the Erymanthian Boar's tusks were at Cumæ, celebrated for its Sibyl;
the armor of Diomede, one of the Trojan heroes, was at Luceria, in the
vicinity of Cannæ; the cup of Ulysses and the tomb of Elpenor were at
Circei, on the coast; the ships of Æneas and his Penates were at
Lavinium, fifteen miles south of Rome; and the tomb of the hero himself
was at a spot between Ardea and Lavinium, on the banks of the brook
Numicius. Most men are interested in relics of olden times, and these,
so many and of such great attractiveness, were doubtless strong proofs
to the average Roman, ready to think well of his ancestors, that
tradition told a true story.

As we read the histories of other nations than our own, we are struck
by the strangeness of many of the circumstances. They appear foreign
(or "outlandish," as our great-grandparents used to say), and it is
difficult to put ourselves in the places of the people we read of,
especially if they belong to ancient times. Perhaps the names of
persons and places give us as much trouble as any thing. It seems to
us, perhaps, that the Romans gave their children too many names, and
they often added to them themselves when they had grown up. They did
not always write their names out in full; sometimes they called each
other by only one of them, and at others by several. Marcus Tullius
Cicero was sometimes addressed as "Tullius" and is often mentioned in
old books as "Tully"; and he was also "M. Tullius Cicero." It was as if
we were to write "G. Washington Tudela," and call Mr. Tudela familiarly
"Washington." This would cause no confusion at the time, but it might
be difficult for his descendants to identify "Washington" as Mr.
Tudela, if, years after his death, they were to read of him under his
middle name only. The Greeks were much more simple, and each of them
had but one name, though they freely used nicknames to describe
peculiarities or defects. The Latins and Etruscans seem to have had at