ns, who raise troops of horse to fight England's
battles in South Africa when duty calls.

Marcus Seneca made haste to move to Rome when Augustus let down the
bars. Rome was the center of the art-world, the home of letters, and all
that made for beauty and excellence. There were three boys and a girl in
the Seneca family.

The elder boy, Annaeus, was to become Gallio, the Roman governor, and
have his name mentioned in the most widely circulated book the world has
ever known; the second boy was Lucius, the subject of this sketch; the
younger boy, Mela, was to become the father of Lucan, the poet.

The sister of Seneca became the wife of the Roman Governor of Egypt. It
was at a time when the scheming rapacity of women was so much in
evidence that the Senate debated whether it should not forbid its
representatives abroad to be accompanied by their wives. France has seen
such times--England and America have glanced that way. Women, like men,
often do not know that the big prizes gravitate where they belong;
instead, they set traps for them, lie in wait and consider prevarication
and duplicity better than truth. When women use their beauty, their wit
and their pink persons in politics, trouble lies low around the corner.
But this sister of Seneca was never seen in public unless it was at her
husband's side; she asked no favors, and presents sent to her personally
by provincials were politely returned. The province praised her, and
perhaps what was better, didn't know her, and begged the Emperor to send
them more of such excellent and virtuous women--from which we infer that
virtue consists in minding one's own business.

In making up a list of great mothers, do not leave out Helvia, mother of
three sons and a daughter who made their mark upon the times. It is no
small thing to be a great mother!

Women of intellect were not much appreciated then, but Seneca dedicated
his "Consolations," his best book, to his mother. The very mintage of
his mind was for her, and again and again he tells of her insight, her
gentle wit, and her appreciation of all that was beautiful and best in
the world of thought. In a letter addressed to her when he was past
forty, he says, "You never stained your face with walnut-juice nor
rouge; you never wore gowns cut conspicuously low; your ornaments were a
loveliness of mind and person that time could not tarnish."

But the father had the knighthood, and he called his family to witness
it at odd