, he
manifested every outward indication of cherishing the highest respect
for Pompey's memory. There stands to the present day, among the ruins of
Alexandria, a beautiful column, about one hundred feet high, which has
been known in all modern times as POMPEY'S PILLAR. It is formed of
stone, and is in three parts. One stone forms the pedestal, another the
shaft, and a third the capital. The beauty of this column, the
perfection of its workmanship, which still continues in excellent
preservation, and its antiquity, so great that all distinct record of
its origin is lost, have combined to make it for many ages the wonder
and admiration of mankind. Although no history of its origin has come
down to us, a tradition has descended that Caesar built it during his
residence in Egypt, to commemorate the name of Pompey; but whether it
was his own victory over Pompey, or Pompey's own character and military
fame which the structure was intended to signalize to mankind, can not
now be known. There is even some doubt whether it was erected by
Caesar at all.

[Sidenote: Surrender of Pompey's officers.]
[Sidenote: Caesar's generosity.]

While Caesar was in Alexandria, many of Pompey's officers, now that
their master was dead, and there was no longer any possibility of their
rallying again under his guidance and command, came in and surrendered
themselves to him. He received them with great kindness, and, instead of
visiting them with any penalties for having fought against him, he
honored the fidelity and bravery they had evinced in the service of
their own former master. Caesar had, in fact, shown the same generosity
to the soldiers of Pompey's army that he had taken prisoners at the
battle of Pharsalia. At the close of the battle, he issued orders that
each one of his soldiers should have permission to _save_ one of the
enemy. Nothing could more strikingly exemplify both the generosity and
the tact that marked the great conqueror's character than this incident.
The hatred and revenge which had animated his victorious soldiery in the
battle and in the pursuit, were changed immediately by the permission to