The Martyr of the Catacombs. Unknown

day to find some clue.

      At length his search was rewarded. He had walked backward and forward and in every direction, often retracing his steps and returning many times to the place of starting. Twilight was coming on, and the sun was near the edge of the horizon, when his quick eye caught sight of a man who was walking in an opposite direction, followed by a boy. The man was dressed in coarse apparel, stained and damp with sand and earth. His complexion was blanched and pallid, like that of one who has long been imprisoned, and his whole appearance at once arrested the glance of the young soldier.

      He stepped up to him, and laying his hand upon his shoulder said,

      "You are a fossor. Come with me."

      The man looked up. He saw a stern face. The sight of the officer's dress terrified him. In an instant he darted away, and before Marcellus could turn to follow he had rushed into a side lane and was out of sight.

      But Marcellus secured the boy.

      "Come with me," said he.

      The poor lad looked up with such an agony of fear that Marcellus was moved.

      "Have mercy, for my mother's sake; she will die if I am taken."

      The boy fell at his feet murmuring this in broken tones.

      "I will not hurt you. Come," and he led him away toward an open space out of the way of the passers-by.

      "Now," said he, stopping and confronting the boy, "tell me the truth. Who are you?"

      "My name is Pollio," said the boy.

      "Where do you live?"

      "In Rome."

      "What are you doing here?"

      "I was out on an errand."

      "Who was that man?"

      "A fossor."

      "What were you doing with him?"

      "He was carrying a bundle for me."

      "What was in the bundle?"

      "Provisions."

      "To whom were you carrying it?"

      "To a destitute person out here."

      "Where does he live?

      "Not far from here."

      "Now, boy, tell me the truth. Do you know anything about the Catacombs?"

      "I have heard about them," said the boy quietly.

      "Were you ever in them?"

      "I have been in some of them."

      "Do you know any body who lives in them?"

      "Some people. The fossor stays there."

      "You were going to the Catacombs then with him?"

      "What business would I have there at such a time as this?" said the boy innocently.

      "That is what I want to know. Were you going there?"

      "How would I dare to go there when it is forbidden by the laws?"

      "It is now evening," said Marcellus abruptly, "come with me to the evening service at yonder temple."

      The boy hesitated. "I am in a hurry," said he.

      "But you are my prisoner. I never neglect the worship of the gods. You must come and assist me at my devotions."

      "I cannot," said the boy firmly.

      "Why not?"

      "I am a Christian."

      "I knew it. And you have friends, in the Catacombs, and you are going there now. They are the destitute people to whom you are carrying provisions, and the errand on which you are is for them."

      The boy held down his head and was silent. "I want you now to take me to the entrance of the Catacombs."

      "O, generous soldier, have mercy! Do not ask me that. I cannot do it!"

      "You must."

      "I will not betray my friends."

      "You need not. It is nothing to show the entrance among the many thousands that lead down below. Do you think that the guards do not know every one?"

      The boy thought for a moment, and at length signified his assent.

      Marcellus took his hand and followed his lead. The boy turned away to the right of the Appian Way, when he walked a short distance. Here he came to an uninhabited house. He entered, and went down into the cellar. There was a door which apparently opened into a closet. The boy pointed to this, and stopped.

      "I wish to go down," said Marcellus, firmly.

      "You would not dare to go down alone surely, would you?"

      "The Christians say that they do not commit murder. Why then should I fear? Lead on."

      "I have no torches."

      "But I have some. I came prepared. Go on."

      "I cannot."

      "Do you refuse?"

      "I must refuse," said the boy. "My friends and my relatives are below. Sooner than lead you to them I would die a hundred deaths."

      "You are bold. You do not know what death is."

      "Do I not? What Christian can fear death? I have seen many of my friends die in agony, and I have helped bury them. I will not lead you there. Take me away to prison."

      The boy turned away.

      "But if I take you away what will your friends think? Have you a mother?"

      The boy bowed his head and burst into a passion of tears. The mention of that dear name had overcome him.

      "I see that you have, and that you love her. Lead me down, and you shall join her again."

      "I will never betray them. I will die first. Do with me as you wish."

      "If I had any evil intentions," said Marcellus, "do you think I would go down unaccompanied?"

      "What can a soldier, and a Pretorian, want with the persecuted Christians, if not to destroy them?"

      "Boy, I have no evil intentions. If you guide me down below I swear I will not use my knowledge against your friends. When I am below I will be a prisoner, and they can do with me what they like."

      "Do you swear that you will not betray them?"

      "I do, by the life of Caesar and the immortal gods," said Marcellus, solemnly.

      "Come along, then," said the boy. "We do not need torches. Follow me carefully."

      And the lad entered the narrow opening.

      CHAPTER IV.

      THE CATACOMBS

      "No light, but rather darkness visible

      Served only to discover sights of woe,

      Regions of sorrow, doleful shades."

      They went on in utter darkness, until at length the passage widened and they came to steps which led below. Marcellus held the boy's dress and followed him.

      It was certainly a situation that might provoke alarm. He was voluntarily placing himself in the power of men whom his class had driven from the upper air into these drear abodes. To them he could only be known as a persecutor. Yet such was the impression which he had formed of their gentleness and meekness that he had no fear of harm. It was in the power of this boy to lead him to death in the thick darkness of these impenetrable labyrinths, but even of this he did not think. It was a desire to know more of these Christians, to get at their secret, that led him on, and as he had sworn, so had he resolved that this visit should not be made use of to their betrayal or injury.

      After descending for some time the steps ended, and they walked along the level ground. Soon they turned and entered a small vaulted chamber which was lighted from the faint glow of a furnace. The boy had walked on with the unhesitating step of one perfectly