‘Well,’ I said, ‘we will leave for the present the discussion of the English soul, being careful to return to it later, and that for several reasons. For in the first place it is so odd and extraordinary that it arouses our sense of wonder and we contemplate it without effort, and secondly because it is always necessary to consider the English when we consider the Americans, so great is the effect of the two races upon each other. But now we will look as closely as we can into the nature of this tyrant, who, as I verily believe, is the chief evil from which the Americans suffer. And I think I shall lead you to agree with me when we have seen how their past history has made them into a prey for such a monster.’ ‘Explain it in your own way,’ said Agathon, ‘so that eventually you come to the point.’ ‘Why,’ I said, ‘I wish to approach this matter delicately, treading carefully like a scout at night and not rushing forward with great shouts, for I do not know how my words may be repeated and printed out wrongly in the news-sheets of the Americans. For the Americans have long ears, and hear everything that is said of them. They are sensitive people and restive when criticized, and if I speak bluntly, as I generally do, there will be many who will refuse hereafter to pay attention not to me only, but to Plato and to all the Greeks. And yet it is among the Greeks that they find those who can teach them most and give them the greatest benefits, explaining to them the principles of right living and, in particular, the necessity for examining our notions and for being cautious about declaring that we know things, and, above all, for being tolerant of disagreement and discussion.’ ‘The men of Athens,’ said Agathon slyly, ‘have not always shown you a proper tolerance, Socrates, and they are your own countrymen. How, then, can you be surprised that the Business Men’s Luncheon Club of Hootsville, Iowa, was unwilling to hear your doubts, for I know that that experience is what is in your mind.’ ‘A singular power indeed,’ I exclaimed, ‘has been given to you, dear Agathon, of reading the minds of your friends. But I assure you that there is in my mind at present no such personal recollection. I have only the power to think of one thing at a time and I am now thinking that we shall certainly never finish our inquiry if you keep laughing to yourself in this way in order to make Lysis curious over the incidents of my lecturing tour.’ Here Lysis intervened in a charming manner, and said to me: ‘Let him tell us the story, Socrates, for I can see he is dying to do so, and I will confess that I want to hear it. And when he has told it he shall keep quiet, and you shall unfold to us the nature of this Public Opinion. And if he thinks he can make me doubt the wisdom of your talk I will tell him at once that he is mistaken, and that we are only listening to him as to a sort of clown.’