the under-side of that firmament up to which the eye of man, however wretched and sinful, may look, be so beautiful and bright, what must that upper-side be, down upon which the eye of boundless Glory deigns to glance! I imagine it to be like a richly-embroidered veil, through the texture of which a few points of golden thread may be allowed to pass; and these only reach us. How transcendently royal must be that upper surface, on which tread the lightsome feet of angels, and of the just made perfect!” “A graceful thought, Pancratius, and no less true. It makes the veil, between us laboring here and the triumphal church above, thin and easily to be passed.” “And pardon me, Sebastian,” said the youth, with the same look up to his friend, as a few evenings before had met his mother’s inspired gaze, “pardon me if, while you wisely speculate upon a future arch to record the triumph of Christianity, I see already before me, built and open, the arch through which we, feeble as we are, may lead the Church speedily to the triumph of glory, and ourselves to that of bliss.” “Where, my dear boy, where do you mean?” Pancratius pointed steadily with his hand towards the left, and said: “There, my noble Sebastian; any of those open arches of the Flavian amphitheatre, which lead to its arena; over which, not denser than the outstretched canvas which shades our spectators, is that veil of which you spoke just now. But hark!” “That was a lion’s roar from beneath the Cœlian!” exclaimed Sebastian, surprised. “Wild beasts must have arrived at the _vivarium_[39] of the amphitheatre; for I know there were none there yesterday.” “Yes, hark!” continued Pancratius, not noticing the interruption. “These are the trumpet-notes that summon us; that is the music that must accompany us to our triumph!” Both paused for a time, when Pancratius again broke the silence, saying: “This puts me in mind of a matter on which I want to take your advice, my faithful counsellor; will your company be soon arriving?” “Not immediately; and they will drop in one by one; till they assemble, come into my chamber, where none will interrupt us.” They walked along the terrace, and entered the last room of the suite. It was at the corner of the hill, exactly opposite the fountain; and was lighted only by the rays of the moon, streaming through the open window on that side. The soldier stood near this, and Pancratius sat upon his small military couch. “What is this great affair, Pancratius,” said the officer, smiling, “upon which you wish to have my sage opinion?” “Quite a trifle, I dare say,” replied the youth, bashfully, “for a bold and generous man like you; but an important one to an unskilful and weak boy like me.” “A good and virtuous one, I doubt not; do let me hear it; and I promise you every assistance.”