m the shrine; and the unanswered epistles of the
suppliants lay a hopeless encumbrance on the great altar. As a natural
consequence they speedily ceased to arrive; the influx of offerings into
the treasury terminated along with them; the temple-courts were bare of
worshippers; and the only victims whose blood smoked within them were those
slain by the priest himself, in the hope of appeasing the displeasure of
Apollo. The modest hierophant took all the blame upon his own shoulders; he
did not doubt that he had excited the Deity's wrath by some mysterious but
heinous pollution; and was confirmed in this opinion by the unanimous
verdict of all whom he approached.

One day as he sat sadly in the temple, absorbed in painful meditation, and
pondering how he might best relieve himself of his sacred functions, he was
startled by the now unwonted sound of a footstep, and, looking up, espied
an ancient woman. Her appearance was rather venerable than prepossessing.
He recognised her as one of the inferior ministers of the temple.

"Reverend mother," he addressed her, "doubtless thou comest to mingle with
mine thy supplications to the Deity, that it may please him to indicate the
cause, and the remedy of his wrath."

"No, son," returned the venerable personage, "I propose to occasion no such
needless trouble to Apollo, or any other Divinity. I hold within mine own
hand the power of reviving the splendour of this forsaken sanctuary, and
for such consideration as thou wilt thyself pronounce equitable, I am
minded to impart the same unto thee." And as the astonished priest made no
answer, she continued:

"My price is one hundred pieces of gold."

"Wretch!" exclaimed the priest indignantly, "thy mercenary demand alone
proves the vanity of thy pretence of being initiated into the secrets of
the Gods. Depart my presence this moment!"

The old woman retired without a syllable of remonstrance, and the incident
soon passed from the mind of the afflicted priest. But on the following
day, at the same hour, the aged woman again stood before him, and said:

"My price is _two_ hundred pieces of gold."

Again she was commanded to depart, and again obeyed without a murmur. But
the adventure now occasioned the priest much serious reflection. To his
excited fancy, the patient persistency of the crone began to assume
something of a supernatural character. He considered that the ways of the
Gods are not as our ways, and that it is rather the