of the plain people--not as strong-minded as you are. You really must excuse me; I'll tell you some other time. [_Fuscus hurries away, with a wicked wink, leaving his friend in the lurch._] _Horace_ [_in a despairing aside_]. O, to think that so dark a day as this should ever have dawned for me! [_At this juncture the Bore's adversary at law comes running up._] _The Adversary_ [_to Bore, in a loud voice._] Where are you going, you bail-breaking rascal? [_To Horace._] Will you come witness against him? [_Horace gives him his ear to touch in token of his assent, and the Bore is hurried off to court, with loud expostulations on both sides, and with the inevitable jeering street crowd following after._] _Horace_ [_left alone_]. Saved, by the grace of Apollo! The fourth and tenth satires of the first book are of especial value to us, because they contain Horace's own estimate of his predecessor, Lucilius; answers to popular criticism against the spirit and form of satire; much general literary criticism; and many personal comments by the poet upon his own method and spirit as a satirist. Following is an abstract of the tenth: Yes, Lucilius _is_ rough--anybody will admit that. I also admit that he is to be praised for his great wit. But wit of itself does not constitute great poetry. There must also be polish, variety of style, sprightliness and versatility. This is what caused the success of the old Greek comedy. "But," you say, "Lucilius was so skilled in mingling Latin and Greek." That, I reply, neither requires any great skill, nor is it a thing to be desired. This last assertion is at once apparent if you take the discussion into other fields of literature than poetry. I myself have been warned by Quirinus not to attempt Greek verse. I have looked over the literary field and found it occupied by men who could write better than I in each department--comedy, tragedy, epic, pastoral. Satire alone promised success to me; but still I do not profess to excel Lucilius. I freely leave the crown to him. But for all that I cannot help seeing his faults which I mentioned in my former satire--his extreme verbosity and roughness. In criticizing him I take the same license which he himself used toward his predecessors, and which he would use now toward his own extant works were he alive to-day. He surely would be more careful, and take more pains with his work, if he were now among us. And that is just the point. One must write and rewrite, and polish to the utmost, if he would produce anything worth reading. He must not be eager to rush into print and cater to the public taste. Let him be content with the applause of men of culture, and strive to win that; and let him leave popular favor to men who are themselves no better than the rabble whom they court.