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THE DEATH OF NERO.

Most of our readers are more or less familiar with the character of the Roman Emperor Nero, and with the persecution the Christians suffered under his reign. A graphic description of the sufferings to which the Christians were exposed by this merciless despot would but harrow the feelings of the reader. Demoniac ingenuity was employed in inflicting the most revolting and terrible torture. The victims were so disguised, by being sewed up in the skins of wild beasts, or wrapped up in tarred sheets to be set on fire as torches to illumine the gardens of Nero, that they were deprived of all sympathy, and exposed only to the derision of the brutal mob. Tender Christian maidens passed through ordeals of exposure, sufferings, and death, too dreadful for us, in these modern days, even to contemplate. That Divine support which Christ promised His disciples in these predicted hours of persecution, sustained them.

One night Nero, dressed in woman's clothes, was in one of the palaces of Rome, surrounded by his boon companions, male and female, indulging in the most loathsome orgies, when a great uproar was heard in the streets. A messenger was sent to ascertain the cause. He returned with the appalling tidings that Galba, at the head of an avenging army, was marching rapidly upon Rome, that insurrection had broken out in the streets, and that a countless mob, breathing threatening and slaughter, were surging toward the palace.

The wretched tyrant, as cowardly as he was infamous, was struck with dismay. He sprang from the table so suddenly as to overturn it, dashing the most costly vases in fragments upon the floor. Beating his forehead like a madman, he cried out, "I am ruined, I am ruined," and called for a cup of poison. Suicide was the common resort, in those days, of the cowardly in their hours of wretchedness. Nero took the poisoned cup, but dared not drink it. He called for a dagger, and examined its polished point, but had not sufficient nerve to press that to his heart. He then rushed from the palace in his woman's garb, and with his long hair fluttering in the wind. Thus disguised, he almost flew through the dark and narrow streets, intending to plunge into the Tiber. As he reached the bank, and gazed upon its gloomy waves, again his courage failed.

Several of his companions had accompanied him. One of them

THE DEATH OF NERO.

suggested that he should flee to a country seat, about three miles from Rome, and there conceal himself. Insane with terror, bareheaded, in his shameful garb, he covered his face with a handkerchief, leaped upon a horse, and succeeded, through a thousand perils, in gaining his retreat. Just before he reached the villa, some alarm so frightened him that he leaped from his horse, and plunged into a thicket by the roadside. Through briers and thorns, with torn clothes and lacerated flesh, he reached the insecure asylum he sought.

In the meantime the Roman Senate had hurriedly assembled. Emboldened by the insurrection, and by the approach of Galba, they passed a decree, declaring Nero to be the enemy of his country, and dooming him to death, more majorum, i.e., according to ancient custom. Some one of Nero's companions brought him the tidings in his hiding-place. Pallid and trembling, he inquired: "And what is death more majorum?" The appalling reply was: "It is to be stripped naked, to have the head fastened in the pillory, and to be scourged to death."

The monster who had amused himself in witnessing the tortures of others recoiled with horror from this dreadful infliction. Seizing a dagger, he again endeavoured to nerve himself to plunge it into his heart. A prick from its sharp point was all he could summon resolution to inflict. He threw the dagger aside, and groaned in terror. He then strove to talk himself into courage. "Ought Nero," said he, "to be afraid? Shall the Emperor be a coward? No. Let me die courageously."

Again he grasped the dagger, anxiously examined its keen edge, and again he threw it aside, with a groan of despair.

Just then the clatter of horsemen was heard, and a party of dragoons was seen approaching. His retreat was discovered, and in a few moments Nero would be helpless in the hands of his enemies. Then there would be no possible escape from the ignominious and agonizing death. In the delirium of despair, he ordered a freedman to hold a sharp sword, so that he might throw himself violently against it. He thus succeeded in severing the jugular vein, and his life-blood spouted forth. As he sank upon the ground the soldiers came up. He looked at them with a malignant scowl, and saying, "You're too late," died.

Thus perished this monster of depravity. It is said that this event took place on the 19th of June, A.D. 68. Many Christians at the time supposed Nero to be the Antichrist. The wretch had

THE GREAT MAGNET.

reigned thirteen years, and died in the thirty-second year of his age. In view of his career, the only solution upon which the mind can repose is found in the declaration of Scripture," After death cometh the judgment."

