ation can only feel disdain for a Galilaean who proposes
to revolutionize the ages. The words of the augur at Brundisium
are having in truth a strange fulfillment.

As if the Man were present on whom he had looked in the Porch of
Solomon. Quintus speaks his choice for the long eternities:

"Happen what may, I take thee, O Christus, for my Lord and Master.
I sacrifice my Roman knighthood for thee, if it shall be required.
I choose thee, because thou hast risen from the dead and hast
proven that there is another life for men."

Not Cicero, but Christ! The Roman knight has made the great
decision.

V

THE VISION OF THE RISEN CHRIST

"After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at
once."--_Paul_.

Once for himself was Quintus to see the Lord, before his departure
heavenward. When midnight hours afterward came to him in Italy,
the memory of that vision was golden. When, among the temples of
the gods in pagan Rome, men challenged his belief, his sufficient
answer was: "With mine own eyes I have seen the risen Teacher who
has revealed immortality to men." So did the first disciples of
the faith who bore its weightiest burdens, enjoy its highest
privilege.

It was the disciple John who told Quintus of the opportunity to see
the risen Lord. In an hour of fellowship at Jerusalem--when the
knight had confessed his new allegiance--John spoke of the Master's
wish. The disciples who were in the city and its environs were to
gather in Galilee with those from that upper district. Once more
would their Lord show himself to all who believed on him, and would
speak with them. Nor did Quintus ever cease to rejoice that he was
reckoned worthy to look that day on the Conqueror of death.

With light feet the Jerusalem company, some six score in number,
made the journey north to Galilee. One subject only was on their
lips, as they followed the road through Samaria to Kurn Hattin,
near the Sea of Tiberias. Here the Lord at the opening of his
mission had spoken his nine blessings to needy mortals; most
fitting it now was that on this memorable hillside he should utter
his farewell to those who had come to believe on him. Thus would
the circle of his teachings end where it had begun. Bright was the
picture. The glint of the sunlight on the Galilaean sea so near at
hand, with the uncounted flowers of the spring-time that covered
the lower plains, lent a charm to the scene that Quintus remembered
alwa