"But Thearchus has no place in my affections," replied Cassandra. "I love him not; and to wed him is but to

plunge me into deeper misery! nobility and the applause of the

What is wealth ?—what people, if the affections

of the heart have no participation therein? They are ministers of wo to the broken spirit. Without love, there is no happiness; without happiness, life is nothing worth. I would sooner wed a shepherd than an archon, did he but bring with him the riches of true affection."

“This phi

"Madness, madness!" exclaimed Zeuxis. losophy may do for a peasant-maiden, but should not pollute the lips of a daughter of Zeuxis. Talk of love! Why, it is but a passion born of circumstances. To-day, it burns with volcanic violence; to-morrow, it is but a glimmering taper. To-day, its intensity warms the most cheerless cabin of poverty; to-morrow, its flickering rays will barely illumine the most cheerful abode of wealth. It is a delusive light, that too often dazzles to blind."

"It may be so with the sensual," replied Cassandra. "With them, it is indeed a passion born of circumstances. Yet, after all, it is not love. It is but a poor semblance of the holy passion. Pure affection comes not from the dross of earth, the wealth, power, and pageantry of individuals or of society, nor from the ephemeral loveliness of the human form. Such is, at best, the gross counterfeit of love, and undeserving its divine name. When moral and intellectual worth-the beauties and amiability of character-the noble evidences of exalted genius, excite

our admiration, and win our affections for the possessor, then, indeed, do we truly love, and love a worthy object, Such, dear father, is my love for Parrhasius. Submission to thy will must unite me to Thearchus, whom I can not love; but the undying flame of first affection will only make me more miserable."

Zeuxis was silent. He loved his daughter with exceeding tenderness; yet burning ambition presented a paramount claim, and would not permit him again to delay the nuptials on which he had resolved. He kissed the tears from the cheeks of Cassandra, and was about to retire for the night; but the maiden seized his hand, and, looking imploringly in his face, said

"Hear me once more, dear father, ere the decree of my unhappiness shall have irrevocably gone forth. Hope whispers in my ear that the prophetic taunt of Parrhasius may yet be verified. Thou well knowest the genius and spirit of that youth; and I know thy gentle nature will now forgive him the utterance of words spoken in passion. Forgive, and Cassandra will be happy."

"For thy sake," replied Zeuxis, "I will pardon the rashness of the Ephesian boy. But why thy hope? Wouldest thou see thy father rivalled, and the voice of Athens of the world-loud in praises of another?"

"No," replied Cassandra, "it is not for that I hope; but thy daughter loves Parrhasius, and she desires to see him worthy of that love in the eyes of her father. the foundation of my hope. Is it not just ?"

This is

"Truly, such an aspiration is worthy of my daughter replied Zeuxis; and again bidding her good night, he was about to depart. But the maiden still clung to his hand. "One word more," she exclaimed ; 66 one more boon, and your Cassandra will be completely happy. Promise me that I shall wed Parrhasius, if his prediction be fulfilled."

"I promise," replied Zeuxis, conscious that her hopes were groundless, and that the last day of the festival would witness the nuptials of Thearchus and Cassandra, and thus crown his paternal ambition with a more valued bay than the laurel of the victor.

On the following morning, Zeuxis prepared for the games. Just at the moment of starting, a helot approached him with a small roll directed to "Zeuxis, the unrivalled painter of Greece." He was delighted with the flattering superscription, and, having unbound it, read: "PARRHASIUS, THE PLEBEIAN BOY OF EPHESUS, TO ZEUXIS, THE GREAT ATHENIAN ARTIST, GREETING: Ten days, and the games of Olympia will terminate. On the ninth, I challenge thee to a trial of skill. The subject is left to the choice of the challenged."

Zeuxis rent the challenge in a thousand pieces, and, burning with rage, exclaimed, "Tell your master that Zeuxis stoops not to compete with plebeians! Tell him I trampled his insolent challenge beneath my feet, even as I would crush its author. Begone! Gods, has it come to this!" continued he. "Must I first bear the taunts of

that boy, and then, in the face of thousands, have him challenge me to trial? I know him well. If I refuse, a herald will proclaim that refusal in every street of Athens, and the gymnasium and the circus will ring with my shame. It must not be." And he commanded the helot

to return.

"Tell your master," said Zeuxis, "that I accept his challenge the subject, fruit." The helot departed.

66

Now," said Zeuxis, "my triumph will be complete, and Cassandra's delusion will be broken! Now will I prove the insolent Ephesian unworthy of my exalted notice and the noble Cassandra's love. It is well. Destiny bids me stoop to the trial, only to add another laurel to my brow!" And Zeuxis, with haughty step, proceeded

to the circus.

Within a few hours, all Athens was in commotion. A new impulse had been given to the popular excitement, and the first sound that fell upon the ear of Zeuxis, as he entered the circus, was the voice of a herald proclaiming that an Ephesian painter had challenged the great artist to a trial of skill

The voice of the herald also sounded throughout the streets of Athens, and fell like sweetest symphony upon the ear of Cassandra. She knew not the name of the competitor, but the revealings of hope and love assured her that it was none other than Parrhasius. And that hope and that love also gave her assurance that her beloved one would be the victor, and that holy affection

rather than proud ambition would be crowned by the hand of Astrea.

་

The time fixed upon for the trial arrived. The thousands who were congregated in Athens to witness the games, flowed like a living torrent through the eastern gate of the city, and halted upon a hill overlooking a flowery plain bordering upon the Ilyssus. The sun had journeyed half his way toward the meridian, when, amid the thundering shouts of applause of the populace, Zeuxis, with a proud and haughty step, left the pavilion of the judges, and, with a tablet in his hand, on which was painted a cluster of grapes; proceeded to the plain. Upon a small column erected for the purpose, near a grove, the artist placed his painting, and withdrawing the curtain that concealed it, returned to the pavilion. The multitude were astonished, for they expected to feast their eyes on the production of the great artist. Murmurs of dissatisfaction ran through the crowd, and a few loudly denounced the conduct of Zeuxis in placing the picture beyond their observation.

Suddenly a deafening shout, and a cry of "Zeuxis and Athens!" arose from the throng. A whole bevy of birds from the grove had alighted upon the column, and eagerly sought to devour the pictured fruit!

This decision of the birds of heaven was deemed sufficient evidence of the superiority of the Athenian painter, and the people clamored loudly for the crown of laurels and the branch of palm for Zeuxis. His competitor had