“My friend Spurenna lives pleasantly.  I spent a few days with him not long ago.  Early in the morning he takes a stroll of three miles.  If he has visitors, he chats with them on some improving subject—­if not, he reads.  Then with books and conversation he fills up the interval till it is time to ride, when, with his wife and a friend or two—­perhaps myself—­he takes a drive of seven or eight miles.  Till it is time to bathe he amuses us with his graceful lyrics, in Greek as well as in Latin.  He bathes about two or three o’clock, and then suns himself; for by bathing and rubbing and sunning he fights off the ills of advancing years.  Then a lunch.  Then dinner, which is served on antique solid silver.  Have you enjoyed your bath, my Gallus?  The tank is large enough, certainly, for one to swim in.  Now, as we pass back, see how conveniently the bathing-house, heater and perfuming-rooms adjoin.  Here are my fish-ponds:  the poor things can look out upon the sea if they choose.  And now my tennis-court, quite a warm place late in the afternoon.  Here is a turret with two sunny rooms under it:  that one yonder is a pleasant sunlit supper-room, with views of sea and beaches and villas.  Yonder is the villa once owned by Hortensius, Cicero’s great rival, you remember.  It is not in good repair, and is rather old-fashioned too.  A third turret has under it a large larder and store-room, and a spacious bed-chamber.  In that sunny room, again, you can escape the crash of the surges, which only penetrates here as a gentle murmur.  In truth, good Gallus, where there are so many wintry changes on a coast like this, I like to be able to change too.  High winds and storms on a seashore compel us to have protected dining-rooms.  This one we are now in looks out upon my garden and the shaded alley round it.  We will dine early, and in the front triclinium this pleasant evening....  In the country here we have not all the delicacies that the city commands, but by the aid of Ostia and yonder village we manage tolerably....  Some wine?  Falernian, that my good uncle bought forty years ago.  The wax on the jar is stiff with age.  There is nothing I delight in more than in gathering my wife and children around me, as you see.  And I make you a member of my household at once by not laying aside my rule.  My reader is hoarse to-day, or I would have some interesting extracts out of my uncle’s notebook read.  Some grapes?  They are late October vines.  We can look out of those side windows upon the white-sailed galleys that go by.  My uncle was admiral of the western fleet, you know, and though I have only been a civil officer, yet I have a sort of love for the sea; and this is one thing that makes Laurentinum so dear to me.  Have you dined so simply?  Your ride has not given you the appetite it gives me.  Fatigue is your true appetizer, and if that fails I cannot hope that these autumn figs will tempt you.”

Our host runs on thus at a great rate, and is evidently bent on showing us the rest of his comfortable villa before the daylight fails us: