'What you say,' I rejoined, 'is partly true. The gods have not left us dependent exclusively, upon either religion, or philosophy. There is a natural religion of the heart and the conscience, which is born with us, grows up with us, and never forsakes us. But then, after all, how defective and incomplete a principle it is. It has chiefly to do, only with our daily conduct; it cannot answer our doubts, or satisfy our most real wants. It differs too with the constitution of the individual. In some, it is a principle of much greater value and efficacy, than in others. Your instincts are clear, and powerful, and direct you aright. But, in another, they are obscure, and weak, and leave the mind in the greatest perplexity. It is by no means all that they want. Then, are not the prevalent superstitions most injurious in their influences upon the common mind? Can you doubt, whether more of good or evil, is derived to the soul, from the ideas it entertains of the character, and providence of the gods? Can you be insensible to the horrible enormities, and nameless vices, which make a part, even of what is called religion? And is there no need--if men will have religion in some form--that they should receive it in a better one? Can you not conceive of such views of God and his worship, of duty, virtue, and immortality being presented, that they shall strike the mind as reasonable in themselves, and of beneficial instead of hurtful power, upon being adopted? Can you not imagine your own mind, and the minds of people generally, to be so devoted to a high and sublime conception of the Divinity, and of futurity, as to be absolutely incapable of an act, that should displease him, or forfeit the hope of immortality?' 'Hardly,' said Marcus and Lucilia.