of faces and moving hands and arms, gives one a sensation of immensity too."
"What strikes you most?" asked Balbinus.
'The flowers," said Proculus.
"Don't you have flowers in Dacia?" Balbinus inquired.
"Dacia won't be forgotten," laughed Proculus. "Yes, we have flowers there, even some roses. But when we have games the spectators just sit on the grass slopes or stand along the edge of the arena like our ancestors of old. You don't see the wreaths as you do here, and there they are mostly made of strange wild flowers, not a bit home-like to see. These are uniformly roses, and such roses! there must be wagon loads of them. When the seats are all full, allowing a dozen roses to a wreath, there will be twelve hundred thousand roses in this building."
"More," said Balbinus. "But hang the wreaths. I'm afraid mine will tilt over my eyes at the critical moment."
"Shall I pull it off your head as you rise?" asked Proculus.
"I'd thought of that," said Balbinus. "Better not. It might disconcert me. I'll risk the slipping."
"We agreed to keep off that subject," said Proculus.
"We did," Balbinus admitted. "But it will
