_Apollo. Hermes_
_Ap_. Hermes, have you any idea which of those two is Castor, and which
is Pollux? I never can make out.
_Her_. It was Castor yesterday, and Pollux to-day.
_Ap_. How do you tell? They are exactly alike.
_Her_. Why, Pollux's face is scarred with the wounds he got in boxing;
those that Amycus, the Bebrycian, gave him, when he was on that
expedition with Jason, are particularly noticeable. Castor has no
marks; his face is all right.
_Ap_. Good; I am glad I know that. Everything else is the same for
both. Each has his half egg-shell, with the star on top, each his
javelin and his white horse. I am always calling Pollux Castor, and
Castor Pollux. And, by the way, why are they never both here together?
Why should they be alternately gods and shades?
_Her_. That is their brotherly way. You see, it was decreed that one of
the sons of Leda must die, and the other be immortal; and by this
arrangement they split the immortality between them.
_Ap_. Rather a stupid way of doing it: if one of them is to be in
Heaven, whilst the other is underground, they will never see one
another at all; and I suppose that is just what they wanted to do. Then
again: all the other gods practise some useful profession, either here
or on earth; for instance, I am a prophet, Asclepius is a doctor, you
are a first-rate gymnast and trainer, Artemis ushers children into the
world; now what are these two going to do? surely two such great
fellows are not to have a lazy time of it?
_Her_. Oh no. Their business is to wait upon Posidon, and ride the
waves; and if they see a ship in distress, they go aboard of her, and
save the crew.
_Ap_. A most humane profession.