quite unexpectedly, Cormoran wakes in fury. And urging out with a dash to catch the insulting pigmy, in his haste the Giant FALLETH, unsuspecting, disgraced, and grievously, into the pit of fire. And thereupon he is speedily despatched by Jaculus. And this is the well-merited and perfect

END OF THE GIANT OF ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT.

The COIN now disappears for a time. Where and what mischief it effected between this fantastic exercise of its power, and all the occurrences detailed in the preceding legendary account, and this coming scene in the Coliseum of Rome wherein (in this succeeding chapter) we again recognise it, mysterious and baleful, does not appear. It penetrates like an arrow through the clouds of the intervening centuries. And it is reckless-nay, unknowing-of the human stories into which it intrudes during that interval between its effects in Britain on the Cornish coast and its reappearance on the artificial sands of the Roman Coliseum.

We now thus pass on to another catastrophe it works amid the crowds of the city of the Seven Hillsthe metropolis of the world-Rome.

For the generations perish like leaves; they come and go, rise and fall, succeed each other like waves, and are swept flat, as it were, by the passing winds of destiny; which cross the path of the marching generations, and, in extinguishing them, naturally take them along into that parade of misrepresented shadows upon the Wall of Time which is called History. But the COIN, itself, lives indestructible; for, like the "Wandering Jew," it is doomed to survive all.

W

BOOK THE FIFTH.

PART THE FIRST.

THE CIRCUS MAXIMUS. TIME-A.D. 312.

ITH the lapse of centuries the ever-active SILVER PIECE reappears on its accustomed errand of mischief and of ruin. Traversing the world upon its mission, like the blight it fastens upon that prepared; and wreaks its ill according to its curse.

It is 312 of the Christian era. There is a procession to the Great Coliseo. All Rome stirred with the first daylight to witness an immolation of the unbelievers of the Gods. This is to take place in the centre of the sands of the huge amphitheatre. The time is that of one of the many cruel persecutions of the Christians. And on this day a young woman-a professor of the new proscribed creed-and her aged father are to be offered up sacrifice; the means of their destruction are to be the wild beasts of the arena.

The mighty city hums with its thronging thousands. The ways are choked. All the successive orders of the Roman dignities and the Roman people come forth with Imperial ensigns and in the pomp of silk and gold and with loud-sounding choral songs and trumpets. Hymns to the Pagan deities are grandly chanted by the priests as in slow procession Virgilia-for this is the name of the Christian maiden as Maximus is that of her father -as father and daughter are led bound between tall lictors with axes scarved with the colours of doom, and the crowd of standard-eagles and "hands" behind.

But there is one that precedes them-pale but reso

lute-panoplied in full armour, with his greaves of steel and his crested helmet-displaying barbarian ensigns; this last. It is Demetrius, a young Dacian, taken in arms fighting nobly for the independence of his country, and condemned to a curious and cruel trial-doubtless death-as the result of love conceived by him for the Roman Virgilia by chance sights during their long imprisonment in the dungeons of the arbitrary, cruel Emperor. The magistrates have offered Maximin and his

daughter their lives if a champion shall be found to fight for them; he to maintain horrid fight and to succeed with certain fierce lions of Africa to which they are to be exposed, bound and naked, in the arena. And Demetrius consents-in his great love-regardless altogether of his own life. For which, indeed, he has small hope in this so unequal combat, inadequately armed as he is.

And now the gorgeous procession sweeps into the Coliseo to the loud bursts of long trumpets and of

THE ROMAN COLISEUM.

315

Imperial music. The porta pompe vomits them forth into the gigantic ring. Huge billows of faces rising in sublime gradus, like clouds smaller and smaller, expand over the sedilia, the sub-sellia-those subdivisions of seats

which form collectively the cavea or grand hollow. These ascend from the podium at foot into populous terraces where the eye aches in its attempts to descry the myriads of half-lighted and seated people. The Pulvinar-the

station for the Emperor-glows thick with its Imperial gold-it gleams with the thousands of shields of the Pretorians.

As the procession statelily wound round the other side of the canal-twenty feet wide-called Euripus, contrived for the purpose, like a river between, of securing the safety of the spectators in those fierce games exhibited in this wondrous Circus (deadly these games in their progress and end), a hand, from beside the Emperor seemingly, flung forth a PIECE of SILVER as a dole or an honorarium to the combatant Demetrius. He bowed low as he saw it in the air, and seized it as an earnest of the wonderment he was exciting; dropping it gracefully within his helmet, which he took off for a moment for the purpose. His brave, generous looks and his grand mien struck admiration and won the applause of the entire assembly. A monstrous shower of money followed this first signal of admiration expressed by the COIN; which spontaneous flight of treasure the slaves gathered up in the shields and lay by, pending the issue of that wild-beast combat which was to decide for the lives of the gallant barbarian and of his two unhappy companions. Mysterious dispensation! The flight and fall of that PIECE of SILVER is Demetrius' very condemnation-his consecration to bitter doom. Unknown was the fatal hand from which it came. fell and was picked up: Which act sufficed.

It

But now the attendants crowding upon the games retire on either side from the spina or low wall which runs down the centre of the amphitheatre. Some of the boldest slaves climb the meta or goals to witness intent the issue of the on-coming terrible battle between the man and the lions. Virgilia and her father are placed bound and nearly naked within reach of the starved lions at one side of the great central space of the terrible Circus. A loud-resounding flourish of music from metal mouths is given. The solitary armed man stands glittering small like a silver speck almost in the centre of the plain of death and waving bravely his bright little sword. The porta libertinensis, or of slaughter, is thrown wide open. And at the last signal, for which indeed