{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45416/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45416","id":"gutenberg_45416","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45416","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Transcriber's Note\n\nThe first instance of some proper nouns includes one or more accented\ncharacters to indicate pronunciation, although subsequent occurrences\nof the same proper noun have no accents. These are all preserved as\nprinted.\n\nThe original book included some instances of characters with an up tack\nabove. As the up tack above character is not available, this e-book\ninstead uses a grave above, e.g. \u00e0, \u00e8, \u00ec, \u00f2, \u00f9, etc., as no grave accents\nwere used in the original.\n\nThe \"Pronouncing Vocabulary of Proper Names\" at the end of the book\ncontains an extensive range of accented characters. These include:\n\n characters with macron above, \u0100, \u0101, \u0112, \u0113, \u012a, \u012b, \u014d, \u016b, \u0233, \u01e2, \u01e3, \u0153\u0304, \u0152\u0305\n characters with breve above, \u0102, \u0103, \u0114, \u0115, \u012c, \u012d, \u014e, \u014f, \u016d, y\u0306, \u0152\u0306, \u00c6\u0306, \u00e6\u0306\n characters with inverted breve below, a\u032f, e\u032f, o\u032f\n characters with dot above, \u0226, \u0227, \u0121\n characters with tilde above, \u1ebc, \u1ebd, \u0129, \u1ef9\n upper and lower case a with diaresis below, A\u0324, a\u0324\n upper and lower case \u00e6 with grave above, \u00c6\u0300 and \u00e6\u0300\n upper and lower case c with midline, \ua792 and \ua793\n lower case n with line below, \u1e49\n upper and lower case \u0153 with grave above, \u0152\u0300 and \u0153\u0300\n s with up tack below, s\u031d\n lower case u with dot below, \u1ee5\n y with grave above, \u1ef3\n\nThere is also a small amount of Greek, \u03b5\u03c5\u03c2.\n\nIf these characters do not display correctly, you may wish to adjust\nyour font, browser or reader settings. If this is not possible, you\nmay wish to refer to an alternative format of this e-book for the\nPronouncing Vocabulary.\n\n\n\n\n GODS AND HEROES\n OR\n THE KINGDOM OF JUPITER\n\n\n BY\n R. E. FRANCILLON\n\n\n AUTHORIZED AMERICAN EDITION\n\n\n GINN & COMPANY\n BOSTON \u00b7 NEW YORK \u00b7 CHICAGO \u00b7 LONDON\n\n\n\n Copyright, 1894\n By R. E. FRANCILLON\n\n ALL RIGHTS RESERVED\n 37.1\n\n\n The Athen\u00e6um Press\n GINN & COMPANY \u00b7 PROPRIETORS\n BOSTON \u00b7 U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n TO\n Francis Felix\n FOR WHOM\n THIS BOOK WAS BEGUN\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThese stories will, I trust, explain their own purpose; but a few\nwords touching their form are due to critical readers.\n\nIt will be seen that the Mythology adopted throughout is strictly of\nthe old-fashioned kind which goes to Ovid as its leading authority,\nand ignores the difference between the gods of Greece and the gods of\nRome. I have deliberately followed this plan because, while there is\nnot the remotest fear--quite the contrary--that young people, when or\nif they become scholars, will not be duly initiated into the mysteries\nof scientific and comparative mythology, there is considerable danger\nthat the stories of the gods and heroes which have saturated\nliterature, and have become essential portions of the thought and life\nof ages, may become explained away only too thoroughly. It is easy for\nmy readers to acquire the science of the subject hereafter; but where\nmythology is concerned, the poetry must come before the prose, and it\nwill be a distinct loss for them if, under scientific teaching, they\nhave never been familiar with the ancient stories as they were read\nby the makers of literature in the pr\u00e6-critical times. Without the\nmythology of the Latin poets, modern literature in all languages\nbecomes almost a dead letter: hundreds of allusions become pointless,\nand thousands of substances fade into shadows. Of the three\nmythologies, the Greek, the Roman, and the Poetic or Conventional, I\nhave selected the last, because--among other reasons--\n\nIt is as useful, and as needful to be known, as the others, on general\ngrounds;\n\nIt is more useful, and more needful, than the others, as a portion of\nliterature and as an intellectual influence;\n\nIt is preferable as a means of exciting an interest in the subject;\n\nIt is not in the remotest degree an obstacle to more accurate\nknowledge, for which indeed it is an almost indispensable preparation.\n\nAfter these observations, there is no occasion to explain why I have\nmade a point of employing Latin names and Latin spelling.\n\nAnother point to which I should call attention is the attempt to cover\n(within limits) the whole ground, so that the reader may not be left\nin ignorance of any considerable tract of the realm of Jove. The\nstories are not detached; they are brought, so far as I have been able\nto bring them, into a single _saga_, free from inconsistencies and\ncontradictions. Omissions owing to the necessarily prescribed limits\nwill, I think, always find a place to fall into. Altogether, the lines\nof the volume diverge so entirely from those of Kingsley, or\nHawthorne, or any other story-teller known to me, that I may feel\nmyself safe from the danger of fatal comparisons. Of course this aim\nat a certain completeness has implied the difficult task of selection\namong variants of the same story or incident. Sometimes I have\npreferred the most interesting, sometimes the version most consistent\nwith the general plan. But I have endeavored, as a rule, to adopt the\nmost usual or familiar, as being most in accordance with my original\nintention.