But who are these men whom Croesus is sending out? And what have they got on their shoulders?

Those are bars of gold; they are going to Delphi, to pay for an oracle, which oracle will presently be the ruin of Croesus. But oracles are a hobby of his.

Oh, so that is gold, that glittering yellow stuff, with just a tinge of red init. I have often heard of gold, but never saw it before.

Yes, that is the stuff there isso much talking and squabbling about.

Well now, I see no advantages about it, unless it is an advantage that it is heavy to carry.

Ah, you do not know what it has to answer for; the wars and plots and robberies, the perjuries and murders; for this men will endure slavery and imprisonment; for this they traffic and sail the seas.;

For this stuff? Why, it is not much different from copper. I know copper, of course, because I get a penny from each passenger.

Yes, but copper is plentiful, and therefore not much esteemed by men. Gold is found only in small quantities, and the miners have to go to a considerable depth for it. For the rest, it comes out of the earth, just the same as lead and other metals.

What fools men must be, to be enamoured of an object of this sallow complexion; and of such a weight!

Well, Solon, at any rate, seems to have no great affection for it, See, he is making merry with Croesus and his outlandish magnificence. I think he is going to ask him a question. Listen.

Croesus, will those bars be any use to Apollo, do you think?

Any use! Why there is nothing at Delphi to be compared to them.

And that is all that is wanting to complete his happiness, eh?—some bar gold?

Undoubtedly.

Then they must be very hard up in Heaven, if they have to send all the way to Lydia for their gold supply?

Where else is gold to be had in such abundance as with us?

Now is any iron found in Lydia?

Not much.

Ab; so you are lacking in the more valuable metal,

More valuable? Iron more valuable than gold?

Bear with me, while I ask you a few questions, and I will convince you it is so.

Well?

Of protector and protégé, which is the better man?

The protector, of course.

Now in the event of Cyrus’s invading Lydia—there is some talk of it—shall you supply your men with golden swords? or will tron be required on the occasion?

Ob, iron.

Iron accordingly you must have, or your gold would be led captive into Persia?

Blasphemer!

Ob, we will hope for the best. But it is clear, on your own admission, that iron is better than gold.

And what would you have me do? Recall the gold, and offer the God bars of iron?

He has no occasion for iron either. Your offering (be the metal what it may) will fall into other hands than his. It will be snapped up by the Phocians, or the Boeotians, or the God’s own priests; or by some tyrant or robber. Your goldsmiths have no interest for Apollo,

You are always having a stab at my wealth. It is all envy!

This blunt sincerity is not to the Lydian’s taste. Things are come to a strange pass, he thinks, if a poor man is to hold up his head, and speak his mind in this frank manner! He will remember Solon presently, when the time comes for Cyrus to conduct him in chains to the pyre. I heard Clotho, the other day, reading over the various dooms. Among other things, Croesus was to be led captive by Cyrus, and Cyrus to be murdered by the queen of the Massagetae. There she is: that Scythian woman, riding on a white horse; do you see?

Yes.

That is Tomyris. She will cut off Cyrus’s head, and put it into a wine-skin filled with blood. And do you see his son, the boy there? That is Cambyses. He will succeed to his father’s throne; and, after innumerable defeats in Libya and Ethiopia, will finally slay the god Apis, and die a raving madman.

What fun! Why, at this moment no one would presume to meet their eyes; from such a height do they look down on the rest of mankind. Who would believe that before long one of them will be a captive, and the other have his head in a bottle of blood?—

But who is that in the purple robe, Hermes?— the one with the diadem? His cook has just been cleaning a fish, and is now handing him a ring,—‘in yonder sea-girt isle’; ''tis, sure, some king.'

Ha, ha! A parody, this time——That is Polycrates, tyrant of Samos. He is extremely well pleased with his lot: yet that slave who now stands at his side will betray him to the satrap Oroetes, and he will be crucified. It will not take long to overturn his prosperity, poor man! This, too, I had from Clotho.

I like Clotho; she is a lady of spirit. Have at them, madam! Off with their heads! To the cross with them! Let them know that they are men. And let them be exalted in the meantime; the higher they mount, the heavier will be the fall. I shall have a merry time of it hereafter, identifying their naked shades, as they come aboard; no more purple robes then; no tiaras; no golden couches!

So much for royalty; and now to the common herd. Do you see them, Charon;—on their ships and on the field of battle; crowding the law-courts and following the plough; usurers here, beggars there?

I see them. What a jostling life it is! What a world of ups and downs! Their cities remind me of bee-hives. Every man keeps a sting for his neighbour’s service; and a few, like wasps, make spoil of their weaker brethren. But what are all these misty shapes that beset them on every side?

Hopes, Fears, Follies, Pleasures, Greeds, Hates, Grudges, and such like. They differ in their habits. The Folly is a domestic creature, with vested rights of its own. The same with the Grudge, the Hate, the Envy, the Greed, the Knownot, and the What’s-to-do. But the Fear and the Hope fly overhead. The Fear swoops on its prey from above; sometimes it is content with startling a man out of his wits, sometimes it frightens him in real earnest. The Hope hovers almost within reach, and just when a man thinks he is going to catch it, off it flies, and leaves him gaping—like Tantalus in the water, you know.