{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44765/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44765","id":"gutenberg_44765","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44765","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Seasons"],"text":"Transcriber's Note\n\nThe chapter 'PERSONS AND PLACES MENTIONED' contains some less commonly\nused characters to indicate pronunciation, including the following:\n\n  upper and lower case c with hyphen through, C\u0335 and c\u0335\n  s with uptack below, s\u031d\n  y with breve above, y\u0306\n  y with macron above, \u0233\n  a with dot above, \u0227\n\nIf they do not display correctly, you may wish to adjust your font\nsettings.\n\n\n\n\n      'ROUND THE YEAR IN\n         MYTH AND SONG\n\n              BY\n       FLORENCE HOLBROOK\n\n\n  NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO\n     AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\n      Copyright, 1897, by\n    AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.\n\n\n      HOL. MYTH AND SONG.\n           W. P. II\n\n\n\n\n                 TO\n        MRS. ELLA FLAGG YOUNG\n              A FRIEND\n           WHOSE ZEAL AND\n       ABILITY IN THE CAUSE OF\n  EDUCATION ARE KNOWN TO THOUSANDS\n    THIS LITTLE BOOK IS DEDICATED\n     BY ONE OF THE MANY TO WHOM\n         HER WORDS HAVE BEEN\n          AN INCENTIVE AND\n             HER WORK AN\n             INSPIRATION\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThis book is intended for use in all grades of elementary schools,\nthe method of presentation varying with the age of the pupils. It\nhas been welcomed even by pupils in higher schools, because easily\nfamiliarizing them with myths and characters that figure so largely\nin the literary texts with which they are to deal.\n\nIn the first and second grades the teachers should read or tell some\nof the stories to the pupils, thus satisfying the demand of children\nfor a story, and preparing the way for an appreciation of literature.\nThe pupils should retell the stories, thus enriching their vocabulary\nand learning to express thought clearly, easily, consecutively, and\nconfidently,--a power so much needed and so valuable to citizens of a\nrepublic.\n\nSome of the poems, as \"Daybreak,\" \"The Moss Rose,\" \"Forget-me-not,\"\n\"Sweet and Low,\" \"The Child's World,\" etc., should be memorized. If\nthis work has been well done in these grades, the pupils of third and\nfourth grades will enjoy reading the stories, continuing the reciting\nof myth and poem. The pictures that so well illustrate the myths\nshould be studied and described. In these classes and in the grammar\ngrades the stories should be written and the poems reproduced\naccurately, serving as valuable lessons in form, in spelling,\npunctuation, and capitalization. The reproduction of the myth and\npoem both orally and in written papers is an exercise whose value\ncannot be overestimated.\n\nWhile the myths are valuable in themselves as stories which appeal\nto and which nourish the imagination, and as aids to expression\nin oral and written language, they are also very helpful, when\npresented early, to the understanding of references with which our\nliterature is filled, and make the reading of the best in literature\nmore of a delight because of this knowledge. It is important that\nthese myths be given to children who enjoy the world of fairy tale\nand myth,--children who in their imagination drive the car of Apollo\nwith the bold Pha\u00ebthon, and see with Narcissus the nymph smiling in\nthe brook.\n\nThe poems and pictures in the book serve to illustrate the debt both\npoets and artists owe to the fancies of the beauty-loving Greeks, the\nchildren of our race. With imagination and memory nourished and stored\nwith stories that have been part of men's literary possessions for\ncenturies, and which have been embodied in all the arts, the love for\nliterature which is permanent and valuable will leave no room for the\nworthless and transitory.\n\nAcknowledgments are due to Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company for\nselections from Holmes, Whittier, and Longfellow; to Messrs. D.\nAppleton & Company for selections from Bryant; to Messrs. A. C.\nMcClurg & Company for the poem, \"Rainbow Fairies,\" from Tomlin's\n\"Child's Garden of Song\"; and to Mr. John Burroughs for permission to\nuse his poem, \"Waiting.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                            PAGE\n  'Round the Year                            _Gary Cooper_    15\n\n  The Seasons                                                 22\n\n  Worship of Nature              _John Greenleaf Whittier_    27\n\n  How the Myths arose                                         28\n\n  The Months--Winter                                          30\n\n  The Voice of Spring            _Felicia Dorothea Hemans_    31\n\n  The Months--Spring                                          33\n\n  On May Morning                             _John Milton_    34\n\n  The Child's Wish in June               _Caroline Gilman_    36\n\n  The Months--Summer                                          37\n\n  Autumn                                       _Anonymous_    38\n\n  The Months--Autumn                                          39\n\n  The Old Year                           _Alfred Tennyson_    41\n\n  The Holidays of the Year                                    43\n\n  The Days of the Week                                        47\n\n  Ode                                     _Joseph Addison_    50\n\n  Ceres                                                       52\n\n  To the Fringed Gentian           _William Cullen Bryant_    54\n\n  Ceres and Persephone                                        55\n\n  Arbutus Asleep                  _William Whitman Bailey_    57\n\n  The Search of Ceres                                         59\n\n  Waiting                                 _John Burroughs_    61\n\n  Apollo                                                      62\n\n  Hark! hark! the Lark               _William Shakespeare_    63\n\n  Diana                                                       65\n\n  Lady Moon                                    _Anonymous_    66\n\n  The Pleiades                                                68\n\n  The Stars                                       _Amelia_    70\n\n  Aurora                                                      73\n\n  Daybreak                    _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_    75\n\n  Aurora and Tithonus                                         77\n\n  On the Grasshopper and Cricket              _John Keats_    77\n\n  Aurora and Memnon                                           79\n\n  A Walk at Sunset                 _William Cullen Bryant_    79\n\n  The Nymphs and Other Goddesses                              82\n\n  Give                             _Adelaide Anne Procter_    87\n\n  Apollo and the Muses                                        88\n\n  The Descent of the Muses    _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_    90\n\n  Apollo and Daphne                                           92\n\n  Forget-me-not                                _Anonymous_    94\n\n  Clytie                                                      96\n\n  The Daisy                             _James Montgomery_    99\n\n  Niobe                                                      102\n\n  Apollo                             _George Gordon Byron_   104\n\n  Jupiter                                                    106\n\n  Abou Ben Adhem                              _Leigh Hunt_   108\n\n  Neptune                                                    109\n\n  Neptune                                     _John Keats_   111\n\n  Vulcan                                                     112\n\n  Work                                  _Mary N. Prescott_   114\n\n  Venus                                                      115\n\n  Her Face                               _Robert Browning_   119\n\n  Cupid and Psyche                                           121\n\n  Love                                _Francis Bourdillon_   122\n\n  Psyche and Venus                                           123\n\n  Longing                           _James Russell Lowell_   125\n\n  St. Valentine's Day                                        127\n\n  What March does                        _May Riley Smith_   128\n\n  Pha\u00ebthon                                                   129\n\n  Wings                                    _Mary F. Butts_   131\n\n  Mercury                                                    134\n\n  The Finding of the Lyre           _James Russell Lowell_   135\n\n  \u00c6olus                                                      137\n\n  \u00c6olus and Ulysses                                          140\n\n  The Chambered Nautilus           _Oliver Wendell Holmes_   141\n\n  The Wind Tower                                             143\n\n  Mudjekeewis                                                145\n\n  Wabun                                                      146\n\n  Shawondasee                                                149\n\n  Little Dandelion                     _Helen B. Bostwick_   150\n\n  Kabibonokka                                                151\n\n  What the Winds bring           _Edmund Clarence Stedman_   153\n\n  Iris                                                       155\n\n  The Rainbow                         _William Wordsworth_   155\n\n  Rainbow Stories                                            156\n\n  The Rainbow Fairies                   _Lizzie M. Hadley_   157\n\n  Narcissus                                                  158\n\n  The Brook                              _Alfred Tennyson_   159\n\n  Echo and Narcissus                                         161\n\n  Blue                                        _John Keats_   163\n\n  Minerva                                                    164\n\n  Minerva and Arachne                                        166\n\n  Minerva's Weaving                       _Edmund Spenser_   169\n\n  Prometheus                                                 171\n\n  Home Thoughts from Abroad              _Robert Browning_   173\n\n  Adonis                                                     174\n\n  Origin of the Opal                           _Anonymous_   176\n\n  The Apples of the Hesperides                               177\n\n  Cleon and I                             _Charles Mackay_   179\n\n  Pandora                                                    180\n\n  The Gladness of Nature           _William Cullen Bryant_   183\n\n  Hebe and Ganymede                                          185\n\n  May                                          _Macdonald_   186\n\n  Vesta                                                      186\n\n  Sweet and Low                          _Alfred Tennyson_   188\n\n  The Origin of the Moss Rose                                190\n\n  The Moss Rose                               _Krummacher_   192\n\n  Orpheus and Eurydice                                       193\n\n  The Child's World                    _Lilliput Lectures_   197\n\n  Arion                                                      198\n\n  June                              _James Russell Lowell_   200\n\n\n\n\nPERSONS AND PLACES MENTIONED.\n\n\n    \u00c4\u00b4bou b\u0115n \u00c4d\u00b4hem (\u00e4\u00b4b\u014d\u014d)\n    A c\u0335h\u012dl\u00b4l\u0113s\u031d\n    A d\u014d\u00b4nis\n    \u00c6 \u014d\u00b4li a\n    \u00c6 \u014d\u00b4li an \u012as\u00b4lands\u031d\n    \u00c6\u00b4o lus\n    A p\u014fl\u00b4lo\n    Aq\u00b4ui lo (\u0103k\u00b4wi lo)\n    A r\u0103c\u0335h\u00b4ne\n    A ri\u00b4on\n    \u0102th\u00b4ens\u031d\n    Au r\u014d\u00b4ra\n\n    B\u014d\u00b4re as\n\n    C\u00e6\u00b4s\u031dar Au g\u016ds\u00b4tus\n    C\u0335al l\u00ef\u00b4o pe\n    C\u1ebdr\u00b4be rus\n    C\u0113\u00b4r\u0113s\u031d\n    C\u0335h\u0101\u00b4ron\n    C\u0335l\u0113\u00b4on\n    C\u0335l\u012b\u00b4o\n    C\u0335l\u0233\u00b4tie\n    C\u0335\u014fl i s\u0113\u00b4um\n    C\u0335\u014fr\u00b4inth\n    C\u0335\u014d\u00b4rus\n    C\u0335\u016b\u00b4pid\n    C\u0233\u00b4c\u0335lops\n    Cy\u0306g\u00b4nus\n    Cy\u0306n\u00b4thi a\n\n    D\u0103ph\u00b4ne\n    Di \u0101\u00b4na\n    Dr\u0233\u00b4ads\u031d\n\n    Ec\u0335h\u00b4o\n    En dy\u0306m\u00b4i on\n    Ep i m\u0113\u00b4the us\n    \u0114r\u00b4a to\n    \u0112\u00b4ris\n    \u0114t\u00b4na\n    Eu r\u014d\u00b4pa\n    E\u016b\u00b4rus\n    Eu ry\u0306d\u00b4i ce\n    Eu t\u1ebdr\u00b4pe\n\n    Fl\u014d\u00b4ra\n    Fl\u014fr\u00b4ence\n    Fr\u012dg\u00b4ga\n\n    G\u0103n y m\u0113\u00b4de\n\n    H\u0101\u00b4d\u0113s\u031d\n    H\u0113\u00b4be\n    He li\u00b4a d\u0113s\u031d\n    H\u1ebdr\u00b4c\u0335u l\u0113s\u031d\n    H\u1ebdr\u00b4m\u0113s\u031d\n    Hes p\u0113\u00b4ri a\n    Hes p\u0115r\u00b4i d\u0113s\u031d\n    H\u0113s\u00b4pe rus\n    Hi a w\u00e4\u00b4tha\n    H\u014d\u00b4mer\n\n    \u012a\u00b4ris\n    \u012ct\u00b4a ly\n    \u012cth\u00b4a c\u0335a\n    \u012a\u00b4da\n\n    J\u0101\u00b4nus\n    J\u014dve\n    J\u016bli us C\u00e6\u00b4s\u031dar\n    J\u016b\u00b4no\n    J\u016b\u00b4pi ter\n\n    K\u00e4\u00b4be yun\n    Ka bi bon \u014fk\u00b4ka\n\n    La t\u014d\u00b4na\n    L\u0113\u00b4da\n    L\u012dp\u00b4ar i \u012as\u00b4lands\u031d\n    Louvre (l\u014d\u014dvr)\n\n    M\u0101\u00b4i a\n    M\u00e4rs\u031d\n    M\u0113\u00b4los\n    Mel p\u014fm\u00b4e ne\n    M\u0115m\u00b4non\n    M\u1ebdr\u00b4cu ry\n    M\u012d n\u1ebdr\u00b4va\n    Mud je k\u0113\u0113\u00b4wis\n\n    N\u0101\u00b4iads\u031d (y\u0101dz)\n    Nar c\u012ds\u00b4sus\n    N\u0115p\u00b4t\u016bne\n    N\u0113\u00b4re ids\u031d\n    N\u012d\u00b4o be\n    No k\u014d\u00b4mis\n    N\u014d\u00b4tus\n\n    O ce \u0103n\u00b4ids\u031d (she)\n    Oc t\u0101\u00b4vi us C\u00e6s\u031dar\n    \u014c\u00b4din\n    O ly\u0306m\u00b4pus\n    \u014c\u00b4re ads\u031d\n    O r\u012b\u00b4on\n    \u00d4r\u00b4phe us\n\n    P\u0103l\u00b4las A th\u0113\u00b4ne\n    Pan d\u014d\u00b4ra\n    P\u0103r\u00b4is\n    Par n\u0103s\u00b4sus\n    P\u00e4r\u00b4the non\n    Per i \u0103n\u00b4der\n    Per s\u0115ph\u00b4o ne\n    Ph\u0101\u00b4\u00eb thon\n    Ph\u0153\u00b4bus (f\u0113)\n    Pi \u0115r\u00b4 i d\u0113s\u031d\n    P\u012b\u00b4e rus\n    Pl\u0113\u00b4ia d\u0113s\u031d (y\u0227)\n    Pl\u016b\u00b4to\n    P\u014d\n    Pol y hy\u0306m\u00b4ni a\n    Po m\u014d\u00b4na\n    Pro m\u0113\u00b4the us\n    Ps\u0233\u00b4c\u0335he (s\u0233\u00b4)\n\n    R\u014dme\n\n    S\u00e6\u00b4ter\n    Sha won d\u00e4\u00b4see\n    S\u012db\u00b4y\u0306ls\n    S\u012dc\u00b4i ly\n    S\u012d\u00b4rens\u031d\n    Sty\u0306x\n\n    Ta r\u0115n\u00b4tum\n    T\u1ebdrp s\u012dc\u0335h\u00b4o re\n    Tha l\u012d\u00b4a\n    Th\u0113bes\u031d\n    Th\u0113\u00b4tis\n    Th\u00f4r\n    Ti th\u014d\u00b4nus\n    Tiw (t\u016b)\n    Tri\u00b4tons\u031d\n    Troy\n\n    U ly\u0306s\u00b4s\u0115s\u031d\n    U r\u0101\u00b4ni a\n\n    Val\u00b4en t\u012bne\n    V\u0113\u00b4nus\n    V\u1ebdr\u00b4gil\n    V\u0115s\u00b4ta\n    V\u016dl\u00b4c\u0335an\n\n    Wa b\u00e4s\u00b4so\n    W\u00e4\u00b4bun\n    W\u00e4\u00b4bun-An\u00b4nung\n    W\u014d\u00b4den\n\n    Z\u0115ph\u00b4y\u0306 rus (z\u0115f\u00b4)\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Spring.\n    E. Semenowsky (_modern_).]\n\n'ROUND THE YEAR.\n\n\n    O beautiful world of green!\n      When bluebirds carol clear,\n        And rills outleap,\n        And new buds peep,\n      And the soft sky seems more near;\n    With billowy green and leaves,--what then?\n    How soon we greet the red again!\n\n  [Illustration: Summer.\n    E. Semenowsky (_modern_).]\n\n    O radiant world of red!\n      When roses blush so fair,\n        And winds blow sweet,\n        And lambkins bleat,\n      And the bees hum here and there;\n    With thrill of bobolinks,--ah, then,\n    Before we know, the gold again!\n\n  [Illustration: Autumn.\n    E. Semenowsky (_modern_).]\n\n    O beautiful world of gold!\n      When waving grain is ripe,\n        And apples beam\n        Through the hazy gleam,\n      And quails on the fence rails pipe;\n    With pattering nuts and winds,--why then,\n    How swiftly falls the white again!\n\n  [Illustration: Winter.\n    E. Semenowsky (_modern_).]\n\n    O wonderful world of white!\n      When trees are hung with lace,\n        And the rough winds chide,\n        And snowflakes hide\n      Each bleak unsheltered place;\n    When birds and brooks are dumb,--what then?\n    O, round we go to the green again!\n              --G. Cooper.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Spring.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen (1770-1844).]\n\nTHE SEASONS.\n\n\nThe earth receives light from the sun, and completes its course\nthrough the heavens once a year. Each year brings Spring with her\ngarlands of flowers, Summer--golden Summer--with her sheaves of sunlit\ngrain, Autumn with the purple grape, and Winter clad in frost and\nsnow.\n\n  [Illustration: Summer.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\nEvery year there is the same order of the seasons. Therefore man knows\nwhen to plant the tiny seeds, when the harvests and fruits will ripen,\nand what provision to make for the cold but merry winter.\n\n  [Illustration: Autumn.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\nJust as little children, tired with play, and men who work all day,\nmust have the night for sleep and rest, so Mother Earth, who plays and\nworks so gaily from March to October, must have the winter season for\nrest. Then she covers herself with a mantle of snow, and sings a\nsleepy lullaby song.\n\nEach of the seasons has three months to attend her.\n\n  [Illustration: Winter.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\nSpring, clad in dainty green, has March with cleansing winds,\nchangeable April with sunshine and rain, and tender May with the\nfragrant flowers.\n\nSummer, in her golden dress, has June, July, and August to attend her.\n\nAutumn, with September, October, and November, comes with her hands\nfilled with baskets of fruit.\n\nWinter has December, January, and February to cover the earth with\nsnow, to freeze the rivers, and to paint curious pictures upon the\nwindowpanes.\n\nCan you compare the passing of the year and the life of man?\nChildhood, the springtime of life, is the time for play and dance and\nmerry song, the time to make the body supple and strong. When the body\nis strong and the mind has been trained, comes the summer time of\nwork--hard work in all the fields of labor, that the harvest may not\nfail. In the autumn of life, when the labor of the summer ripens into\nfruit, how pleasant to reap the reward of work! Then slowly come the\nsnowy hair and the winter of life, when we sit by the fire and tell\nthe story of our battles, our struggles, our defeats, and our\nvictories.\n\nEach season of the year has its pleasures and its tasks, and so has\neach season of life. A youth of cheerful labor and study brings its\nown reward of a well-prepared and happy adult life. Then we can repeat\nBrowning's cheering words,--\n\n    \"Grow old along with me!\n    The best of life is yet to be,\n    The last for which the first is made.\"\n\n\n\n\nWORSHIP OF NATURE.\n\n\n    The harp at Nature's advent strung\n        Has never ceased to play;\n    The song the stars of morning sung\n        Has never died away.\n\n    And prayer is made, and praise is given,\n        By all things near and far;\n    The ocean looketh up to heaven,\n        And mirrors every star.\n\n    The green earth sends her incense up\n        From many a mountain shrine;\n    From folded leaf and dewy cup\n        She pours her sacred wine.\n\n    The mists above the morning rills\n        Rise white as wings of prayer;\n    The altar curtains of the hills\n        Are sunset's purple air.\n\n    The blue sky is the temple's arch,\n        Its transept earth and air,\n    The music of its starry march\n        The chorus of a prayer.\n              --John Greenleaf Whittier.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE MYTHS AROSE.\n\n\nThe Greeks lived much in the open air, and dearly loved the trees, the\nflowers, the birds, the sea and sky.\n\nThey watched the clouds floating in the beautiful azure dome,\nsometimes in long lines like soldiers, sometimes looking like great\ncurly white feathers, and sometimes piled high like mountains of snow.\n\nThey saw the sun rise, coloring the clouds and awakening all things on\nthe earth; and they watched him sink in the western sky, flooding the\nheavens with brilliant hues.\n\nIn the quiet night, they saw the lovely stars come, one by one at\nfirst, and then in such numbers that their eyes were dazzled, and they\nthought of God and of the beauty of His works.\n\n    \"The million-handed sculptor molds\n    Quaintest bud and blossom folds;\n    The million-handed painter pours\n      Opal hues and purple dye;\n    Azaleas flush the inland floor,\n      And the tints of heaven reply.\"\n\nThey listened to the carols of the birds and they believed that the\nbrooks, the trees, and the flowers could talk to men.\n\nThe poets dreamed and sang about the spirits which inhabited all the\nforms of nature. All the people loved these fancies, and repeated the\nstories again and again. These stories,--these beautiful fancies about\nnature, which to the Greeks seemed true,--we call myths, or fairy\ntales.\n\n    \"The beauty of the sea and sky,\n    The airy flight of birds on high,\n    The lovely flowers, whose perfume rare\n    So softly fills the summer air;\n    The rainbow's glow, the shimmering rain\n    When springtime buds peep out again,\n    The golden glory of the sun\n    The fields of ripening grain upon,\n    The winds that sigh harmoniously,\n    The tempest's wrath o'er land and sea,\n    The purple haze of mountains far,\n    Or snowy crest, whereon the star\n    Of night shines soft and silvery:--\n    These joys that nature offers thee,\n    Wilt thou not know; wilt thou not feel\n    What God and thine own heart reveal?