There is, however, one point which is perplexing. Plutarch (Timoleon, c. 15) animadverts upon a passage in the history of Philistus, wherein that historian had dwelt, with a pathos which Plutarch thinks childish and excessive, upon the melancholy condition of the daughters of Leptinês, “who had fallen from the splendor of a court into a poor and mean condition.” How is this reconcilable with the fact stated by Diodorus, that Leptinês was recalled from exile by Dionysius after a short time, taken into favor again, and invested with command at the battle of Kronium, where he was slain? It seems difficult to believe that Philistus could have insisted with so much sympathy upon the privations endured by the daughters of Leptinês, if the exile of the father had lasted only a short time. Such was the memorable scene at the Olympic festival of 384 B. C., together with its effect upon the mind of Dionysius. Diodorus, while noticing all the facts, has cast an air of ridicule over them by recognizing nothing except the vexation of Dionysius, at the ill success of his poem, as the cause of his mental suffering; and by referring to the years 388 B. C. and 386 B. C., that which properly belongs to 384 B. C.[72] Now it is improbable, in the first place, that the poem of Dionysius,—himself a man of ability and having every opportunity of profiting by good critics whom he had purposely assembled around him[73]—should have been so ridiculously bad as to disgust an impartial audience: next, it is still more improbable that a simple poetical failure, though doubtless mortifying to him, should work with such fearful effect as to plunge him into anguish and madness. To unnerve thus violently a person like Dionysius—deeply stained with the great crimes of unscrupulous ambition, but remarkably exempt from infirmities—some more powerful cause is required; and that cause stands out conspicuously, when we conceive the full circumstances of the Olympic festival of 384 B. C. He had accumulated for this occasion all the means of showing himself off, like Krœsus in his interview with Solon, as the most prosperous and powerful man in the Hellenic world;[74] means beyond the reach of any contemporary, and surpassing even Hiero or Thero of former days, whose praises in the odes of Pindar he probably had in his mind. He counted, probably with good reason, that his splendid legation, chariots, and outfit of acting and recitation for the poems, would surpass everything else seen on the holy plain; and he fully expected such reward as the public were always glad to bestow on rich men who exhausted their purses in the recognized vein of Hellenic pious ostentation. In this high wrought state of expectation, what does Dionysius hear, by his messengers returning from the festival? That their mission had proved a total failure, and even worse than a failure; that the display had called forth none of