=_293._= THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR.

When now he had stood there not many minutes, one of the doors of the vivaria was suddenly thrown back, and bounding forth with a roar that seemed to shake the walls of the theatre, a lion of huge dimensions leaped upon the arena.  Majesty and power were inscribed upon his lordly limbs; and, as he stood there where he had first sprung, and looked round upon the multitude, how did his gentle eye and noble carriage, with which no one for a moment could associate meanness, or cruelty, or revenge, cast shame upon the human monsters assembled to behold a solitary, unarmed man torn limb from limb!  When he had in this way looked upon that cloud of faces, he then turned, and moved round the arena through its whole circumference, still looking upwards upon those who filled the seats, not till he had come again to the point from which he started so much as noticing him who stood his victim in the midst.  Then, as if apparently for the first time becoming conscious of his presence, he caught the form of Probus, and, moving slowly towards him, looked steadfastly upon him, receiving in return the settled gaze of the Christian.  Standing there still a while, each looking upon the other, he then walked round him, then approached nearer, making suddenly, and for a moment, those motions which indicated the roused appetite; but, as it were, in the spirit of self-rebuke, he immediately retreated a few paces, and lay down in the sand, stretching out his head towards Probus, and closing his eyes, as if for sleep.

* * * * *

=_Lydia Maria Child, 1802-._= (Manual, p. 434.)

From “Autumnal Leaves.”

=_294._= ILL TEMPER CONTAGIOUS.

It is curious to observe how a man’s spiritual state reflects itself in the people and animals around him; nay, in the very garments, trees, and stones.

Reuben Black was an infestation in the neighborhood where he resided.  The very sight of him produced effects similar to the Hindoo magical tune called Raug, which is said to bring on clouds, storms, and earthquakes.  His wife seemed lean, sharp, and uncomfortable.  The heads of his boys had a bristling aspect, as if each individual hair stood on end with perpetual fear.  The cows poked out their horns horizontally, as soon as he opened the barn-yard gate.  The dog dropped his tail between his legs, and eyed him askance, to see what humor he was in.  The cat looked wild and scraggy, and had been known to rush straight up the chimney when he moved towards her.  Fanny Kemble’s expressive description of the Pennsylvania stage-horses was exactly suited to Reuben’s poor old nag.  “His hide resembled an old hair-trunk.”  Continual whipping and kicking had made him such a stoic, that no amount of blows could quicken his pace, and no chirruping could change the dejected drooping of his head.  All his natural language said, as plainly as a horse could say it, that he was a most