are miles of solid ground between Mount Ceta and the gulf, so that the
Hot Gates no longer exist. But more enduring than stone or brass--nay,
than the very battlefield itself--has been the name of Leonidas. Two
thousand three hundred years have sped since he braced himself to perish
for his country's sake in that narrow, marshy coast road, under the brow
of the wooded crags, with the sea by his side. Since that time how many
hearts have glowed, how many arms have been nerved at the remembrance of
the Pass of Thermopylae, and the defeat that was worth so much more than
a victory!




THE ROCK OF THE CAPITOL

B.C. 389



The city of Rome was gradually rising on the banks of the Tiber, and
every year was adding to its temples and public buildings.

Every citizen loved his city and her greatness above all else. There was
as yet little wealth among them; the richest owned little more than a
few acres, which they cultivated themselves by the help of their
families, and sometimes of a few slaves, and the beautiful Campagna di
Roma, girt in by hills looking like amethysts in the distance, had not
then become almost uninhabitable from pestilential air, but was rich and
fertile, full of highly cultivated small farms, where corn was raised in
furrows made by a small hand plough, and herds of sheep, goats, and oxen