ant besides the beauty, wealth, full purse, and seemly
household which the gods have given you? Dear friend, I tell you what
you want, contentment with the present hour. Try and imagine that each
day which dawns upon you is your last; then each succeeding day will
come unexpected and delightful. I practise what I preach: come and take
a look at me; you will find me contented, sleek, and plump, 'the fattest
little pig in Epicurus' sty.'" And he impresses the same lesson on
another friend, Bullatius, who was for some reason restless at home and
sought relief in travel. "What ails you to scamper over Asia or voyage
among the Isles of Greece? Sick men travel for health, but you are well.
Sad men travel for change, but change diverts not sadness, yachts and
chaises bring no happiness; their skies they change, but not their souls
who cross the sea. Enjoy the to-day, dear friend, which God has given
you, the place where God has placed you: a Little Pedlington is cheerful
if the mind be free from care" (Ep. I, xi).

His great friend Fuscus twits him, as Will Honeycomb twitted Mr.
Spectator, with his passion for a country life (Ep. I, x). "You are a
Stoic," Horace says, "your creed is to live according to Nature. Do you
expect to find her in the town or in the country? whether of the two
yields more peaceful nights and sweeter sleep? is a marble floor more
refreshing to the eyes than a green meadow? water poured through leaden
pipes purer than the crystal spring? Even amid your Corinthian columns
you plant trees and shrubs; though you drive out Nature she will silently
return and supplant your fond caprices. Do interpose a little ease and
recreation amid the money-grubbing which confines you to the town. Money
should be the servant, not the queen, the captive, not the conqueror.
If you want to see a happy man, come to me in the country. I have only
one thing wanting to perfect happiness, my desire for your society."
Two longer letters are written to his young friend Lollius (Ep. I, ii,
xviii). The first is a study of Homer, which he has been reading in the
country. In the "Iliad" he is disgusted by the reckless selfishness of
the leaders; in the hero of the "Odyssey" he sees a model of patient,
wise endurance, and impresses the example on his friend. It is curious
that the great poet of one age, reading the greater poet of another,
should fasten his attention, not on the poetry, but on the ethics of his
predecessor. The remaining