It is not generally understood that Cicero’s essay was delivered as a lyceum lecture, (concio popularis,) at the Temple of Mercury.  The journals (papyri) of the day ("Tempora Quotidiana,”—­“Tribunus Quirinalis,”—­“Praeco Romanus,” and the rest) gave abstracts of it, one of which I have translated and modernized, as being a substitute for the analysis I intended to make.

IV.  Kal.  Mart....

The lecture at the Temple of Mercury, last evening, was well attended by the elite of our great city.  Two hundred thousand sestertia were thought to have been represented in the house.  The doors were besieged by a mob of shabby fellows, (illotum vulgus,) who were at length quieted after two or three had been somewhat roughly handled (gladio jugulati).  The speaker was the well-known Mark Tully, Eq.,—­the subject, Old Age.  Mr. T. has a lean and scraggy person, with a very unpleasant excrescence upon his nasal feature, from which his nickname of chick-pea (Cicero) is said by some to be derived.  As a lecturer is public property, we may remark, that his outer garment (toga) was of cheap stuff and somewhat worn, and that his general style and appearance of dress and manner (habitus, vestitusque) were somewhat provincial.

The lecture consisted of an imaginary dialogue between Cato and Laelius.  We found the first portion rather heavy, and retired a few moments for refreshment (pocula quoedam vini).—­All want to reach old age, says Cato, and grumble when they get it; therefore they are donkeys.—­The lecturer will allow us to say that he is the donkey; we know we shall grumble at old age, but we want to live through youth and manhood, in spite of the troubles we shall groan over.—­There was considerable prosing as to what old age can do and can’t—­True, but not new.  Certainly, old folks can’t jump,—­break the necks of their thigh-bones, (femorum cervices,) if they do, can’t crack nuts with their teeth; can’t climb a greased pole (malum inunctum scandere non possunt); but they can tell old stories and give you good advice; if they know what you have made up your mind to do when you ask them.—­All this is well enough, but won’t set the Tiber on fire (Tiberim accendere nequaquam potest).

There were some clever things enough, (dicta haud inepta,) a few of which are worth reporting.—­Old people are accused of being forgetful; but they never forget where they have put their money.—­Nobody is so old he doesn’t think he can live a year.—­The lecturer quoted an ancient maxim,—­Grow old early, if you would be old long,—­but disputed it.—­ Authority, he thought, was the chief privilege of age.—­It is not great to have money, but fine to govern those that have it.—­Old age begins at forty-six years, according to the common opinion.—­It is not every kind of old age or of wine that grows sour with time.—­Some excellent remarks were made on immortality, but mainly