some other fate,
telling us that death, instead of being a dreaded pang, is a boon and
relief to the sick and weary and oppressed--'

'There is a book,' said Cleotos--and for a moment he hesitated, as
though fearful of proceeding--'there is a book which I have read, and
which tells us all this. It says that death is not merely a fate, but is
a source of blessing; since it leads to a world where the sufferings of
this life shall be recompensed with abundant joy, not to the rich
merely, but more especially to the poor and lowly.'

'Where is that book?' cried AEnone, with sudden energy, as the wondrous
depth and power of the sentiment flashed upon her. 'Where can I see and
read it? He who can talk like that, must surely have said still more?'

'I have not that book,' answered Cleotos. 'I have only this little copy
of a small portion of it;' and he hesitatingly drew from beneath his
tunic a single small leaf of discolored parchment, closely filled with
Greek characters. 'But being at Corinth, a year ago, I was permitted to
see the book itself, and to hear portions of it read. It was written to
a Christian church there, by one Paul, a leader of that sect.'

At the word 'Christian' the first impulse of AEnone was to shrink back,
not knowing but that even the presence of one who had ever come into
contact with any of that despised sect might be injurious to her. For at
once she began to recall many of the tales which she had heard to its
discredit--its members hiding as outcasts in the caves and dens of the
earth--their repeated insults to the gods--their proud and unaccountable
worship of a malefactor--their sacrifice of infants--and other
exaggerations and calumnies, begotten in malice or ignorance, and thence
widely spread, making it not hard to believe that the only fate fit for
those to whom they related was a life of persecution and a cruel death
in the arena.

But only for a moment did this instinctive horror control her. The
single doctrine which she had just heard advanced already began to bear
its fruits. It seemed, indeed, not unlikely that one who could write
such truths, and those, his disciples, who could so gratefully treasure
them up, might not, after all, be wantonly wicked, but, at the worst,
might be merely victims of mistaken zeal. And then, in turn, she thought
of much that had been related to her in their favor. During her life at
Rome, indeed, she had heard no mention of the Christian sect, unless
a