"I see but one other assertion that could equal that in folly," said Epicurus.
"I knew it," exclaimed Theon, triumphantly, "I knew it was impossible. But where will not prejudice lead men, when even the uptight Cleanthes is capable of slander?"
"He is utterly incapable of it," said the Master; "and the inaccuracy, in this case, I rather suspect to rest with you than with him. To deny the existence of the Gods would indeed be presumption in a 'philosopher; a presumption equalled only by that of him who should assert their existence."
"How!" exclaimed the youth, with a countenance in which astonishment seemed to suspend every other expression.
"As I never saw the Gods, my son," calmly continued the Sage, "I cannot assert their existence; and that I never saw them, is no reason for my denying it."
"But do we believe nothing except that of which we have ocular demonstration?"
"Nothing, at least, for which we have not the evidence of one or more of our senses; that is, when we believe on just grounds, which I grant, taking men collectively, is very seldom."
"But where would this spirit lead us! To impiety!—to Atheism!—to all, against which I felt confidence in defending the character and philosophy of Epicurus!"
"We will examine presently, my son, into the meaning of the terms you have employed. When you first entered the Garden your mind was unfit for the examination of the subject you have now started: it is no longer so; and we will therefore enter upon the inquiry, and pursue it in order."
"Forgive me if I express—if I acknowledge," said the youth, slightly recoiling from his instructor, "some reluctance to enter on the discussion of truths, whose very discussion would seem to argue a doubt, and"—