you cannot prove the existence of your god, when you have never seen
him, nor heard his voice, nor touched him--when you have nothing
provable about him, he is an idol. Have you seen Apollo? Have you
heard him? Have you touched him?"

"No," I said, in a low voice.

"Do you know of any one who has?"

I had to admit that I did not.

"He was an idol, then, and not a god."

"But many of us Greeks," I said, "have felt Apollo in our hearts and
have been inspired by him."

"You imagine you have," returned my guide. "If he were really divine
he would be living to this day."

"Is he, then, dead?" I asked.

"He never lived; and for the last two thousand years or more his
temple has been a heap of ruins."

I wept to hear that Apollo, the god of light and music, was no
more--that his fair temple had fallen into ruins and the fire upon his
altar had been extinguished; then, wiping a tear from my eyes, I said,
"Oh, but our gods were fair and beautiful; our religion was rich and
picturesque. It made the Greeks a nation of poets, orators, artists,
warriors, thinkers. It made Athens a city of light; it created the