Let me begin with a confession and an explanation. I am not a teacher by profession. Furthermore, I am not a classical scholar. I have discovered in the course of piloting a youngster through high school that I can read Latin better than I supposed; but then my supposition was pitched low-decidedly. For more ambitious excursions into classical domains I prefer-and need-a "horse." Threading my way on foot, stepping from construction to clause and from clause to idiom, would be precarious and tedious. While I emerged from classical studies in college without discredit, I never gained any reputation as a linguist. All this would seem to disqualify me from discussing the subject I have chosen. From another point of view, however, the case is quite the contrary. If I may indulge in a paradox, my apparent lack of qualification is my real qualification for what I am attempting. What I mean is this: the usual proponents of classical studies are either teachers who are riding their hobbies or students of so exceptional capacity for linguistic pursuits as to make a fair mastery of Latin and Greek both comparatively easy and immensely enjoyable. If the classics are of general value, that value can best be estimated by the student who is not a classical specialist and who has found the study of language a hard and, at times, distasteful task. As soon as the compulsory character of the curriculum allowed, I fled from the classics to the joyous freedom of congenial "electives." But while I breathed deeply and hilariously the air of freedom, I was forced to acknowledge to myself that, entirely apart from any disciplinary values, my pursuit of classical studies had not been without cultural effects. Having a part in a play of Plautus, which was acted by a group of Sophomores, gave me an insight into the humor of the comedies and helped me to visualize the Romans as flesh-and-blood human beings. Illustrated lectures