on board, and on the windows of the villa in which he passed the night.  One bird, he says, flew upon his couch and pecked at the cloak in which he had wrapped himself.  His slaves reproached themselves at allowing a master, whom the very animals were thus seeking to help, to perish before their eyes.  Almost by main force they put him into his litter and carried him toward the coast.  Antony’s soldiers now reached the villa, the officer in command being an old client whom Cicero had successfully defended on a charge of murder.  They found the doors shut and burst them open.  The inmates denied all knowledge of their master’s movements, till a young Greek, one of his brother’s freedmen, whom Cicero had taken a pleasure in teaching, showed the officer the litter which was being carried through the shrubbery of the villa to the sea.  Taking with him some of his men, he hastened to follow.  Cicero, hearing their steps, bade the bearers set the litter on the ground.  He looked out, and stroking his chin with his left hand, as his habit was, looked steadfastly at the murderers.  His face was pale and worn with care.  The officer struck him on the neck with his sword, some of the rough soldiers turning away while the deed was done.  The head and hands were cut off by order of Antony, and nailed up in the Forum.

Many years afterwards the Emperor Augustus (the Octavius of this chapter), coming unexpectedly upon one of his grandsons, saw the lad seek to hide in his robe a volume which he had been reading.  He took it, and found it to be one of the treatises of Cicero.  He returned it with words which I would here repeat; “He was a good man and a lover of his country.”

THE END.