_Her_. You must decide about that; but I see that, at the best, it
will be but few who will get through the course, though they begin
philosophy and life together.

_Ly_. In that case, what are we to do? Must we withdraw our previous
admission, that no one can choose the best out of many without trying
all? We thought selection without experiment a method of inquiry
savouring more of divination than of judgement, did we not?

_Her_. Yes.

_Ly_. Without such longevity, then, it is absolutely impossible for
us to complete the series--experiment, selection, philosophy, Happiness.
Yet anything short of that is a mere game of blindman's-buff; whatever we
knock against and get hold of we shall be taking for the thing we want,
because the truth is hidden from us. Even if a mere piece of luck brings
us straight to it, we shall have no grounded conviction of our success;
there are so many similar objects, all claiming to be the real thing.

_Her_. Ah, Lycinus, your arguments seem to me more or less logical,
but--but--to be frank with you--I hate to hear you going through them and
wasting your acuteness. I suspect it was in an evil hour that I came out
to-day and met you; my hopes were almost in my grasp; and now here are
you plunging me into a slough of despond with your demonstrations; truth
is undiscoverable, if the search needs so many years.

_Ly_. My dear friend, it would be much fairer to blame your parents,
Menecrates and whatever your mother's name may have been--or indeed to go
still further back to human nature. Why did not they make you a Tithonus
for years and durability? instead of which, they limited you like other