FOLLOWED by Apaecides, the Nazarene gained the side of the Sarnus—that river, which now has shrunk into a petty stream, then rushed into the sea, covered with , and reflecting on its waves the gardens, the vines, the palaces, and the temples of Pompeii. From its more noisy and frequented banks, Olinthus directed his steps to a path which ran amidst a shady of trees, at the distance of a few paces from the river. This walk was in the evening a favorite resort of the Pompeians, but during the heat and business of the day was seldom visited, save by some groups of playful children, some poet, or some disputative philosophers. At the side farthest from the river, frequent copses of box the more delicate and evanescent , and these were cut into a thousand shapes, sometimes into the forms of fauns and satyrs, sometimes into the of Egyptian pyramids, sometimes into the letters that composed the name of a popular or citizen. Thus the false taste is equally ancient as the pure; and the traders of Hackney and Paddington, a century ago, were little aware, perhaps, that in their tortured and sculptured box, they found their models in the most polished period of Roman , in the gardens of Pompeii, and the of the fastidious Pliny.  
This walk now, as the noonday sun shone through the chequered leaves, was ; at least no other forms than those of Olinthus and the priest upon the . They sat themselves on one of the benches, placed at between the trees, and facing the faint breeze that came languidly from the river, whose waves danced and sparkled before them—a singular and contrasted pair; the believer in the latest—the priest of the most ancient—worship of the world!

'Since thou leftst me so abruptly,' said Olinthus, 'hast thou been happy? has thy heart found contentment under these priestly robes? hast thou, still for the voice of God, heard it whisper comfort to thee from the of Isis? That sigh, that , give me the answer my soul predicted.'
 
'!' answered Apaecides, sadly, 'thou seest before thee a wretched and distracted man! From my childhood upward I have idolized the dreams of ! I have envied the holiness of men who, in caves and lonely temples, have been admitted to the companionship of beings above the world; my days have been consumed with and vague desires; my nights with mocking but solemn visions. by the mystic prophecies of an impostor, I have indued these robes;—my nature (I confess it to thee frankly)—my nature has revolted at what I have seen and been to share in! Searching after truth, I have become but the minister of falsehoods. On the evening in which we last met, I was by hopes created by that same impostor, whom I ought already to have better known. I have—no matter—no matter! suffice it, I have added and sin to rashness and to sorrow. The veil is now rent for ever from my eyes; I a where I obeyed a demigod; the earth darkens in my sight; I am in the deepest abyss of gloom; I know not if there be gods above; if we are the things of chance; if beyond the bounded and present there is annihilation or an hereafter—tell me, then, thy faith; solve me these doubts, if thou hast indeed the power!'
 
'I do not marvel,' answered the Nazarene, 'that thou hast thus , or that thou art thus sceptic. Eighty years ago there was no assurance to man of God, or of a certain and definite future beyond the grave. New laws are declared to him who has ears—a heaven, a true Olympus, is revealed to him who has eyes—heed then, and listen.'
 
And with all the earnestness of a man believing himself, and to convert, the Nazarene poured to Apaecides the assurances of Scriptural promise. He first of the sufferings and miracles of Christ—he wept as he spoke: he turned next to the glories of the Saviour's Ascension—to the clear predictions of Revelation. He described that pure and unsensual heaven to the virtuous—those fires and that were the of .

The doubts which spring up to the mind of later reasoners, in the immensity of the sacrifice of God to man, were not such as would occur to an early heathen. He had been accustomed to believe that the gods had lived upon earth, and taken upon themselves the forms of men; had shared in human passions, in human labours, and in human misfortunes. What was the of his own Alcmena's son, whose altars now smoked with the of countless cities, but a for the human race? Had not the great Dorian Apollo a mystic sin by to the grave? Those who were the of heaven had been the lawgivers or on earth, and had led to worship. It seemed therefore, to the heathen, a neither new nor strange, that Christ had been sent from heaven, that an had indued mortality, and tasted the bitterness of death. And the end for which He thus and thus suffered—how far more glorious did it seem to Apaecides than that for which the deities of old had visited the world, and passed through the gates of death! Was it not of a God to, to these dim valleys, in order to clear up the clouds gathered over the dark mount beyond—to satisfy the doubts of —to convert into certainty—by example to point out the rules of life—by revelation to solve the of the grave—and to prove that the soul did not in vain when it dreamed of an ? In this last was the great argument of those lowly men destined to convert the earth. As nothing is more flattering to the pride and the hopes of man than the belief in a future state, so nothing could be more vague and confused than the notions of the heathen sages upon that mystic subject. Apaecides had already learned that the faith of the philosophers was not that of the ; that if they secretly a in some diviner power, it was not the creed which they thought it wise to impart to the community. He had already learned, that even the priest what he preached to the people—that the notions of the few and the many were never united. But, in this new faith, it seemed to him that philosopher, priest, and people, the expounders of the religion and its , were alike accordant: they did not speculate and debate upon immortality, they spoke of as a thing certain and assured; the magnificence of the promise dazzled him—its . For the faith made its early converts among sinners! many of its fathers and its were those who had felt the bitterness of , and who were therefore no longer by its false aspect from the paths of an and uncompromising virtue. All the assurances of this healing faith invited to repentance—they were peculiarly adapted to the and sore of spirit! the very which Apaecides felt for his late excesses, made him incline to one who found holiness in that remorse, and who whispered of the joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.
 
There seemed to Apaecides, so naturally pure of heart, something generous and in that spirit of conversation which Olinthus—a spirit that found its own in the happiness of others—that sought in its wide sociality to make companions for . He was touched, , and . He was not in that mood which can bear to be left alone; curiosity, too, with his purer stimulants—he was anxious to see those of which so many dark and were afloat. He paused a moment, looked over his , thought of Arbaces, with horror, lifted his eyes to the broad brow of the Nazarene, intent, anxious, watchful—but for his benefits, for his ! He drew his cloak round him, so as wholly to his robes, and said, 'Lead on, I follow thee.'
 
Olinthus pressed his hand , and then descending to the river side, hailed one of the boats that plyed there constantly; they entered it; an overhead, while it sheltered them from the sun, screened also their persons from observation: they rapidly skimmed the wave. From one of the boats that passed them floated a soft music, and its was decorated with flowers—it was towards the sea.
 
'So,' said Olinthus, sadly, 'unconscious and mirthful in their , sail the of luxury into the great ocean of storm and ! we pass them, silent and unnoticed, to............