to be in time for the midday meal. Socrates met us in a narrow alley, and put his staff across it to bar the way. What a strange figure he was, I thought. I had never seen him before, you must know; for we had been living for some years on my father’s estate in Eubœa. Certainly he looked more like a Silenus than an Apollo. ‘Well,’ my son, he said, looking at me with a smile that made him look quite beautiful, ‘can you tell me where a [Pg 81] good tunic is to be bought?’ I thought it was an odd question, though certainly he might want a tunic for himself, for his own was exceedingly shabby. However I answered it to the best of my ability. ‘And a good sword—where may that be purchased?’ That I told him also as well as I could. Some half-dozen more things he asked me about, and I did my best to reply. At last he said, ‘Tell me then, my son, since you know so well where so many good things are to be procured, tell me where the true gentleman[34] is to be found?’ That puzzled me exceedingly, and I could only lift my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders. How could I answer such a question? Then he said, ‘follow me my son, and be taught.’ I never went near Prodicus again, you may be sure. My father was somewhat vexed, for he had paid a quarter of a talent as fee for the course of lectures. However it did not cost him anything, for Socrates will never take a fee. From that day to this I have never missed an opportunity when I was not campaigning of hearing him. But see there he is!”

[Pg 81]

THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS.

Socrates was standing in the open space in front of the Temple of Poseidon, with the customary group of listeners round him. As the two young men came up the discussion which had been going on came to an end, and the philosopher turned to greet the new comers. “Hail! Xenophon,” he cried, “and you, too, sir, for the friends of Xenophon are always welcome.” “You, sir,” he went on addressing Callias, “are recently back from the war; now tell me this.” And he asked questions which showed that military de[Pg 82]tails were perfectly well known to him, better known to him in fact than they were to Callias himself. These questions were becoming a little perplexing, for Socrates had an inveterate habit of driving into a corner, it may be said, every one with whom he conversed. Luckily for Callias, another friend came up at the moment, and the great examiner’s attention was diverted.

[Pg 82]

“Ho! Aristarchus,” he cried to the new comer, “how fare you?”

“But poorly, Socrates,” was 

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