\n\nI need not, however, enumerate difficulties, which, if they are\novercome, need no apology; and, if they are not, deserve none. The\ngreatest and most obvious, the strict observance of the \"Maxima\nreverentia,\" will, and must always remain, crucial. In this, at least,\nI trust I have succeeded, in whatever else I may have failed. These\nstories were begun for one who was very dear to me, and who was their\nfirst and best critic; and I shall be glad if what was begun, in hope,\nfor him should be of use to others.\n\n R. E. F.\n\nNOTE.--Quantity is marked in proper names, when necessary, at their\nfirst occurrence.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n PAGE\n SATURN 1\n\n JUPITER AND JUNO:\n\n PART I.--THE GODS AND THE GIANTS 6\n\n PART II.--THE FIRST MAN; OR, THE STORY OF PROMETHEUS\n AND PANDORA 11\n\n PART III.--THE GREAT FLOOD; OR, THE STORY OF DEUCALION 18\n\n APOLLO:\n\n PART I.--THE STORIES OF LATONA AND NIOBE 24\n\n PART II.--THE FLAYED PIPER; OR, THE STORY OF MARSYAS 28\n\n PART III.--TOO MUCH GOLD; OR, THE FIRST STORY OF MIDAS 33\n\n PART IV.--THE CRITIC; OR, THE SECOND STORY OF MIDAS 40\n\n PART V.--SOME FLOWER STORIES:\n\n I.--THE LAUREL 44\n\n II.--THE HYACINTH 47\n\n III.--THE SUNFLOWER 49\n\n IV.--THE NARCISSUS 52\n\n PART VI.--PRESUMPTION; OR, THE STORY OF PHA\u00cbTHON 57\n\n DIANA; AND THE STORY OF ORION 62\n\n MINERVA; OR, WISDOM 69\n\n VENUS:\n\n PART I.--THE GOD OF FIRE 72\n\n PART II.--LOVE AND THE SOUL; OR, THE STORY OF CUPID\n AND PSYCHE 80\n\n MERCURY AND IRIS 105\n\n NEPTUNE 109\n\n HADES:\n\n PART I.--THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE DEAD 115\n\n PART II.--THE KINGDOM 122\n\n PART III.--ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 129\n\n PART IV.--THE MAN WHO NEVER DIED 134\n\n THE ADVENTURES OF PERSEUS 137\n\n THE GOLDEN FLEECE 162\n\n A LOST SECRET 185\n\n THE CHAMPION OF ATHENS 194\n\n THE HERO OF HEROES:\n\n PART I.--THE ORACLE 210\n\n PART II.--HIS FIRST LABOR: THE LION 217\n\n PART III.--HIS SECOND LABOR: THE HYDRA 220\n\n PART IV.--HIS THIRD LABOR: THE STAG 224\n\n PART V.--HIS FOURTH LABOR: THE BOAR 227\n\n PART VI.--HIS FIFTH LABOR: THE AUGEAN STABLE 233\n\n PART VII.--MORE LABORS: AND THE CATTLE OF GERYON 237\n\n PART VIII.--HIS ELEVENTH LABOR: THE GARDEN OF THE\n HESPERIDES 245\n\n PART IX.--HIS TWELFTH LABOR: THE DESCENT INTO HADES 253\n\n PART X.--THE CHOICE OF HERCULES 260\n\n PART XI.--THE TUNIC OF NESSUS 266\n\n THE APPLE OF DISCORD 276\n\n PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES 287\n\n\n\n\nSATURN.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, the Sky married the Earth. The Sky's name was\nC\u0153lus, and the Earth's was Terra. They had a great many children:\none of these, the eldest, was called Titan, and another was called\nSaturn.\n\nTerra, their mother Earth, was very good and kind; but their father,\nC\u0153lus, was very unkind and cruel. He hated his own children, and\nshut them all up under ground, so that he might get rid of them--all\nof them, that is to say, except Saturn, whom he allowed to have his\nfreedom. Saturn grew up; and he thought of nothing but how to set his\nbrothers free. At last one day he went to his mother, and asked her\nwhat he could do. Terra had come to hate her husband for his cruelty:\nso she gave Saturn all the iron she had in her veins--(you know that\niron comes from what are called the Veins of the Earth)--and he made a\ngreat scythe with it. With this scythe he wounded and punished his\nfather so terribly that old C\u0153lus was never good for anything\nagain--in fact, we never hear of him any more, except when we turn\nhis name into C\u0153lum, which is the Latin for \"the sky,\" as you know.\n\nSaturn instantly let all his brothers out from their underground\nprison. They were very grateful to him: and Titan, the eldest, said,\n\"You shall be king of us all, and of all the world, if you will only\npromise me one thing.\" Saturn promised. \"It is this,\" said Titan. \"You\nknow how our father treated us; and how you treated him. Children are\nplagues, and I don't want you to have anything to do with them.\nTherefore promise me to eat up all your children, if you ever have\nany, as soon as they are born. They'll be too young to mind and you'll\nbe safe from them. I think so much of this, that if you don't eat them\nup, every one, I'll take the kingdom away from you. For I'm the\neldest, and I might keep it if I pleased instead of giving it up to\nyou.\"\n\nSaturn had no children then, and he gave the promise. But sometime\nafterwards he married a goddess named Rhea, who was very good and very\nbeautiful. They, too, had a great many children. But, alas! there was\nthat terrible promise that poor Saturn had made to Titan. Saturn could\nnot break his word, so he ate every child as soon as it was born. Of\ncourse Rhea was very unhappy and miserable: it was worse, thought she,\nthan if he had only shut them underground. But there was the\npromise--and she did not know what to do.\n\nBut she thought and thought, and at last she hit on a plan. When her\nnext child was born, she hid it away, and when Saturn asked for it to\neat it, she gave him a big stone instead of the baby. Saturn must have\nhad good teeth, for he ate it up, and only thought that the new baby's\nbones were uncommonly hard. The trick answered so well that when the\nnext child was born she did it again,--and again she did it a third\ntime. She named the three children that she saved in this way,\nJupiter, Neptune, and Pluto.