himself by copying the great masterpieces of the past, before
proceeding to original work. It is only by learning to write Latin
that a man comes to treat diction as an art. The material in this art
is language, which must therefore be handled with the greatest care
and delicacy.

The result of such study is that a writer will pay keen attention to
the meaning and value of words, their order and connection, their
grammatical forms. He will learn how to weigh them with precision, and
so become an expert in the use of that precious instrument which is
meant not only to express valuable thought, but to preserve it as
well. Further, he will learn to feel respect for the language in
which he writes and thus be saved from any attempt to remodel it by
arbitrary and capricious treatment. Without this schooling, a man's
writing may easily degenerate into mere chatter.

To be entirely ignorant of the Latin language is like being in a fine
country on a misty day. The horizon is extremely limited. Nothing can
be seen clearly except that which is quite close; a few steps beyond,
everything is buried in obscurity. But the Latinist has a wide view,
embracing modern times, the Middle Age and Antiquity; and his mental
horizon is still further enlarged if he studies Greek or even
Sanscrit.

If a man knows no Latin, he belongs to the vulgar, even though he be
a great virtuoso on the electrical machine and have the base of
hydrofluoric acid in his crucible.

There is no better recreation for the mind than the study of the
ancient classics. Take any one of them into your hand, be it only