The festival of games, in honor of Augustus, were about to begin at Caesarea.

Lately the highway from north to south, which passed the gates of Jerusalem, had been as a fair of the nations.

A host had journeyed far to amuse the great king or to enjoy his holiday.

Gayer and more given to proud speech than they who came to the festivals of the Temple, beneath the skull-bone there was yet a more remarkable unlikeness.
These were mostly the children of Hatred, each heart a lair of wild passions, each brain teeming with catlike gods.

Here were they to be lifted up by the power of love--the heathen, the debased.