[Sidenote: Cephalus has inherited rather than made a fortune; he is therefore indifferent to money.] Acquired! *330B* Socrates; do you want to know how much I acquired? In the art of making money I have been midway between my father and grandfather: for my grandfather, whose name I bear, doubled and trebled the value of his patrimony, that which he inherited being much what I possess now; but my father Lysanias reduced the property below what it is at present: and I shall be satisfied if I leave to these my sons not less but a little more than I received. That was why I asked you the question, I replied, because I see that you are indifferent about money, *330C* which is a characteristic rather of those who have inherited their fortunes than of those who have acquired them; the makers {5} of fortunes have a second love of money as a creation of their own, resembling the affection of authors for their own poems, or of parents for their children, besides that natural love of it for the sake of use and profit which is common to them and all men. And hence they are very bad company, for they can talk about nothing but the praises of wealth. That is true, he said. [Sidenote: The advantages of wealth.] *330D* Yes, that is very true, but may I ask another question?--What do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? [Sidenote: The fear of death and the consciousness of sin become more vivid in old age; and to be rich frees a man from many temptations.] One, he said, of which I could not expect easily to convince others. For let me tell you, Socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, *330E* but now he is tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to others. And when he finds that the sum of his transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. But *331A* to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: [Sidenote: The admirable strain of Pindar.] 'Hope,' he says, 'cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holiness, and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey;--hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man.'