e
climate prevails in all things.

'In sooth, a hot fatherland makes its children sharp and fickle, a
cold one slow and sly; it is only a temperate climate which composes
the characters of men by its own moderation. Hence was it that the
ancients pronounced Athens to be the seat of sages, because, enriched
with an air of the greatest purity, it prepared with glad liberality
the lucid intellects of its sons for the contemplative part of life.
Assuredly for the body to imbibe muddy waters is a different thing
from sucking in the transparency of a sweet fountain. Even so the
vigour of the mind is repressed when it is clogged by a heavy
atmosphere. Nature herself hath made us subject to these influences.
Clouds make us feel sad; and again a bright sky fills us with joy,
because the heavenly substance of the soul delights in everything that
is unstained and pure.

'Scyllacium has also an abundant share of the delicacies of the sea,
possessing near it those gates of Neptune which we ourselves
constructed. At the foot of the Moscian Mount we hollowed out the
bowels of the rock, and tastefully[848] introduced therein the eddying
waves of Nereus. Here a troop of fishes, sporting in free captivity,
refreshes all minds with delight, and charms all eyes with admiration.
They run greedily to the hand of man, and before they become his food
seek dainties from him. Man feeds his own dainty morsels, and while he
has that which can bring them into his power, it often happens that
being already replete he lets them all go again.

[Footnote 848: 'Decenter.']

'The spectacle moreover of men engaged in honourable labour is not
denied to those who are sitting tranquilly in the city. Plenteous
vineyards are beheld in abundance. The fruitful toil of the
threshing-floor is seen. The face of the green olive is disclosed. No
one need sigh for the pleasures of the country, when it is given him
to see them all from the town.

'And inasmuch as it has now no walls, you believe Scyllacium to be a
rural city, though you might judge it to be an urban villa; and thus
placed between the two worlds of town and country, it is lavishly
praised by both.

'This place wayfarers desire frequently to visit, and as they object
to the toil of walking, the citizens, called upon to provide them with
post-horses, and rations for their servants, have to pay heavily in
purse for the pleasantness of their city. Therefore to prevent this,
for the future we decide