7'he Last Days of Aurelian, or the Nazarenes of Rome,
is a romance by the author of Zenobia, to which it forms a sequel; and, like most sequels, it exhibits a considerable falling off. The story, or rather the collection of scenes, attempts to describe the cha- racter of the Roman priests, populace, and Christians in the times of Aurelian, as well as the sufferings of the latter during a perse- cution, whose existence, by the by, is doubtful. The subjects of the narrative are less numerous and less various than in Zenobia; and, consisting for the most part of long-winded discourses or the physical horrors of fictitious martyrdoms, instead of attracting, they repel or weary the reader. The weakness of the piebald style, though rather sobered from the former work, is more felt when dealing with Romans in the Eteraal City than with Palmyrenes in the East. Amid all this, the writer occasionally exhibits powers of reflection, and an elegant terseness of diction, which show him capable of better things if engaged on a more natural subject. Here is a pretty and a true reflection on the haunting nature of memery. "Marcus and Lucilla are inconsolable. Their grief, I fear, will be lasting as it is violent. They have no resource but to plunge into affairs, and drive away memory by some active and engrossing occupation. Yet they cannot always live abroad ; they must at times return to themselves and join the company of their own thoughts. And then memory is not to be put otl: at such moments this faculty seems to constitute the inind more than any other. It becomes in a manner the mind itself. The past rises up in spite of ourselves, and over- shadows the present. Whether its scenes have been prosperous or afflictive, but especially if they have been shameful, do they present themselves with all the vividness of the objects before us and the passing hour, and minister to our joy or increase our pains. We in vain attempt to escape. We are prisoners in the hands of a giant. To forget is not in our power. The will is imont„„ The effort to forget is often but an effort to remember. Fast as tee ft' the enemy of our peace pursues. Memory is a companion who never us, or never leaves us long. It is the true Nemesis. Tartarean regionih„-- no worse woes, nor the bell of Christians, than memory inflicts upon ti,Z who have done evil. My friends struggle in vain. They have not done-4 indeed, but they have suffered it."
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