Of course, it is easy enough for any enthusiast to put such words
as the following into the mouth of a man who has been reviled and
attacked by thousands; but we hope, for the credit of the reading
world, that such stories as the following, seldom find implicit
credence. There may, however, be some foundation for the following
_romaunt_, and probably the incident, however slight, was too
tempting to be sent forth to the world unadorned. If Lord Byron
ever uttered such words as are here attributed to him--"_I am
still an Atheist_"--it must have been in a fit of the most
malignant obstinacy that ever distorted and disgraced the human
mind--or perhaps in that spirit of malicious banter with which he
was accustomed to torment his best and nearest friends. That such
was his _genuine sentiment_, we can never bring ourselves to
believe; and whatever standing is possessed by us in the world,
should willingly be staked upon this point. As a romance of the
pen, and not as a pure narrative of facts, we trust the following
will be received; for, as such alone is it presented to our
readers.]

Lord Byron during his stay at Athens, lodged at the Capuchin Convent. The
Reverend Father Paul had found favour in the sight of this surprising
genius;--his age, his profession, his gentleness, had gained him the
affection of that nobleman in such a manner, that he devoted himself to
him with all the caprice of his character. Wearied with everything,
_oppressed by his familiar demon_, Byron came one day to find Father
Paul, and request his hospitality.

The monk on seeing him reminded him of the words of the last conversation
they had had together--"_You cannot convince me, I am still an
Atheist_." Instead of replying, Byron requested the Father to permit