“Well, Plato, by his intellect, worked out the proof of the problem which our feelings alone are so capable of apprehending rightly. Listen to me: If you stand on a spit of land at the entrance to a harbor and see a ship in the distance sailing towards you--a ship which carefully avoids the rocks, and makes straight for the shelter of the port--are you not justified in concluding that there is, on board that ship, a man who guides and steers it? Certainly. You not only may, but must infer that it is directed by a pilot. And if you look up at the sky and contemplate the well-ordered courses of the stars--when you see how everything on earth, great and small, obeys eternal laws and unerringly tends to certain preordained ends and issues, you may and must infer the existence of a ruling hand. Whose then but that of the Great Pilot of the universe--the Almighty Godhead.--Do you like my illustration?” “Very much. But it only proves what I knew before.” “Nevertheless, you must, I think, be pleased to find it so beautifully expressed.” “Certainly.” “And must admire the wise man who thought out the comparison. Yes?--Well, that man again was one of those whom you call heathen, who believed as we believe, and who at the same time worked out the evidence of the foundations of his faith for you as well as himself. And we, the later disciples of Plato--[Known as the school of the Neo-Platonists]--have gone even further than our master, and in many respects are much nearer to you Christians than you perhaps suspect. You see at once, of course, that we are no more inclined than you to conceive of the existence of the world and the destiny of man as independent of a God? However, I dare say you still think that your divinity and ours are as far asunder as the east from the west. But can you tell me where any difference lies?” “I do not know,” said Ague uneasily. “I am only an ignorant girl; and who can learn the names even of all your gods?” “Very true,” said Olympius. “There is great Serapis, whose temple you saw yesterday; there is Apollo, to whom Karnis prefers to offer sacrifice; there is Isis the bountiful, and her sister Nephthys, whose lament you and my young friend sing together so thrillingly; and besides these there are more immortals than I could name while Gorgo--who is leading your little brother to the lake out there--walked ten times from the shore to us and back; and yet--and yet my child, your God is ours and ours is yours.” “No, no, He is not, indeed!” cried Agne with increasing alarm.