ul thing to die
without having any knowledge of the city. That's the life of an ox; and
one that is altogether unreasonable. Please excuse me, mother, for
speaking so freely for your own good. After all, one ought to speak
plainly with everybody, and especially with those who are themselves
plain speakers.

From the 'Epistolae,' iii. 39.

FROM AN ANXIOUS MOTHER

PHYLLIS TO THRASONIDES

If you only would put up with the country and be sensible, and do as the
rest of us do, my dear Thrasonides, you would offer ivy and laurel and
myrtle and flowers to the gods at the proper time; and to us, your
parents, you would give wheat and wine and a milk-pail full of the new
goat's-milk. But as things are, you despise the country and farming, and
are fond only of the helmet-plumes and the shield, just as if you were
an Acarnanian or a Malian soldier. Don't keep on in this way, my son;
but come back to us and take up this peaceful life of ours again (for
farming is perfectly safe and free from any danger, and doesn't require
bands of soldiers and strategy and squadrons), and be the stay of our
old age, preferring a safe life to a risky one.

From the 'Epistolae,' iii. 16.

FROM A CURIOUS YOUTH

PHILOCOMUS TO THESTYLUS

Since I have never yet been to town, and really don't know at all what
the thing is that they call a city, I am awfully anxious to see this
strange sight,--men living all in one place,--and to learn about the
other points in which a city differs from the country. Consequently, if
you have any reason for going to town, do come and take me with you. As
a matter of fact, I am sure there are lots of things I ought to know,
now that my beard is beginning to sprout; and who is so able to show me
the city as yourself, who are all the time going back and forth to
the town?

From the 'Epistolae' iii. 31.

FROM A PROFESSIONAL DINER-OUT

CAPNOSPHRANTES TO ARISTOMACHUS

I should like to ask my evil genius, who drew me by lot as his own
particular charge, why he is so malignant and so cruel as to keep me in
everlasting poverty; for if no one happens to invite me to dinner I have
to live on greens, and to eat acorns and to fill my stomach with water
from the hydrant. Now, as long as my body was able to put up with this
sort of thing, and my time of life was such as made it proper for me to
bear it, I could get along with them fairly well; but now that my hair
is growing gray, and the only outlook I have is in