top? Well, Hermotimus thinks possibly in another twenty years or so. Lycinus remarks that a man might go three times round the world in that time: and can his master promise him that he will live so long? He hopes so, at least; and one day—one minute—of enjoyment on the summit, if once attained, will recompense him fully for all his time and pains. But is he sure again that the happiness he seeks there, and of which he can have as yet no kind of experience, will be found worth the search? and in what is it to consist? glory, riches, exquisite pleasures—is that what he expects? Hermotimus bids his friend talk more soberly: the life of virtue is not concerned with such things as these. The fine passage which follows can scarcely be altogether ironical. "Riches and glory, and all pleasures of the body, all these are stripped off and left below, and the man ascends, like Hercules, who rose a god from the pile which consumed him on Mount Œta: so did he throw off there all that was mortal, all that he inherited from his earthly mother, and bearing with him that which was divine, now purified by fire and cleansed from all dross, soared upwards to the gods. And so they who are purified by philosophy, as though by fire, from the love of all those things which men in their ignorance hold in admiration, attain the summit and there enjoy all happiness, remembering no more either riches, or glory, or pleasure, and smiling at those who still believe in their existence."
Lycinus meets him with the weapon which is always at hand—which the weakness of human nature fur-
