Such was the religion of Rome; to the magic of such a moral code she owed all her greatness, and when marriage ceased to be sacred in her eyes, her decadence was at hand. In the days of Juvenal the mysteries of the _Bona Dea_ are said to have been mysteries of impurity, which it may perhaps be possible to question, seeing that as women alone were admitted to these pretended orgies they must have betrayed themselves; but on the assumption that the charge is true, because anything seems possible after the reigns of Nero and Domitian, we can only conclude that the clean reign of the mother of the gods was over and was giving place to the popular, universal and purer worship of Mary, the Mother of God. Initiate of magical laws, and knowing the magnetic influences of communal life, Numa instituted colleges of priests and augurs, living under prescribed rules. This was the first idea of conventual institutions, which are one of the great powers of religion. Long anterior to this, the Jewish prophets were joined in sympathetic bonds, having prayer and inspiration in common. It would seem that Numa was acquainted with the traditions of Judea; his _flamines_ and _salii_ worked themselves into a state of exaltation by evolutions and dances recalling the performance of David before the ark. Numa did not establish new oracles intended to rival those of Delphos, but he instructed his priests especially in the art of auguries, which means that he acquainted them with a certain theory of presentiments and second sight, determined by secret laws of Nature. We despise nowadays the art of soothsaying and portents, because we have lost the profound science of light and the universal analogies of its reflections. In his charming tale of Zadig, Voltaire delineates, with light and unserious touch, a purely natural science of divination, but it is not for that less wonderful, presupposing as it does an exceptional fineness of observation and that power of deduction which escapes habitually the limited logic of the vulgar. It is said that Parmenides, the master of Pythagoras, having tasted the water of a certain spring, predicted an approaching earthquake. The circumstance is not extraordinary, for the presence of a bituminous and sulphureous flavour in water may well have advised the philosopher of subterranean activities in the district. Even the water itself may have been unusually disturbed. However this may be, the flight of birds is still considered premonitory of severe winters, and it may be possible to foresee some atmospheric influences by inspecting the digestive and respiratory apparatus of animals. Now, physical disturbances of the air have not infrequently a moral cause. Revolutions are translated therein by the phenomena of great storms; the deep breathing of nations moves heaven itself. Success proceeds coincidently with electric currents, and the hues of the living light reflect the motions of thunder. “There is