\"\n              --F. H.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONTHS.--WINTER.\n\n\nIn addition to its four seasons--spring, summer, autumn, and\nwinter--the year is divided into twelve months. Long ago, there were\nbut ten months, and the first month was March. But when January and\nFebruary were added, the year had twelve months, and January, the\nsecond month of the winter season, is now called the first month of\nthe year.\n\n\"Month\" and \"moon\" come from a word which means \"to measure.\" It takes\nthe earth three hundred and sixty-five days, or a year, to revolve\naround the sun. The moon revolves around the earth about twelve times\nin one year; so the moon is the measurer of the year, and the twelve\nperiods we call months.\n\nFrom Janus, a Roman god, comes the name of the first month of the\nyear. Janus is the two-headed god. A temple of this divinity was\nplaced at the city gate of Rome. His statue had one face looking\ntoward the city and one beyond the gate. The month of January stands\nat the gateway of the year, with one face looking toward the past and\none toward the future.\n\nOur second month, February, receives its name from a Latin word which\nmeans \"to purify,\" for in this month the people used to purify their\nhomes and offer sacrifices to the gods, who love order and\ncleanliness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VOICE OF SPRING.\n\n\n    I come! I come! ye have called me long;\n    I come o'er the mountains, with light and song!\n    Ye may trace my steps o'er the wakening earth,\n    By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,\n    By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,\n    By the green leaves opening as I pass.\n\n    I have sent through the wood paths a glowing sigh,\n    And called out each voice of the deep blue sky,\n    From the night bird's lay through the starry time,\n    In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime,\n    To the swan's wild note, by the Iceland lakes,\n    Where the dark fir branch into verdure breaks.\n\n    From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain;\n    They are sweeping on to the silvery main,\n    They are flashing down from the mountain brows,\n    They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs,\n    They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,\n    And the earth resounds with the joy of waves!\n\n    Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come!\n    Where the violets lie may be now your home.\n    Ye of the rose lip and dew-bright eye,\n    And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly!\n    With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay,\n    Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay.\n              --Felicia Dorothea Hemans.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Spring.\n    F. A. Kaulbach (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONTHS.--SPRING.\n\n\nThe name of the famous Mars, god of war, was given to the first month\nof spring. This month, formerly the first of the year, is now the\nthird. Mars is fond of storm and strife, and his name is very\nappropriate for this windy, stormy month. In March the sun turns back\nin his journey among the stars, and begins to come north again. The\ndays grow longer in our part of the world, and we know that summer is\ncoming.\n\nIn April the snows melt, the little brooks awake and chatter over\ntheir pebbly beds, the birds return to gladden us with their songs,\nand the tiny leaves peep out of their winter nests. The earth seems to\nopen to receive the moist rains and the warm winds. April, the\nbeautiful name given to this second month of spring, comes from a\nLatin word meaning \"to open.\"\n\nThe lovely month of May is a great favorite with the poets. Many of\nthem have written charming poems in her honor. Maia, in whose honor\nthis month was named, is the mother of Mercury, the winged messenger\nof the gods. The Romans held this god in great honor, and gave the\nname of his mother to the loveliest of the months.\n\n\n\n\nON MAY MORNING.\n\n\n    Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger,\n    Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her\n    The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws\n    The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.\n      Hail, bounteous May! that dost inspire\n      Mirth and youth and warm desire;\n      Woods and groves are of thy dressing,\n      Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.\n    Thus we salute thee with our early song,\n    And welcome thee, and wish thee long.\n              --John Milton.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: May.\n    A. H. Dieffenbach (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD'S WISH IN JUNE.\n\n\n    Mother, mother, the winds are at play;\n    Prithee, let me be idle to-day.\n    Look, dear mother, the flowers all lie\n    Languidly under the bright blue sky.\n\n    See, how slowly the streamlet glides;\n    Look, how the violet roguishly hides;\n    Even the butterfly rests on the rose,\n    And scarcely sips the sweets as he goes.\n\n    Poor Tray is asleep in the noonday sun,\n    And the flies go about him, one by one;\n    And pussy sits near with a sleepy grace,\n    Without ever thinking of washing her face.\n\n    There flies a bird to a neighboring tree,\n    But very lazily flieth he;\n    And he sits and twitters a gentle note,\n    That scarcely ruffles his little throat.\n\n    You bid me be busy. But, mother dear,\n    How the humdrum grasshopper soundeth near;\n    And the soft west wind is so light in its play,\n    It scarcely moves a leaf on the spray.\n\n    I wish, O I wish I were yonder cloud,\n    That sails about with its misty shroud;\n    Book and work I no more should see,\n    And I'd come and float, dear mother, o'er thee.\n              --Caroline Gilman.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONTHS.--SUMMER.\n\n\nJune, the month of roses, is named in honor of the stately Juno, queen\nof the gods. Juno is the goddess of happy marriages, and June is the\nfavorite month for weddings.\n\nJuly is named in honor of Julius C\u00e6sar, the greatest of the Romans in\nthe art of war. In peace, also, he advanced the condition of the\npeople, and he was a great statesman and writer. He it was who\nreformed the calendar, and so it is just that his name should be given\nto one of the months.\n\nOctavius C\u00e6sar was the nephew and heir of Julius C\u00e6sar, the great\ncommander. After conquering his enemies, he became the master of Rome\nand was named Emperor by the Roman Senate. He ruled the empire wisely\nand well, and received the title Augustus, which means \"worthy of\nreverence.\" From him the eighth month receives its name--August.\n\nC\u00e6sar Augustus was the friend of the poets and orators who lived\nduring his reign. So many beautiful poems were written at that time,\nand all the arts so flourished, that the reign of Augustus has been\ncalled \"The Golden Age.\"\n\n\n\n\nAUTUMN.\n\n\n    When leaves grow sear, all things take somber hue;\n    The wild winds waltz no more the woodside through,\n    And all the faded grass is wet with dew.\n\n    The forest's cheeks are crimsoned o'er with shame,\n    The cynic frost enlaces every lane,\n    The ground with scarlet blushes is aflame.\n\n    The ripened nuts drop downward day by day,\n    Sounding the hollow tocsin of decay,\n    And bandit squirrels smuggle them away.\n\n    Inconstant Summer to the tropics flees,\n    And, as her rose sails catch the amorous breeze,\n    Lo! bare, brown Autumn trembles to her knees.\n\n    The stealthy nights encroach upon the days,\n    The earth with sudden whiteness is ablaze,\n    And all her paths are lost in crystal maze.\n\n    With blooms full-sapped again will smile the land,\n    The Fall is but the folding of His hand,\n    Anon with fuller glories to expand.\n\n    So shall the truant bluebirds backward fly,\n    And all loved things that vanish or that die\n    Return to us in some sweet by and by.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MONTHS.--AUTUMN.\n\n\nThe months of September, October, November, and December are named\nfrom Latin words that mean \"seven,\" \"eight,\" \"nine,\" and \"ten.\"\n\nWhen the beginning of the year was placed in March, these months were\nnamed from their position the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth\nmonths. When the first day of January was made the first day of the\nyear, these months became the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth\nmonths, but their names were not changed. December is, of course, the\nfirst month of winter.\n\nEach year has three hundred and sixty-five days, except leap year,\nwhich comes once in four years. In leap years there are three hundred\nand sixty-six days, the extra day being added to the month of\nFebruary.\n\nThe days are not evenly divided among the twelve months, but, as the\nold rhyme says,--\n\n    \"Thirty days hath September,\n    April, June, and November;\n    All the rest have thirty-one,\n    Excepting February alone,\n    Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine,\n    Till leap year gives it twenty-nine.\"\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The New-year Bells.\n    Blashfield (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD YEAR.\n\n\n    Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,\n        The flying cloud, the frosty light;\n        The year is dying in the night;\n    Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.\n\n    Ring out the old, ring in the new,\n        Ring, happy bells, across the snow:\n        The year is going, let him go;\n    Ring out the false, ring in the true.\n\n    Ring out the grief that saps the mind,\n        For those that here we see no more;\n        Ring out the feud of rich and poor,\n    Ring in redress to all mankind.\n\n    Ring out false pride in place and blood,\n        The civic slander and the spite;\n        Ring in the love of truth and right,\n    Ring in the common love of good.\n\n    Ring out old shapes of foul disease,\n        Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;\n        Ring out the thousand wars of old,\n    Ring in the thousand years of peace.\n\n    Ring in the valiant man and free,\n        The larger heart, the kindlier hand;\n        Ring out the darkness of the land,\n    Ring in the Christ that is to be.\n              --Alfred Tennyson.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: A May Scene.\n    A. H. Waterlow (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOLIDAYS OF THE YEAR.\n\n\nWhen the New Year comes, we all hold out our hands to the welcome\nguest, and are glad to see his young and smiling face. So we have made\nthe first day of January a holiday, that friends may wish one another\na \"Happy New Year.\"\n\nFebruary has many days that are dear to us. The birthdays of our noble\npresidents, Lincoln and Washington, are always celebrated with honor\nfor their greatness and rejoicings for our country's prosperity.\nLongfellow and Lowell, two of our greatest poets, are also remembered.\nSt. Valentine's Day is a festival welcome to children, and to all who\nlove to see young people gay and happy.\n\nIn March we have no holiday.\n\nIn many of our states a very interesting holiday has been given to\nApril. It is called \"Arbor Day,\" for on this day trees are planted.\nMen have always felt a reverence for trees, and have believed that\n\n    \"The groves were God's first temples.\"\n\nThe Greeks gave a personality to trees, and the Druids worshiped the\nstrong and noble oak. So we are setting aside a day when all the\npeople shall make holiday, and plant trees whose shade shall refresh\nand whose fruit shall nourish us. This is a beautiful holiday, and\none full of meaning. Our poet Bryant says,--\n\n    \"What plant we in this apple tree?\n    Sweets for a hundred flowery springs\n    To load the May wind's restless wings,\n    When, from the orchard row, he pours\n    Its fragrance through our open doors;\n    A world of blossoms for the bee,\n    Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,\n    For the glad infant sprigs of bloom,\n    We plant with the apple tree.\"\n\nMay brings with her one of the most sacred and beautiful days of all\nthe year. On Memorial, or Decoration, Day we cover with flowers the\ngraves of those who died to preserve the nation.\n\nIn England and in Sweden, May Day is given up to dance and song and\nflower shows. This festival began in honor of Odin, the old Norse god\nof the sun.\n\nJune has no day that is remembered as a universal holiday. But in July\nwe find the greatest day of the year--the Fourth of July, Independence\nDay. Every child knows that on this day our nation was born. The\nflags, the drums, the trumpets, the cannon,--all awaken in the breast\nof every American a thrill of love and pride that will never pass\naway.\n\n  [Illustration: The Christ Child.\n    Prescott Davies (_modern_).]\n\nAugust is passed by; but on the first Monday in September comes Labor\nDay. This has been celebrated for only a few years, but the meaning\nof the holiday lies deep in the minds and hearts of men who realize\nthat labor is man's greatest blessing and hope.\n\nThanksgiving Day, generally the last Thursday in November, is sacred\nto the memory of our honored ancestors, who bravely and nobly endured\nthe cold and want of that first New England winter, confident that the\nGod whom they trusted and served would not forget them.\n\n    \"Aye, call it holy ground,\n      The soil where first they trod!\n    They have left unstained what there they found,--\n      Freedom to worship God!\"\n\nDecember has the children's great festal day,--the blessed Christmas,\nwhen the lessons of Christ's life blossom into deeds, and a loving\nspirit seems to spread over all the land. The carols, the Christmas\ntrees, the merry bells, make the heart gay, and all the air resounds\nwith Christmas glee. We read the Christmas stories, sing the old\nsongs, send loving greetings to absent friends, and rejoice with the\nhappy children, for \"of such is the kingdom of heaven.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE DAYS OF THE WEEK.\n\n\nIn the southern countries of Europe, the days of the week were named\nafter the gods of the Greeks and Romans. But in our country, and in\nsome of the countries of northern Europe, the gods of the North have\ngiven their names to the days.\n\nSunday and Monday received their names from the sun and the moon--the\nradiant lamps that light the earth by day and by night.\n\nTiw is the god of honorable war, the son of Odin and Frigga, the earth\nmother. His emblem is the sword, and in olden days the people did him\ngreat homage. Tuesday, the third day of the week, was named in his\nhonor.\n\nWednesday was called Woden's day, in honor of Woden, or Odin, the king\nof the gods. He was often called the All Father.\n\nThor, the son of Odin, is one of the twelve great gods of northern\nmythology. \"Whenever he throws his wonderful hammer,\" they used to\nsay, \"the noise of thunder is heard through the heavens. He is the\nonly god who cannot cross from earth to heaven upon the rainbow, for\nhe is so heavy and powerful that the gods fear it will break under his\nweight.\" Thursday was sacred to Thor.\n\n  [Illustration: Thor.]\n\n    \"I am the Thunderer!\n    Here in my Northland,\n    My fastness and fortress,\n    Reign I forever!\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\nFriday was the day sacred to Frigga, queen of the gods.\n\nSaturday received its name from S\u00e6ter, god of the harvest.\n\n                    \"One poor day!--\n    Remember whose, and not how short it is!\n    It is God's day, it is Columbus's.\n    A lavish day! One day, with life and heart,\n    Is more than time enough to find a world.\"\n              --James Russell Lowell.\n\n    \"No man is born into the world whose work\n    Is not born with him. There is always work,\n    And tools to work withal, for those who will;\n    And bless\u00e9d are the horny hands of toil!\n    The busy world shoves angrily aside\n    The man who stands with arms akimbo set,\n    Until occasion tells him what to do;\n    And he who waits to have his task marked out\n    Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.\"\n              --James Russell Lowell.\n\n\n\n\nODE.\n\n\n    The spacious firmament on high,\n    With all the blue ethereal sky\n    And spangled heavens, a shining frame,\n    Their great Original proclaim.\n    The unwearied sun, from day to day,\n    Does his Creator's power display;\n    And publishes to every land\n    The work of an Almighty hand.\n\n    Soon as the evening shades prevail,\n    The moon takes up the wondrous tale,\n    And nightly, to the listening earth,\n    Repeats the story of her birth;\n    Whilst all the stars that round her burn,\n    And all the planets in their turn,\n    Confirm the tidings as they roll,\n    And spread the truth from pole to pole.\n\n    What though, in solemn silence, all\n    Move round this dark terrestrial ball?\n    What though no real voice nor sound\n    Amidst their radiant orbs be found?\n    In reason's ear they all rejoice,\n    And utter forth a glorious voice,\n    Forever singing, as they shine,\n    \"The hand that made us is divine!\"\n              --Joseph Addison.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Moonlight on the Ocean.]\n\n\n\n\nCERES.\n\n\nAll through the warm days of July and August, the grain ripens in the\nrays of the sun, and in September the fields are yellow with nodding\nheads of golden grain. Ceres, the earth mother, has been driving north\nand south, east and west.\n\nTwo beautiful maidens always attend her,--Flora, with garlands of\nroses, who cares for the lovely flowers, and Pomona, who ripens the\nfruits for man to eat.\n\nAs Ceres passes, the fields and woods gleam with color and beauty, and\nall the voices of nature join man's in hymns of thanksgiving for her\nbounty. The old Greeks tell us, that it is she who taught men how to\ncultivate the fields; how to prepare the soil for the seed, when to\nplant the many grains and fruits, and how to care for the young and\ntender plants.\n\nIn autumn, after the work of spring and summer, she rejoices in the\nbounteous harvests, in the vineyards filled with purple grapes. Great\ngolden pumpkins, like huge apples, lie basking in Apollo's rays; the\npurple aster and the golden-rod add color to the landscape. Ceres is\nglad at heart. She is happy in the results of her labor and in the\npresence of her lovely daughter, Persephone. But when Persephone\nleaves her mother, Ceres is sad, and winter, cold and drear, settles\nover the earth.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Ceres.\n    _Vatican, Rome._]\n\n\n\n\nTO THE FRINGED GENTIAN.\n\n\n    Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,\n    And colored with the heaven's own blue,\n    That openest when the quiet light\n    Succeeds the keen and frosty night.\n\n    Thou comest not when violets lean\n    O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen,\n    Or columbines, in purple dressed,\n    Nod o'er the ground bird's hidden nest.\n\n    Thou waitest late, and com'st alone,\n    When woods are bare and birds are flown,\n    And frosts and shortening days portend\n    The aged year is near his end.\n\n    Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye\n    Look through its fringes to the sky,\n    Blue--blue--as if that sky let fall\n    A flower from its cerulean wall.\n\n    I would that thus, when I shall see\n    The hour of death draw near to me,\n    Hope, blossoming within my heart,\n    May look to heaven as I depart.\n              --William Cullen Bryant.\n\n\n\n\nCERES AND PERSEPHONE.\n\n\nYou will wonder why Persephone is not always with her mother. This is\nthe story the Greeks tell.\n\nAs Ceres takes care of the ripening grains and fruits all over the\nearth, it is necessary for her to visit every country of the world.\nOne day she was seated in her chariot drawn by those wonderful winged\ndragons, ready to set forth on her travels. She kissed her little\ndaughter, and warned her not to go far from home. She had never before\nfelt so anxious about leaving her little girl, but she had to go.\n\nPersephone threw a loving kiss to her fond mother, and then went to\nthe shore of the sea to play with the sea nymphs. They are graceful,\nslender girls, with sea-green hair and eyes like opals. They are\ncharming playmates, but cannot come out of the water. Persephone\ngathered flowers for them, and was obedient to her mother's command.\n\nBut Pluto, the god of the palaces of gold and silver under the earth,\nlooking out from one of the caverns, saw the pretty child, and wanted\nto carry her away to his home. So he caused a wonderful flower, all\ncrimson and gold, to charm Persephone farther away. She stooped to\npick it; and lo! it came up by the roots, a deep cavern yawned, and\nthe chariot of King Pluto appeared.\n\nThe driver, who was King Pluto himself, caught the frightened\nPersephone in his arms. Whipping his coal-black steeds, he hurried\naway with her to his home in Hades.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: A Winter Scene.\n    L. Munthe (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nARBUTUS ASLEEP.\n\n\n    Arbutus lies beneath the snows,\n    While winter waits her brief repose,\n    And says, \"No fairer flower grows!\"\n\n    Of sunny April days she dreams,\n    Of robins' notes and murmuring streams,\n    And smiling in her sleep she seems.\n\n    She thinks her rosy buds expand\n    Beneath the touch of childhood's hand,\n    And beauty breathes throughout the land.