"And now, if you want to go back to your Latin and Greek, you
shall translate for me into Latin--I do not expect you to do it
into Greek, though it would turn very well into Greek, for the
Greeks know all about the matter long before the Romans--what
follows here; and you shall verify the facts and the names, etc.,
in it from your dictionaries of antiquity and biography, that you
may remember all the better what it says. And by that time, I
think, you will have learnt something more useful to yourself,
and, I hope, to your country hereafter, than if you had learnt to
patch together the neatest Greek and Latin verses which have
appeared since the days of Mr. Canning."

* * *

I have often amused myself, by fancying one question which an old
Roman emperor would ask, were he to rise from his grave and visit
the sights of London under the guidance of some minister of state.
The august shade would, doubtless, admire our railroads and
bridges, our cathedrals and our public parks, and much more of
which we need not be ashamed. But after awhile, I think, he would
look round, whether in London or in most of our great cities,
inquiringly and in vain, for one class of buildings, which in his
empire were wont to be almost as conspicuous and as splendid,
because, in public opinion, almost as necessary, as the basilicas
and temples: "And where," he would ask, "are your public baths?"
And if the minister of state who was his guide should answer: "Oh
great Caesar, I really do not know. I believe there are some
somewhere at the back of that ugly building which we call the
National Gallery; and I think there have been some meetings lately
in the East End, and an amateur concert at the Albert Hall, for