Chapter XXVI: Menippus. Chiron

_Me_. I have heard that you were a god, Chiron, and that you died of your own choice?

_Chi_. You were rightly informed. I am dead, as you see, and might have been immortal.

_Me_. And what should possess you, to be in love with Death? He has no charm for most people.

_Chi_. You are a sensible fellow; I will tell you. There was no further satisfaction to be had from immortality.

_Me_. Was it not a pleasure merely to live and see the light?

_Chi_. No; it is variety, as I take it, and not monotony, that constitutes pleasure. Living on and on, everything always the same; sun, light, food, spring, summer, autumn, winter, one thing following another in unending sequence,—I sickened of it all. I found that enjoyment lay not in continual possession; that deprivation had its share therein.

_Me_. Very true, Chiron. And how have you got on since you made Hades your home?

_Chi_. Not unpleasantly. I like the truly republican equality that prevails; and as to whether one is in light or darkness, that makes no difference at all. Then again there is no hunger or thirst here; one is independent of such things.

_Me_. Take care, Chiron! You may be caught in the snare of your own reasonings.

_Chi_. How should that be?

_Me_. Why, if the monotony of the other world brought on satiety, the monotony here may do the same. You will have to look about for a further change, and I fancy there is no third life procurable.

_Chi_. Then what is to be done, Menippus?

_Me_. Take things as you find them, I suppose, like a sensible fellow, and make the best of everything.

F.