ould her son be also." Curious it is to think that this very semblance
of a glorious young man haunts the magical dreams of heathen Red Indians,
advising them where they shall find game, and was beheld in such
ecstasies by John Tanner, a white man who lived with the Indians, and
adopted their religion. The Greeks would have called this appearance
Hermes, even in this guise Odysseus met him in the oak wood of Circe's
Isle. But Augustine was not yet in his mother's faith; he still taught
and studied rhetoric, contending for its prizes, but declining to be
aided by a certain wizard of his acquaintance. He had entered as a
competitor for a "Tragicall poeme," but was too sportsmanlike to seek
victory by art necromantic. Yet he followed after Astrologers, because
they used no sacrifices, and did not pretend to consult spirits. Even
the derision of his dear friend Nebridius could not then move him from
those absurd speculations. His friend died, and "his whole heart was
darkened;" "mine eyes would be looking for him in all places, but they
found him not, and I hated all things because they told me no news of
him." He fell into an extreme weariness of life, and no less fear of
death. He lived but by halves; having lost _dimidium animae suae_, and
yet dreaded death, "Lest he might chance to have wholy dyed whome I
extremely loved." So he returned to Carthage for change, and sought
pleasure in other friendships; but "Blessed is the man that loves Thee
and his friend in Thee and his enemy for Thee. For he only never loseth
a dear friend to whom all men are dear, for His sake, who is never lost."

Here, on the margin of the old book, beside these thoughts, so beautiful
if so helpless, like all words, to console, some reader long dead has
written:--

"Pray for your poor servant, J. M."

And again,

"Pray for your poor friend."

Doubtless, some Catholic reader, himself bereaved, is imploring the
prayers of a dear friend dead; and sure we need their petitions more than
they need ours, who have left this world of temptation, and are at peace.

After this loss Saint Augustine went to Rome, his ambition urging him,
perhaps, but more his disgust with the violent and riotous life of
students in Carthage. To leave his mother was difficult, but "I lyed to
my mother, yea, such a mother, and so escaped from her." And now he had
a dangerous sickness, and afterwards betook himself to converse with the
orthodox, for examp