\n\n    The arching elders bending o'er\n    The silent river's sandy shore,\n    Their golden tresses trim once more.\n\n    The pussy willows in their play\n    Their varnished caps have flung away,\n    And hung their furs on every spray.\n\n    The toads their cheery music chant,\n    The squirrel seeks his summer haunt,\n    And life revives in every plant.\n\n    \"I must awake! I hear the bee!\n    The butterfly I long to see!\n    The buds are bursting on the tree!\"\n\n    Ah! blossom, thou art dreaming, dear;\n    The wild winds howl about thee here\n    The dirges of the dying year!\n\n    Thy gentle eyes with tears are wet;\n    In sweeter sleep these pains forget;\n    Thy merry morning comes not yet!\n              --William Whitman Bailey.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEARCH OF CERES.\n\n\nWhen Ceres returned and could not find her little girl, she was\nfrantic. Over the whole earth she drove her chariot, calling upon all\nthings to help her in her search--but in vain!\n\nThen she became so sad that she refused to allow the earth to produce\nany food for man or beast. The flowers and trees and harvests drooped\nand faded. In vain did gods and men plead with her. She would not be\ncomforted.\n\nAt last Jupiter sent the swift-flying Mercury, messenger of the gods,\nto Pluto, commanding him to release Persephone. When Ceres saw her\ndaughter restored to her, what joy was hers! Yet she feared one thing.\n\n\"Have you eaten anything in Pluto's kingdom, my child?\" was her\nanxious question.\n\n\"Yes, dear mother,\" Persephone replied, \"six pomegranate seeds.\"\n\n\"Alas! then you must remain with Pluto six months of every year,\" said\nthe sad Ceres.\n\nThus it is that for six months Ceres and Persephone are together, the\nearth is covered with the blessed gifts of Ceres, and it is summer\nover the land. But when they are separated, the mother grieves, and\nwinter is king.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Waiting.\n    Nonnenbruch (_modern_).\n      Copyright, 1895, by Photographische Gesellschaft.]\n\n\n\n\nWAITING.\n\n\n    Serene I fold my hands and wait,\n    Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;\n    I rave no more 'gainst time or fate\n    For lo, my own shall come to me.\n\n    I stay my haste, I make delays;\n    For what avails this eager pace?\n    I stand amid the eternal ways,\n    And what is mine shall know my face.\n\n    Asleep, awake, by night or day,\n    The friends I seek are seeking me;\n    No wind can drive my bark away\n    Nor change the tide of destiny.\n\n    What matter if I stand alone?\n    I wait with joy the coming years;\n    My heart shall reap where it has sown,\n    And gather up its fruits of tears.\n\n    The waters know their own and draw\n    The brook that springs from yonder height.\n    So flows the good with equal law\n    Unto the soul of pure delight.\n\n    The stars come nightly to the sky,\n    The tidal wave unto the sea;\n    Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high\n    Can keep my own away from me.\n              --John Burroughs.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Aurora.\n    Guido Reni (1575-1642).]\n\nAPOLLO.\n\n\nThe palace of the sun is far away in the east. The walls are of\nsilver, the ceilings of carved ivory, and the pillars of gold shining\nwith many jewels.\n\nPh\u0153bus Apollo, in a robe of royal purple, sits upon a golden throne,\nand the bright rays shining from his golden hair light up the palace\nand dazzle the eyes. On either hand stand the Day, the Month, the\nYear, and the rosy Hours, who attend him in his daily course through\nthe heavens.\n\nWhen his beautiful twin sister, Diana, the queen of the night, has\nfinished her course through the deep blue sky, and all the stars are\ngone, Aurora, the dawn, opens the silvery eastern bars and shows a\npath covered with roses. Beautiful, rosy boys hold torches to light up\nthe path, and to tell the people of the earth that the sun god is\ncoming. The agile Hours quickly harness the impatient horses, Apollo\nmounts his chariot, takes the reins, and away they gallop, delighted\nwith their task.\n\nThe wind arises from the sea, and wafts the clouds along; the birds\nstir in the trees, and begin their sweet morning song; the leaves\nrustle, and the flowers raise their perfumed heads and say \"good\nmorning!\" The little children open their eyes with a laugh and shout,\nfor another day of play. All the world is awake to give thanks for the\nglorious sunlight!\n\n\n\n\nHARK! HARK! THE LARK.\n\n\n    Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,\n      And Ph\u0153bus 'gins arise,\n    His steeds to water at those springs\n      On chaliced flowers that lies;\n    And winking Mary-buds begin\n      To ope their golden eyes;\n    With everything that pretty bin\n      My lady sweet, arise!\n          Arise, arise!\n              --William Shakespeare.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Moon Goddess.\n    Correggio (1494-1534).]\n\n\n\n\nDIANA.\n\n\nDiana, the goddess of the moon, is the twin sister of Apollo. She\ncompletes her journey around the earth once in a month. Her chariot is\nof polished silver, and her horses are dark as night. She is a strong\nand beautiful goddess, with a robe of deepest azure, and a golden\ncrescent in her black hair.\n\nWhen Apollo sinks in the west, the chariot of Diana appears, and she\ndrives like a queen over the floor of heaven, which is studded with\ntwinkling stars. How lovely is the night! Sometimes we see only a\nsilver crescent, and the rim of the moon. This the children call the\nbaby moon. But night after night the moon shows more and more of her\nsilver face, until she seems like a great ball floating high in air.\nThis we call the full moon. The stars are her maidens, who welcome her\ncoming and attend her on her journey.\n\nIn September, the grains are gathered into the barns, and we call the\nfull moon in that month the Harvest Moon.\n\nThe October full moon is the Hunter's Moon, for in that month Diana\nleads the jolly hunters. Then, according to the old Greeks, she leaves\nher chariot, sees that her bow and arrows are ready, calls her\nmaidens, and steps forward, strong and free, to the chase.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Harvest Moon.\n    Mason (_modern_).]\n\nLADY MOON.\n\n\n    Lady moon, lady moon,\n        Sailing so high!\n    Drop down to baby\n        From out the blue sky:\n    Babykin, babykin,\n        Down far below,\n    I hear thee calling,\n        But I cannot go.\n\n    But lady moon sendeth thee\n        Soft, shining rays;\n    Moon loves the baby,\n        The moonlight says.\n    In her house dark and blue,\n        Though she must stay,\n    Kindly she'll watch thee\n        Till dawns the new day.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Lady Moon.\n    F. A. Kaulbach (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE PLEIADES.\n\n\nDiana had seven graceful maidens who hunted the deer with her. One day\nthey saw Orion, a great hunter, coming toward them with his dog and\nhis big club. Orion was a giant, and the maidens feared him and ran\naway.\n\nOrion called to them not to be afraid, for he wished to hunt with\nthem. But still they fled, and when they were weary and saw that he\nwas overtaking them, they called upon the gods to save them from the\nmighty hunter. The gods loved them, and listened to their cries. When\nOrion thought he had at last caught up with them, he saw, not the\nmaidens, but seven snow-white doves flying away under the azure sky.\n\nAt night, when the queenly Diana looked down from her chariot, she saw\nthat her attendants had been transformed to doves. As she could not\ngive them their original form, she placed them in the heavens as stars\nto attend her during the night.\n\n  [Illustration: The Dance of the Pleiades.\n    Elihu Vedder (_modern_).]\n\nThese sister stars we call the group of the Pleiades. For a long time\nthey accompanied their queen in her journey. At last the Trojan war\nbroke out, and they were terrified and covered their faces. The\nyoungest of the sweet sisters was so frightened that she hid behind\nthe others. In some way she became separated from them and lost her\nway. Now there are only six stars in the constellation called the\nPleiades, and the little sister is constantly searching for them.\n\nThere is a beautiful statue called \"The Lost Pleiad\" which shows a\nlovely young girl borne by the clouds and looking eagerly for her\nbeloved sisters.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STARS.\n\n\n    Ye snow-white clouds, whose fleecy wings enfold\n      The stars, that light yon boundless breadth of blue,\n    Roll back your edges, tinged with deepest gold,\n      And softly let the peaceful wanderers through;\n    Till, one by one, they burst upon my eyes,\n    O'ertaking my young heart with sudden sweet surprise.\n\n    How oft, when but a child, in wildest glee,\n      I've climbed the summit of some breezy hill,\n    Whose mossy sides went sloping to the sea\n      Where slept another heaven serenely still;\n    While, from the mighty stronghold of the seas,\n    The dead send up their dirge upon the twilight breeze.\n\n    And there beneath a fringe of dewy leaves,\n      That drooped away from many a bended bough,\n    I used to lie on summer's golden eves,\n      And gaze about as I am gazing now,\n    Thinking each lustrous star a heavenly shrine\n    For an immortal soul, and wondered which was mine.\n\n  [Illustration: The Lost Pleiad.\n    Randolph Rogers (1825-1892).]\n\n    But now the moon, beside yon lonely hill,\n      Lifts high her cup of paly gold;\n    And all the planets, following slow and still,\n      Along the deep their solemn marches hold;\n    While here and there some meteor's startling ray\n    Shoots streaks of arrowy fire far down the Milky Way.\n\n    The Milky Way: ah, fair, illumined path,\n      That leadeth upward to the gate of heaven;\n    My spirit, soaring from this world of scath,\n      Is lost with thee among the clouds of even,\n    And there, upborne on Fancy's glittering wing,\n    Floats by the Golden Gate, and hears the angels sing.\n              --Amelia.\n\n\n\n\nAURORA.\n\n\nAurora, goddess of the dawn, is the young sister of Diana, the queen\nof night. It is her duty to open the eastern doors of the palace of\nthe sun, and to strew the path of Apollo, the sun god, with roses.\nJust before sunrise she appears in the eastern sky, her rosy fingers\ntinting the misty clouds.\n\nAurora is goddess of the evening light, as well as of the dawn. Long\nafter the chariot of the sun has disappeared below the horizon, the\nwestern clouds are bright with the rosy light of this beauty-loving\ngoddess.\n\nIn some countries the twilights are very long, and Aurora seems to\nlinger on the hilltops. She sprinkles refreshing dew upon the thirsty\nflowers, who have bravely raised their heads to the sun all day. They\nrevive under her gentle care.\n\nAt evening, when she is slowly closing the gates of the west, the eyes\nof the little children grow tired of day and close in welcome sleep.\nThe birds, too, who welcome the fair Aurora with their joyous matin\nsongs, now seek their nests, and their last chirp is heard as the\ntwilight deepens. Then Aurora bars the gates, gives the lantern, or\nevening star, to Hesperus, and returns to the east for her morning\ntask.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Day.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\n\n\n\nDAYBREAK.\n\n\n    A wind came up out of the sea,\n    And said, \"O mists, make room for me.\"\n\n    It hailed the ships, and cried, \"Sail on,\n    Ye mariners, the night is gone.\"\n\n    And hurried landward far away\n    Crying, \"Awake! it is the day.\"\n\n    It said unto the forest, \"Shout!\n    Hang all your leafy banners out!\"\n\n    It touched the wood bird's folded wing,\n    And said, \"O bird, awake and sing.\"\n\n    And o'er the farms, \"O chanticleer,\n    Your clarion blow; the day is near.\"\n\n    It whispered to the fields of corn,\n    \"Bow down, and hail the coming morn.\"\n\n    It shouted through the belfry tower,\n    \"Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour.\"\n\n    It crossed the churchyard with a sigh,\n    And said, \"Not yet! in quiet lie.\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Aurora.\n    J. L. Hamon (1821-1874).]\n\n\n\n\nAURORA AND TITHONUS.\n\n\nAurora loves the pretty flowers and often wanders among the gardens\nwatching and caring for the tender blossoms.\n\nOne morning she met the handsome youth, Tithonus. Aurora loved\nTithonus, and, as he was a mortal, she begged the gods to give him\nimmortal life. Unfortunately, she forgot to ask for him immortal\nyouth, and after a while he began to grow old. Although he still lived\nin her palace and fed on ambrosia, the food of the gods, he became\nsmaller and smaller, until Aurora was ashamed of him and turned him\ninto a grasshopper.\n\nThis is the way you see him to-day--with the face of an old man on the\nbody of a grasshopper.\n\n\n\n\nON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.\n\n\n    The poetry of earth is never dead:\n        When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,\n        And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run\n    From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.\n    That is the grasshopper's,--he takes the lead\n        In summer luxury,--he has never done\n        With his delights; for, when tired out with fun,\n    He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.\n    The poetry of earth is ceasing never:\n    On a lone winter evening, when the frost\n        Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills\n    The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,\n        And seems, to one in drowsiness half lost,\n          The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.\n              --John Keats.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Night.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\n\n\n\nAURORA AND MEMNON.\n\n\nMemnon was the son of Aurora and Tithonus, and was dearly loved by his\nyoung and beautiful mother. He became a very brave man. When the\nTrojan war broke out, he came from the East to help the Trojans. At\nfirst he was successful, and he put the Greeks to flight; but when\nAchilles met him, a great struggle began. Long they fought and\nbravely; but at last Memnon fell.\n\nAurora, who had witnessed Memnon's defeat, told his brothers, the\nWinds, to bear his body to his home in the far East. There in the\nevening Aurora came to weep over the body of her son. The Hours, the\nrosy sister goddesses, joined in her grief, and the shining Pleiades\nveiled their faces in sorrow.\n\nAurora still laments the untimely death of her son, and her tears you\nmay find in the early morning as dewdrops upon the bending grass and\nflowers.\n\n\n\n\nA WALK AT SUNSET.\n\n\n    When insect wings are glistening in the beam\n      Of the low sun, and mountain tops are bright,\n    Oh! let me by the crystal valley stream,\n      Wander amid the mild and mellow light;\n    And while the wood thrush pipes his evening lay,\n    Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.\n\n      O sun! that o'er the western mountains now\n        Go'st down in glory! ever beautiful\n      And bless\u00e9d is thy radiance, whether thou\n        Colorest the eastern heaven and night mist cool,\n    Till the bright day-star vanish, or on high\n    Climbest and streamest thy white splendors from mid-sky.\n\n      Yet, loveliest are thy setting smiles, and fair,\n        Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues\n      That live among the clouds, and flush the air,\n        Lingering and deepening at the hour of dews.\n    Then softest gales are breathed, and softest heard\n    The plaining voice of streams, and pensive note of bird.\n              --William Cullen Bryant.\n\n  [Illustration: Sunset.\n    Leader (_modern_).\n      Copyright, 1894, by Photographische Gesellschaft.]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Dance of the Nymphs.\n    Kray (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE NYMPHS AND OTHER GODDESSES.\n\n\nThe Greeks, in their love for nature, believed that all her forms had\nlife and feeling. The mildness of their climate, their out-of-door\nlife, the apparent nearness of sea and sky, the beauty of mountain,\ntree, flower, and glistening rivulet, made nature dear to them. Their\nlove for the beautiful outside world was nourished, and caused them to\nlook upon all nature as friendly. Their vivid fancy peopled grove and\ndale with forms that returned human affection.\n\nThey liked to believe that every stream had a naiad sporting in its\nwaters, that dryads lived in the graceful trees, and that shrubs and\nflowers were the outward forms of spirits imprisoned there.\n\nOreads, or mountain nymphs, wandered over the mountains, and their\nlaughter echoed in the valleys. Nereids and oceanids--water\nnymphs--sported in the waves of the ocean, and, with the tritons,\nattended Neptune, god of the deep blue sea.\n\nThe sunflower concealed the sea nymph Clytie, and lovely Echo was\ntransformed into a voice. The laurel tree, with its glossy green\nleaves, was but the nymph Daphne, to whom, when fleeing from Apollo,\nher father, the river god, gave this form.\n\n  [Illustration: The Graces.\n    Germain Pilon (1515-1590).]\n\nThe sirens lived on an island of the sea. They sang so beautifully\nthat all the sailors who passed that way longed to see the singers,\nand, coming too near, were wrecked on the rocks which the water\nconcealed.\n\nThere were some nymphs and goddesses who were always mentioned\ntogether. The Graces were three maidens of charming appearance, who\nwaited upon Venus. No one was so beautiful that the Graces could not\nadd to her charm and loveliness, and they were ever welcome guests in\nevery home.\n\nSpenser says,--\n\n    \"These three on men all gracious gifts bestow\n    Which deck the body or adorn the mind,\n    To make them lovely or well-favored show;\n    As comely carriage, entertainment kind,\n    Sweet semblance, friendly offices that bind,\n    And all the complements of courtesy;\n    They teach us how to each degree and kind\n    We should ourselves demean, to low, to high,\n    To friends, to foes; which skill men call civility.\"\n\nThe Fates also numbered three. These severe goddesses could reveal the\nfuture to men and gods and no one could escape their decrees. Even\nJupiter must obey the Fates, daughters of stern necessity. The decrees\nof the gods and the Fates were generally revealed to men by\npriestesses called sibyls. These wise women lived in caves. Their\nprophecies, or oracles, as they were called, were believed in and\ngreatly respected by the Greeks and Romans, who often went to the\nsibyls for advice and assistance.\n\n  [Illustration: The Fates.\n    Paul Thumann (_modern_).]\n\nThe Furies were deities who searched out all wicked people and\npunished them for their crimes, pursuing them with whips and snakes.\nThe Furies were really friends to man, because they wished him to\nrepent of his guilty deeds, live a better and truer life, and do good\nand not evil in the world.\n\nThe nine Muses, those gracious daughters of Jupiter and Memory, sang\ntheir songs and joined in a graceful dance on Mount Parnassus. Apollo,\ngod of poesy and song, was their teacher, and from him they learned\nhow to inspire artists, poets, and musicians with thoughts of\nharmonies more beautiful than ordinary mortals know.\n\nThe Hours attended Apollo, as he drove his flaming chariot through the\nheavens.\n\n    \"The rosy Hours, with agile grace, attend\n    Apollo, when, as god of the sun, he makes\n    His joyful journey through the heavens.\"\n\nAnother group of four graceful beings Keats thus describes in his\npoem, \"Endymion,\"--\n\n                \"An ethereal band\n        Are visible above: The Seasons four,--\n    Green-kirtled Spring, flush Summer, golden store\n    In Autumn's sickle, Winter's frosty hoar.\"\n\n\n\n\nGIVE.\n\n\n    See the rivers flowing\n        Downwards to the sea,\n    Pouring all their treasures\n        Bountiful and free:\n    Yet to help their giving\n        Hidden springs arise;\n    Or, if need be, showers\n        Feed them from the skies!\n\n    Watch the princely flowers\n        Their rich fragrance spread,\n    Load the air with perfumes,\n        From their beauty shed:\n    Yet their lavish spending\n        Leaves them not in dearth,\n    With fresh life replenished\n        By their mother earth!\n\n    Give thy heart's best treasures,--\n        From fair Nature learn;\n    Give thy love, and ask not,\n        Wait not a return!\n    And the more thou spendest\n        From thy little store,\n    With a double bounty\n        God will give thee more.\n              --Adelaide Anne Procter.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Apollo in his Chariot.\n    Raphael (1483-1520).]\n\nAPOLLO AND THE MUSES.\n\n\nWhen Apollo's daily task is done, he removes the dazzling rays from\nhis head and places there the wreath of laurel which he much prefers.\nThen he goes to Parnassus, the beautiful mountain in Greece, where the\nMuses dwell. The Muses are nine maidens, the wonderful daughters of\nMemory, to each of whom Apollo has given some department of music or\npoetry. All musicians and poets are said to ask Apollo and the Muses\nfor aid and inspiration.\n\nTo Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, Homer and Vergil prayed when\nthey sang of war and heroes.\n\nAstronomers appeal to Urania, who presides over the stars--their song\nmakes the music of the spheres; and those who write history must be\naided by Clio.\n\nTo Thalia and Melpomene are given the realms of comic and tragic\npoetry.