Areopagites of Athens.  Well do I remember to have heard my father speak of one strange guest at Athens, many years ago; methinks his name was Paul.  My father was amongst a mighty crowd that gathered on one of our immemorial hills to hear this sage of the East expound:  through the wide throng there rang not a single murmur!—­the jest and the roar, with which our native orators are received, were hushed for him—­and when on the loftiest summit of that hill, raised above the breathless crowd below, stood this mysterious visitor, his mien and his countenance awed every heart, even before a sound left his lips.  He was a man, I have heard my father say, of no tall stature, but of noble and impressive mien; his robes were dark and ample; the declining sun, for it was evening, shone aslant upon his form as it rose aloft, motionless, and commanding; his countenance was much worn and marked, as of one who had braved alike misfortune and the sternest vicissitude of many climes; but his eyes were bright with an almost unearthly fire; and when he raised his arm to speak, it was with the majesty of a man into whom the Spirit of a God hath rushed!

’"Men of Athens!” he is reported to have said, “I find amongst ye an altar with this inscription: 

To the unknown god.

Ye worship in ignorance the same Deity I serve. 
To you unknown till now, to you be it now revealed.”

’Then declared that solemn man how this great Maker of all things, who had appointed unto man his several tribes and his various homes—­the Lord of earth and the universal heaven, dwelt not in temples made with hands; that His presence, His spirit, were in the air we breathed—­our life and our being were with Him.  “Think you,” he cried, “that the Invisible is like your statues of gold and marble?  Think you that He needeth sacrifice from you:  He who made heaven and earth?” Then spoke he of fearful and coming times, of the end of the world, of a second rising of the dead, whereof an assurance had been given to man in the resurrection of the mighty Being whose religion he came to preach.

’When he thus spoke, the long-pent murmur went forth, and the philosophers that were mingled with the people, muttered their sage contempt; there might you have seen the chilling frown of the Stoic, and the Cynic’s sneer; and the Epicurean, who believeth not even in our own Elysium, muttered a pleasant jest, and swept laughing through the crowd:  but the deep heart of the people was touched and thrilled; and they trembled, though they knew not why, for verily the stranger had the voice and majesty of a man to whom “The Unknown God” had committed the preaching of His faith.’

Ione listened with wrapt attention, and the serious and earnest manner of the narrator betrayed the impression that he himself had received from one who had been amongst the audience that on the hill of the heathen Mars had heard the first tidings of the word of Christ!