I. The writer of the Ode to Alkibiades on the occasion of his winning the chariot-race at Olympia, whether he was Euripides, as is commonly supposed, or some other poet, my friend Sossius tells us that the first thing necessary for a perfectly happy man is that he should be born a citizen of some famous city. But for my own part I believe that for the enjoyment of true happiness, which depends chiefly upon a man's character and disposition, it makes no difference whether he be born in an obscure state or of an ill-favoured mother, or not. It would indeed be absurd if one were to suppose that the town of Iulis, which is only a small part of the little island of Keos or Ægina, which some Athenian bade his countrymen clear away because it was an eyesore to Peiræus, should be able to produce good actors and poets, and yet be unable to bring forth a just, virtuous, sensible and high-minded man. We may reasonably expect that those arts by which men gain glory or profit should be neglected and fall into decay in small and obscure towns; but virtue, like a hardy plant, can take root in any country where it meets with noble natures and industrious disposition. I myself therefore must lay the blame of my intellectual and moral shortcomings, not upon the insignificance of my native city, but upon myself. II. However, when a man is engaged in compiling a history from materials which are not ready to his hand, but for the most part are to be found scattered through other foreign towns, it becomes really of the first importance that he should live in some famous, cultivated, and populous city, where he can have unlimited access to books of all kinds, and where he can also personally collect and inquire into the truth of those stories which, though not reduced to writing, are all the more likely to be true because they rest upon universal popular tradition. The work of a historian who is deprived of these advantages must necessarily be defective in many essential particulars. Now I, who belong to a small city, and who love to live in it lest it should become even smaller, when I was at Rome, and during my travels in Italy, found my time so taken up with political business and with the care of my pupils in philosophy, that I had no leisure to learn the Roman language, and have only applied myself to Latin literature at a very advanced period of life. In this reading of Latin books, singular as it may appear, I did not find that the words assisted me to discover the meaning, but rather that my knowledge of the history enabled me to find out the meaning of the words. I think that to speak the Latin language with elegance, to understand it readily, and to use its various idioms and phrases correctly, is for a literary man both useful and interesting; but the amount of study and practice which it requires is considerable and should only be undertaken by those who are younger than myself, and who have more leisure time to devote to the acquisition of