seems to have been largely expanded. There, in the early church of
Rome, was to be seen, and on sufficiently reasonable grounds, that
satisfaction and serenity on a dispassionate survey of the facts of
life, which all hearts had desired, though for the most part in vain,
contrasting itself for Marius, in particular, very forcibly, with the
imperial philosopher's so heavy burden of unrelieved melancholy. It
was Christianity in its humanity, or even its humanism, in its
generous hopes for man, its common sense and alacrity of cheerful
service, its sympathy with all creatures, its appreciation of beauty
and daylight.

"The angel of righteousness," says the Shepherd of Hermas, the most
characteristic religious book of that age, its Pilgrim's Progress--
"the angel of righteousness is modest and delicate and meek and
quiet. Take from thyself grief, for (as Hamlet will one day
discover) 'tis the sister [116] of doubt and ill-temper. Grief is
more evil than any other spirit of evil, and is most dreadful to the
servants of God, and beyond all spirits destroyeth man. For, as when
good news is come to one in grief, straightway he forgetteth his
former grief, and no longer attendeth to anything except the good
news which he hath heard, so do ye, also! having received a renewal
of your soul through the beholding of these good things. Put on
therefore gladness that hath always favour before God, and is
acceptable unto Him, and delight thyself in it; for every man that is
glad doeth the things that are good, and thinketh good thoughts,
despising grief."--Such were the commonplaces of this new people,
among whom so much of what Marius had valued most in the old world
seemed to be under renewal and further promotion. Some transforming
spirit was at work to harmonise contrasts, to deepen expression--a
spirit which, in its dealing with the elements of ancient life, was