\n\nJupiter, the eldest, was a very fine, strong child. He made such a\nnoise with his crying that his mother Rhea was afraid Saturn would\nhear him. So she sent him away to the island of Crete, where he was\nbrought up on goat's milk; and she ordered his nurses to make all the\nnoise they could with drums, trumpets, and cymbals all day and all\nnight long, so that nobody could hear him cry and so find out that he\nwas alive.\n\nBut unluckily her secret was found out by Titan. Titan thought Saturn\nhad been breaking his word; so he made war on him, and very nearly\nconquered him and took his kingdom from him.\n\nJupiter, however, heard the noise of the battle through all the\ncymbals, trumpets, and drums. He was only a year old, but so big and\nstrong that he rushed out of Crete, and fought a most desperate\nbattle against his uncles, the Titans, to save his father, Saturn. The\nTitans were wonderful people. All were giants; and one of them had a\nhundred arms. They threw mountains instead of stones. But Jupiter\nconquered them at last, and set his father free.\n\nBut somehow Saturn was very much afraid of his son. I think I should\nhave been afraid of you if you had been such a wonderful baby. In some\nway or other--I don't know how--he tried to get rid of Jupiter, and\nmade himself so unpleasant that Jupiter had to take his kingdom away\nfrom him, and make himself king. That is how Jupiter became king of\nall the gods and goddesses.\n\nSaturn, when he lost his kingdom, went to Italy, where a king named\nJanus received him very kindly. Saturn and Janus became such friends\nthat Janus made him king with him; and Saturn ruled so well that he\nmade his people the happiest in all the world. Everybody was perfectly\ngood and perfectly happy. Saturn's reign on earth is called the Golden\nAge. His wife, Rhea, was with him, and was as good as he;--so he had\npeace at last after all his troubles, which had no doubt taught him to\nbe wise.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Greek name for Saturn means \"Time\"; and Saturn is called the god\nof Time, who swallows up all things and creatures. All creatures may\nbe called \"the Children of Time.\" And the kingdom of Time, we may say,\nmust always come to an end. The whole story means a great deal more\nthan this; but this is enough to show you that it is not nonsense, and\nmeans something. One of the planets is called Saturn.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn pictures Saturn is always made an old man, because Time is old; and\nhe carries his scythe, because Time mows everything away, just as a\nmower does the grass; or like \"The Reaper whose name is Death.\" Only\nDeath, in the poem, is kinder than Saturn or Time.\n\n\n\n\nJUPITER AND JUNO.\n\n\nPART I.--THE GODS AND THE GIANTS.\n\nWhen Jupiter became god and king of the whole world, he made his two\nbrothers, Neptune and Pluto, kings under him. He made Neptune god and\nking of the sea: Pluto he made god and king of Hades. Hades was a\nworld underground, in the middle of the earth, where men and women go\nand live when they die.\n\nThe next thing that Jupiter did was to marry Juno. Their wedding was\nthe grandest and most wonderful that ever was seen. Invitations were\nsent out to all the gods and nymphs. The nymphs were a sort of\nfairies--some of them waited upon the goddesses; some of them lived in\nrivers, brooks, and trees. All of them came to the wedding, except one\nnymph named Chelone.\n\nShe refused to come: and, besides that, she laughed at the whole\nthing. When they told her that Jupiter was going to marry Juno, she\nlaughed so loud that Jupiter himself could hear her. I don't know why\nshe thought it so ridiculous, but I can guess pretty well. I expect\nshe knew Juno's bad temper better than Jupiter did, and how Jupiter\nwas just the sort of husband to spoil any wife's temper. But Jupiter\nwas very fond of Juno just then, and he did not like to be laughed at\non his wedding-day. So he had Chelone turned into a tortoise, so that\nshe might never be able to laugh again. Nobody ever heard a tortoise\nlaugh, nor ever will.\n\nJupiter and Juno set up their palace in the sky, just over the top of\nMount Olympus, a high mountain in the north of Greece. And very soon,\nI am sorry to say, his quarrels with Juno began--so that, after all,\npoor Chelone had been right in not thinking much of the grand wedding.\nHe always kept her for his Queen; but he cared for a great many\nTitanesses and nymphs much more than he did for her, and married more\nof them than anybody can reckon, one after another. This made Juno\nvery angry, and they used to quarrel terribly. But something was going\nto happen which was almost as bad as quarreling, and which must have\nmade Jupiter envy the peace and comfort of old Saturn, who had become\nonly an earthly king.\n\nThe Titans made another war. And this time they got the help of the\nGiants, who were more terrible even than the Titans. They were\nimmense monsters, some almost as tall as the tallest mountain,\nfearfully strong, and horribly ugly, with hair miles long, and rough\nbeards down to their middle. One of them had fifty heads and a hundred\nhands. Another had serpents instead of legs. Others, called Cyclopes,\nhad only one eye, which was in the middle of their foreheads. But the\nmost terrible of all was a giant named Typhon. He had a hundred heads,\neach like a dragon's, and darted flames from his mouth and eyes. A\ngreat battle was fought between the gods and the giants. The giants\ntried to get into the sky by piling up the mountains one upon another.