Casca showed Claudius the leading features of interest in Alexandria, and the bustle and activity of the representatives of many nations filled the Roman soldier with wonder; for at this time Alexandria, the greatest sea-port in the world, was crowded with buyers and sellers, and rich merchant princes from all quarters. Through the great Moon Gate there was a perpetual stream of camels, and elephants, and humble asses, all laden with merchandise. Jews were there, with keen eager eyes; Greeks, with their graceful easy carriage and soft musical tongue; Romans, too, and representatives of the great Northern tribes, of which Claudius had spoken. Rome, the city on the seven hills, had filled the dreams of his boyhood in Britain; it had been to him as a queen amongst cities in his later years, but Alexandria was like a vision. The ranges of buildings were so vast, and the unbroken line presented a _coup d’œil_ of magnificence scarcely if ever rivalled. Claudius gazed around him, and but imperfectly heard or understood Casca’s descriptions and explanations. He was dazzled and bewildered, and he could only reply to Casca in monosyllables, which were scarcely less irritating to Casca than silence. The friends who greeted Casca looked inquiringly at Claudius, and he felt he had no part or lot in Alexandria; her beauty was a dead letter to him, and all her treasures of art and literature sealed books. While Casca lectured in the museum or attended the orations of philosophers, Claudius found his chief delight centred in little Cynthia. She brought back the old, old days when the other Hyacintha was the child, and he, a rough untaught boy, felt always softened and subdued by her presence. He loved to take the Cynthia of the present on his knees, and while she toyed with his rough beard, and the ornaments on his military coat, he would listen to her babyish prattle, which was made up of various languages, and find in her society far more consolation than in the declamations of the orators and poets in the lecture-rooms of the museum. Anna was much engaged with her preparations for departure, and leaving all things in Casca’s household in good order. She would look in on the great soldier sometimes and smile, and bid the child not be too troublesome, or the good Claudius would weary of her. Anna had taught the little Cynthia the Gospel story, and Claudius found that the Lord, who was his acknowledged Master, was a very real Being to Casca’s little daughter. With the unquestioning faith of the little child, Cynthia needed no other assurance than “Anna says so,” and Claudius loved to hear her tell of the birth of the Lord Jesus, and of the little babes who were killed for His sake.