\n\nErato, who presides over the poems of love, generally accompanies the\nyoungest and gayest of the Muses, Terpsichore. The chief pleasure and\ndelight of Terpsichore is in the graceful movements of the dance. When\nEuterpe, the muse of lyric poetry, strikes her golden lyre, these\nthree, with their music, song, and dance, create exquisite beauty and\nharmony, and they are much beloved by their sister Muses and by\nmortals.\n\nThe wisest and most dignified of all the Muses is Polyhymnia, who\npresides over sacred music. She it is who inspires the hymns of praise\nto the Almighty Ruler of the world.\n\nApollo instructs these maidens in the arts of poetry and music, and\nthen they unite in a merry dance; for they are graceful beings and\nhave strong, beautiful bodies. The Greeks believed in the culture of\nthe body,--the temple of the soul,--and so Apollo, god of the sun, of\npoetry and music, was also their ideal of physical perfection.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DESCENT OF THE MUSES.\n\n\n    Nine sisters, beautiful in form and face,\n      Came from their convent on the shining heights\n      Of Pierus, the mountain of delights,\n      To dwell among the people at its base.\n    Then seemed the world to change. All time and space,\n      Splendor of cloudless days and starry nights,\n      And men and manners, and all sounds and sights,\n      Had a new meaning, a diviner grace.\n    Proud were these sisters, but were not too proud\n      To teach in schools of little country towns\n      Science and song, and all the arts that please;\n    So that while housewives span, and farmers plowed,\n      Their comely daughters, clad in homespun gowns\n      Learned the sweet songs of the Pierides.\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\n  [Illustration: Apollo and the Muses.\n    Giulio Romano (1492-1546).]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Cupid with his Bow.\n    V. Tojetti (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nAPOLLO AND DAPHNE.\n\n\nOne day Apollo found Cupid, the mischievous little god of love,\nplaying with his arrows, and he said,--\"Why are you playing with my\narrows? You are only a boy and should not use manly weapons!\" Cupid\ndid not like to be called a child, and took from his own quiver two\ntiny arrows, one tipped with lead, one with gold. The golden arrow he\nshot into the heart of Apollo; the leaden, into the heart of a young\nand graceful wood nymph, Daphne.\n\nWhen Apollo saw Daphne, the golden arrow in his heart made him love\nher, and he pursued her; but the heavy arrow of dull lead in her heart\nmade her dislike him, and she fled.\n\nSoon Daphne found that she could not run so fast as Apollo, and she\ncalled upon her father, the river god, to save her. He heard her cry\nand changed her into a beautiful laurel tree. When Apollo came up he\nsaw that her body was growing rough with the bark, her slender feet\nwere changing into the roots, and her long wavy hair was turning into\nthe shiny green leaves.\n\nThe sun god grieved at this change, but said: \"This tree shall be\nsacred to poets and musicians and artists. I shall wear a wreath of\nlaurel, and all who follow the arts shall be crowned with the laurel\nwreath.\"\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Daphne.\n    Rylands (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nFORGET-ME-NOT.\n\n\n    When to the flowers so beautiful\n      The Father gave a name,\n    Back came a little blue-eyed one,--\n      All timidly it came.\n\n    And standing at the Father's feet\n      And gazing on His face,\n    It said, in meek and timid voice,\n      Yet with a gentle grace:\n\n    \"Dear Lord, the name Thou gavest me,\n      Alas, I have forgot.\"\n    The Father kindly looked on her\n      And said, \"Forget-me-not.\"\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Forget-me-not.\n    G. Schr\u0153dter (_modern_).\n      Copyright, 1894, by Photographische Gesellschaft.]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Clytie.\n    _British Museum._]\n\nCLYTIE.\n\n\nClytie was a beautiful sea nymph who lived in a wonderful palace under\nthe sea. Her dress was of pale green sea moss, and she wore ornaments\nof delicate pink coral in her sunny curls. Her carriage was an\nexquisite shell of many brilliant hues, which glittered in the\nsunlight, and gold fish were her strange and beautiful horses.\n\nOne day, when she was driving over the surface of the sea, she saw the\nglorious god Apollo in his golden chariot. Day after day she watched\nhim journey through the deep blue sky, and hoped he would see her.\nAlas! he never noticed the lonely sea maid, so far below.\n\nAt last she left her chariot, and all day long watched him from the\nshore. When the sun had gone and she started to return to her home\nunder the waves, she could not move. Her feet had become fastened to\nthe soil and her form began to change into the sunflower. Her green\ndress became the stalk and leaves, and her golden hair changed into\nthe yellow petals.\n\nBut the flower still loves the sun. In the morning it looks toward the\neast and rejoices when the sun appears above the horizon, following\nhis course and slowly turning its face toward the west.\n\nSo this flower is the emblem of constancy. Poets often speak of the\ngreat love and faithfulness of Clytie, and artists paint her picture\nor sculpture her form.\n\nIn the art galleries may be found a lovely bust of a young girl. The\nsculptor is unknown, but the bust is supposed to be one of Clytie, for\nthe shoulders seem to rise from the leaves of the sunflower.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Daisies.\n    A. Cabanel (1823-1889).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE DAISY.\n\n\n    There is a flower, a little flower,\n      With silver crest and golden eye,\n    That welcomes every changing hour,\n      And weathers every sky.\n\n    The prouder beauties of the field\n      In gay but quick succession shine;\n    Race after race their honors yield,\n      They flourish and decline.\n\n    But this small flower, to Nature dear,\n      While moons and stars their courses run,\n    Enwreathes the circle of the year,\n      Companion of the sun.\n\n    It smiles upon the lap of May,\n      To sultry August spreads its charm,\n    Lights pale October on his way,\n      And twines December's arm.\n\n    The purple heath and golden broom\n      On moory mountains catch the gale;\n    O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume,\n      The violet in the vale.\n\n    But this bold floweret climbs the hill,\n      Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,\n    Plays on the margin of the rill,\n      Peeps round the fox's den.\n\n    Within the garden's cultured round\n      It shares the sweet carnation's bed;\n    And blooms on consecrated ground\n      In honor of the dead.\n\n    The lambkin crops its crimson gem;\n      The wild bee murmurs on its breast;\n    The blue fly bends its pensile stem\n      Light o'er the skylark's nest.\n\n    'Tis Flora's page; in every place,\n      In every season, fresh and fair,\n    It opens with perennial grace,\n      And blossoms everywhere.\n\n    On waste and woodland, rock and plain,\n      Its humble buds unheeded rise:\n    The rose has but a summer reign;\n      The daisy never dies!\n              --James Montgomery.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Niobe and Child.\n    _Uffizi Gallery, Florence._]\n\n\n\n\nNIOBE.\n\n\nApollo and Diana are both hunters and carry bows and arrows. One day\nNiobe, queen of Thebes, boasted that she had more children than\nLatona, the mother of Apollo and Diana, and that her children were\nmore beautiful.\n\nLatona called upon her children to punish Niobe for her pride, and\nthey shot their arrows at the children of the boasting Niobe. Soon all\nwere slain, although their mother, in her grief, tried to protect\nthose she loved so well. Apollo killed the seven handsome sons, and\nDiana aimed her arrows at the seven lovely daughters.\n\nNiobe grieved so over the loss of her dear children that she turned\ninto stone, but her tears still continued to flow.\n\nThere is a room in a famous gallery in Florence, Italy, called the\nNiobe room, because here are placed the famous statues of Niobe and\nher fourteen children, trying, in vain, to escape the fatal arrows of\nthe divine archers.\n\nSome people believe that this story means that the rays of the sun and\nmoon are harmful. But others say that it only shows that Apollo, the\nsun, battles with Niobe and her children, who are the powers of\nwinter. When his rays have overcome them, Niobe dissolves in tears,\nand the cold snows melt and disappear.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Diana as Huntress.\n    Hamo Thornycroft (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nAPOLLO.\n\n\n                      Lord of the unerring bow,\n    The God of life and poesy and light--\n    The sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow\n    All radiant from his triumph in the fight.\n    The shaft has just been shot--the arrow bright\n    With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye\n    And nostril, beautiful disdain and might\n    And majesty flash their full lightnings by,\n    Developing in that one glance the Deity.\n              --George Gordon Byron.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Apollo Belvedere.\n    _Vatican, Rome._]\n\n\n\n\nJUPITER.\n\n\nJupiter, or Jove, as he is sometimes called, king of the gods, lives\nin high Olympus, a mountain in Greece. All the gods obey him, except\nthe Fates, who are more powerful than the gods.\n\nJupiter, Juno, Apollo, Diana, Mars, Minerva, Pluto, Ceres, Mercury,\nVenus, Neptune, and Vesta are the twelve gods whose home is on Mount\nOlympus. Vulcan prefers his home in Mount Etna, and is generally busy\nat work there. Pluto, also, is seldom away from his underground home.\n\nIn the palace of Jupiter, all the questions in which the gods are\ninterested are discussed and settled. Ceres came hither to ask Jupiter\nto restore her dear Persephone. Cupid brought Psyche to Olympus after\ntheir many trials on earth. Minerva and Neptune had their celebrated\ncontest for the honor of naming Athens, in the presence of these gods.\n\nJuno, the wife of Jupiter, sits at his left. She wears a crown, and\nholds the royal scepter; for she is queen of gods and men. Peacocks\nwith many-colored feathers draw her chariot, and Iris, with her\nrainbow wings, is Juno's messenger.\n\nJupiter holds the terrible thunderbolts in his powerful right hand,\nand on his left hand stands the goddess Victory. The eagle, king of\nbirds, is sacred to Jove.\n\nHe has dominion over the sky, the earth, and the sea. As the clouds\nare continually changing their shape, now piling up like great white\nmountains, now looking like birds or fishes, Jupiter is said to change\nhis form to an eagle, a swan, a cloud, or a shower of gold. He\nsometimes visits earth in mortal form, to see if men are just and\nkind. When he finds them cruel or wicked, he punishes them; but he\nrejoices to find those who are generous, just, and helpful.\n\n  [Illustration: Jove in his Chariot.\n    Raphael.]\n\n\n\n\nABOU BEN ADHEM.\n\n\n    Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)\n    Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,\n    And saw within the moonlight in his room,\n    Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,\n    An angel writing in a book of gold:\n    Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,\n    And to the presence in the room he said,\n    \"What writest thou?\" The vision raised its head,\n    And, with a look made of all sweet accord,\n    Answered, \"The names of those who love the Lord.\"\n    \"And is mine one?\" said Abou. \"Nay, not so,\"\n    Replied the angel.--Abou spoke more low,\n    But cheerly still, and said, \"I pray thee, then,\n    Write me as one that loves his fellowmen.\"\n\n    The angel wrote and vanished. The next night\n    It came again, with a great wakening light,\n    And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,--\n    And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest!\n              --Leigh Hunt.\n\n\n\n\nNEPTUNE.\n\n\nJupiter gave to Neptune, his brother, dominion over the sea. He rides\nover the placid waves in his chariot, made of shells of many colors,\ngleaming in the sunlight. If he wishes a storm, he strikes upon the\nwaves with his trident, and calls the winds, and the huge billows\nthreaten the clouds. Tritons with wreathed horns follow his chariot,\nand naiads as graceful as the waves sport in the opaline waters.\n\nThe palaces of the water gods and nymphs are more wonderful than those\non earth. Shells, glistening sand, corals, and sea mosses lend beauty\nof color and form. The music of the waves lulls these beings to sleep.\nThey ride upon a dolphin's back, or are borne onward by the\nwaves,--free, happy, frolicking water sprites, dashing the spray and\ndiving in graceful play through the deep waves of the sea.\n\nNeptune is strong and calm. He is represented in art as bearing the\ntrident, and surrounded by his attendants and the inhabitants of the\nsea. There is a celebrated fountain in Rome adorned with a fine statue\nof Neptune. It is said that a visitor who throws a coin into its\nwaters will return to that famous city.\n\nSailors used to take offerings to the temples of Neptune, so that he\nwould give them prosperous voyages.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Neptune.\n    Adam (_Louvre, Paris_).]\n\n\n\n\nNEPTUNE.\n\n\n                      King of the stormy sea!\n    Brother of Jove, and coinheritor\n    Of elements! Eternally before\n    Thee the waves awful bow. Fast, stubborn rock,\n    At thy feared trident shrinking, doth unlock\n    Its deep foundations, hissing into foam.\n    All mountain rivers lost, in the wide home\n    Of thy capacious bosom ever flow.\n    Thou frownest, and old \u00c6olus, thy foe,\n    Skulks to his cavern, 'mid the gruff complaint\n    Of all his rebel tempests. Dark clouds faint\n    When, from thy diadem, a silver gleam\n    Slants over blue dominion. Thy bright team\n    Gulfs in the morning light, and scuds along\n    To bring thee nearer to that golden song\n    Apollo singeth, while his chariot\n    Waits at the doors of heaven. Thou art not\n    For scenes like this: an empire stern hast thou\n    And it hath furrowed that large front: yet now,\n    As newly come of heaven, dost thou sit\n    To blend and interknit\n    Subdu\u00e9d majesty with this glad time.\n    O shell-born king sublime!\n    We lay our hearts before thee evermore--\n    We sing, and we adore!\n              --John Keats.\n\n\n\n\nVULCAN.\n\n\nVulcan, the son of Jupiter and Juno, is the blacksmith of the gods.\nHis forges are in the caverns of volcanic mountains, where the fires\nare bright and ready to heat the gold, silver, and iron, of which he\nhas made many wonderful things.\n\nVulcan built the magnificent palaces of the gods on Mount Olympus,\nJuno's golden throne, and the chariot of Apollo. The delicate girdle\nof Venus, the wife of Vulcan, was also made in his workshop. This was\na magic girdle; for whoever wore it inspired love in all she met, and\nsometimes the goddesses would beg Venus to lend it to them.\n\nThe armor of Mars, god of war, and the shield of Minerva, goddess of\nwisdom, were the work of Vulcan. Sometimes he even manufactured armor\nfor mortals, and Homer tells us of the marvelous shield he wrought for\nAchilles, the bravest of the Greeks. The most powerful weapons that\nVulcan made at his forges were the dread thunderbolts of Jove and the\narrows of mischievous Cupid, the winged god of love.\n\nVulcan is represented as rather short and thickset, lame in one foot,\nwith a cap on his curly head, and a hammer in his hand. His workmen\nare the Cyclops, powerful giants, who excel in all work in metals.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Blossoms.\n    Gamba le Preydour (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nWORK.\n\n\n      Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been?\n    \"I've been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky;\n    I've been grinding a grist in the mill hard by;\n    I've been laughing at work while others sigh;\n            Let those laugh who win!\"\n\n      Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing?\n    \"I'm urging the corn to fill out its cells;\n    I'm helping the lily to fashion its bells;\n    I'm swelling the torrent and brimming the wells:\n            Is that worth pursuing?\"\n\n      Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done?\n    \"I've been watching the nest where my fledgelings lie;\n    I've sung them to sleep with a lullaby;\n    By and by I shall teach them to fly,\n            Up and away, every one!\"\n\n      Honeybee, honeybee, where are you going?\n    \"To fill my basket with precious pelf;\n    To toil for my neighbor as well as myself;\n    To find out the sweetest flower that grows,\n    Be it a thistle or be it a rose--\n            A secret worth the knowing!\"\n\n      Wind and rain fulfilling His word!\n    Tell me, was ever a legend heard\n    Where the wind, commanded to blow, deferred;\n    Or the rain, that was bidden to fall, demurred?\n              --Mary N. Prescott.\n\n\n\n\nVENUS.\n\n\nVenus is the goddess of beauty, born of the ocean spray. When the\ntritons and nymphs who live in the sea beheld her, they loved her for\nher beauty, and the waves and gentle breezes bore her to Olympus.\n\nVenus is attended by three maidens called the Graces, who give to the\nbeauty of the goddess a charm which makes her lovely to all.\n\nWhen she came to Olympus, all the gods loved her, but she proudly\nrejected the eager suitors. When Jupiter, the king of the gods, fared\nno better than the rest, he declared that she should be punished for\nher pride and must marry Vulcan, the lame blacksmith god who lived in\nthe volcano, Mount Etna. Vulcan was delighted with her grace and\nbeauty, and made for her a magic girdle, and the wonderful arrows of\nCupid.\n\nJoy and mirth always attend the goddess of beauty. Cupid, her son, the\nroguish god of love, is her constant companion, and he sends his\narrows wherever she directs. Venus drives in a chariot drawn by\ngraceful swans. Cooing doves are her favorite birds, and roses and\nmyrtle are sacred to her.\n\n  [Illustration: Venus de Milo.\n    _Louvre, Paris._]\n\nAt the wedding of Thetis, a water nymph, all the gods and goddesses\nexcept Eris were seated at the banquet. Eris is the goddess of\ndiscord, and she had not been invited, as she always causes people to\nquarrel and so is loved by no one. She was angry at this slight, and,\ncoming to the door of the banquet hall, she threw a golden apple upon\nthe table.\n\nOn the apple was written, \"To the fairest.\" Eris knew that this would\nbe an apple of discord, because all the nymphs and goddesses were\nfair, and each would claim to be fairer than the others.\n\nAfter much discussion, the guests agreed that Juno, Minerva, and Venus\nwere fairer than all the others. These three at last decided to go to\nParis and let him judge between them. Paris was a shepherd of Mount\nIda, in Troy, and before him the lovely trio appeared in all their\nwonderful beauty. He held the apple long in his hand, for all were so\nfair that it was very difficult to decide. At last he gave the apple\nto Venus, and thus decided that she was fairest of all the goddesses.\n\nThis decision is called the \"Judgment of Paris.\"\n\nArtists have often tried to paint their ideals of Venus. The most\nbeautiful statues in the world, ideals of womanly beauty, are those of\nthis goddess. They are in the galleries of the Old World. The one said\nto be the most lovely is the Venus de Milo, in the gallery of the\nLouvre, Paris.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: A Star.]\n\n\n\n\nHER FACE.\n\n\n    Such a starved bank of moss\n        Till, that May morn,\n    Blue ran the flash across:\n        Violets were born!\n\n    Sky--what a scowl of cloud\n        Till, near and far,\n    Ray on ray split the shroud:\n        Splendid, a star!\n\n    World--how it walled about\n        Life with disgrace,\n    Till God's own smile came out:\n        That was thy face!\n              --Robert Browning.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Psyche.\n    Kray (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nCUPID AND PSYCHE.\n\n\nThere once lived a maid, called Psyche, who was so very beautiful that\nthe people who knew her thought her more lovely than Venus. So they\nworshiped her, and refused to place garlands and offerings upon the\nshrines of the goddess.\n\nDesiring to punish the people for their impiety, Venus sent Cupid to\ndestroy the innocent Psyche. Although Cupid had used his weapons upon\nothers, he himself had never loved. But when he saw Psyche, he started\nin surprise at her wonderful youthful beauty, and one of his own\narrows pricked his heart. So he loved her, and, instead of obeying his\nmother's command, he carried her away to his home on a distant\nmountain.\n\nHere she lived in a palace of gleaming marble, surrounded by gardens\nwherein were fragrant flowers and sparkling fountains. But one thing\ntroubled her. Cupid had told her that he could visit her only during\nthe night, and so she had never seen his face.\n\nOne night Psyche yielded to her curiosity, and held a lamp over him\nwhile he slept. Dear Love was so beautiful as he lay there asleep,\nthat she tipped the lamp in her surprise, and a drop of oil fell upon\nhis rounded arm. Then he awoke and blamed Psyche for her curiosity and\nlack of confidence, and, spreading his wings, flew far away to his\nhome with the gods. Poor Psyche wept bitterly, but Cupid did not\nreturn.\n\nPsyche means the soul, and this story teaches that love comes unsought\nand unseen to the soul which is faithful and worthy; but if doubt and\ncuriosity possess the soul, love departs.