the great day would be the opening day, the one on which
everybody desired to be inside the Amphitheatre if possible and not
outside.

Therefore an early start had to be made. But this nobody minded, as what
is the want of a little sleep compared with the likelihood of missing
the finest sight that had been witnessed in the city for years?

The Caesar, of course, would be present. He would solemnly declare the
games to be open. There were free gifts from him to the people: a
thank-offering to the gods for his safe return from that arduous
expedition in Germany; and he would show himself to his people, receive
their acclamations and give them as much show and gaiety, music and
combats, as they cared to see.

So they went in their thousands and their tens of thousands, starting in
the middle of the night so as to be there when the great gates were
opened, and they would be allowed to pour into the vast enclosure, and
find as good seats for themselves and their families as they could.

And when at dawn, the great copper gates did slowly swing open, creaking
upon their massive hinges, it was as if the flood-gates of a mighty sea
had been suddenly let loose. In they poured, thousands upon thousands of
them, scrambling, pushing and jumping, scurrying and hurrying, falling
and tumbling, as they pressed onwards through the wide doors and then
dispersed in the vastness of the gigantic arena, like ants that scamper
away to their heaps.

Like so many pygmies they looked now, fussy and excited, perspiring
profusely despite the cool breeze of this early dawn.

Give them half an hour and they'll all settle down, sitting row upon
row, tier upon tier of panting, expectant humanity. After much
bousculading the strong ones have got to the front rows, the weaker ones
up aloft in the rear. But all can see well into the arena, and there are
those who think that you get a better view if you sit more aloft;
certain it is that you get purer air and something of the shadow of the
encircling walls.

There is no sign of cloud or storm to-day. Jove's thunders spent
themselves during the morning hours of yesterday when clap upon clap,
awe-inspiring and deafening, made every superstitious heart quake with
terror at this possible augury of some coming disaster. To-day the sky
is clear and--soon after dawn--of that iridescent crystalline blue that
lures the eye into myriads and myriads of atoms, the creations of the
heat-laden ether that stre