And, Pan,—have they become more virtuous under the hands of the philosophers?

Philosophers? Oh! people with beards just like mine; sepulchral beings, who are always getting together and jabbering?

Those are they.

I can’t understand a word they say; their philosophy is too much forme. I am mountain-bred; smart city-language is not in my line; sophists and philosophers are not known in Arcadia. I ama good hand at flute or pipe; I can mind goats, I can dance, I can fight at a pinch, and that is all. But I hear them all day long, bawling out a string of hard words about virtue, and nature, and ideas, and things incorporeal. They are good enough friends when the argument begins, but their voices mount higher and higher as they go on, and end in a scream; they get more and more excited, and all try to speak at once; they grow red in the face, their necks swell, and their veins stand out, for all the world like a flute-player on a high note. The argument is turned upside down, they forget what they are trying to prove, and finally go off abusing one another and brushing the sweat from their brows; victory rests with him who can show the boldest front and the loudest voice, and hold his ground the longest. The people, especially those who have nothing better to do, adore them, and stand spellbound under their confident bawlings. For all that I could see, they were no better than humbugs, and I was none too pleased at their copying my beard. If there were any use in their noise, if the talking did any good to the public, I should not have a word to say against them: but, to tell you the plain unvarnished truth, I have more than once looked out from my peep-hole yonder and seen them—

Hush, Pan: was not that Hermes making the proclamation?

I thought so.

Be it known to all men that we purpose on this seventh day of March to hold a court of justice, and Fortune defend the right / All litigant parties to assemble on Areopagus, where Fustice will assign the juries and preside over the trials in person. The juries to be taken from the whole Athenian people; the pay to be sixpence for each case s the number of jurors to vary with the nature of the accusation. Any parties who had commenced legal proceedings and have died in the interim to be sent up by Aeacus. Any party doubting the justice of bis sentence may appeal; the appeal to be heard by Zeus.

Talk about noise! how they shout! And what a hurry they are in to get here! See how one hales another up the hill! Here comes Hermes himself. Well, I leave you to your juries and your evidence; you are accustomed to it. I will return to my cave, and there play over one of those amorous ditties with which I love to upbraid Echo. As to rhetoric and law-pleadings, I hear enough of those every day in this very court of Areopagus.

We had better summon the parties, Justice.

True. Only look at the crowd, bustling and buzzing about the hilltop like a swarm of wasps!

I've got you, curse you.

Pooh! a trumped-up charge.

At last! you shall get your deserts this time.

Your villany shall be unmasked.

My jury first, Hermes.

Come along: into court with you, rascal.

You needn’t throttle me.

Do you know what I think we had better do, Hermes? Put off all the other cases for to-morrow, and only take to-day the charges brought by Arts, Professions, and Philosophies. Pick me out all of that kind.

Drink v. the Academy, re Polemon, kidnapped.

Seven jurors.

Porch v. Pleasure. Defendant is charged with seducing Dionysius, plaintiffs admirer.

Five will do for that.

Luxury v. Virtue, re Aristippus.

Five again.

Bank v. Diogenes, alleged to have run away from plaintiffs service.

Three only.

Painting v. Pyrrho. Desertion from the ranks.

That will want nine.

What about these two charges just brought against a thetorician?

No, those can stand over; we must work off the arrears first.

Well, these cases are of just the same kind. They are not old ones, it is true, but they are very like those you have taken, and might fairly be heard with them.

That looks rather like favouritism, Hermes, However, as you like; only these must be the last; we have got quite enough. What are they?

Rhetoric v. a Syrian i.e, Lucian. See Introduction, § 1, Life., for neglect; Dialogue v, the same, for assault.

And who is this Syrian? There is no name given.

That is all: the Syrian rhetorician; he can have a jury without having a name.

So! here on Areopagus I am to give juries to outsiders, who ought to be tried on the other side of the Euphrates? Well, give him eleven, and they can hear both cases.

That’s right; it will save a lot of expense.

First case: the Academy versus Drink. Let the jury take their seats. Mark the time, Hermes, Drink, open the case.... Not a word? can you do nothing but nod?— Hermes, go and see what is the matter with her.

She says she cannot plead, she would only be laughed at; wine has tied her tongues As you see, she can hardly stand.

Well, there are plenty of able counsel present, ready to shout themselves hoarse for sixpence; let her employ one of them.

No one will have anything to do with such a client in open court. But she makes a very reasonable proposal.

Yes?

The Academy is always ready to take both sides; she makes a point of contradicting herself plausibly. ‘Let her speak first on my behalf,’ says Drink, ‘and then on her own.’

A novel form of procedure. However, goon, Academy; speak on both sides, if you find it so easy.