The lofty glow of enthusiasm faded from the flushed cheek of Adonijah, and the spirit that could have endured the sharpest pangs unmoved, shrank in horror from the idea of disgrace; but this weakness was momentary, the next instant he raised his majestic head and said, “Be it so, be mine that doom of shame, for even that will I endure for the honour of my God.” A tear glistened in the manly eye of Lucius Claudius, but he was evidently ashamed of the unwonted guest, for he hastily dashed away the intruding witness of his sympathy. “Why were you not a Roman, noble youth?” cried he; then after a pause, he added, “If I can procure your freedom, will you cease to be an enemy to Rome.” “Not while your idol ensigns pollute the hills of Judea can I cease to be a foe to Rome. Released from slavery, I should again wage war with your people, and fight or die in defence of the land that gave me birth.” “Then you would disdain to serve me, though the bonds of friendship should soften those of slavery. Tell me why a haughty warrior could submit to chains at all? I had thrown myself upon my sword; but perhaps life then had charms.” “Suicide is held in abomination by us Jews,” replied Adonijah, “for we know the spirit shall survive the grave; to be united again to the body at the resurrection, when every man shall be judged according to his works. The Gentiles, plunged in dark idolatry, are ignorant of this great truth, and therefore, shrinking from the trials of adversity, to avoid the lesser evil rush upon the greater. Life for me has no charms, though I endure its burden. Seest thou yonder tree, over which the storm hath lately passed? In its days of strength and beauty it was a fitting emblem of Adonijah, so now in its ruin you may behold a lively image of his desolation. Like him it still exists, though like him it will never renew its branches, or fulfil the glorious promise of its youth. Yet, generous Roman, I should not refuse to serve him who would save me from a shameful and accursed death.”