quite well be one of Daedalus’s ingenious mechanisms—you say he plays truant from his pedestal just like them—and not the work of Demetrius at all.’ ‘Take care, Tychiades; you will be sorry for this some day. I have not forgotten what happened to the thief who stole his monthly pennies.’ ‘The sacrilegious villain!’ cried Ion; ‘I hope he got a lesson. How was he punished? Do tell me: never mind Tychiades; he can be as incredulous as he likes.’ ‘At the feet of the statue a number of pence were laid, and other coins were attached to his thigh by means of wax; some of these were silver, and there were also silver plates, all being the thank-offerings of those whom he had cured of fever. Now we had a scamp of a Libyan groom, who took it into his head to filch all this coin under cover of night. He waited till the statue had descended from his pedestal, and then put his plan into effect. Pelichus detected the robbery as soon as he got back; and this is how he found the offender out and punished him. He caused the wretch to wander about in the court all night long, unable to find his way out, just as if he had been in a maze; till at daybreak he was caught with the stolen property in his possession. His guilt was clear, and he received a sound flogging there and then; and before long he died a villain’s death. It seems from his own confession that he was scourged every night; and each succeeding morning the weals were to be seen on his body.—_Now_, Tychiades, let me hear you laugh at Pelichus: I am a dotard, am I not? a relic from the time of Minos?’ ‘My dear Eucrates,’ said I, ‘if bronze is bronze, and if that statue was cast by Demetrius of Alopece, who dealt not in Gods but in men, then I cannot anticipate any danger from a statue of Pelichus; even the menaces of the original would not have alarmed me particularly.’ Here Antigonus, the doctor, put in a word. ‘I myself,’ he informed his host, ‘have a Hippocrates in bronze, some eighteen inches high. Now the moment my candle is out, he goes clattering about all over the house, slamming the door, turning all my boxes upside down, and mixing up all my drugs; especially when his annual sacrifice is overdue.’ ‘What are we coming to?’ I cried; ‘Hippocrates must have sacrifices, must he? he must be feasted with all pomp and circumstance, and punctually to the day, or his leechship is angry? Why, he ought to be only too pleased to be complimented with a cup of mead or a garland, like other dead men.’