and tears. There is an old story people
tell of it. It was a mortal woman once, daughter of Aeolus, god of the
winds. Ceyx, the son of the morning-star, wedded her in her early
maidenhood. The son was not less fair than the father; and when it
came to pass that he died, the crying of the girl as she lamented his
sweet usage, was, Just that! And some while after, as Heaven willed,
she was changed into a bird. Floating now on bird's wings over the sea
she seeks her lost Ceyx there; since she was not able to find him after
long wandering over the land."

"That then is the Halcyon--the kingfisher," said Chaerephon. "I never
heard a bird like it before. It has truly a plaintive note. What kind
of a bird is it, Socrates?"

"Not a large bird, though she has received [82] large honour from the
gods on account of her singular conjugal affection. For whensoever she
makes her nest, a law of nature brings round what is called Halcyon's
weather,--days distinguishable among all others for their serenity,
though they come sometimes amid the storms of winter--days like to-day!
See how transparent is the sky above us, and how motionless the
sea!--like a smooth mirror."

True! A Halcyon day, indeed! and yesterday was the same. But tell me,
Socrates, what is one to think of those stories which have been told
from the beginning, of birds changed into mortals and mortals into
birds? To me nothing seems more incredible."

"Dear Chaerephon," said Socrates, "methinks we are but half-blind
judges of the impossible and the possible. We try the question by the
standard of our human faculty, which avails neither for true knowledge,
nor for faith, nor vision. Therefore many things seem to us impossible
which are really easy, many things unattainable which are within our
reach; partly through inexperience, partly through the childishness of
our minds. For in truth, every man, even the oldest of us, is like a
little child, so brief and babyish are the years of our life in
comparison of eternity. Then, how can we, who comprehend not the
faculties of gods and of the heavenly host, tell whether aught of that
kind be possible or no?--What a tempest you saw [83] three days ago!
One trembles but to think of the lightning, the thunderclaps, the
violence of the wind! You might have thought the whole world was going
to ruin. And then, after a little, came this wonderful serenity of
weather, which has continued till to-day. Which do you