all will not do:  Constantius writes severe and haughtily, Send the men, and let’s hear no more of that presumptuous fooling about the second Augustus!—­So Julian marches east; whither, accompanying him, the lately rebellious Celts and Petulants are ready enough to go now; and Constantius might after all have fallen in battle, and so missed his saving baptism; but his plans had gone agley, and the whole situation was extremely disturbing; and you never knew what might happen:  and really, when you thought how you had treated this Julian’s father, and his two brothers, and numberless uncles and cousins, you might fear the very worst;—­ and so, good maiden-auntish soul, he fell into a sadness, and thence into a decline; and while Julian and his Petulants were yet a long way off, got baptized respectably, and slipped off to heaven.

And you know, too, probably, how Julian, being now sole emperor, reigned:  working night and day; wearing out relays of secretaries, but never worn out himself; making the three years of his reign, as I think Gibbon says, read like thirty; disestablishing Christianity, and refounding Paganism,—­not the Paganism that had been of old, but a new kind, based upon compassion, human brotherhood, and Theosophical ethics, and illumined by his own ever-present vision of the Gods;—­how he reformed the laws; governed; made his life-giving hand felt from the Scottish Wall to the Nile Cataracts;—­instilled new vigor into everything; forced toleration upon the Christians, stopping dead their mutual persecutions, and recalling from banishment those who had been banished by their co-religionists of other sects;—­made them rebuild temples they had torn down, and disgorge temple properties they had plundered;—­and amidst all this, and much more also, found time in the wee small hours of the nights to do a good deal of literary work:  Theosophical treatises, correspondence, sketches....—­And you will know of the spotless purity, the asceticism, of his life; and how he stedfastly refused to persecute;—­whereby his opponents complained that, son of Satan as he was, he denied them the glory of the martyr’s crown;—­and of his plan to rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem, and to re-establish Jews and Judaism in their native land:—­of his letter to the Jewish high priest or chief Rabbi, beginning “My brother";—­of the charitable institutions he raised, and dedicated to the Lord of Vision, his God the Unconquered Sun;—­of his contests with frivolity and corruption at Antioch, and his friendship with the philosophers;—­and then, of his Persian expedition, with its rashness,—­its brilliant victories,—­its over-rashness and head-strong advance;—­of the burning of the fleet, and march into the desert; and retreat; and that sudden attack,—­the Persian squadrons rising up like afreets out of the sands, from nowhere; and Julian rushing unarmed through the thickest of the fight, turning, first here, then there, confusion into firmness, defeat into victory;—­and