_Epicurus._ Cannot you imagine them to be the feathers from the wings of Zethes and Calaeis, who came hither out of Thrace to behold the favourite haunts of their mother Oreithyia? From the precipice that hangs over the sea a few paces from the pinasters she is reported to have been carried off by Boreas; and these remains of the primeval forest have always been held sacred on that belief. _Leontion._ The story is an idle one. _Ternissa._ Oh no, Leontion! the story is very true. _Leontion._ Indeed! _Ternissa._ I have heard not only odes, but sacred and most ancient hymns upon it; and the voice of Boreas is often audible here, and the screams of Oreithyia. _Leontion._ The feathers, then, really may belong to Calaeis and Zethes. _Ternissa._ I don't believe it; the winds would have carried them away. _Leontion._ The gods, to manifest their power, as they often do by miracles, could as easily fix a feather eternally on the most tempestuous promontory, as the mark of their feet upon the flint. _Ternissa._ They could indeed; but we know the one to a certainty, and have no such authority for the other. I have seen these pinasters from the extremity of the Piraeus, and have heard mention of the altar raised to Boreas: where is it? _Epicurus._ As it stands in the centre of the platform, we cannot see it from hence; there is the only piece of level ground in the place. _Leontion._ Ternissa intends the altar to prove the truth of the story. _Epicurus._ Ternissa is slow to admit that even the young can deceive, much less the old; the gay, much less the serious. _Leontion._ It is as wise to moderate our belief as our desires. _Epicurus._ Some minds require much belief, some thrive on little. Rather an exuberance of it is feminine and beautiful. It acts differently on different hearts; it troubles some, it consoles others; in the generous it is the nurse of tenderness and kindness, of heroism and self-devotion; in the ungenerous it fosters pride, impatience of contradiction and appeal, and, like some waters, what it finds a dry stick or hollow straw, it leaves a stone. _Ternissa._ We want it chiefly to make the way of death an easy one. _Epicurus._ There is no easy path leading out of life, and few are the easy ones that lie within it. I would adorn and smoothen the declivity, and make my residence as commodious as its situation and dimensions may allow; but principally I would cast under-foot the empty fear of death. _Ternissa._ Oh, how can you? _Epicurus._ By many arguments already laid down: then by thinking that some perhaps, in almost every age, have been timid and delicate as Ternissa; and yet have slept soundly, have felt no parent's or friend's tear upon their faces, no throb against their breasts: in short, have been in the calmest of all possible conditions, while those around were in the most deplorable and desperate.