You young monster! I said; this is what Critias, or some philosopher, has told you.

Someone else, then, said Critias; for certainly I have not.

But what matter, said Charmides, from whom I heard this?

No matter at all, I replied; for the point is not who said the words, but whether they are true or not . . .

Then, as I was just saying, he who declared that temperance is a man doing his own business had another and a hidden meaning; for I do not think that he could have been such a fool as to mean this. Was he a fool who told you, Charmides?

Nay, he replied, I certainly thought him a very wise man.

Then I am quite certain that he put forth his definition as a riddle, thinking that no one would know the meaning of the words "doing his own business."

I dare say, he replied.

And what is the meaning of a man doing his own business? Can you tell me?

Indeed, I cannot; and I should not wonder if the man himself who used this phrase did not understand what he was saying. Whereupon he laughed slyly and looked at Critias.

Critias had long been showing uneasiness, for he felt that he had a reputation to maintain with Charmides and the rest of the company. He had, however, hitherto managed to retrain himself; but now he could no longer forbear, and I am convinced of the truth of the suspicion which I entertained at the time, that Charmides had heard this answer about temperance from Critias. And Charmides, who did not want to answer himself, but to make Critias answer, tried to stir him up. He went on pointing out that he had neen refuted, at which Critias grew angry, and appeared, as I thought, inclined to quarrel with him; just as a poet might quarrel with an actor who spoiled his poems in repeating them. . . .

And you and your brother, Dionysodorus, I said of all men who are now living are most likely to stimulate him to philosophy and to the study of virtue.

Yes, Socrates, I rather think that we are.

Then I wish that you would be good enough to defer the other part of the exhibition, and only try to persuade the youth whom you see here that he ought to be a philosopher and study virtue. Exhibit that, and you will confer a great favor on me and on every one present; for the fact is I and all of us are extremely anxious that he should become truly good. His name is Clenias, and he is the son of Axiochus, and grandson of the old Alcibiades, cousin of the Alcibiades that now is. He is quite young, and we are naturally afraid that someone may get the start of us, and turn his mind in a wrong direction, and he may be ruined. Your visit, therefore, is most happily timed; and I hope that you will make a trial of the young man, and converse with him in our presence, if you have no objections.

These were pretty nearly the expressions which I used; and Euthydemus, in a manly and at the same time encouraging tone, replied: There can be no objection, Socrates, if the young man is only willing to answer questions.

He is quite accustomed to do so, I replied; for his friends often come and ask him questions and argue with him; and therefore he is quite at home in answering.

What followed, Crito, how can I rightly narrate? For not slight is the task of rehearsing infinite wisdom, and therefore, like the poets, I ought to commence my relation with an invocation to the Memory and the Muses. Now Euthymedes, if I remember rightly, began nearly as follows: O Clenias, are those who learn the wise or the ignorant?

The youth, overpowered by the question, blushed, and in his perplexity looked at me for help; and I, knowing that he was disconcerted, said: Take courage, Clenias, and answer like a man whichever you think; for my belief is that you will derive the greatest benefit from their questions.

Whichever he answers, said Dionysodurs, learning forward so as to catch my ear, his face beaming with laughter, I prophesy that he will be refuted, Socrates. . . .

At these words the followers of Euthydemus, of whom I spoke, like a chorus at the bidding of their director, laughed and cheered. Then before the youth had time to recover his breath, Dionysodorus cleverly took him in hand, and said: Yes, Clenias; and when the grammar-master dictated anything to you, were they the wise boys or the unlearned who learned the dictation?

The wise, replied Clenias.

Then after all the wise are the learners and not the unlearned; and your last answer to Euthydemus was wrong.

Then once more the admirers of the two heroes, in an ecstasy at their wisdom, gave vent to another peal of laughter, while the rest of us were silent and amazed. Euthydemus, observing this, determined to persevere with the youth; and in order to heighten the effect went on asking another similar question, which might be compared to the double turn of an expert dancer. Do those, said he, who learn learn what they know, or what they do not know? . . .

The word was hardly out of his mouth when Dionysodurs took up the argument, like a ball which he caught, and had another throw at the youth. Clenias, he said, Euthydemus is deceiving you. For tell me now, is not learning acquiring knowledge of that which one learns?

Euthydemus was proceeding to give the youth a third; but I knew that he was in dee water, and therefore, as I wanted to give him a respite lest he should be disheartened, I said to him consolingly: You must not be surprised, Clenias, at the singularity of their mode of speech: this I say because you may not understand what the two strangers are doing with you; they are only initiating you after the manner of the Corybantes in the mysteries; and this answers to the enthronement, which, if you have ever been initiated, is, as you will know, accompanied by dancing and sport; and now they are just dancing and prancing about you, and will next proceed to initiate you; imagine then that you have gone through the first part of the sophistical ritual, which, as Prodicus says, begins with initiation into the correct use of terms.