\nThey used oak-trees for clubs, and threw hills for stones. They set\nwhole forests on fire, and tossed them up like torches to set fire to\nthe sky. And at last Typhon's hundred fiery mouths set up a hundred\ndifferent yells and roars all at once, so loud and horrible that\nJupiter and all the gods ran away into Egypt and hid themselves there\nin the shapes of animals. Jupiter turned himself into a ram, and Juno\nbecame a cow.\n\nBut, when their fright was over, the gods came back into their own\nshapes, and fought another battle, greater and more terrible than\nbefore. And this time the gods won. Some of the giants were crushed\nunder mountains or drowned in the sea. Some were taken prisoners: and\nof these some were beaten to death and others were skinned alive.\nAtlas, who was the tallest, was ordered to spend all his days in\nholding up the sky on his shoulders,--how it was held up before, I do\nnot know. Some of the Cyclopes were set to work in making thunderbolts\nfor Jupiter. They became the blacksmiths of the gods, and Mount \u00c6tna,\nwhich is a volcano, was one of their forges.\n\nAfter this, the gods lived in peace: though Jupiter and Juno never\nleft off quarreling a good deal. Jupiter made most of his children\ngods and goddesses, and they all lived together over Mount Olympus,\nruling the earth and the sky, and the air, the sun, and the stars. You\nwill read the stories of all of them. They used to eat a delicious\nfood called Ambrosia, and their wine was a wonderful drink called\nNectar. Hebe, the goddess of Youth, mixed and poured out the Nectar,\nand Ganymede was Jupiter's own page and cup-bearer. These gods and\ngoddesses of the sky were a sort of large family, with Jupiter and\nJuno for father and mother. Of course Neptune with his gods of the\nsea, and Pluto with his gods of Hades, were like different families,\nand lived in their own places.\n\nWhenever it thunders, that is the voice of Jupiter. One of the planets\nis named after him--it is a beautiful large white star. In pictures,\nhe is a large, strong man, with a thick brown beard, looking like a\nking. He sits on a throne, with lightning in his hand, and an eagle\nby his side. Juno is a large, beautiful woman, tall and grand, looking\nlike a queen, with a proud face and splendid eyes. The peacock is her\nfavorite bird, just as Jupiter's is the eagle.\n\n\nPART II.--THE FIRST MAN; OR, THE STORY OF PROMETHEUS AND PANDORA.\n\nOne of the Titans left two sons, Prometheus and Epimetheus. Prometheus\nmeans Forethought, and Epimetheus means Afterthought. Now Prometheus\nwas not big and strong like the other Titans, but he was more clever\nand cunning than all of them put together. And he said to himself,\n\"Well, the gods have shown themselves stronger than we. We can't\nconquer them by fighting, that's clear. But there are cleverer ways of\nwinning than by fighting, as they shall see.\"\n\nSo Prometheus dug up a good-sized lump of clay, more than six feet\nlong, and nearly four feet round. And now, said he to himself, \"I only\nwant just one little spark of Heavenly Fire.\"\n\nNow the Heavenly Fire is only to be found in the sky; and Jupiter had\nordered that no Titan was ever to enter the sky again. But Prometheus\nwas much too clever to find any difficulty about that. The great\ngoddess Minerva, who is the goddess of Wisdom, happened to be on a\nvisit to the earth just then, so Prometheus called upon her and\nsaid:--\n\n\"Great goddess, I am only a poor, beaten Titan, and I have never seen\nthe sky. But my father and my father's father used to live there in\nthe good old times, and I should like, just once, to see the inside of\nthe beautiful blue place above the clouds which was once their home.\nPlease, great goddess, let me go in just once, and I'll promise to do\nno harm.\"\n\nNow Minerva did not like to break the rule. But she was very trusting\nand very good-natured, because she was very wise; and besides,\nPrometheus looked such a poor little creature, so different from all\nthe other Titans and Giants, that she said:--\n\n\"You certainly don't look as if you could do us any harm, even if you\ntried. Very well--you shall have a look at the sky, and I'll show you\nround.\"\n\nSo she told Prometheus to follow her up Mount Olympus; but she did not\nnotice a little twig that he carried in his hand: and if she had\nnoticed it, she would not have thought it mattered. Wise people don't\nnotice all the little things that cunning people do. Then she opened\nthe golden gate of the sky, and let him in. She was very kind, and\nshowed him everything. He went over the palace of the gods, and saw\nJupiter's great ivory throne, and his eagle, and the brew-house where\nthe nectar is made. He looked at the places behind the clouds, where\nthey keep the rain and snow. Then they looked at all the stars; and\nat last they came to the Stables of the Sun. For you must know that\nthe sun is a great fiery car, drawn by four white horses from the east\nto the west, and is put away in a stable during the night-time, where\nthe four horses eat wheat made of gold.\n\n\"Now you have seen everything,\" said Minerva; \"and you must go.