I. I had gone into the city on the Fourth day of the month to witness how they would observe the Festival, and was returning at my leisure, when Chærephon, catching sight of me at a distance, ordered his son to run forward and bid me wait for him. And the boy, taking hold of me by the cloak behind, said: “My father bids you wait for him.”
“By all means,” said I.
And not long afterward Chærephon came.
“Socrates,” he said, “you seem to be returning from the city.”
“You guess not badly,” I replied.
We continued on our way, and soon came near the crossing of two streets. Here, a boy was standing at the curb, calling loudly to all who passed.
“What are the words he cries?” I said to Chærephon.
“The Republic,” he answered. “It is the new paper, that will come forth daily, and is to help the demos; for you know that until now it has come but thrice a week, and has been for the few. Have you not heard of it?”
“Yes,” I said, “and I have thought about it much. Henceforth we shall have the news every day, and in a different way.”
We had now come to the boy, and were passing him.