For centuries the philosophers had followed in the footsteps of their masters. In some families, many fathers and sons had been devoted to the same school, all adhering to the teachings of a revered founder.
It was only natural that, when a distinguished group of disciples met on one occasion, they proceeded to boast of their master's legacy and their traditions, as taught by their own fathers. One fellow, however, did not so do. When the others eyed him closely, he quietly announced,
"I am the first disciple in my family."
The others, although somewhat surprised by such a confession, were too polite to make comment, so each in turn began to expound upon the mysteries of philosophy, as taught by their respective masters and conveyed through the generations from father to son.
Finally it was the obscure disciple's turn to offer his learned dissertation, based upon the teachings of his forefathers. There was an embarrassed silence, for the others had no wish to humiliate their associate. He arouse confidently, however, and began.
"Brethren," said he, "my father was a simple baker, but he taught me something I shall never forget: that only fresh bread is appetizing, and that I should always avoid the stale. That, brothers, also applies to learning."
With that, he sat down.