Now, understand once and for all, Horatius, that I will not have such pernicious and disloyal trash as this put out to pollute the State. You say you meant nothing impious? Well, then I will ask you, Horatius, who is Chief Pontiff? The prince; so I had thought. And then you say you had no intention of disloyalty? In that case I will merely answer that you have expressed yourself very badly. You will agree, I suppose—even you who were out with Brutus, when I understand you threw away your shield—that what we must all work for in Rome, is a settled social order? And I suppose that you are not incapable of perceiving that this is impossible without the maintenance of religion? And perhaps you may have heard that His Highness is supreme head of our religion? And then, do you tell me, sir, that you did not see that this last stanza—this Pontiff’s ambition, or whatever it is—is pernicious in the highest degree? Now this is what I shall do. I shall make you, Horatius, write an ode of fourteen stanzas in praise of His Highness as Chief Pontiff. Take your tablets and write down the heads of the poem, as I dictate them. First: The deplorable desuetude. I beg your pardon: I think I was asking you to take down the heads of the ode. What! I? You say that I gave you the subjects of this one? Very possibly, though I do not remember: with the ode as a whole I am very well satisfied. You say I gave the hint of the Pontiff? Very true; I recollect it quite well, but it was not to be used, or wasted, in the spirit in which you have used it here. Perhaps, however, you meant it to refer to the Pontiffs of the old regime, whose unworthy excesses I may have doubtless mentioned to you at some time? I could wish, Horatius, that your execution were on a level with your intention: you lay yourself open to a great deal of misconstruction. I think we must substitute “late” for “while.” What is that you are sputtering about Minucius? I told you to glance at Minucius? Well, in one respect you are quite right. I do not remember that I ever spoke of him to you, but the extravagance of Minucius not only makes him a man impossible to be seen abroad with, but constitutes a great scandal on the pontificate. And I tell you, sir, I tell you that that man’s insolence to his betters is more than any well-ordered State could endure. He has got the Prince’s ear, and presumes upon it. Yes, you may jab at Minucius whenever you can, and as hard as you can. I am very glad I suggested that, and you have taken up the hint very cleverly. Sit down, my good Horatius; you must be tired of standing, and we men of letters are all equal, whatever our social position. I will read you a chapter of my own history that I threw off last night. You will remember, of course, what happened while I was Urban Prefect. G. W. STEVENS. SUNRISE OVER THE CITY.