and the purple Apennines. Such pious prodigality becomes more
intelligible if the greatest of the gods was indeed believed to dwell in
human shape with his wife among the woods of Nemi.

These are the principal points on which I have altered my opinion since
the last edition of my book was published. The mere admission of such
changes may suffice to indicate the doubt and uncertainty which attend
enquiries of this nature. The whole fabric of ancient mythology is so
foreign to our modern ways of thought, and the evidence concerning it is
for the most part so fragmentary, obscure, and conflicting that in our
attempts to piece together and interpret it we can hardly hope to reach
conclusions that will completely satisfy either ourselves or others. In
this as in other branches of study it is the fate of theories to be
washed away like children's castles of sand by the rising tide of
knowledge, and I am not so presumptuous as to expect or desire for mine
an exemption from the common lot. I hold them all very lightly and have
used them chiefly as convenient pegs on which to hang my collections of
facts. For I believe that, while theories are transitory, a record of
facts has a permanent value, and that as a chronicle of ancient customs
and beliefs my book may retain its utility when my theories are as
obsolete as the customs and beliefs themselves deserve to be.

I cannot dismiss without some natural regret a task which has occupied
and amused me at intervals for many years. But the regret is tempered by
thankfulness and hope. I am thankful that I have been able to conclude
at least one chapter of the work I projected a long time ago. I am
hopeful that I may not now be taking a final leave of my indulgent
readers, but that, as I am sensible of little abatement in my bodily
strength and of none in my ardour for study, they will bear with me yet
a while if I should attempt to entertain them with fresh subjects of