te the unusual force of mind, and the heroic will,
which obstinately laid aside these _concurring_ prefigurations of
impending destruction; concurring, we say, amongst themselves--and
concurring also with a prophecy of older date, which was totally
independent of them all.

There is another and somewhat sublime story of the same class, which
belongs to the most interesting moment of Caesar's life; and those who
are disposed to explain all such tales upon physiological principles,
will find an easy solution of this, in particular, in the exhaustion
of body, and the intense anxiety which must have debilitated even
Caesar under the whole circumstances of the case. On the
ever-memorable night when he had resolved to take the first step (and
in such a case the first step, as regarded the power of retreating,
was also the final step) which placed him in arms against the state,
it happened that his head-quarters were at some distance from the
little river Rubicon, which formed the boundary of his province. With
his usual caution, that no news of his motions might run before
himself, on this night Caesar gave an entertainment to his friends, in
the midst of which he slipped away unobserved, and with a small
retinue proceeded through the woods to the point of the river at which
he designed to cross. The night was stormy, and by the violence of the
wind all the torches of his escort were blown out, so that the whole
party lost their road, having probably at first intentionally deviated
from the main route, and wandered about through the whole night, until
the early dawn enabled them to recover their true course. The light
was still grey and uncertain, as Caesar and his retinue rode down upon
the banks of the fatal river--to cross which with arms in his hands,
since the further bank lay within the territory of the Republic, _ipso
facto_ proclaimed any Roman a rebel and a traitor. No man, the firmest
or the most obtuse, could be otherwise than deeply agitated, when
looking down upon this little brook--so insignificant in itself, but
invested by law with a sanctity so awful, and so dire a consecration.
The whole course of future history, and the fate of every nation,
would necessarily be determined by the irretrievable act of the next
half hour.

In these moments, and with this spectacle before him, and
contemplating these immeasurable consequences consciously for the last
time that could allow him a retreat,--impressed also by th