at they were trash, and did not deserve the
name of poetry at all.

This answer so angered Dionysius, and so sorely wounded his vanity, that
he called his guards, and bade them put the philosopher into a prison
hewn out of the living rock, and hence known as "The Quarries."

Here Philoxenus was a prisoner for many a day, although his only fault
was having told the tyrant an unwelcome truth when asked to speak.

The philosopher's friends were indignant on hearing that he was in
prison, and signed a petition asking Dionysius to set him free. The
tyrant read the petition, and promised to grant their request on
condition that the philosopher would sup with him.

Dionysius' table was well decked, as usual, and at dessert he again read
aloud some new verses which he had composed. All the courtiers went into
ecstasies over them, but Philoxenus did not say a word.

Dionysius, however, fancied that his long imprisonment had broken his
spirit, and that he would not now dare refuse to give a few words of
praise: so he pointedly asked Philoxenus what he thought of the poem.
Instead of answering, the philosopher gravely turned toward the guards,
and in a firm voice cried aloud, "Take me back to The Quarries!" thus
showing very plainly that he preferred suffering to telling an untruth.

The courtiers were aghast at his rashness, and fully expected that the
tyrant would take him at his word and put him in prison, if nothing
worse; but Dionysius was struck by the moral courage which made
Philoxenus tell the truth at the risk of his life, and he bade him go
home in peace.

LXXXII. STORY OF DAMON AND PYTHIAS.

There lived in those days in Syracuse two young men called Da'mon and
Pyth'i-as. They were very good friends, and loved each other so dearly
that they were hardly ever seen apart.

Now, it happened that Pythias in some way roused the anger of the
tyrant, who put him in prison, and condemned him to die in a few days.
When Damon heard of it, he was in despair, and vainly tried to obtain
his friend's pardon and release.

The mother of Pythias was very old, and lived far away from Syracuse
with her daughter. When the young man heard that he was to die, he was
tormented by the thought of leaving the women alone. In an interview
with his friend Damon, Pythias regretfully said that he would die easier
had he only been able to bid his mother good-by and find a protector for
his sister.

Damon, anxious to gratify his fr