'Sub rege Medo, under a Median King—Marsus et Apulus, he being a Marsian and an Apulian.'
'Who? The Median King?'
'No, sir. The soldier of Crassus. Oblittus agrees with milesne Crassi, sir.' volunteered too hasty Beetle.
'Does it? It doesn't with me.'
'Oh-blight-us,' Beetle corrected hastily, 'forgetful—anciliorum, of the shields, or trophies—et nominis, and the—his name—et togae, and the toga—eternaeque Vestae, and eternal Vesta—incolumi Jove, Jove being safe—et urbe Roma, and the Roman city.' With an air of hardly restrained zeal—'Shall I go on, sir?'
Mr. King winced. 'No, thank you. You have indeed given us a translation! May I ask if it conveys any meaning whatever to your so-called mind?'
'Oh, I think so, sir.' This with gentle toleration for Horace and all his works.
'We envy you. Sit down.'
Beetle sat down relieved, well knowing that a reef of uncharted genitives stretched ahead of him, on which in spite of M'Turk's sailing-directions he would infallibly have been wrecked.
Rattray, who took up the task, steered neatly through them and came unscathed to port.
'Here we require drama,' said King. 'Regulus himself is speaking now. Who shall represent the provident-minded Regulus? Winton, will you kindly oblige?'
Winton of King's House, a long, heavy, tow-headed Second Fifteen forward, overdue for his
