the lower classes of the citizens; their blood infected that of the higher European races which flowed in their veins; and thus the masses of Rome became a mixed race, but not mixed for the better. The character changed; but it changed because the old race had perished, and a new race with new characteristics occupied its place. Under such circumstances, the _Libertini_ became a powerful and important class, both socially and politically: they were the bankers, merchants, and tradesmen of Rome. Of this class, the father of Horace was one of the most respectable. His business was that of a _coactor_, or agent who collected the money from purchasers of goods at public auctions. He was a man of strict integrity, content with his position, and would not have thought himself disgraced if his son had followed his own calling.[589] He had made by his industry a small fortune, sufficient to purchase an estate near Venusia (Venosa,) on the confines of Lucania and Apulia, but not sufficient to free him from the appellation of “a poor man.”[590] Here, on the 8th of December (vi^to id. Decembr.,) B. C. 65, Q. Horatius Flaccus was born; and on the banks of the obstreperous Aufidus,[591] the roar of whose waters could be heard far off,[592] Horace passed his infant years, and played and wandered in that picturesque neighbourhood. The natural beauties amidst which he was nursed, probably did much to form and foster his poetic tastes. He himself relates, in one of his finest odes,[593] an adventure which befell him in his childhood, and which reminds the reader of the beautiful nursery ballad of the Children in the Wood:—— Me fabulosæ Vulture in Appulo Altricis extra limen Apuliæ Ludo fatigatumque somno Fronde nova puerum palumbes Texere (mirum quod foret omnibus, Quicumque celsæ nidum Acherontiæ, Saltusque Bantinos, et arvum Pingue tenent humilis Ferenti,) Ut tuto ab atris corpore viperis Dormirem et ursis; ut premerer sacra Lauroque collataque myrto Non sine Dîs animosus infans. Fatigued with sleep and youthful toil of play, When on a mountain’s brow reclined I lay, Near to my natal soil, around my head The fabled woodland doves a verdant foliage spread; Matter, be sure, of wonder most profound To all the gazing habitants around, Who dwell in Acherontia’s airy glades, Amid the Bantian woods, or low Ferentum’s meads. By snakes of poison black and beasts of prey, That thus in dewy sleep unharmed I lay; Laurels and myrtle were around me piled, Not without guardian gods, an animated child. _Francis._