aut aquae caelesiis pattern latus' [1] King's mouth twitched to hide a grin. 'Was that done with intention?'
'I—I thought it fitted, sir.'
'It does. It's distinctly happy. What put it into your thick head, Paddy?'
'I don't know, sir, except we did the Ode last term.'
'And you remembered? The same head that minted probrosis as a verb! Vernon, you are an enigma. No! This Side will not always be patient of unheavenly gases and waters. I will make representations to our so-called Moderns. Meantime (who shall say I am not just?) I remit you your accrued pains and penalties in regard to probrosim, probrosis, probrosit and other enormities. I oughtn't to do it, but this Side is occasionally human. By no means bad, Paddy.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Vernon, wondering how inspiration had visited him.
Then King, with a few brisk remarks about Science, headed them back to Regulus, of whom and of Horace and Rome and evil-minded commercial Carthage and of the democracy eternally futile, he explained, in all ages and climes, he spoke for ten minutes; passing thence to the next Ode—Delicta majorum—where he fetched up, full-voiced, upon—'Dis te minorem quod geris imperas (Thou rulest because thou bearest thyself as lower than the Gods)—making it a text for a discourse on manners, morals, and respect for authority as dis-
- ↑ 'This side will not always be patient of rain and waiting on the threshold.'