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Prometheus. And he went back to earth again. But\njust as he was leaving, he touched one of the wheels of the sun with\nhis little twig, so that a spark came off upon the end.\n\nThe spark was still there when he got home. He touched his lump of\nclay with the spark of Heavenly Fire--and, lo and behold, the lump of\nclay became a living man!\n\n\"There!\" said Prometheus. \"There's Something that will give the gods\nmore trouble than anything that ever was made!\"\n\nIt was the First Man.\n\n * * * * *\n\nJupiter very soon found out what Prometheus had done, and was very\nvexed and annoyed. He forgave Minerva, who was his favorite daughter,\nbut he said to the god of Fire: \"Make something that will trouble the\nman even more than the man will trouble me.\"\n\nSo the god of Fire took another lump of clay, and a great deal of\nHeavenly Flame, and made the First Woman.\n\nAll the gods admired her very much, for she had been made very\nnicely--better than the man. Jupiter said to her, \"My child, go to\nPrometheus and give him my compliments, and tell him to marry you.\"\nThe gods and goddesses thought it a good idea, and all of them made\nher presents for her wedding. One gave her beauty, another wit,\nanother fine clothes, and so on; but Jupiter only gave her a little\nbox, which was not to be opened till her wedding-day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPrometheus was sitting one day at his door, thinking how clever he\nwas, when he saw, coming down Olympus, the most beautiful creature he\nhad ever seen. As soon as she came close--\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked. \"From where do you come?\"\n\n\"My name is Pandora,\" said she. \"And I am come from the skies to marry\nyou.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" said Prometheus. \"You will be a very nice wife, I\nam sure. But--let me see--Pandora means 'All Gifts,' doesn't it? What\nhave you got to give me, to keep house upon?\"\n\n\"The gods have given me everything!\" said Pandora. \"I bring you\nBeauty, Wit, Love, Wisdom, Health, Wealth, Virtue, Fine Clothes--in a\nword, everything that you can wish for.\"\n\n\"And that little box--what have you in that?\" asked he.\n\n\"Oh, that's only a little box that Jupiter gave me--I don't know\nwhat's in that, for it is not to be opened till after we're married.\nPerhaps it is diamonds.\"\n\n\"Who gave it you?\" asked he.\n\n\"Jupiter,\" said Pandora.\n\n\"Oho!\" thought the cunning Prometheus. \"Secret boxes from Jupiter are\nnot to my fancy. My dear,\" he said to Pandora, \"on second thoughts, I\ndon't think I will marry you. But as you've had so much trouble in\ncoming, I'll send you to my brother Epimetheus, and you shall marry\nhim. He'll do just as well.\"\n\nSo Pandora went on to Epimetheus, and he married her. But Prometheus\nhad sent him a private message not to open the box that had been given\nby Jupiter. So it was put away, and everything went on very well for a\nlong time.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut, at last, Pandora happened to be alone in the house; and she could\nnot resist the temptation to just take one little peep into the box to\nsee what was inside. Such a little box could not hold any harm: and it\nmight be the most beautiful present of all. Anyhow, she could do no\nharm by lifting the lid; she could easily shut it up again. She felt\nshe was doing what would displease Epimetheus, and was rather ashamed\nof her curiosity, but--well, she _did_ open the box. And then--out\nthere flew thousands and thousands of creatures, like a swarm of wasps\nand flies, buzzing and darting about with joy to be free. Out at the\nwindow, and over the world they flew. Alas! they were all the evil\nthings that are in the world to torment and hurt mankind. Those flies\nfrom Pandora's box were War, Pain, Grief, Anger, Sickness, Sorrow,\nPoverty, Death, Sin. What could she do? She could not get them back\ninto the box again; she could only scream and wring her hands.\nEpimetheus heard her cries, and did all he could: he shut down the lid,\njust in time to keep the very last of the swarm from flying away. By\ngood luck, it was the only one worth keeping--a little creature called\nHope, who still lives in the box to comfort us when the others are\nstinging us, and to make us say, \"There is good in everything--even in\nthe box of Pandora.\"\n\nBut Jupiter, when he heard how Prometheus had refused to marry\nPandora, and had tried to outwit him again, was very angry indeed. He\nsent down one of the gods, who took Prometheus and carried him to\nMount Caucasus, and bound him to the highest and coldest peak with\nchains. And a vulture was sent to gnaw his heart forever.\n\nSo cunning could not conquer the strength of the gods after all.\n\nI have something to say about this story, which you may not quite\nunderstand now, but which you will, some day, when you read it again.\nThink how Man is made of dead common clay, but with one spark of\nHeavenly Fire straight from the sky. Think how Woman is made, with\nless clay, but with more of the Heavenly Fire. Think of that\n\"Afterthought,\" which saved Hope when there was nothing else to be\nsaved, and think of the Pain sent to gnaw the heart of Prometheus, who\nused all his cleverness to make himself great in wrong-doing.\n\nYou will be glad to hear that, a long time afterwards, the greatest\nand best man in all Mythology came and killed the vulture, and set\nPrometheus free. You will read all about it in time. But I want you to\nknow and remember the man's name. It was Hercules.