And now, Euthydemus and Dionysodurs, I think that we have had enough of this. Will you let me see you explaining to the young man how he is to apply himself to the study of virtue and wisdom? And I will first show you what I conceive to be the nature of the task, and what sort of a discourse I desire to hear; and if I do this in a very inartistic and ridiculous manner, do not laugh at me, for I only venture to improvise before you, because I am eager to hear your wisdom: and I must therefore ask you and your disciples to refrain from laughing.

Why do you murder me? A strange question! Do you not live on the other side of the water? If you lived on this side, my good Sir, I should indeed be an assassin for killing you; but you live on the side: I am acting, therefore, I am like a man of honor, and everything is as it should be.

Cromwell as on the point of overturning all Christendom; the royal family would have been ruined, and his own permanently established, if a small piece of gravel had not lodged in his ureter. Rome herself was ready to tremble before him, but this small grain, of no consequence elsewhere, stopping in this particular part, he dies, his family are reduced, and the king is restored.

If you know that you to reply to the arguments which your opponent advances, you may, by a fine stroke of irony, declare yourself to be an incompetent judge: "What you now say passes my poor powers of comprehension; it may be all very true, but I can’t understand it, and I refrain from any expression of opinion on it." In this way you insinuate to the bystanders, with whom you are in good repute, that what your opponent says is nonsense.

Thar may be some here to-day, my brethring, as don’t know what persuasion I am uv. Well I must say to you, my brethring, that I’m a Hard Shell Baptist. Thar’s some folks as don’t like the Hard Shell Baptist, but I’d rather have a hard shell as no shell at all. You see me here to-day, my brethering, dressed up in fine clothes; you mout think I was proud, my brethering, and although I’ve been a preacher of the gospel for twenty years an’ although I’m capting of the flatboat that lies at your landing I’m not proud, my brethring.

I am not gwine to tell edzactly whar my tex may be found; suffice to say, it’s in the leds of the Bible, and you’ll find it somewhar in between the first chapter of the book of Generations and the last chapter of the book of Revolutions, and ef you’ll go and search the Scriptures, you’ll not only find my tex thar, but a great many other texes as will do you good to read, and my tex, when you shill find it, you shill find it to read thus:

"And he played on a har uv a thousand strings—sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

My tex, my brethring, leads me to speak of sperits. Now, thar’s a great many kinds of sperits in the world—in the fuss place, thar’s the sperits as some folks call ghosts, and thar’s the sperits uv turpentine, and thar’s the sperits as some folks call liquor, an’ I’ve got as good an artikel of them kind of sperits on my flatboat as ever was fotch down the Mississippi River; but thar’s a great many other kinds of sperits, for the tex says, "He played on a harp uv a t-h-o-u-s-and strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

But I’ll tell you the kind uv sperits as is ment in the tex, is fire. That’s the kind uv sperits as is ment in the tex, my brethring. Now thar’s a great many kinds of fire in the world. In the fuss place thar’s the common kind of fire you light your cigar or pipe with, and then thar’s foxfire and campfire, fire before you’re ready, and fire and fall back, and many other kinds uv fire, for the tex says, "He played on the harp of a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

But I’ll tell you the kind of fire as is ment in the tex, my brethring—it’s Hell Fire! an’ that’s the kind uv fire as a great many uv you’ll come to, ef you don’t do better nor what you have been doin’—for "He played on a harp uv a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

Now, the different sorts of fire in the world may be likened unto the different persuasions of the Christians in the world. In the first place we have the Piscapalions, an’ they are a high sailin’ and high-falutin’ set, and they may be likened unto a turkey buzzard, that flies up into the air, and he goes up, and up, and up, till he looks no bigger than your finger nail, and the fust thing you know, he cums down, and is a fillin’ himself on the carkiss of a dead hoss by the side of the road and "He played on a harp uv a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

And then thar’s the Methodis, and they may be likened unto the squirril runnin’ up into a tree, for the Methodis believes in gwine on from one degree to another, and finally on to perfection, and the squirril goes up and up, and up, and up, and he jumps from limb to limb, and branch to branch, and the fust thing you know he falls, and down he cums, kerflumix, and that’s like the Methodis, for they is allers fallen from grace, ah! and "He played on a harp uv a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."

And then, my brethring, thar’s the Baptist, ah! and they have been likened unto a possum on a ‘simmon tree, and thenders may roll and the earth may quake, but that possum clings thar still, ah! and you may shake one foot loose, and the other’s thar, and you may shake all feet loose, and he laps his tail around the limb, and clings and he clings furever, for "He played on a harp uv a thousand strings, sperits uv jest men made perfeck."