tion, its _toga virilis_.

'Suckled by this wolf, man gains a different complexion from
that which is fed by the Greek honey. He takes a noble bronze
in camps and battle-fields; the wrinkles of council well
beseem his brow, and the eye cuts its way like the sword. The
Eagle should never have been used as a symbol by any other
nation: it belonged to Rome.

'The history of Rome abides in mind, of course, more than the
literature. It was degeneracy for a Roman to use the pen; his
life was in the day. The "vaunting" of Rome, like that of the
North American Indians, is her proper literature. A man rises;
he tells who he is, and what he has done; he speaks of his
country and her brave men; he knows that a conquering god is
there, whose agent is his own right hand; and he should end
like the Indian, "I have no more to say."

'It never shocks us that the Roman is self-conscious.
One wants no universal truths from him, no philosophy, no
creation, but only his life, his Roman life felt in every
pulse, realized in every gesture. The universal heaven takes
in the Roman only to make us feel his individuality the more.
The Will, the Resolve of Man!--it has been expressed,--fully
expressed!

'I steadily loved this ideal in my childhood, and this is the
cause, probably, why I have always felt that man must know how
to stand firm on the ground, before he can fly. In vain for
me are men more, if they are less, than Romans. Dante was far
greater than any Roman, yet I feel he was right to take the
Mantuan as his guide through hell, and to heaven.

'Horace was a great deal to me then, and is so still. Though
his words do not abide in memory, his presence does: serene,
courtly, of darting hazel eye, a self-sufficient grace, and
an appreciation of the world of stern realities, sometimes
pathetic, never tragic. He is the natural man of the world; he
is what he ought to be, and his darts never fail of their
aim. There is a perfume and raciness, too, which makes life a
banquet, where the wit sparkles no less that the viands were
bought with blood.

'Ovid gave me not Rome, nor himself, but a view into the
enchanted gardens of the Greek mythology. This path I
followed, have been following ever since; and now, life half
over, it seems to me, as in my childhood, that every thought