\n\n\nPART III.--THE GREAT FLOOD; OR, THE STORY OF DEUCALION.\n\nPrometheus turned out to be quite right in saying that men would give\nmore trouble to Jupiter than the Titans or the Giants, or anything\nthat had ever been made. As time went on, men became more and more\nwicked every day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow there lived in Thessaly, on the banks of a river, a man and his\nwife, named Deucalion and Pyrrha. I think they must have been good\npeople, and not like all the other men and women in the world. One\nday, Deucalion noticed that the water in the river was rising very\nhigh. He did not think much of it at the time, but the next day it was\nhigher, and the next higher still. At last the river burst its banks,\nand spread over the country, sweeping away houses and drowning many\npeople.\n\nDeucalion and Pyrrha escaped out of their own house just in time, and\nwent to the top of a mountain. But, to their terror, the waters still\nkept on spreading and rising, until all the plain of Thessaly looked\nlike a sea, and the tops of the hills like islands.\n\n\"The water will cover the hills soon,\" said Deucalion, \"and then the\nmountains. What shall we do?\"\n\nPyrrha thought for a moment, and then said:--\n\n\"I have heard that there is a very wise man on the top of Mount\nCaucasus who knows everything. Let us go to him, and perhaps he will\ntell us what to do and what all this water means.\"\n\nSo they went down the other side, and went on and on till they reached\nthe great Caucasian mountains, which are the highest in all Europe,\nand are always covered with snow. They climbed up to the highest peak,\nand there they saw a man, chained to the ice, with a vulture tearing\nand gnawing him. It was Prometheus, who had made the first man.\n\nDeucalion tried to drive the horrible bird away. But Prometheus\nsaid:--\n\n\"It is no use. You can do nothing for me. Not even the Great Flood\nwill drive this bird away, or put me out of my pain.\"\n\n\"Ah! the Great Flood!\" cried Deucalion and Pyrrha together. \"We have\nleft it behind us--are we safe up here?\"\n\n\"You are safe nowhere,\" said Prometheus. \"Soon the waters will break\nover the mountains round Thessaly and spread over the whole world.\nThey will rise and rise till not even this peak will be seen. Jupiter\nis sending this flood to sweep away from the face of the earth the\nwickedness of man. Not one is to be saved. Even now, there is nobody\nleft alive but you two.\"\n\nDeucalion and Pyrrha looked: and, in the distance, they saw the waters\ncoming on, and rising above the hills.\n\n\"But perhaps,\" said Prometheus, \"Jupiter may not wish to punish _you_.\nI cannot tell. But I will tell you what to do--it _may_ save you. Go\ndown the mountain till you come to a wood, and cut down a tree.\" Then\nhe told them how to make a boat--for nobody knew anything about boats\nin those days. Then he bade them good bye, and they went down the hill\nsorrowfully, wishing they could help Prometheus, and doubting if they\ncould help themselves.\n\nThey came to the wood, and made the boat--just in time. The water\nrose; but their boat rose with the water. At last even the highest\npeak of Caucasus was covered, and they could see nothing but the sky\nabove them and the waters round. Then the clouds gathered and burst,\nand the sky and the sea became one great storm.\n\nFor nine days and nights their little boat was tossed about by the\nwinds and waves. But on the tenth day, as if by magic, the sky\ncleared, the water went down, and their boat was left high and dry on\nthe top of a hill.\n\nThey knelt, and thanked Jupiter, and went down the hill hand in\nhand--the only man and the only woman in the whole world. They did not\neven know where they were.\n\nBut presently they met, coming up the hill, a form like a woman, only\ngrander and more beautiful. They were afraid. But at last they had\ncourage to ask:--\n\n\"Who are you? And where are we?\"\n\n\"This hill is Mount Parnassus; and I am Themis, the goddess of\nJustice,\" said she. \"I have finished my work upon the earth, and am on\nmy way home to the sky. I know your story. Live, and be good, and be\nwarned by what has happened to all other men.\"\n\n\"But what is the use of our living?\" they asked, \"and what is the use\nof this great world to us two? For we have no children to come after\nus when we die.\"\n\n\"What you say is just,\" said the goddess of Justice. \"Jupiter will be\npleased enough to give this empty world to a wiser and better race of\nmen. But he will be quite as content without them. In short, you may\nhave companions, if you want them, and if you will teach them to be\nbetter and wiser than the old ones. Only you must make them for\nyourselves.\"\n\n\"But how can we make men?\" asked they.\n\n\"I will tell you. Throw your grandmother's bones behind you without\nlooking round.\"\n\n\"Our grandmother's bones? But how are we to find them after this\nflood, or to know which are hers?\"\n\n\"The gods,\" said Themis, \"tell people what to do, but not how it is to\nbe done.\" And she vanished into the air.\n\nI think Themis was right. All of us are taught what we ought to do;\nbut we are usually left to ask ourselves whether any particular thing\nis right or wrong.\n\nDeucalion and Pyrrha asked one another; but neither knew what to say.