Then in the shadowy adytum beneath the temple she was placed upon the golden tripod, the “High Perilous Seat” as it was called. The cold wind blew out of the cleft below her and in ecstasy she spoke words she knew not. It is undoubted that in her state of suspended consciousness she often reflected as in a mirror the knowledge and judgments of the priests. Her marvellous answers often filled priests and questioners alike with awe. The priests afterward were allowed to recast the answers into verse and to remould them. But in spite of the liberty which they occasionally felt obliged to use in the recasting the priests sincerely believed that the responses were genuinely from the god. It was this mingling of faith and liberty which gave Delphi her power, a power which was for the most part grandly used. At the dawn of Hellas, from this eerie mountain glen the authority began to be exercised. It continued down through all the glory of Hellas and for centuries after her decline. Strong and real indeed must have been the religious impetus which could outlast the race. This was the Oracle which Theria’s kin had served with singleness of heart. Her father, Nikander, served it now. Priest, yes, but priest in the joyous, free fashion of the Greek. In performance of his priestly duties to the Oracle Nikander had travelled far, studying the coasts of the Ægean, Mediterranean, and Euxine seas, wherever lay the colonies of Delphi’s founding. He had mingled with the barbarians or un-hellenic peoples and had even learned some of their languages—a sort of knowledge unknown in Greece. In Thrace he had sojourned with the rude tent dwellers, in Egypt he had visited the stately temples of Isis and Osiris and had seen the great Sphynx which so grimly faced the desert. In Persia he had visited the court of Xerxes and despised its luxury. He had returned to Delphi broadened and sweetened by his experiences. Among the narrow one-city men of Greece the Delphian was not provincial. Nikander was a member of that Council, presided over by Delphi, called “Amphyction,” which for hundreds of years had upheld the only international law that Hellas recognized. The Amphyctiony earnestly tried to keep peace between the passionate cities which were its members. Nikander personally had great influence in this Council and used that influence for the constant uplifting of the policy of the Oracle. Nikander brought with him into his home the very breath of the Oracle. He spent little time at home, but when he did come his children ran to him, for no one could tell such wonder stories as Nikander—stories of shipwreck on savage coasts, of mountains that flamed and smoked, of the great statue Memnon which stood in Egypt and sang when the sun rose. But for the most part Nikander’s tales were tales of Delphi. Delphi was so rich in tradition that Nikander needed never to go far afield for his stories.