It is always the fate of a real or supposed benefactor of the public to have plenty of private foes; and, indeed, an elevated position is usually an inviting mark for the arrows of malevolence. Manlius became a target forthwith; and, had the very bull's eye been aimed at, the apple of his eye could not have been more effectually hit, than by a wound sought to be inflicted on him, through his son Titus. The youth had, it seems, an unfortunate hesitation in his speech, which irritated his hasty parent; and as the boy could scarcely stammer out a word, a few words with his father became a very frequent consequence. As he laboured so much in his speech, the unhappy lad was sent to labour with his hands among the slaves; and Pomponius, the plebeian tribune, having a spite against the father, began to regard the son with the most enlarged benevolence. Pomponius, by way of prosecuting his vindictive plans, resolved on prosecuting Manlius, for cruelty to his son; but the boy, in a powerful fit of filial piety, though he had a considerable hesitation in his own delivery, had no hesitation whatever about the delivery of his father from the hands of his enemies. Proceeding to the house of Pomponius, under the cloak of friendship, and with a dagger under his cloak, he desired to speak with the Tribune, who was still in bed, and not being up to the designs of Titus, ordered his admission to the chamber. The young man had been received in a spirit of friendly confidence by Pomponius, who only discovered that young Manlius was at daggers-drawn, when he was seen to brandish a glittering weapon. He demanded an unconditional withdrawal of the charge against his father; when the terrified Tribune, finding it impossible to bolster up his courage, muttered a promise to stay all proceedings; and Titus, who had formerly irritated his father by stammering, was received with open arms, for having spoken out so boldly in his favour. [Illustration: Titus threatening Pomponius.] No sooner were the divisions of the people healed, than the city itself began to be torn to pieces in a most extraordinary manner. Rome was convulsed to its centre: the earth began to quake, and the citizens to tremble. A tremendous chasm appeared at length in the Forum; and as the abyss yawned more and more, it was thought unsafe for the people to go to sleep over it. Some thought it was a freak of Nature, who, as if in enjoyment of the cruel sport she occasioned, had gone into convulsions, and split her sides. Others formed different conjectures; but the chasm still remained,--a formidable open question. Some of the people tried to fill it up with dry rubbish, but they only filled up their own time, without producing the least effect upon the cavity. In vain did the largest contractors undertake the job, for it was impossible to contract the aperture, that, instead of being small by degrees and beautifully less, grew every day large by fits and starts, and horribly greater.