Listen then, Toxaris, to the tale of another, Euthydicus of Chalcis. It was repeated to me by Simylus, the sea-captain of Megara, who took his solemn oath that he himself had seen the deed. He said that he was making a voyage from Italy to Athens at about the season of the setting of the Pleiades, carrying a miscellaneous collection of assengers, among whom was Euthydicus, and with im Damon, also of Chalcis, his comrade. They were of the same age, but Euthydicus was vigorous and strong, while Damon was pale and sickly, just convalescing, it seemed, from a prolonged illness.

As far as Sicily they had made a fortunate passage, said Simylus; but when they had run through the straits and in due time were sailing in the Adriatic itself, a great tempest fell upon them. Why repeat the many details of his story—huge seas, cyclones, hail, and all the other evils of a storm? But when they were at last abreast of Zacynthos,

Zante.

! sailing with the yard bare, and also dragging hawsers in their wake to check the fury of their driving, towards midnight Damon became seasick, as was natural in weather so rough, and began to vomit, leaning outboard. Then, I suppose because the ship was hove down with greater force towards the side over which he was leaning and the high sea contributed a send, he fell overboard head-first; and the poor fellow was not even without his clothes, so as to have been able to swim more easily. So he began at once to call for help, choking and barely able to keep himself above the water.

When Euthydicus, who happened to be undressed and in his bunk, heard him, he flung himself into the sea, got to Damon, who was already giving out (all this was visible at a long distance because the moon was shining) and helped him by swimming beside him and bearing him up. The rest of them, he said, wanted to aid the men and deplored their misfortune, but could not do it because the wind that drove them was too strong; however, they did at least something, for they threw them a number of pieces of cork and some spars, on which they might swim if they chanced upon any of them, and finally even the gang plank, which was not small. Think now, in the name of the gods! what firmer proof of affection could a man display towards a friend who had fallen overboard at night into a sea so wild, than that of sharing his death? I beg you, envisage the tumult of the seas, the roar of the breaking water, the boiling spume, the night, the despair; then one man strangling, barely keeping up his head, holding his arms out to his friend, and the other leaping after him at once, swimming with him, fearing that Damon would perish first. In that way you can appreciate that in the case of Euthydicus too it is no common friend whom I have described.

Did the men lose their lives, Mnesippus, or were they unaccountably saved, somehow? I am very concerned about them.

Never fear, Toxaris; they were saved and are now at Athens, both of them, studying philosophy. Simylus, to be sure, could only tell this tale about what he had once seen in the night—the one falling overboard, the other leaping after him, and both swimming as long as he could distinguish them in the darkness. But the sequel was told by Euthydicus himself. In the beginning they came upon some corks on which they supported themselves and kept afloat uncomfortably, but afterwards, seeing the gang plank at last, towards daybreak, they swam to it and then, after climbing upon it, easily drifted to Zacynthos.