“Unchanged in their religion!” said Lothair, with some astonishment. “Yes; you will find it so. Their existence is easy; their wants are not great, and their means of subsistence plentiful. They pass much of their life in what is called amusement—and what is it? They make parties of pleasure; they go in procession to a fountain or a grove. They dance and eat fruit, and they return home singing songs. They have, in fact, been performing unconsciously the religious ceremonies of their ancestors, and which they pursue, and will forever, though they may have forgotten the name of the dryad or the nymph who presides over their waters.” “I should think their priests would guard them from these errors,” said Lothair. “The Greek priests, particularly in these Asian islands, are good sort of people,” said Mr. Phoebus. “They marry and have generally large families, often very beautiful. They have no sacerdotal feelings, for they never can have any preferment; all the high posts in the Greek Church being reserved for the monks, who study what is called theology. The Greek parish priest is not at all Semitic; there is nothing to counteract his Aryan tendencies. I have already raised the statue of a nymph at one of their favorite springs and places of pleasant pilgrimage, and I have a statue now in the island, still in its case, which I contemplate installing in a famous grove of laurel not far off and very much resorted to.” “And what then?” inquired Lothair. “Well, I have a conviction that among the great races the old creeds will come back,” said Mr. Phoebus, “and it will be acknowledged that true religion is the worship of the beautiful. For the beautiful cannot be attained without virtue, if virtue consists, as I believe, in the control of the passions, in the sentiment of repose, and the avoidance in all things of excess.” One night Lothair was walking home with the sisters from a village festival where they had been much amused. “You have had a great many adventures since we first met?” said Madame Phoebus. “Which makes it seem longer ago than it really is,” said Lothair. “You count time by emotion, then?” said Euphrosyne. “Well, it is a wonderful thing, however it be computed,” said Lothair. “For my part, I do not think that it ought to be counted at all,” said Madame Phoebus; “and there is nothing to me so detestable in Europe as the quantity of clocks and watches.” “Do you use a watch, my lord?” asked Euphrosyne, in a tone which always seemed to Lothair one of mocking artlessness. “I believe I never wound it up when I had one,” said Lothair. “But you make such good use of your time,” said Madame Phoebus, “you do not require watches.” “I am glad to hear I make good use of my time,” said Lothair, “but a little surprised.” “But you are so good, so religious,” said Madame Phoebus. “That is a great thing; especially for one so young.” “Hem!” said Lothair. “That must have been a beautiful procession at Rome,” said Euphrosyne.