and shining.  Here they found Hippogypi, men riding upon vultures—­birds so large that each of their feathers was like the mast of a ship.  The voyagers join the Hippogypi in a battle against the inhabitants of the sun, and have various allies—­some mounted on fleas about the size of twelve elephants, and spiders, each as big as one of the Cyclades islands.  The travellers were taken prisoners, and conveyed to the Sun, but he returned to the Moon, of which he gives a description.  The inhabitants there make use of their stomachs—­which are empty and lined with hair—­as bags or pockets to put away things.  They take their eyes in and out, and borrow them.  “Whoever does not believe me, had better go and see.”  Returning from the air to the earth and sea, they saw several enormous whales, one of whom swam up to them with its mouth wide open.  Coming near he swallowed them up—­ship and all.  It was dark inside, until he opened his mouth again.  There was a large extent of land inside, and hills and woods, in which birds were building nests.

From this last fancy, we might conclude that Lucian had read the Book of Jonah, and a description he afterwards gives of the Isles of the Blessed, seems to be written in imitation of the Revelation.

The age in which Lucian lived was marked by theological contests between Pagans, Jews, and Christians, and such times have generally caused an increase of scepticism and profanity.  Lucian was a follower of Democritus, and his Confabulations consist of a succession of squibs and satires on the mythological legends of the gods and goddesses.  He laughs at curing diseases by charms and incantations.  People pretended to fly, walk on water and through fire—­they are called Babylonians and Hyperboreans.  A Syrian from Palestine professes to drive devils out of people (perhaps alluding to the exorcists of the early church.) He makes Eucrates speak of one Pancrates, who would take a broom or the pestle of a wooden mortar, and upon saying a couple of magical words, it appeared to become a man, drew water, and ordered food.  When Pancrates had no further need of him, he spoke a couple of words, and the man was a pestle again.  Eucrates tried this himself, but having made the pestle a man, and told him to bring water, he forgot how to change him back again.  So he kept on bringing water.  Eucrates then split the pestle in two, and both halves still continued to bring water.

Demonax, the friend of Lucian, was as remarkable for his wit and repartee as for his kindly nature.  A man who over-rated his austerity, expressed one day his surprise at seeing him eat sweet-cakes.  “Do you think,” he replied, “that the bees make their honey only for fools?” He seems to have had as little respect as Lucian for the idolatry of his day, for on one of his companions saying to him “Let us go to the Temple of AEsculapius to pray for my son,” he answered, “Is the god then so deaf that he cannot hear us where we are?”