I have my way of thinking, you have yours; thus we each know what the other means; but after the tragedy comes the satyr play, and we may as well finish this agitating evening with an hour's friendly chat." So saying Demetrius stretched himself on a divan and invited Marcus to do the same, and in a few minutes their conversation had turned, as usual, to the subject of horses.

Marcus was full of praises of the stallions his brother had bred for him, and which he had ridden that very day round the Myssa--[The Myssa was the Meta, or turning-post]--in the Hippodrome, and his brother added with no small complacency: "They were all bred from the same sire and from the choicest mares.

I broke them in myself, and I only wish....

But why did you not come to the stables this morning ?" "I could not," replied Marcus coloring slightly.

Then we will go to-morrow to Nicopolis and I will show you how to get Megaera past the Taraxippios."-- [The terror of the horses.] "To-morrow ?" said Marcus somewhat embarrassed.