ying
the rhetorician at his first appearance.'

'I do not wonder, Curtius, that you have turned away dissatisfied with
the philosophers. I do not wonder that you reject the popular
superstitions. But I do wonder, that you will prejudge any question, or
infer the intrinsic incredibility of whatever may take the form of
religion, from the intrinsic incredibility of what the world has
heretofore possessed. It surely is not a philosophical method.'

'Not in other things, I grant,' replied Marcus; 'but concerning this
question of popular superstition, or religion, the only philosophical
thing is, to discard the whole subject, as one deserving severe
investigation. The follies which the populace have, in all nations, and
in all time, adopted, let them be retained, and even defended and
supported by the State. They perform a not unimportant office in
regulating the conduct, and manners of men--in preserving a certain
order in the world. But beyond this, it seems to me, the subject is
unworthy the regard of a reflecting person. One world and one life is
enough to manage at a time. If there be others, and if there be a God
who governs them, it will be time enough to know these things when they
are made plain to the senses, as these trees and hills now are, and your
well-shaped form. This peering into futurity, in the expectation to
arrive at certainty, seems to me much as if one should hope to make out
the forms of cities, palaces, and groves, by gazing into the empty air,
or on the clouds. Besides, of what use?'

'Of what use indeed?' added Lucilia. 'I want no director or monitor,
concerning any duty or act, which it falls to me to perform, other than
I find within me. I have no need of a divine messenger, to stand ever at
my side, to tell me what I must do, and what I must forbear. I have
within me instincts and impulses, which I find amply sufficient. The
care and duty of every day is very much alike, and a little experience
and observation, added to the inward instinct, makes me quite superior
to most difficulties and evils as they arise. The gods, or whatever
power gave us our nature, have not left us dependent for these things,
either on what is called religion or philosophy.'

'What you say,' I rejoined, 'is partly true. The gods have not left us
dependent exclusively, upon either religion, or philosophy. There is a
natural religion of the heart and the conscience, which is born with us,
grows up with us, and never fo