bus, were, I may believe, of a more even temper?'

'Yes, perhaps so. My father was one of the most patient and gentle of
men, and religious after the manner of our remoter ancestors of the days
of the republic. He was my instructor; and from him I learned truths
which were sufficient for my happiness under ordinary circumstances. I
was a devout and constant worshipper of the gods. My every-day life may
then have been as pure as it has been since I have been a Christian; and
my prayers as many or more. The instincts of my nature, which carried up
the soul toward some great and infinite being, which I could not resist,
kept me within the bounds of that prudent and virtuous life which I
believed would be most acceptable to them. But when a day of heavy and
insupportable calamity came upon me, and I was made to look after the
foundations of what I had been believing, I found there were none. I was
like a ship tossed about by the storms, without rudder or pilot. I then
knew not whether there were gods or not; or if there were any, who,
among the multiplicity worshipped in Rome, the true ones were. In my
grief, I railed at the heavens and their rulers, for not revealing
themselves to us in our darkness and weakness; and cursed them for their
cruelty. Soon after I became a Christian. The difference between my
state then, and now, is this. I believed then; but it was merely
instinctive. I could give no reason to myself nor to others for my
faith. It was something and yet nothing. Now, I have somewhat to stand
upon. I can prove to myself, and to others, my religion, as well as
other things. I have knowledge as well as blind belief. It is good to
believe in something, and in some sort, though one can give no account
of his faith; but it is better to believe in that which we know, as we
know other things. I have now, as a Christian, the same strength of
belief in God, providence, and futurity, that I have in any facts
attested by history. Jesus has announced them or confirmed them, and
they are susceptible of proof. I differed from you, Macer, in this; that
I cursed not the gods in my passion, or caprice; I was for years and
years their humble, and contented, and patient worshipper. I rebelled
not till I suffered cruel disappointment, and in my faith could find no
consolation or light. One real sorrow, by which the foundations of my
earthly peace were all broken up, revealed to me the nothingness of my
so called religion. Into what