Mr. Agricola always made me a little nervous looking over my
shoulder as I took his daily Latin quiz. " I see this young man
has it right ", he would inform the rest of the class.
He had been teaching Latin at Hope High since the beginning
of the first world war. My uncle who also had him way back then once
told me how he would interrupt the lesson to criticise some bumbling
general, usually a French one: " He would have lost the Gallic war! ",
he would say in a fit of irritation.
He kept precious old Roman coins in his pocket. He would smile
ecstatically at the image of " Great Caesar ". " This coin was touched
by Julius himself", he would say . " I'm a little psychic about such
things." He would look out the window and mumble " didn't listen , no
didn't listen."
He had a collection of ancient manuscripts that would have been
the envy of the British Museum. Sometimes he would assert their authenticity;
other times he would " confess" that they were mere facsimiles. He never
brought them to class.
When I earned an A in his class, he invited me over to his " castle"
house on the East Side - to view the precious manuscripts. While I was
studying one, " The Gallic War " with a magnifying glass, he put his
hand on my shoulder. " You look so much like young Mark Anthony you
know. He was gorgeous! "
Nervously I asked him technical questions about the manuscript.
" Experts date it from the 11th century, but my own " psychic " guess
is that it is definitely late ninth century.
" How did YOU acquire these manuscripts? " I asked.
" Quid pro quo ", he said . " And well connected relatives ! "
I had a glass of " very old wine " with Mr. Agricola and then fell
asleep on his bed. When I awoke , he was making coffee in the kitchen.
" Don't worry I called your mother", he said.
That morning was the last time I saw Mr. Agricola alive. He died
while on vacation in ancient Pompei that summer. He had collapsed in
front of an old Roman grave stone. The image of the man named Celsius
carved into it looked remarkably like Mr. Agricola himself- or his twin
brother. This odd bit of information was reported in the tabloid " Roma
Oggi ".
shoulder as I took his daily Latin quiz. " I see this young man
has it right ", he would inform the rest of the class.
He had been teaching Latin at Hope High since the beginning
of the first world war. My uncle who also had him way back then once
told me how he would interrupt the lesson to criticise some bumbling
general, usually a French one: " He would have lost the Gallic war! ",
he would say in a fit of irritation.
He kept precious old Roman coins in his pocket. He would smile
ecstatically at the image of " Great Caesar ". " This coin was touched
by Julius himself", he would say . " I'm a little psychic about such
things." He would look out the window and mumble " didn't listen , no
didn't listen."
He had a collection of ancient manuscripts that would have been
the envy of the British Museum. Sometimes he would assert their authenticity;
other times he would " confess" that they were mere facsimiles. He never
brought them to class.
When I earned an A in his class, he invited me over to his " castle"
house on the East Side - to view the precious manuscripts. While I was
studying one, " The Gallic War " with a magnifying glass, he put his
hand on my shoulder. " You look so much like young Mark Anthony you
know. He was gorgeous! "
Nervously I asked him technical questions about the manuscript.
" Experts date it from the 11th century, but my own " psychic " guess
is that it is definitely late ninth century.
" How did YOU acquire these manuscripts? " I asked.
" Quid pro quo ", he said . " And well connected relatives ! "
I had a glass of " very old wine " with Mr. Agricola and then fell
asleep on his bed. When I awoke , he was making coffee in the kitchen.
" Don't worry I called your mother", he said.
That morning was the last time I saw Mr. Agricola alive. He died
while on vacation in ancient Pompei that summer. He had collapsed in
front of an old Roman grave stone. The image of the man named Celsius
carved into it looked remarkably like Mr. Agricola himself- or his twin
brother. This odd bit of information was reported in the tabloid " Roma
Oggi ".
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments that are courteous, concise and relevant are always welcome, whether or not they agree with the views expressed here or not. Profanity is not necessary. Thank you for reading “Time Enough At Last!”
Ron