aching pilgrim.

It is well known to historians that the villa of Seneca, in which he
put himself to death by command of Nero, stood near the fourth
milestone on the Appian Way. The circumstances of his death are
exceedingly sad. Wishing to get rid of his former tutor, who had
become obnoxious to him, the bloodthirsty emperor first attempted to
poison him; and when this failed, he accused him, along with his
nephew the poet Lucan and several others, of being concerned in a
conspiracy against his life. This accusation was false; but it served
the purpose of bringing Seneca within reach of his vengeance, under a
colour of justice. A tribune with a cohort of soldiers was sent to
intimate his fate to the philosopher; allowing him to execute the
sentence of death upon himself by whatever means he preferred. Seneca
was at supper with his wife Paulina and two friends when the fatal
message came. Without any sign of alarm he rose and opened the veins
of his arms and legs, having bade farewell to his friends and embraced
his wife; and while the blood, impoverished by old age, ebbed slowly
from him, he continued to comfort his friends and exhort them to a
life of integrity. The last words of one so justly renowned were taken
down, and in the time of Tacitus the record was still extant. We
should value much these interesting memorials; but they are now
irrecoverably lost. His wife, refusing to live without him, also
endeavoured to bleed herself to death; but she was recovered by order
of Nero almost at the last moment. She remained pale and emaciated
ever after from having followed her husband more than half-way on the
road to death.

No trace of the villa where this pathetic tragedy took place can now
be seen; but near the spot where it must have stood, close beside the
road, is a marble bas-relief of the death of Atys, the son of Croesus,
killed in the chase by Adrastus, placed upon a modern pedestal; and
this is supposed to have formed part of the tomb of Seneca. There is
no inscription; probably none would be allowed during the lifetime of
Nero; and we know that his body was burned privately without any of
the usual ceremonies. But if this fragment of sculpture be genuine,
the well-known classic story which it tells was an appropriate
memorial of one who perished in the midst of the greatest prosperity.
No one who is familiar with the history of this "seeker after God,"
this philosopher who was a pagan John the Baptist in th