out but a few paces and then died in the darkness.

The path went winding on with innumerable turnings. Suddenly Pollio
stopped and pointed downward. Peering through the gloom, Marcellus saw
an opening in the path which led further down. It was a pit to which no
bottom appeared.

"Where does this lead to?"

"Below."

"Are there more passages below?"

"O yes. As many as there are here, and still below that again. I have
been in three different stories of these paths, and some of the old
fossors say that in certain places they go down to a very great depth."

The passage wound along till all idea of locality was utterly lost.
Marcellus could not tell whether he was within a few paces of the
entrance or many furlongs off. His bewildered thoughts soon began to
turn to other things. The first impressions of gloom departed he looked
more particularly upon what he passed, and regarded more closely the
many wonders of this strange place. All along the walls were tablets
which appeared to cover long and narrow excavations. These cellular
niches were ranged on both sides so closely that but little space was
left between. The inscriptions that were upon the tablets showed that
they were Christian tombs. He had not time to stop and read, but he
noticed the frequent recurrence of the same expression, such as,

HONORIA--SHE SLEEPS IN PEACE.
FAUSTA--IN PEACE.

On nearly every tablet he saw the same sweet and gentle word. "PEACE,"
thought Marcellus; "what wonderful people are these Christians, who even
amid such scenes as these can cherish their lofty contempt of death!"

His eyes grew more and more accustomed to the gloom as he walked along.
Now the passage way grew narrower; the roof drooped, the sides
approached; they had to stoop and go along more slowly. The walls were
rough and rudely cut as the workmen left them when they drew along here
their last load of sand for the edifices above. Subterranean damps and
fungous growths overspread them in places, deepening their somber color
and filling the air with thick moisture, while the smoke of the torches
made the atmosphere still more oppressive.

They passed hundreds of side passages and scores of places where many
paths met, all branching off in different directions. These innumerable
paths showed Marcellus how hopelessly he was now cut off from the world
above. This boy held his life in his hands.

"Do any ever lose their way?"

"Often."

"What becomes of them?"