"But it is a great secret," said Ellen; "you won't tell anybody?" "Tortures shan't draw it from me — when I know what it is," said he, with one of his comical looks. In high glee, Ellen ran for the pieces of Bristol board which were to form the backs of the needlebook, and brought them to the library; and explained how room was to be left in the middle of each for a painting, a rose on one, a butterfly on the other; the writing to be as elegant as possible, above, beneath, and roundabout, as the fancy of the writer should choose. "Well, what is to be inscribed on this most original of needlebooks?" said John, as he carefully mended his pen. "Stop!" said Ellen — "I'll tell you in a minute. On this one, the front, you know, is to go, 'To my dear mother, many happy New Years;' — and on this side, 'From her dear little daughter, Ellen Chauncey.' You know," she added, "Mrs. Chauncey isn't to know anything about it till New Year's day; nor anybody else." "Trust me," said John. "If I am asked any questions, they shall find me as obscure as an oracle." "What is an oracle, Sir?" "Why," said John, smiling — "this pen won't do yet — the old heathens believed there were certain spots on earth to which some of their gods had more favour than to others, and where they would permit mortals to come nearer to them, and would even deign to answer their questions." "And did they?" said Ellen. "Did they what?" "Did they answer their questions?" "Did _who_ answer their questions?" "The — oh, to be sure," said Ellen, "there were no such gods. But what made people think they answered them? and how could they ask questions?" "I suppose it was a contrivance of the priests, to increase their power and wealth. There was always a temple built near, with priests and priestesses; the questions were put through them; and they would not ask them except on great occasions, or for people of consequence, who could pay them well, by making splendid gifts to the god." "But I should think the people would have thought the priest or priestess had made up the answers themselves." "Perhaps they did, sometimes. But people had not the Bible then, and did not know as much as we know. It was not unnatural to think the gods would care a little for the poor people that lived on the earth. Besides, there was a good deal of management and trickery about the answers of the oracle, that helped to deceive." "How was it?" said Ellen; — "how could they manage, and what was the _oracle?_" "The oracle was either the answer itself, or the god who was supposed to give it, or the place where it was given; and there were different ways of managing. At one place the priest hid himself in the hollow body or among the branches of an oak-tree, and people thought the tree spoke to them. Sometimes the oracle was delivered by a woman, who pretended to be put into a kind of fit — tearing her hair and beating her breast."