These events occurred 1800 years ago. During the long and weary centuries which have since elapsed, what a spectacle has this world almost constantly presented to the eye of God. The billows of war have with scarcely any intermission surged over the nations, consigning countless millions to bloody graves. Pestilence and famine have ever followed in the train of armies, creating an amount of misery which no human arithmetic can gauge. Slavery, intemperance, domestic discord, ungovernable passions, the tyranny of kings, the oppression of the rich and powerful, and the countless forms in which man has trampled upon his feebler brother man, have made this world indeed a vale of tears. The student of history is appalled in view of the woes which, during century after century, man has visited upon his fellow-man. For all this there is and there can be no remedy but in the religion of Jesus. Here is the panacea for nearly every earthly woe. Here, and here only, is there hope for the world.

THE GREAT MAGNET.

THERE is a wonderful substance called loadstone, an ore of iron; wonderful, not for its beauty, but for the power it has of attracting other bodies to itself.

Nobody can find out in what its power consists. It operates through stone walls and mountain ledges, just as it does through the air. A piece of it can be broken off and carried anywhere, and rubbed over bars of iron, imparting the same power of attraction to them; but the great mass of it, some think, is deposited near the North Pole, sufficient to draw toward itself every piece of iron through the whole earth, that has been touched by its power.

So Jesus is the great spiritual magnet. He says, "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me." This He said, signifying by what death He should glorify God.

Let us notice some points of resemblance between the material and spiritual magnet.

The magnet only moves bodies by attraction; it has no power of compulsion. So "the love of Christ constraineth us." If we ever come to Him it will be by yielding to His attractions.

THE GREAT MAGNET.

The magnet has no effect on gold and silver, or precious stone, or wood, or rock, or fluids, but only where there is more or less mixture of iron, so Jesus has power of attraction only for the soul of man made in God's image; and no one of our race is so utterly degraded that it may not feel the power of His suffering love.

Jesus draws all men unto Him, though many things may prevent their accepting Him. Their hearts may be fastened too strongly to something else; or the susceptibility of the heart may be so blended with other emotions, that the drawing to Jesus is not effective; or the heart may get so far away, that even when earthly bonds are broken, it does not move toward Him. A slight resistance may stop it, but when it has come to Him a union is formed which shall never be broken. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" Nothing-height or depth, angels, principalities, or powers-" shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus."

It is a power stronger than all the earth. Here is a bar of iron drawn downward by the force of the whole earth's attraction; but it rises to kiss the magnet hung over it. So the face that is turned to Jesus feels an attraction stronger than all the world drawing it upward toward Him.

The magnet has also a discriminating power. Spread a pile of sand upon the table, stir it round, and pass a magnet over it, every little black particle of iron will fly up to meet it, and cling to it. So when Jesus passes by, the heart that has a longing for Him moves to His embrace, while others continue unaffected.

The magnet is a wonderful power. None of our senses detect this quality in the magnet, we only see its results. So, how the dying love of Jesus absorbs into itself the soul of the believer, the wordling can never tell. Napoleon the Great, in his banishment, said to a visitor, after a season of profound meditation, "There is something in this religion of Jesus that I cannot comprehend; I have had soldiers that loved me, officers that would die for me, but I never had such love as Jesus has from his followers."

Yes, there is a power in the love of Christ infinitely transcending all other love.

"In the cross of Christ I glory,

Towering o'er the wrecks of time;

All the light of sacred story
Gathers round its head sublime."

Are you yielding to these wonderful attractions, or resisting them?

POETRY.-ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS.

Poetry.

WHY WALK IN DARKNESS.

WHY walk in darkness? Has the clear light vanished
That gave us joy and day?

Has the great sun departed? Has sin banished
His life-begetting ray?

Light of the world! forever, ever shining,
There is no change in Thee;

True light of life, all joy and health enshrining,
Thou canst not fade nor flee!

Thou hast arisen; but Thou descendest never-
To-day shines as the past;

All that Thou wast, Thou art, and shalt be ever-
Brightness from first to last.

Night visits not Thy sky, nor storm, nor sadness;
Day fills up all its blue,

Unfailing beauty, and unfaltering gladness,
And love forever new.

Why walk in darkness? Our true light still shineth;
It is not night, but day.

All healing and all peace His light enshrineth;
Why shun His loving ray?

Are night and shadows better, truer, dearer,
Than day, and joy, and love?

Do tremblings and mistrustings bring us nearer
To the great God of love!

Light of the world! undimming and unsetting,
O, shine each mist away;

Banish the fear, the falsehood, and the fretting,
By an unchanging day!

Anecdotes and Selections.

-H. Bonar.

THE SEA OF GALILEE.-Once these waters were alive with craft of all sorts, and a mighty commerce had its seat on these shores, but that famous navy has dwindled to a couple of small fishing boats, both of which we hire for our next day's excursion. Afloat on the bosom of the Gennesareth! Softly the winds waft us past the old houses of Tiberias, with its crumbling Saracen wall. We are heading to the north. Soon the breeze freshens-the gathering waves toss us finely, and spatter

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