But I don't think you ever read the 'Apology' of Apuleius ?" "Not I; what is it about ?" asked the captain.
"About a great many things.

It is that Sage's vindication from several malignant charges,--amongst others, and principally indeed, that of being much too refined and effeminate for a philosopher.

Nothing can exceed the rhetorical skill with which he excuses himself for using--tooth-powder.

'Ought a philosopher,' he exclaims, 'to allow anything unclean about him, especially in the mouth,--the mouth, which is the vestibule of the soul, the gate of discourse, the portico of thought! Ah, but AEmilianus [the accuser of Apuleius] never opens his mouth but for slander and calumny,--tooth-powder would indeed be unbecoming to him! Or, if he use any, it will not be my good Arabian tooth powder, but charcoal and cinders.

Ay, his teeth should be as foul as his language! And yet even the crocodile likes to have his teeth cleaned; insects get into them, and, horrible reptile though he be, he opens his jaws inoffensively to a faithful dentistical bird, who volunteers his beak for a toothpick.'" My father was now warm in the subject he had started, and soared miles away from Riccabocca and "My Novel." "And observe," he exclaimed,--"observe with what gravity this eminent Platonist pleads guilty to the charge of having a mirror.