\n\nThe Greeks chose the butterfly as the best emblem of the soul of man,\nbecause it emerges from the chrysalis state into which the caterpillar\nentered more beautiful than before. Psyche, the soul, is thus shown in\nthe works of art with the wings of a butterfly, or holding one of the\nexquisite creatures in her hand.\n\n\n\n\nLOVE.\n\n\n    The night has a thousand eyes,\n        And the day but one;\n    Yet the light of the bright world dies\n        With the dying sun.\n\n    The mind has a thousand eyes,\n        And the heart but one;\n    Yet the light of a whole life dies\n        When love is done.\n              --Francis Bourdillon.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Psyche and Charon.\n    E. Neide (_modern_).]\n\nPSYCHE AND VENUS.\n\n\nPoor Psyche wandered far. At last she found Venus, whom she begged to\nhave pity and restore Cupid to her. Venus gave her many tasks to\nperform. Although Psyche was often very tired, she knew she deserved\nto work and suffer, because of her lack of faith in Cupid. Finally,\nVenus sent her down to Hades, where King Pluto and Queen Persephone\nreign, to bring back a box of beauty ointment.\n\nThe way was long and rough and dark. But Psyche persevered, and\nfinally reached the river Styx. She called to the grim boatman,\nCharon, to row her across. He obeyed, and rowed her over the black\nriver in his dingy boat, and Persephone gave her the box. Psyche was\nfrightened by the terrible cries and the wretched dark faces of the\nsouls in Hades. But she thought only of Love. Then all the monsters\nceased to annoy her, and she came safely to earth again.\n\nAlas, when her work was so bravely done, why did she yield to\ntemptation? She thought Love would think more of her if she were\nfairer, and she opened the box to take just a little of the precious\nbeauty ointment. There was nothing in the box but a bad dream, which\nimmediately seized her, and she fell down in sleep.\n\nCupid loved and was sorry for Psyche, and he feared that some\nmisfortune had befallen her; so he spread his wings and flew in search\nof the soul he loved. He soon found her asleep by the roadside. He\nawoke her, and together they went to Olympus, where Venus forgave\nthem, and permitted them to be married.\n\nNow Love and the Soul belong together, and although the way is dark\nand lonely and difficult, you must believe that\n\n    \"Love leads the soul to its perfection.\"\n\n\n\n\nLONGING.\n\n\n    Of all the myriad moods of mind\n        That through the soul come thronging\n    Which one was e'er so dear, so kind,\n        So beautiful as Longing?\n    The thing we long for, that we are\n        For one transcendent moment,\n    Before the Present poor and bare\n        Can make its sneering comment.\n\n    Still, through our paltry stir and strife,\n        Glows down the wished Ideal,\n    And Longing molds in clay what Life\n        Carves in the marble Real:\n    To let the new life in, we know,\n        Desire must ope the portal;\n    Perhaps the longing to be so\n        Helps make the soul immortal.\n\n    Ah! let us hope that to our praise\n        Good God not only reckons\n    The moments when we tread His ways,\n        But when the spirit beckons,\n    That some slight good is also wrought\n        Beyond self-satisfaction,\n    When we are simply good in thought,\n        Howe'er we fail in action.\n              --James Russell Lowell.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Cupid and Psyche.\n    W. A. Bouguereau (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nST. VALENTINE'S DAY.\n\n\nIn the old Roman days, the people, in the month of February, had a\ngreat feast, when they purified their homes and made sacrifices to the\ngods. After this, the young people had games, and one of them was like\nthat of our valentine box. In this box were placed the names of\nmaidens. The young men drew out the names, and each must be a true and\nloyal knight, for the following year, to the young woman whose name he\ndrew.\n\nThe name \"valentine\" comes from a kind Christian monk, who was the\nfriend of youth. We send valentines to those we love, and you know\nthere are emblems of love and fidelity upon these pretty gifts. Here\nare the cooing doves, the graceful swan, the rose, and the myrtle--all\nsacred to Venus, goddess of love and beauty. Cupid, her mischievous\nson, has his bow and quiver filled with arrows with which to pierce\nthe hearts of the young. Here is the butterfly, the emblem of Psyche,\nthe Soul, whom Love chose to be his wife.\n\nFrom the story of Cupid and Psyche we learn how love ennobles the\nsoul, purifying it of doubt, and raising it to perfect faith. For this\nreason, we may well celebrate the day of kind St. Valentine, by\nsending words of love and gifts of affection to our friends, in the\nform of dainty valentines.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT MARCH DOES.\n\n\n    In the dark silence of her chamber low\n    March works sweeter things than mortals know.\n    Her noiseless looms ply on with busy care,\n    Weaving the fine cloth that the flowers wear;\n    She sews the seams in violet's queer hood,\n    And paints the sweet arbutus of the wood.\n    Out of a bit of sky's delicious blue\n    She fashions hyacinths, and harebells too;\n    And from a sunbeam makes a cowslip fair,\n    Or spins a gown for a daffodil to wear.\n    She pulls the cover from the crocus beds\n    And bids the sleepers lift their drowsy heads.\n    \"Come, early risers; come, anemone,\n    My pale windflower, awake, awake,\" calls she.\n    \"The world expects you, and your lovers wait\n    To give you welcome at Spring's open gate.\"\n    She marshals the close armies of the grass,\n    And polishes their green blades as they pass\n    And all the blossoms of the fruit trees sweet\n    Are piled in rosy shells about her feet.\n    Within her great alembic she distills\n    The dainty odor which each flower fills.\n    Nor does she ever give to mignonette\n    The perfume that belongs to violet.\n    Nature does well whatever task she tries\n    Because _obedient_,--there the secret lies.\n              --May Riley Smith.\n\n\n\n\nPHA\u00cbTHON.\n\n\nPha\u00ebthon was the son of Apollo. One day he approached the palace of\nhis father and begged a favor. Apollo was pleased with his youthful\ngrace and beauty, and promised to grant his desire. Pha\u00ebthon then\nboldly asked the great god of the sun for permission to drive his\nhorses for a single day.\n\nThen did Apollo regret his hasty promise, and beg Pha\u00ebthon to ask\nanything but that--because it is so dangerous to drive those fiery\nsteeds.\n\n\"You know not what you ask, my son, I am the only one who can drive\nthe chariot of the sun safely through the heavens. Even Jupiter\nhimself would not attempt so dangerous a task.\"\n\nBut Pha\u00ebthon was bold and proud, and finally Apollo yielded. The\nhorses were harnessed, the gates unbarred, Pha\u00ebthon seized the reins,\nand away they flew! The horses knew that a weak hand held them, but\nthey were going uphill and kept well in the course. So Pha\u00ebthon grew\ncareless, and when the zenith was reached the horses paid no heed to\nhis guidance.\n\nExulting in their freedom from Apollo's masterful hand, they galloped\nfar from the path, now on this side, now on that.\n\n  [Illustration: Pha\u00ebthon driving Apollo's Chariot.\n    Max F. Klepper (_modern_).]\n\nSometimes they came so near the earth that the leaves and grass\nwithered, the crops were all destroyed, and the streams disappeared.\nThen they turned so far away that snow fell, and the people shivered\nand suffered from the cold.\n\nAll the people on earth were afraid, and even the gods on high Olympus\nwondered what was amiss with Apollo, that his horses were so unruly.\n\nFinally Jupiter looked over the heavens, and, seeing the reckless\nPha\u00ebthon, hurled a thunderbolt at him, and he fell headlong into the\nriver Po.\n\nHither every day came his sisters, the Heliades, wringing their hands\nand weeping for their beloved brother. At length the gods changed them\ninto poplar trees, and their tears into amber.\n\nPha\u00ebthon's dearest friend, Cygnus, was continually plunging into the\nriver, hoping to find the body of the rash youth, and he was changed\ninto a swan. This bird now sails mournfully upon the waters,\nfrequently dipping his head below the surface, as if still searching\nfor his friend Pha\u00ebthon.\n\n\n\n\nWINGS.\n\n\n    Wings that flutter in sunny air;\n    Wings that dive and dip and dare;\n    Wings of the humming bird flashing by;\n    Wings of the lark in the purple sky;\n    Wings of the eagle aloft, aloof;\n    Wings of the pigeon upon the roof;\n    Wings of the storm bird swift and free,\n    With wild winds sweeping across the sea:\n        Often and often a voice in me sings,--\n        O, for the freedom, the freedom of wings!\n\n    O, to winnow the air with wings;\n    O, to float far above hurtful things--\n    Things that weary and wear and fret;\n    Deep in the azure to fly and forget;\n    To touch in a moment the mountain's crest,\n    Or haste to the valley for home and rest;\n    To rock with the pine tree as wild birds may;\n    To follow the sailor a summer's day:\n        Over and over a voice in me sings,--\n        O, for the freedom, the freedom of wings!\n\n    Softly responsive a voice in me sings,--\n    Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings;\n    Soon as the glass a second can count,\n    Into the heavens thy heart may mount;\n    Hope may fly to the topmost peak;\n    Love its nest in the vale may seek;\n    Outspeeding the sailor, Faith's pinions may\n    Touch the ends of the earth in a summer's day.\n        Softly responsive a voice in me sings,--\n        Thou hast the freedom, the freedom of wings.\n              --Mary F. Butts.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Winged Mercury.\n    _National Museum, Florence._]\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Mercury in his Chariot.\n    Raphael (_Rome_).]\n\nMERCURY.\n\n\nMercury, or Hermes, is a very interesting god. He is the messenger of\nJupiter, and has wings on his cap and sandals. He flies swifter than\nthe wind and wears a cloak which makes him invisible. As the wind\ncarries things away, Mercury is sometimes called the captain of\nthieves, and he likes to play tricks.\n\nWhile walking along a river bank one day, he carelessly hit a tortoise\nshell, and it gave forth a musical sound. Mercury at once fashioned it\ninto a lyre. This musical instrument he gave to his brother Apollo,\nwho was so delighted with it that he gave Mercury a wonderful wand\ncalled the caduceus. When animals or people quarrel, this wand will\nmake them friends again. One day Mercury threw it upon the ground\nwhere two snakes were fighting, and at once they twined lovingly about\nit, and Mercury kept them there as an emblem of the power of the wand.\n\nThe caduceus represents the gift of language; for when men quarrel and\nare angry, if they use this wand and talk with each other, their\ndifferences will soon disappear and they will become friends.\n\nYou will recognize the statues of Mercury by his caduceus and by his\nwinged cap and sandals. He is sometimes represented as standing upon a\ntongue; for he gave to man the gift of speech, and is the god of\neloquence. Mercury is also the god of commerce; for if men could not\nspeak and converse with one another, there would be no commerce in the\nworld.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FINDING OF THE LYRE.\n\n\n    There lay upon the ocean's shore\n    What once a tortoise served to cover.\n    A year and more, with rush and roar,\n    The surf had rolled it over,\n    Had played with it and flung it by,\n    As wind and weather might decide it,\n    Then tossed it high where sand drifts dry\n    Cheap burial might provide it.\n\n    It rested there to bleach or tan,\n    The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it;\n    With many a ban the fisherman\n    Had stumbled o'er and spurned it;\n    And there the fisher girl would stay,\n    Conjecturing with her brother\n    How in their play the poor estray\n    Might serve some use or other.\n\n    So there it lay, through wet and dry,\n    As empty as the last new sonnet,\n    Till by and by came Mercury,\n    And, having mused upon it,\n    \"Why, here,\" cried he, \"the thing of things\n    In shape, material, and dimensions!\n    Give it but strings, and lo, it sings,\n    A wonderful invention!\"\n\n    So said, so done; the chords he strained,\n    And, as his fingers o'er them hovered,\n    The shell disdained a soul had gained,\n    The lyre had been discovered.\n    O empty world that round us lies,\n    Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken,\n    Brought we but eyes like Mercury's,\n    In thee what songs should waken!\n              --James Russell Lowell.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Storm King.\n    Le S\u00e9n\u00e9schal (_modern_).\n      Carbon by Braun, Clement & Co.]\n\n\u00c6OLUS.\n\n\nAll nature is musical. If you will listen, you can hear the leaves\nsinging sweet songs, and the reeds along the river banks join in with\ntheir voices. The brooks and the rivers sing and laugh; they are so\nhappy shining in the golden sun, or hiding in the cool shade.\n\nThe fairies have the flowers for their musical bells, and the grasses\nsing softly to the dear mother earth. But the sweetest songs are the\ncarols of the merry birds, and the songs of happy children.\n\nThe winds are often noisy, but sometimes they seem to sing a musical\nsong. Some instruments in the orchestra, the flute and the horn, are\ncalled wind instruments. There is a simple stringed instrument, called\nthe \u00e6olian harp. When the winds blow upon its sensitive, delicate\nstrings, musical sounds are heard, and we say that \u00c6olus, king of the\nwinds, is playing upon his harp.\n\nLong ago, the Lipari Islands, off the coast of Italy, were called the\n\u00c6olian Islands. Here in a rocky cave lived \u00c6olus and the winds, who\nwere the children of Aurora and \u00c6olus. All the winds were noisy and\nfond of strife except Zephyrus, the youngest. \u00c6olus kept them fastened\nin the rocky cave, generally letting out but one at a time. They were\nalways rushing to the iron doors, quarreling and fighting among\nthemselves, and begging \u00c6olus to let them out of the narrow cave.\n\nWhenever one of the gods wished a storm at sea, he would ask \u00c6olus to\nrelease his sons; they would rush out of the cave, sweeping over the\nseas in a whirlwind, raising the waves mountain high. Then the ships\nwere in great danger from wave and rock, as the winds rolled the\nbillows over the ships, or drove the vessels against the sharp cliffs.\n\nVergil, the great Latin poet, thus describes a storm raised by \u00c6olus,\nat the request of Juno,--\n\n    \"\u00c6olus thus in reply: 'It is yours, O queen, to determine\n    What you may wish to accomplish; to do your command is my\n        duty;\n    You have procured me my place, my scepter, and Jupiter's favor;\n    You, too, the privilege grant to recline with the gods at their\n        banquet;\n    Over the tempest and storm, it is you who have made me the ruler.'\n    Turning, he struck with his spear the side of the cavernous mountain,\n    And, as in martial array, wherever an egress is granted,\n    Eagerly pour forth the winds, and sweep o'er the earth in a\n        whirlwind;\n    Now on the sea have they fallen, and stirred to its deepest\n        foundations;\n    Eastward and southward together, and blasts of the gusty southwest\n        wind\n    Lash it all into a fury, and roll to the shore the vast billows.\n    Now come the cries of the men, and the shrieks of the wind through\n        the rigging;\n    Then on a sudden collecting, the clouds, from the sight of the\n        Trojans\n    Shut out the sky and the day, o'er the sea broods the darkness of\n        midnight;\n    Thunder resounds through the sky, the air seems ablaze with the\n        lightning;\n    Everything seems to portend immediate death to the heroes.\"\n\n\n\n\n\u00c6OLUS AND ULYSSES.\n\n\nThe famous Trojan war lasted ten years. After the Greeks had captured\nthe city, they were anxious to return to their homes in Greece. One of\nthe heroes, the wise Ulysses, had many strange adventures on his way\nhome from Troy. At last he and his men came in their ship to \u00c6olia,\nthe home of the winds, where they were welcomed and entertained by\n\u00c6olus.\n\n\u00c6olus was so pleased with his guests that, when the time came for\nUlysses to continue his journey, the god gave him a bag with all the\ndangerous winds shut up within it. Only one wind was not inclosed in\nthe bag--Zephyrus, the gentle south wind, which filled the sails and\nbore him on his journey.\n\nAfter eight days, Ulysses came in sight of Ithaca, the home he had so\nlong desired to see. He had not slept since leaving \u00c6olia. Now, within\nsight of his home, he believed that he and his ship were safe, and he\nyielded to his desire for rest. The sailors were very glad to see him\nsleep, for they wanted to know what Ulysses had in the bag he so\ncarefully guarded. They thought it was filled with gold and precious\nstones.\n\nAlas! when the avaricious sailors opened the bag, the winds rushed out\nin fury and drove them far from their homes. At last they were again\ncast upon the shores of the \u00c6olian Islands.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS.\n\n\n    This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,\n          Sails the unshadowed main,--\n          The venturous bark that flings\n    On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings\n    In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,\n          And coral reefs lie bare,\n    Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair.\n\n    Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl!\n          Wrecked is the ship of pearl!\n          And every chambered cell,\n    Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,\n    As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,\n          Before thee lies revealed,--\n    Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!\n\n    Year after year beheld the silent toil\n          That spread his lustrous coil;\n          Still, as the spiral grew,\n    He left the past year's dwelling for the new,\n    Stole with soft step its shining archway through,\n          Built up its idle door,\n    Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.\n\n    Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,\n          Child of the wandering sea,\n          Cast from her lap, forlorn!\n    From thy dead lips a clearer note is born\n    Than ever Triton blew from wreath\u00e9d horn!\n          While on mine ear it rings,\n    Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:--\n\n    Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,\n          As the swift seasons roll!\n          Leave thy low-vaulted past!\n    Let each new temple, nobler than the last,\n    Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,\n          Till thou at length art free,\n    Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!\n              --Oliver Wendell Holmes.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Tower of the Winds.\n    _Athens._]\n\n\n\n\nTHE WIND TOWER.\n\n\nIn Athens is a temple called the Tower of the Winds. There the people\ncame to offer sacrifices to the winds, and to hold games in their\nhonor. The Athenians felt that the winds had great power, and\ntherefore they built this beautiful tower. The tower has eight sides,\nand on each side is sculptured a representation of one of the winds.\n\nAll of the winds are shown with wings, and in a flying posture.\nBoreas, Aquilo, and Corus are the destructive winds, and are terrible\nin appearance. Boreas, the north wind, is the father of storms at sea,\nand carries a triton's horn. Aquilo, the northeast wind, is showering\nhailstones, and Corus, the dry and parching northwest wind, has in his\nhand a vessel of charcoal.\n\nThe east wind, which in Greece is a pleasant wind, is carrying fruit\nand flowers. The rainy southeast wind, Eurus, is forming rain clouds;\nwhile Notus, the south wind, who brings the sudden storms of rain, is\npouring rain from a jar. The southwest wind carries an ornament which\nwas always placed at the stern of every ancient ship, for it was an\nimportant wind to the sailors of Greece. Zephyrus, the welcome west\nwind, has a lap filled with spring flowers.\n\nThe gentle Zephyrus married Flora, goddess of the springtime. Together\nthey wander joyously over all lands, bringing happiness to the people.\nThe south wind wakes the flowers, and as Zephyrus and Flora pass,\nviolets, pansies, daffodils, and roses lift their pretty heads, and\nfill the land with beauty and fragrance.\n\n  [Illustration: Zephyrus and Flora.\n    Saintpierre (_modern_).\n      Carbon by Braun, Clement & Co.]\n\n\n\n\nMUDJEKEEWIS.\n\n\nThe Indians tell the story that once Mudjekeewis, a mighty hunter,\nkilled the great bear of the mountains. Mudjekeewis found the bear\nasleep, and after stealthily taking off the belt of wampum which the\nbear wore, he smote him in the middle of his forehead and stunned him.\nThey fought, and Mudjekeewis conquered.\n\nWhen he returned home, he told of his victory, and showed the magic\nbelt. The Indians praised him for his bravery, and said,--\"Mudjekeewis\nshall rule over the winds of heaven. He shall be king of the winds,\nand shall be called Kabeyun, the West-Wind.\"\n\nMudjekeewis has three sons--Wabun, Shawondasee, and Kabibonokka. To\nWabun, young and beautiful, he gave the east wind; to Shawondasee the\nsouth wind, and the north wind to the fierce Kabibonokka.\n\nLongfellow thus tells the story in \"Hiawatha,\"--\n\n    \"'Honor be to Mudjekeewis!'\n    With a shout proclaimed the people,\n    'Honor be to Mudjekeewis!