But great indeed was my perplexity and bewilderment when I found that these philosophers treated not of such subjects as I had supposed, namely of the nature of the soul, and whether it be mortal or immortal, or whether there be many gods or one God; but they questioned whether the world came together by chance or by design, and whether there be any God or no. Yet howsoever they differed among themselves, they agreed all in believing that our God was not the true God, and that the stories of the mighty works wrought by Him for our forefathers were mere myths and fables; or, if any thought otherwise, they held that our stories were no truer than their stories, and that Æsculapius and Hercules were far more worthy of honour than Elijah and Samson. Now a certain voice within me constantly testified that they were in error; for the righteous teaching of our prophets and our lawyers far exceeded anything that the Gentiles could shew from their philosophers or lawgivers. But I had been taught by the Scribes of Galilee not to trust to this voice within me, namely to my conscience, but only to tradition and authority; and behold, my traditions and the authority whereon I set store were rejected by these Gentiles: wherefore I knew not how to answer them. It came to pass that, on a certain day, going from lecture‐room to lecture‐room, I perceived a great multitude passing into a hall in the Great Library, where there was to be a dispute between two philosophers; so I followed with them. One of the two belonged to the sect called the Stoics, and the other to the sect called the Epicureans; and the dispute was concerning the government of the universe by the gods, which is affirmed by the former sect, but denied by the latter. Now the contention had endured for the space of a whole day already, and yesterday the Stoic had delivered his arguments: but to‐day the dispute was to be continued by the other, and so it was that, when I entered the chamber, the Epicurean was at the point to speak.