“But don’t you think it would be pleasant to have a change now; and as we have lived underground, or say in the snow like the North people, try living in the air, like some of the South people?” “Delightful!” cried Harry.—“A balloon?” “No, not quite that. Don’t you think a nest would do?” “Up in a tree?” “Yes.” Harry darted off for a run, as the only means of expressing his delight. When he came back, he said: “When shall we begin, Mr. Sutherland?” “We will go and look for a place at once; but I am not quite sure when we shall begin yet. I shall find out to-night, though.” They left the fields, and went into the woods in the neighbourhood of the house, at the back. Here the trees had grown to a great size, some of them being very old indeed. They soon fixed upon a grotesque old oak as a proper tree in which to build their nest; and Harry, who, as well as Hugh, had a good deal of constructiveness in his nature, was so delighted, that the heat seemed to have no more influence upon him; and Hugh, fearful of the reaction, was compelled to restrain his gambols. Pursuing their way through the dark warp of the wood, with its golden weft of crossing sunbeams, Hugh began to tell Harry the story of the killing of Cæsar by Brutus and the rest, filling up the account with portions from Shakspere. Fortunately, he was able to give the orations of Brutus and Antony in full. Harry was in ecstasy over the eloquence of the two men. “Well, what language do you think they spoke, Harry?” said Hugh. “Why,” said Harry, hesitating, “I suppose—” then, as if a sudden light broke upon him—“Latin of course. How strange!” “Why strange?” “That such men should talk such a dry, unpleasant language.” “I allow it is a difficult language, Harry; and very ponderous and mechanical; but not necessarily dry or unpleasant. The Romans, you know, were particularly fond of law in everything; and so they made a great many laws for their language; or rather, it grew so, because they were of that sort. It was like their swords and armour generally, not very graceful, but very strong;—like their architecture too, Harry. Nobody can ever understand what a people is, without knowing its language. It is not only that we find all these stories about them in their language, but the language itself is more like them than anything else can be. Besides, Harry, I don’t believe you know anything about Latin yet.” “I know all the declensions and conjugations.” “But don’t you think it must have been a very different thing to hear it spoken?” “Yes, to be sure—and by such men. But how ever could they speak it?”