'Immortal gods!' exclaimed Portia, 'the statue of a Jew in the halls of the Pisos! Well may it be that Rome approaches her decline, when her elder sons turn against her.' 'Nay, my mother, I am not a Jew.' 'I would thou wert, rather than be what I suppose thou art, a Christian. The Jew, Lucius, can boast of antiquity, at least, in behalf of his religion. But the faith which you would profess and extend, is but of yesterday. Would the gods ever leave mankind without religion? Is it only to-day that they reveal the truth? Have they left us for these many ages to grope along in error? Never, Lucius, can I believe it. It is enough for me that the religion of Rome is old as Rome, to endear it to my heart, and commend it to my understanding. It is not for the first time, to-day, that the gods have spoken.' 'But, my dear mother,' I rejoined, 'if age makes truth, there are older religions than this of Rome. Judaism itself is older, by many centuries. But it is not because a religion is new or old, that I would receive or reject it.' The only question is, does it satisfy my heart and mind, and is it true? The faith which you engrafted upon my infant mind, fails to meet the wants of my nature, and upon looking for its foundations, I find them not.' 'Is thy nature different from mine, Lucius? Surely, thou art my own child! It has satisfied me and my nature. I ask for nothing else, or better.' 'There are some natures, mother, by the gods so furnished and filled with all good desires and affections, that their religion is born with them and is in them. It matters little under what outward form and administration of truth they dwell; no system could injure them--none would greatly benefit. They are of the family of God, by birth, and are never disinherited.' 'Yes, Portia,' said Julia, 'natural and divine instincts make you what others can become only through the powerful operation of some principle out of, and superior to, anything they find within. For me, I know not what I should have been, without the help which Christianity has afforded. I might have been virtuous, but I could not have been happy. You surely rejoice, when the weak find that in any religion or philosophy which gives them strength. Look, Portia, at that serene and benignant countenance, and can you believe that any truth ever came from its lips, but such as must be most comforting and exalting to those who receive it?'