History, with a natural anxiety to keep a stock of Samnites on hand for future use, suggests that 5000 ran away, though the Romans were too much reduced to run after them, and as the fugitives lost a thousand of their number by fighting, during their retreat, it must be presumed that, in their extreme nervousness, they began attacking each other. Q. Fabius led back his army into Etruria, which had recently been thoroughly ravaged by Cn. Fulvius; and the Etruscans, who had already been beaten once, were thoroughly beaten again, so that any residue of strength might be effectually knocked out of them. The retreating Samnites had by this time arrived at the valley of Vulturnus, where the country was in such a state that they could find nothing to eat; but, for a people who were accustomed to survive the constant infliction of the sword, the absence of food was a very subordinate grievance. Volumnius and Appius Claudius fell upon them with their united forces, and the Samnites were once more cut to pieces; but, notwithstanding their fragmentary condition, they were able to appear collected and calm, before the end of the following year, in Etruria. They, at length, mustered all their strength, and determined on making a desperate effort against the Romans, who were in great force under Papirius Cursor, near Aquilonia. Papirius sent for an augur, who kept a small brood of sacred chickens, for the purpose of hatching up something to say to those who consulted him. The augur declared that the omens were favourable, for the chickens had eaten a hearty meal; but an officer, who had watched the birds at breakfast, and had been struck by the extreme delicacy of their appetites, came forward to impute foul play to the augur. Papirius immediately ordered the soothsayer to be placed in the front of the line of battle, where the poor old man, who was no chicken in age, whatever he may have been at heart, was made to answer with his life for having failed to answer with truth the questions proposed to him. The Samnites paid no attention to omens, but bound each other by awful oaths to undergo their usual fate of being cut to pieces rather than surrender; and it must be admitted that they bore the penalty of defeat with a coolness that can only be accounted for by their being thoroughly used to it. No less than 16,000 took the oath, and kept it so well that the whole 16,000 were found in bits precisely where they had taken their places in battle. We might express our doubts upon this subject, were it not that the sage critics, who are averse to any departure from the gravity of history, would perhaps accuse us of levity in refusing credence to Livy, on whose authority the tale is told, though dulness itself will probably be roused to a stare, if incapable of a smile at the remarkable dish of hash which the serious historians call upon him to swallow. [Illustration: Samnite Soldier.]