Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain, Reading the marvelous words and achievements of Julius Cæsar. After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand, palm downward, Heavily on the page: "A wonderful man was this Cæsar! You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skilful!" Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful: "Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and his weapons. Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs." "Truly," continued the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other, "Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Cæsar! Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, Than be second in Rome; and I think he was right when he said it. Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus! Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders, There was no room for their swords? Why, he seized a shield from a soldier, Then to widen the ranks, and give more room for their weapons; That's what I always say: if you wish a thing to be well done, You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!" All was silent again; the Captain continued his reading. Till the treacherous pen, to which he confided the secret, |