"My boy, we are going to Rome next week, so that you may go to school.
I have made up my mind that you deserve as good an education as the
son of any knight or senator." Horace had cried a little at first
in nervous excitement, and in bewilderment at his father's unwonted
gravity. But all that was soon forgotten in the important bustle of
preparations for a journey to the Capital. The whole village had made
them the centre of critical interest. Once a bald, thick-set
centurion had met them on the street, and stopped them with an
incredulous question. When he was informed that it was true that the
boy was to be taken to Rome, he had laughed sneeringly and said, "How
proud you will be of his city education when you find that he comes
back to your little government position, and can make no more money
than you have." Horace had looked wonderingly into his father's face,
and found it unannoyed and smiling. And even as a child he had noticed
the dignity with which he answered the village magnate: "Sir, I wish
to educate my son to know what is best to know, and to be a good man.
If in outward circumstances he becomes only an honest tax-collector,
he will not for that reason have studied amiss, nor shall I be
discontented."

The next day they had started for Rome, and soon the boy was rioting
in the inexpressible glories of his first impressions of the great
city. Even the ordeal of going to a strange school had its
compensations in the two slaves who went behind him to carry his books.
The centurions' sons at home had carried their own, and Horace felt
a harmless, boyish pleasure (without in the least understanding the
years of economy on his father's part that made it possible) in the
fact that here in Rome he had what his schoolmates had, and appeared
at school in the same state. One thing he had that was better than
theirs, and he felt very sorry for them. A special servant went about
with each of the other boys, to see that he attended his classes,
was polite to his teachers, and did his work. But Horace had his own
father to look after him, a thousand times better than any carping
_paedagogus_. His father had explained to him that the other fathers
were busy men, that they were the ones who carried on the great
government, and ruled this splendid Rome; they could not spend hours
going to school with their little sons. But Horace thought it was
a great pity, and was sure that he was the luckiest boy in school.

How go