\nThe whole world, after the Great Flood, was full of bones everywhere.\nWhich were their grandmother's, and where? They wandered about over\nhalf the world trying to find them, but all in vain, till they thought\nthey would have to give it up in despair.\n\nAt last, however, Pyrrha said to Deucalion:--\n\n\"I have a thought. We are all called the children of Jupiter, you\nknow, because he is called the father of gods and men. And Jupiter and\nall the gods are the children of C\u0153lus and Terra. Now, if we are\nthe children of Jupiter, and Jupiter is the child of Terra, then Terra\nmust be our grandmother. And Terra is the Earth; so our grandmother is\nthe Earth, you see.\"\n\n\"But,\" asked Deucalion, \"what about the bones?\"\n\n\"What are the bones of the Earth but the stones?\" said Pyrrha. \"The\nstones must be our Grandmother's Bones.\"\n\n\"I don't think you're right,\" said Deucalion. \"It's much too easy a\nthing--only to throw a few stones. But there's no harm in trying.\"\n\nSo they gathered two heaps of stones, one for him and one for her, and\nthrew the stones behind them, over their shoulders, without turning\nround--just as Themis had told them.\n\nWhen they had thrown away all their stones, they looked to see if\nanything had happened. And lo! every stone thrown by Pyrrha had become\na woman, and every stone thrown by Deucalion had become a man.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo they kept on throwing stones till the world was full of men and\nwomen again. And Deucalion and Pyrrha became their king and queen.\n\n\n\n\nAPOLLO.\n\n\nPART I.--THE STORIES OF LATONA AND NIOBE.\n\nJupiter once fell in love with a beautiful Titaness named Latona. This\nmade Juno terribly angry: so she sent a huge and horrible snake,\ncalled Python, to hunt Latona all over the world. And she went to\nTerra, and made her swear not to give Latona a resting-place or a\nhiding-place anywhere.\n\nSo poor Latona was hunted and driven about by Python night and day.\nShe also went to our Grandmother Earth, and begged for a corner to\nrest in or a cave to hide in. But old Terra said, \"No. I have sworn to\nJuno that you shall have no rest in me.\"\n\nAt last, in her despair, she went to Neptune, and prayed him to hide\nher in his waters, since Earth had refused her. Neptune said, \"I wish\nI could, with all my heart; but what place is there, in the sea or on\nthe land, where you can hide from the Queen of the Sky? But\nwait--there's one thing that nobody knows of but me. There is an\nisland under the sea; and this island is always moving and wandering\nabout, so that nobody can see it, or tell where it may chance to be,\nfor it is never in the same place two minutes together. It isn't sea,\nbecause its land; but it doesn't belong to Terra, because it's under\nthe sea, and has no bottom. I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll\nfix it where nobody can find it, and you'll be safe there, because\nit's neither earth nor sea.\"\n\nSo Neptune anchored the floating island in a part of the \u00c6gean Sea.\nThe island is called Delos; and it is there still, just where it was\nfixed by Neptune for Latona.\n\nLatona went and lived there, safe from Juno and Python. After a time\nshe had two children, a son and a daughter. The son was named Apollo,\nand the daughter Diana.\n\nBoth were beautiful, but Apollo was the most beautiful boy ever born.\nHe was a wonderful child in every way. The very instant he was born he\nmade a bow and arrow, and went across the sea, and found Python, and\nkilled him. When he was four years old, he built one of the wonders of\nthe world--a great altar to the gods, made of the horns of the goats\nthat his sister Diana used to hunt and shoot in the mountains. With\ntwo such children to help her, Latona no longer felt afraid of Juno.\nSo she left Delos, and came, with her two children, into a country of\nAsia Minor, called Lydia.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow there was a princess in Thebes named Niobe, who had fourteen\nbeautiful children--seven daughters and seven sons. She was very fond\nand proud of them, and she did not like to hear people talking about\nLatona's wonderful children. \"What signifies a miserable couple of\nchildren, when I have fourteen?\" she used to say. \"_I_ don't think\nmuch of Latona\"; and, in her jealousy, she never lost a chance of\ninsulting the mother of Apollo and Diana.\n\nOf course these insults came to Latona's ears. Apollo and Diana heard\nof them too; and they resolved to punish the proud princess who\ninsulted and scorned their mother. I scarcely like to tell you of how\nthey punished Niobe, for I cannot think of anything more cruel.\n\nEach of them took a bow and seven arrows. Apollo shot with his arrows\nall the seven sons of Niobe. Diana shot six of Niobe's seven\ndaughters, leaving only one alive. \"There!\" said they; \"what signifies\na miserable one child, when our mother has two?\"\n\nWhen poor Niobe saw her children killed before her she wept bitterly,\nand she could not stop her tears. They flowed on and on, until she\ncried herself into stone.\n\nAs for Apollo, he kept on growing handsomer and stronger until he\nbecame a god--the most glorious of all the gods in the sky. Jupiter\nmade him the god of the Sun, and made his sister, Diana, goddess of\nthe Moon. He was also the god of all beautiful and useful things: of\nmusic, painting, poetry, medicine. Several names were given to him.