have got rid of his senseless vanity. Now, in all these cases our philosopher is derided by the vulgar, partly because he is above them, and also because he is ignorant of what is before him, and always at a loss.

Theod. That is very true, Socrates.

Soc. But, O my friend, when he draws the other into upper air, and gets him out of his pleas and rejoinders into the contemplation of justice and injustice in their own nature and in their difference from one another and from all other things; or from the common places about the happiness of kings to the consideration of government, and of human happiness and misery in general-what they are, and how a man should seek after the one and avoid the other-when that narrow, keen, little legal mind is called to account about all this, he gives the philosopher his revenge; for dizzied by the height at which he is hanging, and from which he looks into space, which is a strange experience to him, he, being dismayed, and lost, and stammering out broken words, is laughed at, not by Thracian handmaidens or any other uneducated persons, for they have no eye for the situation, but by every man who has not been brought up as a slave. Such are the two characters, Theodorus: the one of the philosopher or gentleman, who may be excused for appearing simple and useless when he has to perform some menial office, such as packing up a bag, or flavoring a sauce or fawning speech; the other, of the man who is able to do every kind of service smartly and neatly, but knows not how to wear his cloak like a gentleman; still less does he acquire the music of speech, or hymn the true life which is lived by immortals or men blessed of heaven.

THE FAREWELL OF SOCRATES.

(From the "Phædon," translated by Professor B. Jowett.) SOCRATES was permitted to receive his friends in prison during the interval between his condemnation and death. He discoursed with them on the immortality of the soul, and gave his views of its future abode.

Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not we to do in order to obtain virtue and wisdom in this life? Fair is the prize, and the hope great!

I do not mean to affirm that the description which I have given of the soul and her mansions is exactly true-a man of sense ought hardly to say that. But I do say that, inasmuch as the soul is shown to be immortal, he may venture to think, not improperly or unworthily, that something of the kind is true. The venture is a glorious one, and he ought to comfort himself with words like these, which is the reason why I lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be of good cheer about his soul, who has cast away the pleasures and ornaments of the body as alien to him, and rather hurtful in their effects, and has followed after the pleasures of knowledge in this life; who has adorned the soul in her own proper jewels; which are temperance, and justice, and courage, and nobility and truth-in these arrayed, she is ready to go on her journey to the world below, when her time comes. You, Simmias, and Cebes, and all other men, will depart at some time or other. Me already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I must drink the poison; and I think that I had better repair to the bath first, in order that the women may not have the trouble of washing my body after I am dead.

When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you any commands for us, Socrates—anything to say about your children; or any other matter in which we can serve you?

Nothing particular, he said: only, as I have always told you, I would have you look to yourselves; that is a service which you may always be doing to me or mine as well as to yourselves. And you need not make professions; for if you take no thought for yourselves, and walk not according to the precepts which I have given you, not now for the first time, the warmth of your professions will be of no avail.

We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way would you have us bury you?

In any way that you like; only you must get hold of me, and take care that I do not walk away from you. Then he turned to us, and added, with a smile: I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who have been talking and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body-and he asks, How

shall he bury me? And though I have spoken many words in the endeavor to show that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of the blessed,-these words of mine, with which I comforted you and myself, have had, as I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be surety for me now, as he was surety for me at the trial: but let the promise be of another sort; for he was my surety to the judges that I would remain, but you must be my surety to him that I shall not remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial, Thus we lay out Socrates; or, Thus we follow him to the grave or bury him; for false words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of good cheer then, my good Crito, and say that you are burying my body only; and do with that as is usual, and as you think best.

When he had spoken these words he arose and went into the bath-chamber with Crito, who bid us wait; and we waited, talking and thinking of the subject of discourse, and also of the greatness of our sorrow; he was like a father of whom we were being bereaved, and we were about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had taken the bath, his children were brought to him (he had two young sons and an elder one); and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them and gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito, and he then dismissed them and returned to us.

Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had passed while he was within. When he came out he sat down again with us after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven,* entered and stood by him, saying: To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, I will not impute the angry feelings of other men, who rage and swear at me, when in obedience to the authori

*The chief magistrates of Athens at that time.

ties, I bid them drink the poison-indeed I am sure that you will not be angry with me, for others, as you are aware, and not I, are the guilty cause. And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what must needs be; you know my errand. Then bursting into tears, he turned away and went out.

Socrates looked at him and said: I return your good wishes, and will do as you bid. Then turning to us he said, How charming the man is: since I have been in prison he has always been coming to see me, and at times he would talk to me, and was as good as could be to me, and now see how generously he sorrows for me. But we must do as he says, Crito; let the cup be brought, if the poison is prepared; if not, let the attendant prepare some.

ARISTOTLE.

GOETHE, when nearing the end of his life, said, "If I had youthful faculties at my command, I should devote myself to Greek. . . . Nature and Aristotle should be my whole study. It is beyond all conception what that man espied, saw, beheld, remarked, observed." Not only was Aristotle the most learned man of antiquity, but he inaugurated the era of learning in Greece, which was later extended to Rome. Towards the close of the Dark Ages his long-lost writings were recovered, and became the foundation of Christian philosophy. He still guides and directs the intellects of millions who know not his name.

Aristotle was born at Stagira, in Thrace, in 384 B.C., his father being the physician of King Amyntas of Macedonia. Early left an orphan, he went in his eighteenth year to Athens to become the disciple of Plato. For twenty years he remained with that noble master, who used to call him the Intellect of his school. At the age of forty Aristotle, already renowned for the universality of his attainments, was invited by the ambitious Philip of Macedon to take charge of the education of Alexander, then thirteen years old. Thus were the greatest thinker and the destined conqueror of the ancient world brought into most intimate relations with profit to both. Three years later the pupil became regent of the king

dom. Aristotle returned to Athens in 335 B.C., and opened his school in the Lyceum, a gymnasium connected with a temple of Apollo. Here, walking up and down the shady avenues, he delivered his carefully prepared lectures, the outlines of which form some of his extant works. The Socratic dialogue, which had been the chosen and appropriate vehicle of Plato's instruction, gave way to a continuous, systematic treatment of all the departments of knowledge. Though other philosophers attended Alexander in his career of conquest, the high-minded master remained at Athens; yet he was liberally assisted by his royal pupil in obtaining new information from the distant East. When the young monarch, elated with his swift success, began to adopt Oriental habits repugnant to Hellenic traditions, there seems to have arisen a coldness between the philosopher and the conqueror. Yet when the news of Alexander's death reached Athens, the sudden popular reaction against everything that savored of Macedonia obliged the great teacher to leave the city. He said he wished to prevent the Athenians sinning against philosophy a second time. He retired to Chalcis, in Eubœa, where he died in 322 B.C.

However great the fame of Aristotle, and however profound his influence on the intellectual development of man, his writings hardly belong to literature proper. They are strictly professorial, devoid of ornament, and necessarily dry. This rigid, but comprehensive, thinker has enriched all sciences by original investigations. He is admired for width and solidity of research, for definition of the modes of thought, for precision in the use of technical terms. He may therefore be regarded as the great explorer, surveyor, and cartographer of the human mind and the whole province of thought. But as a writer he cannot-like his own master, Plato-inspire his readers with enthusiasm, nor stimulate the imagination, nor rouse the latent energies of the soul. Yet he has been pronounced by an eminent scientific writer (G. J. Romanes), not only the greatest figure in antiquity, but the greatest intellect that has ever appeared upon the face of the earth."

The very titles under which his various writings are usually comprised-"Organon," "Physics," "Metaphysics,"