\n    Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind,\n    And hereafter and forever\n    Shall he hold supreme dominion\n    Over all the winds of heaven.\n    Call him no more Mudjekeewis,\n    Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!'\n\n    \"Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen\n    Father of the Winds of Heaven.\n    For himself he kept the West-Wind,\n    Gave the others to his children;\n    Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind,\n    Gave the South to Shawondasee,\n    And the North-Wind, wild and cruel,\n    To the fierce Kabibonokka.\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\n\n\n\nWABUN.\n\n\nWabun was the son of Mudjekeewis. He was young and beautiful. When he\ncame from the east in the morning, his breath was fresh with the\nperfume of flowers, and he painted the sky with streaks of crimson and\ngold. He woke the deer and called the hunters, and chased the dark\nover hill and valley.\n\nBut Wabun was lonely in the sky, and, although the birds sang to him\nand the rivers and the forests shouted at his coming, he longed for a\nfriend to be with him always.\n\nOne day, when a fog lay on the river, he looked toward the earth and\nsaw a slender maiden walking all alone upon the meadow. She was\ngathering water flags and bulrushes, which grew along the margin of\nthe river. Her eyes were as blue as two blue lakes.\n\nWabun loved the graceful maiden, for she was alone on the earth as he\nwas alone in the heavens. So he drew her to his bosom, and changed her\ninto a beautiful star.\n\nThey are still found together in the eastern sky, Wabun and the\nWabun-Annung, the east wind and the morning star.\n\n    \"Young and beautiful was Wabun;\n    He it was who brought the morning,\n    He it was whose silver arrows\n    Chased the dark o'er hill and valley;\n    He it was whose cheeks were painted\n    With the brightest streaks of crimson,\n    And whose voice awoke the village,\n    Called the deer, and called the hunter.\n\n    \"Lonely in the sky was Wabun;\n    Though the birds sang gaily to him,\n    Though the wild flowers of the meadow\n    Filled the air with odors for him,\n    Though the forests and the rivers\n    Sang and shouted at his coming,\n    Still his heart was sad within him,\n    For he was alone in heaven.\n\n    \"But one morning, gazing earthward\n    While the village still was sleeping,\n    And the fog lay on the river,\n    Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise,\n    He beheld a maiden walking\n    All alone upon a meadow,\n    Gathering water flags and rushes\n    By a river in the meadow.\n\n    \"Every morning, gazing earthward,\n    Still the first thing he beheld there\n    Was her blue eyes looking at him,\n    Two blue lakes among the rushes.\n    And he loved the lonely maiden,\n    Who thus waited for his coming;\n    For they both were solitary,\n    She on earth, and he in heaven.\n\n    \"And he wooed her with caresses,\n    Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,\n    With his flattering words he wooed her,\n    With his sighing and his singing.\n    Gentlest whispers in the branches,\n    Softest music, sweetest odors,\n    Till he drew her to his bosom\n    Folded in his robes of crimson,\n    Till into a star he changed her,\n    Trembling still upon his bosom;\n    And forever in the heavens\n    They are seen together walking\n    Wabun and the Wabun-Annung,\n    Wabun and the Star of Morning.\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\n\n\n\nSHAWONDASEE.\n\n\nShawondasee, fat and lazy, rules the south wind. He lives in the warm\nand pleasant south land, the land of perpetual summer. He sends us the\nbeautiful Indian summer in November, the month of snowshoes, that we\nmay not forget him during the long, cold winter.\n\n    \"From his pipe the smoke ascending\n    Filled the sky with haze and vapor,\n    Filled the air with dreamy softness,\n    Gave a twinkle to the water,\n    Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,\n    Brought the tender Indian Summer\n    To the melancholy north-land,\n    In the dreary moon of Snow-shoes.\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\nOnce Shawondasee thought he saw a maiden with golden tresses standing\nfar away in the meadow. He loved her, but was too lazy to bestir\nhimself to woo her. After watching her for some time, and always\nloving her, alas! her golden hair changed to white floss and was blown\nabout the prairie.\n\nShawondasee was sad, and he thought that his brother Kabibonokka had\nturned her hair from gold to white. But it was no maiden he had seen.\nIt was only the prairie dandelion.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE DANDELION.\n\n\n    Gay little Dandelion\n      Lights up the meads,\n    Swings on her slender foot,\n      Telleth her beads;\n    Lists to the robin's note\n      Poured from above:\n    Wise little Dandelion\n      Asks not for love.\n\n    Cold lie the daisy banks\n      Clothed but in green,\n    Where in the days agone\n      Bright hues were seen.\n    Wild pinks are slumbering;\n      Violets delay:\n    True little Dandelion\n      Greeteth the May.\n\n    Brave little Dandelion;\n      Fast falls the snow,\n    Bending the daffodil's\n      Haughty head low.\n    Under that fleecy tent,\n      Careless of cold,\n    Blithe little Dandelion\n      Counteth her gold.\n\n    Meek little Dandelion\n      Groweth more fair,\n    Till dies the amber dew\n      Out from her hair.\n    High rides the thirsty sun,\n      Fiercely and high;\n    Faint little Dandelion\n      Closeth her eye.\n\n    Pale little Dandelion,\n      In her white shroud,\n    Heareth the angel breeze\n      Call from the cloud.\n    Tiny plumes fluttering\n      Make no delay;\n    Little winged Dandelion\n      Soareth away.\n              --Helen B. Bostwick.\n\n\n\n\nKABIBONOKKA.\n\n\nTo the fierce Kabibonokka, Mudjekeewis gave the cold and cruel north\nwind. He lives far away toward the north in the regions of ice and\nsnow. In the autumn and winter he comes out from his home, and travels\ntoward the south.\n\nHe stamps upon the rivers, and the waters freeze. Frost pictures\nappear upon the windowpanes, the birds fly southward, and no one\nremains in the kingdom of the north wind but the Diver. This brave\nDiver cares not for the cold or for the stormy north wind. He sits in\nhis wigwam, merry and warm; for he has four great logs for his fire,\nand each log will last a month. Kabibonokka enters the wigwam, but\ncannot stand the heat, and so taunts the Diver and dares him to a\ncombat in the open air. Long they fight; but at length the Diver\nconquers, and the cold and fierce Kabibonokka is driven back into his\nkingdom of the north.\n\nThe Diver is the glorious sun, who, with his warm golden beams, beats\nback the cold, and brings the pleasant summer with the birds and\nflowers.\n\n    \"But the fierce Kabibonokka\n    Had his dwelling among icebergs,\n    In the everlasting snowdrifts,\n    In the kingdom of Wabasso,\n    In the land of the White Rabbit.\n    He it was whose hand in Autumn\n    Painted all the trees with scarlet,\n    Stained the leaves with red and yellow;\n    He it was who sent the snowflakes,\n    Sifting, hissing, through the forest,\n    Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,\n    Drove the loon and sea gull southward,\n    Drove the cormorant and curlew\n    To their nests of sedge and sea tang\n    In the realms of Shawondasee.\"\n              --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT THE WINDS BRING.\n\n\n    Which is the wind that brings the cold?\n      The north wind, Freddy, and all the snow;\n    And the sheep will scamper into the fold\n      When the north begins to blow.\n\n    Which is the wind that brings the heat?\n      The south wind, Katy; and corn will grow,\n    And peaches redden for you to eat,\n      When the south begins to blow.\n\n    Which is the wind that brings the rain?\n      The east wind, Arty; and farmers know\n    That cows come shivering up the lane,\n      When the east begins to blow.\n\n    Which is the wind that brings the flowers?\n      The west wind, Bessy; and soft and low\n    The birdies sing in the summer hours,\n      When the west begins to blow.\n              --Edmund Clarence Stedman.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Iris.\n    Guy Head (_Rome_).]\n\n\n\n\nIRIS.\n\n\nThe Greeks lived much in the open air, and they loved to watch the\nfleecy clouds float lazily across the blue heavens, or at night to see\nthe bright, golden stars shine down upon them like friendly eyes. They\nbelieved that Juno was goddess of the heavens when they were calm and\npeaceful, as Jupiter was god of the storm cloud and of the\nthunderbolt.\n\nWhenever they saw the radiant rainbow, they said, \"There is the\nglowing Iris, the messenger of Juno, carrying some message from the\nsky to the earth.\" They thought that Iris had shining wings of various\ncolors, and that while she stayed upon earth, you could see her path\nin the heavens marked by the many-colored rainbow.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAINBOW.\n\n\n    My heart looks up when I behold\n        A rainbow in the sky.\n    So was it when my life began;\n    So is it now I am a man;\n    So be it when I shall grow old\n        Or let me die!\n    The child is father of the man;\n    And I could wish my days to be\n    Bound each to each by natural piety.\n              --William Wordsworth.\n\n\n\n\nRAINBOW STORIES.\n\n\nThe Indians had a lovely thought about the rainbow,--perhaps more\nbeautiful than the belief of the Greeks.\n\nYou know how sweet and beautiful the flowers are, how we love the\nroses, the lilies, the pansies, and the golden-rod, and how sorry we\nare to have them leave us when the cold winds blow.\n\nThe Indians also loved the flowers; and they fancied, when they saw\nsuch lovely colors in the rainbow which spans the heavens, that all\nthe wild flowers--the lilies, the buttercups, and windflowers, the\ndainty violets and the moss of the woods--were still living and\nblossoming in the heavens.\n\nOur poet Longfellow has told us about this myth in his \"Song of\nHiawatha.\" The little Hiawatha\n\n    \"Saw the rainbow in the heaven,\n    In the eastern sky, the rainbow,\n    Whispered, 'What is that, Nokomis?'\n    And the good Nokomis answered:\n    ''Tis the heaven of flowers you see there;\n    All the wild flowers of the forest,\n    All the lilies of the prairie,\n    When on earth they fade and perish,\n    Blossom in that heaven above us.'\"\n\nIn the Old Testament we are told that many, many years ago there was a\ngreat flood. It had rained for forty days and forty nights, when\nsuddenly the rain ceased, and a beautiful rainbow was seen by the\npeople on the earth. How glad they were to see it! For they knew it\nwas God's promise not to send another flood, and they were happy in\nthis thought.\n\n\"And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I\nmay remember the everlasting covenant.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAINBOW FAIRIES.\n\n\n    Two little clouds one summer's day\n      Went flying through the sky.\n    They went so fast they bumped their heads,\n      And both began to cry.\n    Old Father Sun looked out and said,\n      \"O, never mind, my dears,\n    I'll send my little fairy folk\n      To dry your falling tears.\"\n\n    One fairy came in violet,\n      And one in indigo,\n    In blue, green, yellow, orange, red,--\n      They made a pretty row.\n    They wiped the cloud tears all away,\n      And then, from out the sky,\n    Upon a line the sunbeams made\n      They hung their gowns to dry.\n              --Lizzie M. Hadley.\n\n\n\n\nNARCISSUS.\n\n\nNarcissus was a vain youth, and loved no one but himself. One day,\nwhile looking into a quiet stream, he thought he saw a lovely naiad in\nthe water gazing up at him.\n\nHe smiled upon her, and she also smiled. Day after day he came to the\nbank and begged the lovely naiad to come out of the water, and roam\nwith him through the flowery meadows of earth. Every day he believed\nshe would come; for she seemed to smile upon him and welcome him, even\nas he spoke and smiled upon her.\n\nSome days, when the waters were dark and ruffled by the wind, he could\nnot see her blue eyes and golden ringlets, and he thought she was\nvexed with him.\n\nHe never knew it was his own face he saw reflected in the water, and\nat last, after weary watching and waiting, he pined away and died.\nEcho and all the nymphs of the stream and of the grove mourned for\nhim. He was beautiful even in death, for the gods had changed him into\na flower. His pale face and golden hair were changed into the delicate\nnarcissus, which delights us with its graceful form and rare\nfragrance.\n\nThe narcissus grows upon the margin of streams, and, bending over the\nwaters, seems to admire its image mirrored there.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Brook.]\n\nTHE BROOK.\n\n\n    I come from haunts of coot and hern,\n      I make a sudden sally,\n    And sparkle out among the fern,\n      To bicker down a valley.\n\n    By thirty hills I hurry down,\n      Or slip between the ridges,\n    By twenty thorps, a little town,\n      And half a hundred bridges.\n\n    I chatter over stony ways,\n      In little sharps and trebles,\n    I bubble into eddying bays,\n      I babble on the pebbles.\n\n    I wind about, and in and out,\n      With here a blossom sailing,\n    And here and there a lusty trout,\n      And here and there a grayling.\n\n    And here and there a foamy flake\n      Upon me, as I travel\n    With many a silvery water break\n      Above the golden gravel,\n\n    And draw them all along, and flow\n      To join the brimming river;\n    For men may come and men may go,\n      But I go on forever.\n\n    I steal by lawns and grassy plots,\n      I slide by hazel covers;\n    I move the sweet forget-me-nots,\n      That grow for happy lovers.\n\n    I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,\n      Among my skimming swallows;\n    I make the netted sunbeam dance\n      Against my sandy shallows.\n\n    And out again I curve and flow\n      To join the brimming river;\n    For men may come and men may go,\n      But I go on forever.\n              --Alfred Tennyson.\n\n\n\n\nECHO AND NARCISSUS.\n\n\nDiana had many young and lovely nymphs, who attended her in her\nrambles over the wooded hills. Among these maids was Echo, a very\ngraceful and merry nymph of the mountain. Echo had one serious fault,\nhowever. She was too fond of talking, and was always anxious to say\nthe last word.\n\nOne day she angered Juno, with whom she was talking, and the goddess\npunished her severely. She said,--\"Echo, this shall be your punishment\nfor trying to deceive me. You may still have the last word as you are\nso fond of it, but never the first. You shall not have the power to\nbegin the conversation; you may only reply.\"\n\nSoon after this Echo met Narcissus, a handsome youth who was hunting\nupon the mountain. She admired his grace and skill in the hunt and\nwished very much to join in the chase. But she could not speak to him,\nand when he called to his companions she could only repeat the last\nwords. Narcissus did not care to please the nymph, and so refused to\nspeak with her or to allow her to join in the hunt.\n\n  [Illustration: Echo.\n    Copyright, 1893, by Photographische Gesellschaft.]\n\nAfter Narcissus left the mountain, Echo sought a lonely cave amid the\nrocks; and she grieved so over her punishment, that she pined away\nuntil nothing was left of the lovely nymph but her voice. Sometimes,\nin the lonely mountain paths, if you call, you will hear Echo\nrepeating your words softly from a distance. But you will never see\nher; she is nothing but a voice.\n\n\n\n\nBLUE.\n\n\n    Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,--the domain\n      Of Cynthia,--the wide palace of the sun,--\n    The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,--\n      The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.\n\n    Blue! 'Tis the life of waters--ocean\n      And all its vassal streams; pools numberless\n    May range, and foam, and fret, but never can\n      Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness.\n\n    Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest green,\n      Married to green in all the sweetest flowers--\n    Forget-me-not, the bluebell, and that queen\n      Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers\n    Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great\n    When in an eye thou art alive with fate!\n              --John Keats.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: The Parthenon.\n    _Athens._]\n\nMINERVA.\n\n\nThe wonderful goddess Minerva is said to have come full-grown from the\nbrain of her father, Jupiter, king of the gods. She is tall, and clad\nin full armor. Her name Minerva means \"mind.\" She is called the\ngoddess of wisdom, and she took the throne which the stupid goddess\nDullness had held before. Unlike Mars, Minerva does not love war, but\nshe is very brave when compelled to fight.\n\nA city in Greece was to be named, and Neptune and Minerva contended\nfor the honor. The gods decided that the one who produced the article\nmost valuable to man should name the city.\n\nNeptune struck the ground with his trident, and there sprang forth a\nhorse, strong and noble. All admired Neptune's gift, and did not\nbelieve that Minerva could surpass him.\n\nWhen Minerva produced the olive tree, they laughed, and all thought\nthat Neptune had won. But the goddess told them that the olive tree\ncould furnish wood for fire, for building houses, and for making many\nuseful articles; that food and oil could be obtained from it; and that\neven clothing could be made from its fiber.\n\nThe gods then said that, while men could live without horses, they\ncould not live without food, warmth, and shelter, and Minerva had the\nhonor of naming the city.\n\nMinerva was called Pallas Athene by the Greeks, and so the city in\nGreece was named Athens. In this city was erected a beautiful temple\nin her honor, called the Parthenon. Its ruins are still standing.\n\nIn this temple was a magnificent statue of Minerva, made by the great\nsculptor Phidias. It was of ivory and gold. The goddess wears a long\ncloak and a helmet, and carries a shield and spear. At her feet is\ncoiled a serpent, the emblem of wisdom. Minerva has clear blue eyes,\nis always calm and dignified, and helps all those who wish to excel in\nwisdom, or to obtain skill in the arts of peace.\n\n\n\n\nMINERVA AND ARACHNE.\n\n\nArachne was a young girl who was famous for her skill in embroidery\nand weaving. All the women of Greece knew that she excelled in this\nfeminine work, and they liked to see her with her loom or needle. Even\nthe nymphs, who love to sport about the fountains and in the groves,\nwould leave their play to watch her.\n\nIt was pleasant to see her deftly separate the wool, and card it until\nit was soft and fleecy as down. Then dexterously twirling the spindle,\nshe wove the web so quickly and easily that one watched her fingers\nwith delight. Under her skillful touch, the trees in her tapestry\nseemed to bend before the gentle breeze, and the flowers were so\nperfect that they were as beautiful as those growing in the gardens.\n\n\"Minerva, the goddess of weaving, must be her teacher,\" said all who\nsaw her wonderful work.\n\nBut this did not please Arachne, who was vain and proud. \"I am my own\nteacher,\" she said, with a saucy toss of her pretty head, \"and Minerva\nherself cannot compete with me.\"\n\nThis proud boast Minerva heard. The gods do not like such boasting,\nand Minerva determined to correct her or to punish her. She changed\nher form, and appeared before Arachne as a wise old woman.\n\n  [Illustration: Minerva.\n    _Vatican, Rome._]\n\n\"My child,\" she said, \"do not challenge a goddess. Your work is\nbeautiful and deserves praise, but Minerva's skill is that of a\ngoddess. You are a mortal, and you should ask forgiveness of Minerva\nfor your rash speech.\"\n\nArachne was angry at these wise words, and replied: \"I do not wish\nyour advice. I do not fear the goddess, and do not ask her\nforgiveness. If she is not afraid, let her come, and we will compare\nour work.\"\n\nLo! as she spoke, Minerva dropped her disguise, and stood revealed--a\ngoddess. All around were amazed, and trembled before the glorious\nMinerva, except the angry Arachne.\n\nHer friends tried to influence her to give up the contest, and to ask\nMinerva to forgive her irreverent words. But Arachne still thought she\ncould excel the goddess in weaving, and, as Minerva said no more, the\ncontest began.\n\nEach took her place. Wools of different dyes were given them. Both\nworked with speed, and the slender shuttle seemed to fly under their\nfingers.\n\nArachne showed Leda and the swan, and Europa and the bull, with such\nfidelity to nature that they seemed to move and breathe. But the\ngoddess showed her contest with Neptune. Twelve of the great gods were\nrepresented. Neptune with his trident had just produced the horse,\nthat animal so strong and so useful to man. Minerva stood with her\nhelmet and shield, showing her gift to man--the olive tree.\n\nAll the beholders saw that Minerva had surpassed Arachne, and felt\nthat the proud girl must be punished for her pride and impiety.\nMinerva, more in pity than in anger, touched Arachne's forehead and\nsaid, \"Live, guilty woman, and thus shall you preserve the memory of\nthis lesson to all future times.\"\n\nSpeaking thus, the goddess changed the hapless Arachne into a spider.\nIf you look at a spider's web, you will see that the descendants of\nArachne still show great patience and skill, and spin wonderful webs.\n\n\n\n\nMINERVA'S WEAVING.