of the steps into the Forum. The old king, grievously hurt, and covered
with blood, raised himself up with much difficulty: but all his friends
had deserted him: scarcely a creature was found to lead him to his
palace, which he was not allowed to reach. Tullia advised her husband to
complete the bloody work he had begun; upon which he dispatched some of
his servants to overtake the venerable monarch, and deprive him of his
small remains of life. On her return home, the body of her murdered
father, still panting, lay in the street she had to pass. This inhuman
woman was not at all shocked at the horrid sight, but commanded the
charioteer to drive over it. The man, who had more feeling than the
cruel daughter, obeyed with reluctance; and, it is said, that not only
the chariot wheels, but even the clothes of the wicked Tullia, were
stained with her parent's blood.

_Edward._ Such horror was excited by these atrocities, and especially by
the barbarity of Tullia, that the street in which the transaction took
place, the day on which it was perpetrated, and the very name of the
parricide, were branded with perpetual infamy.

_Louisa._ I am glad that shocking account is finished: it really makes
one feel very uncomfortable. Servius was so good a man, too, I quite
pity him.

_Mr. B._ His wicked daughter is an object of still greater pity. The
sufferings of the good old king, we may hope, ended with this life;
whilst, we have every reason to believe, that the punishment of the
unnatural Tullia, would extend to the countless ages of eternity.
Servius was, indeed, an excellent prince: he subdued the enemies of
Rome, and was always desirous to avoid making new ones. He did not
conquer merely for the sake of glory, but for the public good. He made