But if philosophy is to be judged by outward appearances, what would become of the blind man, for instance, unable to observe the attire and gait of your friends the Stoics?
-- It was not of the blind I was thinking.
-- Yet there must needs be some common criterion in a matter so important to all.

Put the blind, if you will, beyond the privileges of philosophy; though they perhaps need that inward vision more than all others.

But can those who are not blind, be they as keen-sighted as you will, collect a single fact of mind from a man's attire, from anything outward ?--Understand me! You attached yourself to these men--did you not ?--because of a certain love you had for the mind in them, the thoughts they possessed desiring the mind in you to be improved thereby?
-- Assuredly! -- How, then, did you find it possible, by the sort of signs you just now spoke of, to distinguish the true philosopher from the false?
Matters of that kind are not wont so to reveal themselves.

They are but hidden mysteries, hardly to be guessed at through the words and acts which [152] may in some sort be conformable to them.

You, however, it would seem, can look straight into the heart in men's bosoms, and acquaint yourself with what really passes there.
-- You are making sport of me, Lucian! In truth, it was with God's help I made my choice, and I don't repent it.
-- And still you refuse to tell me, to save me from perishing in that 'vulgar herd.' -- Because nothing I can tell you would satisfy you.
-- You are mistaken, my friend! But since you deliberately conceal the thing, grudging me, as I suppose, that true philosophy which would make me equal to you, I will try, if it may be, to find out for myself the exact criterion in these matters--how to make a perfectly safe choice.
And, do you listen.
-- I will; there may be something worth knowing in what you will say.
-- Well!--only don't laugh if I seem a little fumbling in my efforts.
The fault is yours, in refusing to share your lights with me.