\n\n\n    She made the story of the old debate\n    Which she with Neptune did for Athens try:\n    Twelve gods do sit around in royal state,\n    And Jove in midst with awful majesty,\n    To judge the strife between them stirr\u00e9d late;\n    Each of the gods, by his like visnomy\n    Is to be known, but Jove above them all,\n    By his great looks and power imperial.\n\n    Before them stands the god of seas in place,\n    Claiming that seacoast city as his right;\n    And strikes the rocks with his three-fork\u00e9d mace;\n    Whenceforth issues a warlike steed in sight,\n    The sign by which he challengeth the place;\n    That all the gods, which saw his wondrous might,\n    Did surely deem the victory his due;\n    But seldom seen, forejudgment proveth true.\n\n    Then to herself she gives her \u00c6gide shield,\n    And steel-head spear, and morion on her head\n    Such as she oft is seen in warlike field:\n    Then sets she forth, how with her weapon dread\n    She smote the ground, the which straightforth did yield\n    A fruitful olive tree, with berries spread,\n    That all the gods admired: then, all the story\n    She compassed with a wreath of olives hoary.\n\n    Amongst these leaves she made a butterfly,\n    With excellent device and wondrous slight,\n    Flutt'ring among the olives wantonly,\n    That seemed to live, so like it was in sight:\n    The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie,\n    The silken down with which his back is dight,\n    His broad outstretch\u00e9d horns, his hairy thighs,\n    His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.\n              --Edmund Spenser.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Minerva, Prometheus, and Man.\n    A. B. Thorwaldsen.]\n\nPROMETHEUS.\n\n\nThe gods told the wise Prometheus to bestow gifts upon all the animals\nof the earth, according to their need. So to the deer he gave\nswiftness; to the lion, courage; to the horse, strength; to the eagle,\nstrong pinions; to the ox, patience; to the dog, keenness of scent;\nand to the nightingale, a melodious voice.\n\nAfter the animals had all received special gifts, the gods told\nPrometheus to make man to rule over them. Prometheus made man after\nthe image of the gods, but smaller and weaker, and Minerva gave to him\nmind and soul. Prometheus loved the man he had made, but as he had\nalready bestowed all the gifts he had upon the animals, for a long\ntime he could not think of a way in which to give man power over them.\nAt last he decided that he must obtain for man the gift of fire.\n\nBut how could he get this wonderful element? He knew that Jupiter\nwould never grant it; for fire belonged to Apollo, the god of the sun,\nand punishment would be inflicted upon any one who attempted to obtain\nit by stealth or by force. Yet his love for man prevailed over his\nfear and by night he approached the chariot wheels of the sun and\nstole some fire, bringing it to earth in a hollow tube. With this\npower, man conquers the cold, makes the minerals plastic, forces his\nway through mountains, and crosses deep seas.\n\nWhen Jupiter discovered that Prometheus had bestowed this great gift\non man, he punished him very severely; but Prometheus endured the\npunishment bravely, conscious that man would always profit by his\ndaring. Prometheus has always been called the friend of man, and many\npoets have written in his honor.\n\n\n\n\nHOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD.\n\n\n    Oh, to be in England\n    Now that April's there,\n    And whoever wakes in England\n    Sees, some morning, unaware,\n    That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf\n    Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,\n    While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough\n          In England--now!\n\n    And after April, when May follows,\n    And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!\n    Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge\n    Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover\n    Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge--\n    That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,\n    Lest you should think he never could recapture\n          That first fine careless rapture!\n\n    And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,\n    All will be gay when noontide wakes anew\n    The buttercups, the little children's dower\n    Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower!\n              --Robert Browning.\n\n\n\n\nADONIS.\n\n\nAdonis was a youth of wonderful beauty. Tall and lithe and graceful,\nhe seemed like a young god, although he was but a mortal. He was fond\nof hunting, and day after day found him roaming over the hills and\nthrough the forests with his bow and arrows. His step was light and\nbounding, and he seemed to belong to the life of the hills as much as\nthe trees and flowers.\n\nTired with the hunt, he would throw himself upon the leafy turf and\nlook up through the great branches of the trees to the azure skies.\n\nIt seemed to him that he could understand what the leaves were saying,\nas they rustled in the breeze. The clouds made him think of\nwhite-sailed boats floating on a blue sea, and he wished that he could\nsail with them to the home of the god of the golden sun. The grass\nseemed to whisper to him and tell him the secrets of the earth mother,\nand the streams leaping down the mountain sides seemed to laugh\njoyously and to call upon him to follow.\n\nAdonis did not care for city life; the woods held all of beauty for\nhim. And he was not at all surprised, one day, when he saw Venus\ncoming towards him, her beauty radiant in the sunlight. She seemed to\nhim to be at home in the woods he loved so well.\n\nVenus loved Adonis, and they went hunting together. Adonis was bold,\nand wished to chase the larger game; but Venus warned him against the\nfierce wild boars and the wolves. When Venus was with Adonis, he\nlistened to her advice. But in her absence, one day, he pursued a wild\nboar. His arrow struck the boar and angered him. Fiercely the animal\nsprang upon the youthful hunter, and thrust his tusks through his\nside, and Adonis sank in death.\n\nVenus grieved for his death. \"Alas!\" she cried, \"why did you hunt the\ncruel beasts which care not for youth or grace or beauty? Long shall I\nlament your untimely death, Adonis. From your blood a flower shall\nspring to keep your memory upon the earth, and people shall say, 'This\nis the flower of Adonis.'\" At that moment blossomed the tender\nanemone, the windflower, which every spring adorns the warm hillsides.\n\nThis myth has almost the same meaning as the myth of Ceres and\nPersephone. When the youthful Adonis, the springtime of the year, is\nhunting over the hills and valleys, Venus, the cherishing mother, is\nglad and happy in his presence, and all the earth is filled with\nflower and fruit.\n\nBut before the tusk of the wild boar, the cruel and frosty winter,\nAdonis is slain; and Venus grieves, as Ceres laments when Persephone\nis in the kingdom of Pluto.\n\n\n\n\nORIGIN OF THE OPAL.\n\n\n    A dewdrop came, with a spark of flame\n        He had caught from the sun's last ray,\n    To a violet's breast, where he lay at rest\n        Till the hours brought back the day.\n\n    The rose looked down, with a blush and frown;\n        But she smiled all at once, to view\n    Her own bright form, with its coloring warm,\n        Reflected back by the dew.\n\n    Then the stranger took a stolen look\n        At the sky, so soft and blue;\n    And a leaflet green with its silver sheen,\n        Was seen by the idler too.\n\n    A cold north wind, as he thus reclined,\n        Of a sudden raged around;\n    And a maiden fair, who was walking there,\n        Next morning, an opal found.\n\n\n\n\nTHE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES.\n\n\nFar away in the west was a beautiful land that belonged to King\nHesperus. This king had three lovely daughters who cared for the\nfruits and flowers of the gardens. In the gardens were many graceful\ntrees whose boughs bent under the weight of delicious fruit. Flowers\nred, yellow, and orange adorned the walks.\n\nWhen Juno, goddess of the sky, married Jupiter, her sister Ceres gave\nher a handsome present. Ceres is the earth goddess who cultivates the\nfruits, flowers, and grains, and the best gift she could bestow upon\nher sister was some golden apples.\n\nJuno prized these apples highly, and gave them to the Hesperides, the\ndaughters of Hesperus. They placed them upon the shadiest tree of the\ngarden, and watched and cared for them very carefully.\n\nOnce they were taken away by Hercules, the strong hero who performed\nmany wonderful labors, but they were afterwards restored to the\ncareful hands of the maidens.\n\nMany heroes heard of the beautiful land, Hesperia, and of the\nwonderful apples growing there, and sailed westward to find them. Some\npeople think that the golden apples were really the oranges of Spain,\na rich and famous country west of Greece.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Juno.\n    _National Museum, Naples._]\n\n\n\n\nCLEON AND I.\n\n\n    Cleon hath ten thousand acres,\n      Ne'er a one have I;\n    Cleon dwelleth in a palace.\n      In a cottage I;\n    Cleon hath a dozen fortunes,\n      Not a penny I:\n    Yet the poorer of the twain is\n      Cleon, and not I.\n\n    Cleon is a slave to grandeur,\n      Free as thought am I;\n    Cleon fees a score of doctors,\n      Need of none have I;\n    Wealth surrounded, care environed,\n      Cleon fears to die;\n    Death may come--he'll find me ready,\n      Happier man am I.\n\n    Cleon sees no charms in Nature,\n      In a daisy I;\n    Cleon hears no anthems ringing\n      'Twixt the sea and sky;\n    Nature sings to me forever,\n      Earnest listener I:\n    State for state, with all attendants--\n      Who would change? Not I.\n              --Charles Mackay.\n\n\n\n\nPANDORA.\n\n\nVulcan was always trying his skill, and he made many wonderful and\nbeautiful things. One day he invited the gods to see his latest\ncreation. Here stood a beautiful figure, resembling Venus in beauty.\nThe gods were delighted with his work, and decided each to bestow upon\nthe woman some excellent gift.\n\nMinerva gave skill in handicraft, Mercury gave wit in conversation,\nVenus the power to please, the Graces added charm to her beauty, and\nJupiter at last gave life and immortality. Because of these many\ngifts, she was named Pandora, a Greek word meaning \"all gifts.\"\n\nThe gods sent Pandora to Prometheus and Epimetheus, the brothers who\nloved mankind. Prometheus would not receive the lovely maiden, for he\nknew the gods did not love him and he feared their gifts. But\nEpimetheus welcomed her to his home.\n\nFor some time they lived happily, but trouble came to them because of\nPandora's curiosity. In the palace of Epimetheus was a quaintly carved\nbox. Pandora had wondered what was in it, for Epimetheus did not know.\n\n\"The winged messenger brought it,\" he told her, \"and said that it\ncontained a secret of the immortal gods. We must not open it, dear\nPandora, for mortals should not know the secrets of the immortals.\"\n\nBut Pandora was not to be satisfied. Day after day the longing grew\nupon her to open the box. She believed it contained beautiful garments\nor ornaments, and she said to herself: \"Why should the gods leave the\nbox here, if we must not open it? There are many places where they\ncould have hidden it.\" So she persuaded herself that she would not be\ndoing wrong to open the box, although a little voice seemed to warn\nher not to disobey.\n\nSlowly she approached the box. The figures upon it seemed to smile\nupon her. She thought she would open it just a little and peep in.\nPoor Pandora! The moment she lifted the cover, all the sorrow and\nsickness and sin which had been shut up in this wonderful box, flew\nout and winged their way all over the earth.\n\nPandora was overcome with remorse and let the cover fall. In the midst\nof her grief, she heard a sweet voice say, \"Pandora, dear Pandora, do\nnot grieve so; let me out to comfort you.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" replied Pandora; \"too many of your sisters and brothers\nhave I let out already.\"\n\nBut the voice persisted, and was so kind and gentle that at last\nPandora yielded, and Hope came forth to comfort and help man to endure\nall the evils of this life. In sickness or sorrow, hope points to\nhappier to-morrows, and when we have done wrong and repent, hope\nencourages us to do what we know is right.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: A Landscape.\n    J. B. C. Corot (1796-1878).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE GLADNESS OF NATURE.\n\n\n    Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,\n      When our mother nature laughs around;\n    When even the deep blue heavens look glad,\n      And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?\n\n    There are notes of joy from the hangbird and wren,\n      And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;\n    The ground squirrel gayly chirps by his den,\n      And the wilding bee hums merrily by.\n\n    The clouds are at play in the azure space\n      And their shadows at play on the bright green vale;\n    And here they stretch to the frolic chase,\n      And there they roll on the easy gale.\n\n    There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,\n      There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,\n    There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,\n      And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.\n\n    And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles,\n      On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,\n    On the leaping waters and gay young isles;\n      Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.\n              --William Cullen Bryant.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Hebe.\n    A. Canova (1757-1822).]\n\n\n\n\nHEBE AND GANYMEDE.\n\n\nAs you know, the home of the gods and goddesses was a mountain in\nGreece called Olympus. It is the loftiest mountain of that country,\nand its top is often encircled by clouds. Here were the marble palaces\nof the gods. On this mountain, they would meet in council to decide\nupon the fate of mortals, or they would come together for a merry\nfeast.\n\nFair Hebe, the goddess of youth, was their cupbearer. It was her duty\nto pour out the delicious nectar. She was so graceful and light-footed\nthat she seemed to float rather than to walk. The rosy light of youth\nand health shone from her bright eyes and glowing cheeks.\n\nBut, alas! one day she stumbled, and some of the nectar fell upon the\nmarble floor. The gods demand perfect service, and dislike\nawkwardness, so poor Hebe was in disgrace. Although she was the\ndaughter of Jupiter and Juno, she could no longer serve the gods, and\nJupiter sought another cupbearer.\n\nThis god can assume any shape he chooses, and as an eagle he flew over\nthe lands until he saw Ganymede, the son of a Trojan king. Jupiter was\nso pleased with him that he carried him to high Olympus for cupbearer\nin place of Hebe.\n\n\n\n\nMAY.\n\n\n    Merry, rollicking, frolicking May\n    Into the woods came skipping one day;\n    She teased the brook till he laughed outright,\n    And gurgled and scolded with all his might;\n    She chirped to the birds and bade them sing\n    A chorus of welcome to Lady Spring;\n    And the bees and butterflies she set\n    To waking the flowers that were sleeping yet.\n    She shook the trees till the buds looked out\n    To see what the trouble was all about,\n    And nothing in Nature escaped that day\n    The touch of the life-giving, bright, young May.\n              --Macdonald.\n\n\n\n\nVESTA.\n\n\nA beautiful little building in Rome is called the Temple of Vesta.\nHundreds of years have passed since the Romans built this shrine. Many\nbuildings and temples erected since have been destroyed, but this\nlittle temple still stands to show the thought and the artistic taste\nof the old Romans.\n\nVesta is the goddess of the hearth. Fire is the emblem of friendship\nand hospitality, and in the temple of Vesta the fire was kept burning\nnight and day. The Romans believed that if this fire went out, great\ntrouble would come upon the people. So maidens were chosen to guard\nthe fire and honor the goddess.\n\nLittle girls, six years old, were taken from the best families in\nRome, for it was considered a great honor to be chosen. For ten years\nthey were taught the duties of a vestal virgin. Then for ten years\nthey served the goddess at her altar fires, and after that they became\nthe teachers of the young children.\n\nWhen a great general had won a victory over the enemies of Rome, and\nall the people gathered to celebrate the return of the soldiers from\nthe battlefield, the vestal virgins had an honored place in the\nprocession. At the great games held in the Coliseum, the vestals sat\nnext to the emperor; for they guarded the fire of home--the dearest\nplace on earth.\n\n\n\n\nSWEET AND LOW.\n\n\n    Sweet and low, sweet and low,\n      Wind of the western sea,\n    Low, low, breathe and blow,\n      Wind of the western sea!\n    Over the rolling waters go,\n    Come from the dying moon, and blow,\n      Blow him again to me;\n    While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.\n\n    Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,\n      Father will come to thee soon;\n    Rest, rest, on mother's breast,\n      Father will come to thee soon;\n    Father will come to his babe in the nest,\n    Silver sails all out of the west\n      Under the silver moon:\n    Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.\n              --Alfred Tennyson.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Mother and Child.\n    Saub\u00e8s (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF THE MOSS ROSE.\n\n\nOne beautiful summer day a fairy saw a butterfly with golden wings. He\ntried to catch the lovely insect, and it led him a merry chase from\nflower to flower. At last the fairy found himself in a strange wood,\nand he did not know the way home. The sun had set, the wind had gone\naway, and no one could direct him.\n\nWearied with his search, he determined to rest until the moon rose,\nwhen the fairies would come forth to dance upon the mossy banks. He\nlooked about him for a resting place, and asked a stately lily to let\nhim sleep on her broad leaves; but the petals were closed, and she\nwould not receive him. Many flowers refused him shelter. At last, worn\nout and almost hopeless, he came to a rose. This lovely flower spread\nwide her soft, fragrant petals as a downy couch for the tired fairy.\n\nAfter a quiet nap he awoke, rested and grateful, and asked the rose\nwhat return he could make for her kindness. The rose bowed her pretty\nhead, and replied, \"Make me more beautiful.\"\n\nThe fairy looked at the rose blushing in the silvery moonlight, and\nwondered how she could be more lovely. Soon he noticed the dainty\ngreen moss at his feet, and drew a delicate veil of it over the rose.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Cupid Asleep.\n    L. Perrault (_modern_).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOSS ROSE.\n\n\n    The angel of the flowers, one day,\n    Beneath a rose tree sleeping lay,--\n    That spirit to whose charge 'tis given\n    To bathe young buds in dews of heaven;\n    Awaking from his light repose,\n    The angel whispered to the rose:\n    \"O fondest object of my care,\n    Still fairest found, where all are fair;\n    For the sweet shade thou giv'st to me,\n    Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee.\"\n    \"Then,\" said the rose, with deepened glow,\n    \"On me another grace bestow.\"\n    The spirit paused, in silent thought,--\n    What grace was there that flower had not?\n    'Twas but a moment,--o'er the rose\n    A veil of moss the angel throws;\n    And, robed in nature's simplest weed,\n    Could there a flower that rose exceed?\n              --Krummacher.\n\n\n\n\nORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.\n\n\nThe Greeks said that Orpheus was a handsome youth, who loved music and\nsong. He was the son of Apollo and the muse Calliope.\n\nApollo, who is god of music, loved his son, and gave him a lyre with\ngolden strings. When he played upon this musical lyre, and sang words\nof harmony and love, all the voices of nature became silent to listen.\nThe ocean waves ceased their strife, the noisy winds said \"Hush,\" and\nthe flowers turned their pretty heads to listen to his strains.\n\nOrpheus loved his wife Eurydice dearly, and when she died, he would\nnot be comforted. One day, lonely and sad, he took his lyre and\nwandered to the mountains.\n\nSoon he struck his strings, and the words he sang were so mournful\nthat the trees leaned down their branches to comfort him, the rocks on\nthe mountain side moved to follow him, the flowers bent their tender\nheads and their eyes filled with tears of sympathy, while the rippling\nbrooks sighed in pity. All nature seemed sad, and the glorious sun\ndrew a heavy cloud about him.\n\n  [Illustration: Orpheus.\n    J. B. C. Corot.]\n\nNow the gods who dwell on high Olympus heard his lamentations, and\nbegged Jupiter to relieve his sorrow. Therefore, the king of gods sent\nMercury to tell Orpheus to search for his loved Eurydice in Hades.\nSuch was the power of his music that Cerberus with the three great\nheads, the fierce watchdog of Hades, licked his feet, and let him\npass. All the souls of the wicked who were suffering punishment for\ntheir sins, when they heard his heavenly music, forgot their torments,\nand ceased from suffering.\n\nFinally Eurydice appeared. Imagine the joy of that meeting! Pluto, won\nby the melody of Orpheus, said that Eurydice might return to earth\nwith her husband, if Orpheus would lead the way, and not look back\nuntil after she had crossed the threshold.