Ye mythic gods! Ye gods, Grecian and Roman! Ye gods, from great Jupiter down to the nude little cuss with the bow and arrows, inclusive! It was Icilius! Where now his gallant bearing—his majestic mien—his glittering armor—his proud helmet—his waving plume—and the burnished sword I had seen him flourish, as though it were a king’s scepter? Where!! Where, too, was that noble look of defiance with which he had confronted Claudius Appius? Where that expression of more than mortal anguish that had settled upon his god-like face when beautiful Virginia, loved Virginia, _his_ Virginia, was slain with a butcher-knife by her own father, to avert dishonor? All gone! Gone!! “Dash it, then, give me a cigar,” I heard him say, as I passed the door. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and carelessly thrown open to let the air in upon his manly breast, after his exertion; and, instead of the “raven locks” he had worn that night, his head was covered with short, stiff, reddish hair—_locks_ not so easily broken. Still, in his eyes, features, and voice, with all his change of dress and bearing, I recognized Icilius! “How are the mighty fallen!” Was it for him I had that night stamped, clapped my hands, and screamed “Encore?” I felt small, and said, to myself, “Icilius! I-cili-us! I silly ass! To think how I yelled, cheered, and _encored_ this night for such a worm as thou!” I then went up to my room, resolving never to applaud an actor again, without knowing him to be a “star.” It is perfectly safe then, for we seldom see _them_ in dishabille. Next day Major Kline and I visited a pleasant resort on the river shore, several miles above the city, known as “Ohmer’s Zoological Gardens.” “Pete” Ohmer, the proprietor, was a friend of Major Kline, and he cheerfully accompanied us through his pleasant grounds, showed us the numerous animals which he had on exhibition, and explained their peculiarities. They were all in cages, because some of them were dangerous, while the others might run away. He had one “gentle” bear that was a perfect pet, and would fondle upon one like a dog. (That sentence is ambiguous. I do not mean that he would fondle upon one who was like unto a dog, (the son of a female dog,) but that he would fondle in a manner similar to that of that sagacious animal.) I put my hand in his mouth, and he playfully closed on it with his excellent teeth, just enough to make the blood come: no more. After that, I patted him affectionately on the head and left the cage. As I did so, he left the marks of his teeth on my crutch, and growled a pleasant “good-by.” Another cage we visited contained an animal which I thought looked fully as good-natured as the pet bear. “What animal is this, Mr. Ohmer?” I asked, as I walked up to the cage, and was about to thrust my hand through the bars and pat the gentle-looking creature on the head. “That is the Cal——Look out! Don’t put your hand in! Were you going to?”