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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, 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 to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar

charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: