We--that is, the Trio--had been reading one evening; or rather, our friend Gratian read to me and the Curate, the "Conversation with the Abbe Delille and W. L." We loitered, too, in the reading, as we do when the country is of a pleasant aspect, to look about us and admire--and we interspersed our own little talk by the way. Our friend could not consent that Catullus should walk with, and even, as it should seem, take the lead of his favourite Horace. "Catullus and Horace," says Landor, "will be read as long as Homer and Virgil, and more often, and by more readers." "If," said the Curate, "Catullus were not nearly banished from our public schools and our universities." "As he deserves," replied Gratian; "for although there is in him great elegance, yet is there much that should not be read; and his most beautiful and most powerful little poem, his 'Atys,' is in its very subject unfit for schoolboys." CURATE.--Yes, if in the presence of a master; that makes the only difficulty. The poem itself is essentially chaste, and of a grand tragic action, and grave character--is in fact a serious poem, and as such any youth may read it _to himself_, scarcely to another. The very subject touches on that mystical, though natural sanctity that every uncorrupted man is conscious of in the temple of his own person. To _impart_ a thought of it is a deterioration. But a master must not hear it; and even for a very inferior reason. He cannot be a critical instructor. GRATIAN.--You are right: that was a deep observation of Juvenal; it gave the caution, "Maxima debetur pueris _reverentia_." I have often thought that good masters have ever shown very great tact in reading the Classics, where there is so much, even in the purest, that it is best not to understand. AQUILIUS. (I choose to give myself that name)--Or rather to pass lightly over, for you cannot help seeing it; put your foot across it, and not lengthways; as you would over a rut in a bad bit of road, which may nevertheless lead to a most delightful place at the end. I cannot but think the "Atys" to be a borrowed poem. It is quite Greek--unlike any thing Roman. What Roman ever expressed downright mad violent action? How much there is in it that reminds you of the story of Pentheus of Euripides. Both deny a deity, and both are punished by their own hands. But the resemblance is less in the characters than in the vivid pictures and rapidity of action; and the landscape glows like one fresh from Titian's pencil. Our friend Landor, here, I see, calls the author "graceful." He says of Virgil that he is not so "graceful as Catullus." CURATE.--Grace, as separate from beauty, I suppose, means something lighter. It admits a feeling not quite in earnest, not so serious but it may be sported with.