The Downward Journey, or the Tyrant (1)

Well, Clotho, we have had this boat all ship-shape and thoroughly ready to sail for some time. The water is baled out, the mast is set up, the sail is hoisted in stops and each of the oars has a lanyard to it, so that as far as I am concerned there is nothing to hinder our getting up anchor and sailing. But Hermes is behind hand; he should have been here long ago. There is not a passenger aboard the ferryboat, as you see, when she might have made three trips to-day by this time, and here it is almost dusk and I haven’t earned even an obol yet. Besides, Pluto will surely think I am taking it easy all this time, when really someone else is to blame. Our honourable guide of souls[*] has had a drink of Lethewater up there if ever a man did, and so has forgotten to come back to us: he is either wrestling a fall with the boys or playing a tune on the lyre or making speeches to show off his command of piflle, or maybe the gentleman is even playing sneak-thief, for that is one of his accomplishments also. Anyhow, he takes