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As you see, he answered. Well then, said the other, I will make you a present of this horse. What for? asked Pheraulas. Then the Sacian related the circumstances and finally said: And in my opinion, at least, I have not failed to hit a brave man.

But you would give him to a richer man than I, if you were wise, answered Pheraulas. Still, even as it is, I will accept him. And I pray the gods, who have caused me to receive your blow, to grant me to see that you never regret your gift to me. And now, said he, mount my horse and ride away; I will join you presently. Thus they made the exchange. Of the Cadusians, Rhathines was the winner.

The chariots also he allowed to race by[*](The chariot race) divisions; to all the winners he gave cups and cattle, so that they might sacrifice and have a banquet. He himself, then, took the ox as his prize, but his share of the cups he gave to Pheraulas because he thought that that officer, as grand marshal, had managed the procession from the palace admirably.

The procession of the king, therefore, as thus instituted by Cyrus, continues even so unto this day, except that the victims are omitted when the king does not offer sacrifice. When it was all over, they went back to the[*](The procession comes to an end) city to their lodgings—those to whom houses had been given, to their homes; those who had none, to their company’s quarters.

Pheraulas invited to his house the Sacian[*](Pheraulas entertains the Sacian) also, who had given him his horse, and entertained his new friend there and made bountiful provision for him in every way; and when they had dined, he filled up the cups that he had received from Cyrus, drank to his health, and then gave him the cups.

And when the Sacian saw the many beautiful coverlets, the many beautiful pieces of furniture, and the large number of servants, he said: Pray tell me, Pheraulas, were you a rich man at home, too?

Rich, indeed! answered Pheraulas; nay rather, as everybody knows, one of those who lived by the labour of their hands. To be sure, my father, who supported us by hard labour and close economy on his own part, managed to give me the education of the boys; but when I became a young man, he could not support me in idleness, and so he took me off to the farm and put me to work.

And there, as long as he lived, I, in turn, supported him by digging and planting a very little plot of ground. It was really not such a very bad plot of ground, but, on the contrary, the most honest; for all the seed that[*](Cf. Vergil, Georgics i. 4 Menander, Georgos 35) it received it returned fairly and honestly, and yet with no very great amount of interest. And sometimes, in a fit of generosity, it would even return to me twice as much as it received. Thus, then, I used to live at home; but now everything that you see has been given to me by Cyrus.

What a happy fellow you must be, said the Sacian, for every reason, but particularly because from being poor you have become rich. For you must enjoy your riches much more, I think, for the very reason that it was only after being hungry for wealth that you became rich.

Why, do you actually suppose, my Sacian[*](He complains of the burden of riches) friend, answered Pheraulas, that the more I own, the more happily I live? You are not aware, he went on, that it gives me not one whit more pleasure to eat and drink and sleep now than it did when I was poor. My only gain from having so much is that I am obliged to take care of more, distribute more to others, and have the trouble of looking after more than I used to have.