I shall merely state the objection which _Ambrosio_ offers. I must then refer the reader to the work itself for an account of the discussion it provoked. "_Ambrosio._--You consider man, in his early state, a savage like those who now inhabit New Holland, or New Zealand, acquiring, by the little use that they make of a feeble reason, the power of supporting and extending life. Now, I contend that, if man had been so created, he must inevitably have been destroyed by the elements, or devoured by savage beasts, so infinitely his superiors in physical force." During the discussion, an opinion is advanced by _Ambrosio_, so singular, that I must be allowed to quote it. "I consider," says he, "all the miraculous parts of our religion as effected by changes in the sensations or ideas of the human mind, and not by physical changes in the order of nature! To Infinite Wisdom and Power, a change in the intellectual state of the human being may be the result of a momentary will, and the mere act of faith may produce the change. How great the powers of imagination are, even in ordinary life, is shown by many striking facts, and nothing seems impossible to this imagination when acted upon by Divine influence." This is surely a most extraordinary line of argument for the apologist of the Christian faith, and of the miracles by which it is supported. In the THIRD DIALOGUE, called the Unknown, the author and his friends, _Ambrosio_ and _Onuphrio_, make an excursion to the remains of the temples of Pæstum. "Were my existence to be prolonged through ten centuries," exclaims the author, "I think I could never forget the pleasure I received on that delicious spot." In contemplating beautiful scenery, much of its interest depends upon the feelings and associations of the moment; and the author was upon this occasion evidently in that poetical frame of mind which sheds a magic light over every landscape, and converts the most ordinary objects into emblems of morality: in the admixture of the olive and the cypress tree, he saw a connection, to memorialize, as it were, how near each other are life and death, joy and sorrow; while the music of the birds, and, above all, the cooing of the turtle-doves, by overpowering the murmuring of the waves and the whistling of the winds, served but to show him that, in the strife of nature, the voice of love is predominant. With their hearts touched by the scene they had witnessed, the travellers descended to the ruins, and began to examine those wonderful remains which have outlived even the name of the people by whom they were raised. While engaged in measuring the Doric columns in the interior of the Temple of Neptune, a stranger, remarkable both in dress and appearance, was observed to be writing in a memorandum book; the author immediately addresses him, and becoming mutually pleased with each other, they enter into a conversation of high scientific interest.