\n\nBut, alas! Just as the lovely Eurydice stood in the doorway, the\nanxious Orpheus looked back. His great love and longing overcame his\nprudence. A last loving glance, and they were separated, until gentle\nDeath took Orpheus by the hand and led him to her.\n\nThis charming myth shows us how music wins all hearts, and, with those\nwonderful harmonies which tell us that God, who is the maker of all\nharmony, is guiding us all, helps us to endure pain and loneliness.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: Child.\n    Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792).]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHILD'S WORLD.\n\n\n    Great, wide, wonderful, beautiful world,\n    With the wonderful water about you curled,\n    And the wonderful grass upon your breast--\n    World, you are beautifully dressed!\n\n    The wonderful air is over me,\n    And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;\n    It walks on the water and whirls the mills,\n    And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.\n\n    You friendly earth; how far do you go\n    With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow,\n    With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,\n    And people upon you for thousands of miles?\n\n    Ah, you are so great, and I am so small,\n    I tremble to think of you, world, at all;\n    And yet, when I said my prayer to-day,\n    A whisper within me seemed to say:\n\n    \"You are more than the earth, though you're such a dot;\n    You can love and think, and the world cannot.\"\n              --Lilliput Lectures.\n\n\n\n\nARION.\n\n\nArion was a famous musician who lived at the court of Periander, King\nof Corinth. He wished to compete for the prize in the musical contest,\ncelebrated in Sicily in honor of Apollo. But Periander, who loved the\nmusician, dreaded to have him go so far away. Arion entreated him,\nsaying,--\"I wish to make the people better and happier by the gift\nwhich the gods have given me. It is my duty to Apollo to sing in his\nhonor.\"\n\nSo Arion went to Sicily, and his music was so excellent and so sweet\nthat he won the great prize. The gold and the laurel wreath were put\non board the ship, and he embarked for home. Wind and wave were\nfavorable, the sky was clear. He gave thanks to Apollo for his good\nfortune, and promised to offer sacrifices in the temple.\n\nThe wicked sailors, however, knew that Arion had a large amount of\ngold and jewels in his chests. They gathered around him and told him\nthat he must die.\n\n\"Do you want my gold?\" he asked. \"That you may have and welcome, but\nspare my life.\"\n\nBut the sailors did not dare let him go to Periander, knowing that the\nking loved him and would have them punished for the robbery. They said\nthey would kill him in the ship, or he might plunge into the sea.\n\nArion was brave and chose to give his life to the waves. He dressed\nas if going to a festival, with his handsomest garments, his jewels,\nand a crown of golden laurel leaves. Taking his lyre, he played so\nexquisitely that even the cruel sailors were moved to pity, but the\nthought of his gold hardened their hearts.\n\nAs he plunged beneath the waves, a dolphin, charmed by his music,\noffered its broad back for him to ride upon.\n\nThe sailors thought him drowned and continued on their way. Meanwhile\nArion journeyed on, singing and playing as he went. The dolphin bore\nhim safely to the shore. He reached Corinth, and told his friend\nPeriander of the treachery of the sailors.\n\nWhen the ship arrived, the sailors landed and were conducted to the\npalace. \"Where is Arion?\" asked Periander. \"Has he not returned?\" The\nsailors replied that he was safe in Tarentum.\n\nAt this moment Arion appeared, tall and handsome, wearing elegant\nrobes and shining jewels. Amazed to see one whom they believed dead,\nthe sailors fell on their knees and cried,--\"We murdered him, and he\nhas become a god! O earth, open and receive us!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the king, \"the gods delight to honor the poet, and they\nhave saved the life of one whose music charms all hearts but yours.\nArion does not desire your death. Go, avaricious souls, and never know\nthe joy that beauty and music can bring.\"\n\n\n\n\nJUNE.\n\n\n    No price is set on the lavish summer;\n    June may be had by the poorest comer.\n    And what is so rare as a day in June?\n    Then, if ever, come perfect days;\n    Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,\n      And over it softly her warm ear lays:\n    Whether we look, or whether we listen,\n    We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;\n    Every clod feels a stir of might,\n      An instinct within it that reaches and towers,\n    And, groping blindly above it for light,\n      Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;\n    The flush of life may well be seen\n      Thrilling back over hills and valleys;\n    The cowslip startles in meadows green,\n      The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,\n    And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean\n      To be some happy creature's palace;\n    The little bird sits at his door in the sun,\n      Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,\n    And lets his illumined being o'errun\n      With the deluge of summer it receives;\n    His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,\n    And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;\n    He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,--\n    In the nice ear of nature which song is the best?\n              --James Russell Lowell.\n\n\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTARY READING\n\n\nFAMOUS STORIES AND LITERATURE\n\n\u00b6 This grading, which is simply suggestive, represents the earliest\nyears in which these books can be read to advantage.\n\n  Year\n    7  Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum                           $0.20\n    2  Baldwin's Fifty Famous Stories Retold                  .35\n    4         Golden Fleece                                   .50\n    8         Nine Choice Poems                               .25\n    3         Old Greek Stories                               .45\n    3         Old Stories of the East                         .45\n    2         Robinson Crusoe for Children                    .35\n    3         Thirty More Famous Stories Retold               .50\n    3  Bradish's Old Norse Stories                            .45\n    4  Clarke's Arabian Nights                                .60\n    6         Story of Troy                                   .60\n    6         Story of Ulysses                                .60\n    6         Story of Aeneas                                 .45\n    4  Defoe's Robinson Crusoe (Stephens)                     .50\n    4  Dickens's Child's Oliver Twist and David Copperfield\n         (Severance)                                          .40\n    5         Story of Little Nell (Gordon)                   .50\n    6         Tale of Two Cities (Kirk)                       .50\n    6         Twelve Christmas Stories (Gordon)               .50\n    7  Franklin's Autobiography                               .35\n    7  Guerber's Myths of Greece and Rome                    1.50\n    7         Myths of Northern Lands                        1.50\n    7         Legends of the Middle Ages                     1.50\n    4  Hall's Homeric Stories                                 .40\n    8  Irving's Sketch Book. Selections                       .20\n    8         Tales of a Traveler                             .50\n    3  Johnson's Waste Not, Want Not Stories                  .50\n    3  Kupfer's Lives and Stories Worth Remembering           .45\n    8  Lambs' Tales from Shakespeare. Comedies (Rolfe)        .50\n    8         Tales from Shakespeare. Tragedies (Rolfe)       .50\n    8  Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome (Rolfe)                .56\n    8  Scott's Ivanhoe                                        .50\n    6         Kenilworth (Norris)                             .50\n    8         Lady of the Lake (Gateway)                      .40\n    6         Quentin Durward (Norris)                        .50\n    6         Talisman (Dewey)                                .50\n    8  Shakespeare's Julius C\u00e6sar                             .20\n    8         Merchant of Venice                              .20\n    8         As You Like It                                  .20\n    1  Smythe's Reynard the Fox                               .30\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nBROOKS'S READERS\n\nBy STRATTON D. BROOKS, Superintendent of Schools, Boston, Mass.\n\nFIVE BOOK SERIES\n\n    First Year                       $0.25\n    Second Year                        .35\n    Third Year                         .40\n    Fourth and Fifth Years             .50\n    Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Years   .60\n\nEIGHT BOOK SERIES\n\n    First Year                       $0.25\n    Second Year                        .35\n    Third Year                         .40\n    Fourth Year                        .40\n    Fifth Year                         .40\n    Sixth Year                         .40\n    Seventh Year                       .40\n    Eighth Year                        .40\n\nThese readers form a good all-round basal series, suitable for use in\nany school; but they will appeal to teachers particularly, because of\ntheir very easy gradation. Both in thought and expression, the books\nare so carefully graded that each selection is but slightly more\ndifficult than the preceding one, and there is no real gap anywhere.\n\n\u00b6 Although a wide variety of reading matter is provided, good\nliterature, embodying child interests, has been considered of\nfundamental importance. Lessons of a similar nature are grouped\ntogether, and topics relating to kindred subjects recur somewhat\nregularly. All are designed to quicken the child's observation, and\nincrease his appreciation.\n\n\u00b6 By the use of this series, the child will be taught to read in such\na manner as will appeal to his interests, and at the same time he will\nbe made acquainted with the masterpieces of many famous writers. He\nwill gain a knowledge of many subjects, and acquire pure and\nattractive ideals of life and conduct. His imagination will be\ncultivated by pleasing tales of fancy, and he will also be taught a\nlove of country, and given glimpses into the life of other lands.\n\n\u00b6 The books are very attractive in mechanical appearance, and contain\na large number of original illustrations, besides reproductions of\nmany celebrated paintings.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nHUNT'S PROGRESSIVE COURSE IN SPELLING\n\n    Complete                                         $0.20\n    Part One. For Third, Fourth, and Fifth Grades      .15\n    Part Two. For Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Grades    .15\n\nThe purpose of this book is to assist the pupil in using words\ncorrectly in any one of three relations, viz.: in speech, in oral\nreading, and in written composition. Its exercises recognize the laws\nof association, and provide a systematic drill in orthography,\northoepy, word-building, word-analysis, and other phases of\nword-study.\n\n\u00b6 The vocabulary of the book is made up of words used by the pupil in\nhis other studies, and in his every-day experience. The work is\nclearly laid out and graded; reviews are amply provided, both by\nduplication and by dictation work.\n\n\u00b6 PART ONE contains a vocabulary of some 4,000 word-forms in common\nuse, selected and graded with great care. The arrangement is such that\nthere is afforded a variety of exercises, each containing an average\nof 20 words. The phonetic, the topical, the grammatical, and the\nantithetic and synonymic methods have received special treatment.\nDictation exercises, including memory gems, illustrative sentences,\nand reviews, are also given.\n\n\u00b6 PART TWO includes a vocabulary of about 5,000 word-forms, the\nexercises being devoted to topical lessons, phonetic drills,\npronouncing drill, grammatical forms, synonyms and antonyms,\napplications of rules of spelling, drill on homophones, word-building\nand word-analysis, words the derivation of which is indicated, and\nderivatives from Latin and Greek roots. Great emphasis is laid on\nprefixes and suffixes, the origin of words, and pronunciation.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nSPENCERS' PRACTICAL WRITING\n\nBy PLATT R. SPENCER'S SONS\n\n    Books 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8      Per dozen, $0.60\n\nSpencers' Practical Writing has been devised because of the distinct\nand wide-spread reaction from the use of vertical writing in schools.\nIt is thoroughly up-to-date, embodying all the advantages of the old\nand of the new. Each word can be written by one continuous movement of\nthe pen.\n\n\u00b6 The books teach a plain, practical hand, moderate in slant, and free\nfrom ornamental curves, shades, and meaningless lines. The stem\nletters are long enough to be clear and unmistakable. The capitals are\nabout two spaces in height.\n\n\u00b6 The copies begin with words and gradually develop into sentences.\nThe letters, both large and small, are taught systematically. In the\nfirst two books the writing is somewhat larger than is customary\nbecause it is more easily learned by young children. These books also\ncontain many illustrations in outline. The ruling is very simple.\n\n\u00b6 Instruction is afforded showing how the pupil should sit at the\ndesk, and hold the pen and paper. A series of drill movement\nexercises, thirty-three in number, with directions for their use,\naccompanies each book.\n\n\nSPENCERIAN PRACTICAL WRITING SPELLER\n\nPer dozen, $0.48\n\nThis simple, inexpensive device provides abundant drill in writing\nwords. At the same time it trains pupils to form their copies in\naccordance with the most modern and popular system of penmanship, and\nsaves much valuable time for both teacher and pupil.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nMILNE'S PROGRESSIVE ARITHMETICS\n\nBy WILLIAM J. MILNE, Ph.D., LL.D., President of New York State Normal\nCollege, Albany, N. Y.\n\nTHREE BOOK SERIES\n\n    First Book      $0.35\n    Second Book       .40\n    Third Book        .45\n\nTWO BOOK SERIES\n\n    First Book      $0.35\n    Complete Book     .65\n\nIn these series the best modern methods of instruction have been\ncombined with those older features which gave the author's previous\narithmetics such marvelous popularity.\n\n\u00b6 Built upon a definite pedagogical plan, these books teach the\nprocesses of arithmetic in such a way as to develop the reasoning\nfaculties, and to train the power of rapid, accurate, and skillful\nmanipulation of numbers. The inductive method is applied, leading the\npupils to discover truths for themselves; but it is supplemented by\nmodel solutions and careful explanations of each step.\n\n\u00b6 Each new topic is first carefully developed, and then enforced by\nsufficient practice to fix it thoroughly in the mind. The problems,\nwhich have been framed with the greatest care, relate to a wide range\nof subjects drawn from modern life and industries. Reviews in various\nforms are a marked feature. Usefulness is the keynote.\n\n\u00b6 In the First and Second Books the amount of work that may be\naccomplished in a half year is taken as the unit of classification,\nand the various subjects are treated topically, each being preceded by\na brief r\u00e9sum\u00e9 of the concepts already acquired. In the Third Book the\npurely topical method is used in order to give the pupil a coherent\nknowledge of each subject. The Complete Book covers the work usually\ngiven to pupils during the last four years of school.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nSTEPS IN ENGLISH\n\n    By A. C. McLEAN, A.M., Principal of Luckey School, Pittsburg;\n    THOMAS C. BLAISDELL, A.M., Professor of English, Fifth Avenue\n    Normal High School, Pittsburg; and JOHN MORROW,\n    Superintendent of Schools, Allegheny, Pa.\n\n    Book One.  For third, fourth, and fifth years        $0.40\n    Book Two.  For sixth, seventh, and eighth years        .60\n\nThis series presents a new method of teaching language which is in\nmarked contrast with the antiquated systems in vogue a generation ago.\nThe books meet modern conditions in every respect, and teach the child\nhow to express his thoughts in language rather than furnish an undue\namount of grammar and rules.\n\n\u00b6 From the start the attempt has been made to base the work on\nsubjects in which the child is genuinely interested. Lessons in\nwriting language are employed simultaneously with those in\nconversation, while picture-study, the study of literary selections,\nand letter-writing are presented at frequent intervals. The lessons\nare of a proper length, well arranged, and well graded. The books mark\nout the daily work for the teacher in a clearly defined manner by\ntelling him what to do, and when to do it. Many unique mechanical\ndevices, _e. g._, a labor-saving method of correcting papers, a\ngraphic system of diagramming, etc., form a valuable feature of the\nwork.\n\n\u00b6 These books are unlike any other series now on the market. They do\nnot shoot over the heads of the pupils, nor do they show a marked\neffort in writing down to the supposed level of young minds. They do\nnot contain too much technical grammar, nor are they filled with what\nis sentimental and meaningless. No exaggerated attention is given to\nanalyzing by diagramming, and to exceptions to ordinary rules, which\nhave proved so unsatisfactory.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nNEW SERIES OF THE NATURAL GEOGRAPHIES\n\nREDWAY AND HINMAN\n\nTWO BOOK OR FOUR BOOK EDITION\n\n    Introductory Geography      $0.60\n      In two parts, each          .40\n\n    School Geography             1.25\n      In two parts, each          .75\n\nIn the new series of these sterling geographies emphasis is laid on\nindustrial, commercial, and political geography, with just enough\nphysiography to bring out the causal relations.\n\n\u00b6 The text is clear, simple, interesting, and explicit. The pictures\nare distinguished for their aptness and perfect illustrative\ncharacter. Two sets of maps are provided, one for reference, and the\nother for study, the latter having corresponding maps drawn to the\nsame scale.\n\n\u00b6 The INTRODUCTORY GEOGRAPHY develops the subject in accordance with\nthe child's comprehension, each lesson paving the way for the next. In\nthe treatment of the United States the physiographic, historical,\npolitical, industrial, and commercial conditions are taken up in their\nrespective order, the chief industries and the localities devoted\nlargely to each receiving more than usual consideration. The country\nis regarded as being divided into five industrial sections.\n\n\u00b6 In the SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY a special feature is the presentation of the\nbasal principles of physical and general geography in simple,\nuntechnical language, arranged in numbered paragraphs. In subsequent\npages constant reference is made to these principles, but in each case\naccompanied by the paragraph number. This greatly simplifies the work,\nand makes it possible to take up the formal study of these\nintroductory lessons after the remainder of the book has been\ncompleted. With a view to enriching the course, numerous specific\nreferences are given to selected geographical reading.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\nAPPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES\n\nBy FRANK OVERTON, A.M., M.D., late House Surgeon to the City Hospital,\nNew York City\n\n    Primary Physiology           $0.30\n    Intermediate Physiology      $0.50\n    Advanced Physiology          $0.80\n\nOVERTON'S APPLIED PHYSIOLOGIES form a series of text-books for\nprimary, grammar, and high schools, which departs radically from the\nold-time methods pursued in the teaching of physiology. These books\ncombine the latest results of study and research in biological,\nmedical, and chemical science with the best methods of teaching.\n\n\u00b6 The fundamental principle throughout this series is the study of the\ncells where the essential functions of the body are carried on.\nConsequently, the study of anatomy and physiology is here made the\nstudy of the cells from the most elementary structure in organic life\nto their highest and most complex form in the human body.\n\n\u00b6 This treatment of the cell principle, and its development in its\nrelation to life, the employment of laboratory methods, the numerous\noriginal and effective illustrations, the clearness of the author's\nstyle, the wealth of new physiological facts, and the logical\narrangement and gradation of the subject-matter, give these books a\nstrength and individuality peculiarly their own.\n\n\u00b6 The effects of alcohol and other stimulants and narcotics are\ntreated in each book sensibly, and with sufficient fullness. But while\nthis important form of intemperance is singled out, it is borne in\nmind that the breaking of any of nature's laws is also a form of\nintemperance, and that the whole study of applied physiology is to\nencourage a more healthful and a more self-denying mode of life.\n\n\u00b6 In the preparation of this series the needs of the various school\ngrades have been fully considered. Each book is well suited to the\npupils for whom it is designed.\n\nAMERICAN BOOK COMPANY\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nMinor punctuation errors have been repaired.\n\nArchaic and variable spelling is preserved as printed.\n\nPage 73--repeated 'the' deleted--... and to strew the path of Apollo,\n...\n\nIllustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are not in\nthe middle of a paragraph.","title":"'Round the Year in Myth and Song","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":26601}