here was no reply.

"Then Rome is in evil days," said the great father, sadly.

"Why?" It was the question of Gracus.

"Why, young man? Because in every land there should be those who can
cherish the fear of the gods and make honor beautiful and love sacred
and valor a thing of imperishable fame. I assure you, good people, one
poet is better," he paused, thoughtfully--"than ten thousand soldiers,"
he added. "Who will bring me a poet?"

The gods are indeed helpless, thought Vergilius. They must have poets
to do their work for them? But he said nothing.

"The streets are full of poets," said Gracus.

"Those old men with long beards and stilted rubbish!" said Augustus,
"with tragedies that slay the hero and the hearer! Bring me a poet,
and, remember, I shall honor him above all men. Once I invited Horace
to dine with me, and got no answer. He was a proud man"--this with a
merry smile. "Again I invited him, and then he deigned to write me a
sentence, merely, and said: 'Thanks, I am happy out here on my farm.'
I did not know what to do, but I wrote a letter and said to the great
man: 'You may not desire my friendship, but that is no reason for my
failing to value yours.' I am proud to say that he was my friend ever
after. But I weary you."

A female slave, thickly veiled, stood behind him. He made a signal and
she quickly put in his hand a little box of ivory, finely wrought.

"I have here," said the great father, "nine disks of wax. You see they
are very small, but so they shall serve my purpose the better. Will
each of you take one and retire from the table and write upon it the
thing he most desires? Now, my dear friends, brevity is ever as the
point of the lance. Wit is blunt and Truth half armed without it. I
lay a test upon you."

All retired quickly, and, soon returning, dropped their wishes in the
box. The playful emperor closed and shook it and withdrew a disk.

"I find here the word 'preference,'" said he, and all observed that his
keen eyes were calmly measuring the prince Antipater. "It is a poor
word, and does you little honor, my young friend. In mere preference
there is no merit. Here is another, and it says 'more wine.' Keep his
goblet full," he added, pointing to that of the senator, as all
laughed. "Here is one says 'rest.' Have patience, my good daughter, I
shall soon be done talking. Another has on it the words 'your
health'--a charming compliment, dear Lady Lucia. 'C