



Produced by Annie R. McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]

       *       *       *       *       *

VOL. II--NO. 82. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, May 24, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF CARUS.]

A STORY OF THE COLOSSEUM.

BY MRS. LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY.


In the days of the Emperor Caracalla the Colosseum had ceased to be used
for terrible conflicts between man and beast. But the young student
Valentinian could not forget that eighty thousand spectators at a time
had looked down from its seats, only a few years before, to see
Christian martyrs given to the lions to be torn in pieces.

And Valentinian was a Christian. The persecutions had ceased. No more
cruel Emperor than Caracalla had ever occupied the throne of Rome; but
his cruelty found its victims in his own family and among his political
enemies, and the Christians were overlooked and forgotten. Even
Caracalla may have been sick of the blood spilled in assassinations,
executions, and battle; and so, as a mere change of scene, ordered that
the sports at the Colosseum should be of a bloodless character. At any
rate, chariot races were now the vogue, the population of Rome were now
all "horsy" men, and betting was the popular way of gaining or losing
their fortunes.

The Emperor, as reigning over and above all like the air, chose white to
mark his horses; the steeds of the soldiers were designated by red
badges and trappings--red, the appropriate color of Mars, of blood and
flame; the sailors of course chose blue; and the landed proprietors,
farmers, citizens, etc., grouped under green. When the enthusiasm
extended thus to all classes, it was impossible that Valentinian should
not feel it too. He was a soldier's son, and though he felt that it
would be a crime even to enter the building in which the martyrs had
been murdered, he could not repress a throb of exultation when the
scarlet-spangled horses were led out with shoutings as victors in the
race.

Valentinian loved a fine horse, and, boy though he was, he owned one
that had long been the envy and admiration of the different racing
fraternities of Rome. Those who knew the animal's history did not wonder
that Valentinian and his mother, the stately lady Placidia, had refused
a noble's ransom for the magnificent creature. It was the beginning of
the warm season, and Placidia had removed to her summer villa in shady
Præneste. Valentinian still remained in Rome to prosecute his studies,
but in the cool of the evening the youth would frequently drive out to
see his mother, and the horse on every such visit was certain of being
decorated with garlands by the fair hand of its mistress. On one of
these occasions Rufinus accompanied his friend. Valentinian knew that
the visit was not prompted by any fondness for his mother, for the lady
Placidia did not regard Rufinus as a sufficiently refined companion for
her son, and the dislike was mutual. He gave Rufinus credit for a
feeling of good-fellowship toward himself, and for an appreciation of a
moonlight ride to Rome. But Rufinus had a deeper motive on this
occasion; he had determined to persuade Valentinian to join in the
races, and he thought wisely that the long, solitary ride would give him
a good opportunity for persuasion. He began skillfully by praising his
friend's horse, and then spoke with some surprise of the affection that
Placidia lavished upon it.

Valentinian replied that Carus deserved all the love and distinction
that he received, for he was indeed a hero; and then he told how as a
war-horse he had followed the Roman standards with honor throughout all
the late disastrous campaign in Britain, and though he had fled with the
legions from the battle on the river Carun, where Fingal and his
Caledonian troops sang their exultant chant of victory in the ears of
the cowardly Caracalla, it was not his fault, for he was only a horse.
When Carus had felt his master, Valentinian's father, fall wounded upon
his neck, the feeble hands entwined in his mane, and the warm