A fter getting into the carriage, when I had said good-bye to you, we did not have such a bad journey, though we got a slight wetting from the rain. But before reaching our country house we turned aside to Anagnia, about a mile off the main road. Then we inspected that ancient township, a tiny place, indeed, but containing many antiquities and buildings, and religious ceremonies beyond number. There was not a corner without its chapel or shrine or temple. Many books too, written on linen,1 and this has a religious significance. Then on the gate, as we came out, we found an inscription twice over to this effect: Flamen sume samentum.2 I asked one of the townsmen what the last word meant. He said it was Hernican for the pelt of the victim, which the priest draws over his peaked cap on entering the city. Quite a number of other things we learnt which we were glad to know; but the one thing we are not glad of is that it was in your absence: that is our chief concern.
Now for yourself, did you, when you left us, go to the Aurelian district3 or into Campania? Mind you tell me, and whether you have begun the vintage, and whether you have brought crowds of books to your country house, yes, and this, too, whether you miss me; and yet that is a foolish question, for you need no reminder to do that. Well, then, if you do miss me and do love me, you will write to me often to console me and cheer me up.4 For I would ten times rather have the run5 of your letters than of all the vineyards of the Massic6 and the Gauran Mount: for your clusters of Signia are too nauseous and their berries too bitter, wherefore I would prefer their wine to their must for drinking. Besides it is much more agreeable to masticate the grapes parched than pulpy, for beyond question I would rather stamp them with my feet than champ them with my teeth. Yet may they be gracious and forgiving, and for these pleasantries a kindly pardon grant. Farewell, to me most affectionate, most delightful, most eloquent of men, master most sweet. When you see the must fermenting in the cask, let it remind you that my longing for you wells up thus and overflows and foams in my breast. Fare ever well.
? 144–145 A.D.
Hail, most reverend master.