My friend’s face brightened. Perhaps it was a relief to him to pass from theology to matter of literary fact. “I think,” he replied, “that he must mean the Jewish followers of Christus—the Christians, about whom we were lately talking.” “Then why,” said I, “does not he call them Christians?” “I do not know,” replied Arrian, “He has never mentioned either Christians or Christus in my hearing; but he has, in one lecture at all events, used the term ‘Galilæans’ to mean the Christians. And I feel sure that he means them here, because the other Jews do not practise baptism, except for proselytes, whereas the Christians are all baptized.” “But,” said I, “he does not call them ‘baptized.’ He calls them ‘dipped’.” “That is his brief allusive way,” said Arrian. “You know that we provincials, and sometimes even Athenians too, speak of _dipping_ the hair, or, if I may invent the word, _bapting_ it, where the literary people speak of _blacking_ or _dyeing_ it. That is just what our Master means. These Christians are not merely _baptized_; they are _bapted_. That is to say, they are permanently and unalterably stained, or dyed in grain. They are. We are not. That is his meaning. Afterwards, as you noticed, he dropped into the regular word ‘_baptism_,’ and spoke of us as _sham-baptists_.” “But he also called them _chosen_,” said I, “—that is to say, if he meant _chosen_, and not _caught_ or _convicted_.” Arrian smiled. “You have hit the mark without knowing it,” said he. “I noticed the word and took it down. It is another of his jibes! These Christians actually call themselves ‘_elect_’ or ‘_chosen_.’ I heard all about it in Bithynia. They profess to have been ‘called’ by Christus. Then, if they obey this ‘calling,’ and remain steadfast, following Christus, they are said to be ‘_chosen_’ or ‘_elect_.’ But our Master believes this ‘_calling_’ and ‘_choosing_’ to be moonshine, and these Christian Jews to be the victims of a mere delusion, _caught_ by error. So he uses a word that might mean ‘_chosen_’ but might mean also ‘_caught_.’ They think themselves the former. He thinks them the latter.” I hardly know why I refrained from telling my friend what Scaurus had told me about the probability that Epictetus had borrowed from the Christians. Partly it was, I think, because it was too long a story to begin just then; and I thought I might shock Arrian and not do Scaurus justice. Partly, I was curious to question Arrian further. So after a short silence, during which my friend seemed lost in thought, I said to him, “You know more about the Christians than I do. Do you think Epictetus knows much about them? And what precisely does he mean by ‘_feeling_,’ when he speaks of ‘taking up the _feeling_ of the dipped’?”