brother might be recalled from banishment, but Caesar rebuked him for his fawning conduct, and refused to grant his petition.  Immediately, at Cimber’s request, first Brutus and then Cassias begged for the return of the banished Publius; but Caesar still refused.  He said he could not be moved; that he was as fixed as the North Star, and proceeded to speak in the most complimentary terms of the firmness of that star and its steady character.  Then he said he was like it, and he believed he was the only man in the country that was; therefore, since he was “constant” that Cimber should be banished, he was also “constant” that he should stay banished, and he’d be hanged if he didn’t keep him so!

Instantly seizing upon this shallow pretext for a fight, Casca sprang at Caesar and struck him with a dirk, Caesar grabbing him by the arm with his right hand, and launching a blow straight from the shoulder with his left, that sent the reptile bleeding to the earth.  He then backed up against Pompey’s statue, and squared himself to receive his assailants.  Cassias and Cimber and Cinna rushed, upon him with their daggers drawn, and the former succeeded in inflicting a wound upon his body; but before he could strike again, and before either of the others could strike at all, Caesar stretched the three miscreants at his feet with as many blows of his powerful fist.  By this time the Senate was in an indescribable uproar; the throng of citizens is the lobbies had blockaded the doors in their frantic efforts to escape from the building, the sergeant-at-arms and his assistants were struggling with the assassins, venerable senators had cast aside their encumbering robes, and were leaping over benches and flying down the aisles in wild confusion toward the shelter of the committee-rooms, and a thousand voices were shouting “Po-lice!  Po-lice!” in discordant tones that rose above the frightful din like shrieking winds above the roaring of a tempest.  And amid it all great Caesar stood with his back against the statue, like a lion at bay, and fought his assailants weaponless and hand to hand, with the defiant bearing and the unwavering courage which he had shown before on many a bloody field.  Billy Trebonius and Caius Legarius struck him with their daggers and fell, as their brother-conspirators before them had fallen.  But at last, when Caesar saw his old friend Brutus step forward armed with a murderous knife, it is said he seemed utterly overpowered with grief and amazement, and, dropping his invincible left arm by his side, he hid his face in the folds of his mantle and received the treacherous blow without an effort to stay the hand that gave it.  He only said, “Et tu, Brute?” and fell lifeless on the marble pavement.

We learn that the coat deceased had on when he was killed was the same one he wore in his tent on the afternoon of the day he overcame the Nervii, and that when it was removed from the corpse it was found to be cut and gashed in no less than seven different places.  There was nothing in the pockets.  It will be exhibited at the coroner’s inquest, and will be damning proof of the fact of the killing.  These latter facts may be relied on, as we get them from Mark Antony, whose position enables him to learn every item of news connected with the one subject of absorbing interest of-to-day.