Allow me then to draw your attention to an extract from Diodorus’s _report_ thereof:--“They affirm also,” says he, “that _the moon_ is so seen from this island, that it _appears not so distant_ from the _earth_, and _seems_ to _present on its disk certain projections like the mountains of our world_. Likewise that the _God Apollo_ in person visits this island once in _nineteen_ years, in which the _stars_ complete their _revolutions_, and return into their old positions; and hence this _cycle_ of _nineteen years_ is called, by the Greeks, the great year.” Who is it that collates this description with the “celestial indexes”[68] above produced, that is not, at once, struck with the felicity of the coincidence? On earth, what could _celestial indexes_ mean but such as were appropriated to the contemplation of the heavenly bodies?--just as the name of “Zoroaster”--which, in the Persian language, signifies “cœlorum observator,” that is, star-gazer, or observer of the heavens--was given to Zerdust, the great patriarch of the Magi, from his eminence and delight in astronomical pursuits. Now, “the moon being so seen from this island that it appears not so distant from the earth,” is so obvious a reference to the study of astronomy that it would be almost an insult to go about to prove it; but when it is said that “it presents on its disk certain _projections_ like the mountains of our world,” it not only puts that question beyond the possibility of dispute, but argues furthermore a proficiency in that department, which it is the fashion _now-a-days_ to attribute only to _modern_ discoveries. But have we any evidence of having ever had amongst us, in those “olden times,” men who by their talents could support this character? Hear what Strabo says of _Abaris_, whom “Hecatæus and others mention” as having been sent by his fraternity from the “_island_ of the Hyperboreans” to Delos, in Greece, in the capacity of a sacred ambassador, where he was equally admired for his knowledge, politeness, justice, and integrity. “He came,” says Strabo, “to Athens, not clad in skins like a _Scythian_, but with a bow in his hand, a quiver hanging on his shoulders, a plaid wrapt about his body, a gilded belt encircling his loins, and trousers reaching from the waist down to the soles of his feet. He was easy in his address, agreeable in his conversation, active in his despatch, and secret in his management of great affairs; quick in judging of present occurrences, and ready to take his part in any sudden emergency; provident withal in guarding against futurity; diligent in the quest of wisdom; fond of friendship; trusting _very little_ to _fortune_, yet having the entire confidence of others, and trusted with everything for his prudence. He spake Greek with a fluency, that you would have thought he had been bred up in the Lyceum, and conversed all his life with the Academy of Athens.”[69]