"Forget Apollo," he said, with a suggestion of severity in his voice.
"There is no such person. He was only an idol. If you were to search
for Apollo in all the universe you would never find any one answering
to his name or description. Jesus," he resumed, "is the Son of God. He
came to our earth and was born of a virgin."

Again I was tempted to tell my guide that that was how Apollo became
incarnate; but I restrained myself.

"Then Jesus grew up to be a man," continued my guide, "performing
unheard-of wonders, such as treading the seas, giving sight, hearing
and speech to the blind, the deaf and the dumb, converting water into
wine, feeding the multitudes miraculously, predicting coming events
and resurrecting the dead."

"Of course, of your gods, too," he added, "it is claimed that they
performed miracles, and of your oracles that they foretold the future,
but there is this difference--the things related of your gods are a
fiction, the things told of Jesus are a fact, and the difference
between Paganism and Christianity is the difference between fiction
and fact."

Just then I heard a wave of murmur, like the rustling of leaves in a
forest, sweep over the bowed audience. I turned about and
unconsciously, my Greek curiosity impelling me, I pushed forward
toward where the greater candle lights were blazing. I felt that
perhaps the commotion in the house was the announcement that the God
Jesus was about to make his appearance, and I wanted to see him. I
wanted to touch him, or, if the crowd were too large to allow me that
privilege, I wanted, at least, to hear his voice. I, who had never