\nOne of his names is \"Ph\u0153bus,\" which means bright and splendid like\nthe sun. \"Apollo\" means \"the Destroyer\": people must guess for\nthemselves why he was called \"the Destroyer.\"\n\nIn pictures and statues he is always made graceful, beautiful, and\nyoung. He has no hair on his face, but wears long waving hair.\nSometimes he carries a lyre--a sort of small harp--and sometimes a\nbow. Very often he wears a wreath of laurel. You must take a great\ndeal of notice of Apollo, or Ph\u0153bus, because he is the most famous\nof all the gods next to Jupiter. It will help you to know him if you\nthink of him as always beautiful, wise, and bright, but rather cruel\nand hard.\n\n\nPART II.--THE FLAYED PIPER; OR, THE STORY OF MARSYAS.\n\nThe men who filled the earth after the Great Flood were a great deal\ncleverer than people are now. A king's son named Cadmus invented the\nalphabet--which is, perhaps, the most wonderful thing in the world.\nAnd when he wanted to build the city of Thebes, he got a great\nmusician, named Amphion, to play to the stones and trees, so that\nthey, by dancing to his tunes, built themselves into walls and houses\nwithout the help of any masons or carpenters. At last men became so\nwonderfully clever in everything, that a physician named \u00c6sculapius,\nwho was a son of Apollo, found out how to bring back dead people to\nlife again.\n\nBut when Jupiter heard that \u00c6sculapius had really made a dead man\nlive, he was angry, and rather frightened too. For he thought, \"If men\nknow how to live forever, they will become as great and as wise as the\ngods, and who knows what will happen then?\" So he ordered the Cyclopes\nto make him a thunderbolt, and he threw it down from heaven upon\n\u00c6sculapius and killed him. No other man knew the secret of \u00c6sculapius,\nand it died with him.\n\nBut Apollo was very fond and proud of his son, and was in a great\nrage with Jupiter for having killed him. He could not punish Jupiter,\nbut he took his bow and arrows and shot all the Cyclopes who had made\nthe thunderbolt.\n\nThen it was Jupiter's turn to be angry with Apollo for killing his\nservants, who had only done what they were told to do. He sentenced\nhim to be banished from the sky for nine years.\n\nSo Apollo left the sky and came down to the earth, bringing with him\nnothing but his lyre. You know that Mount Olympus, where the gods\nlive, is in Thessaly, so that Thessaly was the country in which Apollo\nfound himself when he came down from the sky. He did not know what to\ndo with himself for the nine years, so he went to a king of Thessaly\nnamed Admetus, who received him very kindly, and made him his\nshepherd. I don't think Admetus could have known who Apollo was, or he\nwould hardly have set the great god of the Sun to look after his sheep\nfor him.\n\nSo Apollo spent his time pleasantly enough in watching the king's\nsheep and in playing on his lyre.\n\nNow there was a very clever but very conceited musician named Marsyas,\nwho had invented the flute, and who played on it better than anybody\nin the world. One day Marsyas happened to be passing through Thessaly,\nwhen he saw a shepherd sitting by a brook watching his sheep, and\nplaying to them very beautifully on a lyre. He went up to the\nshepherd, and said:--\n\n\"You play very nicely, my man. But nobody can do much with those harps\nand fiddles and trumpery stringed things. You should learn the flute;\nthen you'd know what music means!\"\n\n\"Indeed?\" said Apollo. \"I'm sorry, for your sake, that your ears are\nso hard to please. As for me, I don't care for whistles and squeaking\nmachines.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said Marsyas, \"that's because you never heard Me!\"\n\n\"And you dare to tell me,\" said Apollo, \"that you put a wretched\nsqueaking flute before the lyre, which makes music for the gods in the\nsky?\"\n\n\"And you dare to say,\" said Marsyas, \"that a miserable twanging,\ntinkling lyre is better than a flute? What an ignorant blockhead you\nmust be!\"\n\nAt last their wrangling about their instruments grew to quarreling;\nand then Apollo said:--\n\n\"We shall never settle the question in this way. We will go to the\nnext village and give a concert. You shall play your flute and I will\nplay my lyre, and the people shall say which is the best--yours or\nmine.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" said Marsyas. \"I know what they will say. But we\nmust have a wager on it. What shall it be?\"\n\n\"We will bet our skins,\" said Apollo. \"If I lose, you shall skin me;\nand if you lose, I will skin you.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" said Marsyas.\n\nSo they went to the next village, and called the people together to\njudge between the flute and the lyre.\n\nMarsyas played first. He played a little simple tune on his flute so\nbeautifully that everybody was charmed. But Apollo then played the\nsame tune on his lyre, even more beautifully still.\n\nThen Marsyas took his flute again and played all sorts of difficult\nthings--flourishes, runs, shakes, everything you can think of--in the\nmost amazing manner, till the people thought they had never heard\nanything so wonderful. And indeed never had such flute-playing been\nheard.\n\nBut Apollo, instead of following him in the same fashion, only played\nanother simple tune--but this time he sang while he played.\n\nYou can imagine how gloriously the god of Music sang! You can fancy\nhow much chance Marsyas had of winning when Apollo's voice was\ncarrying the hearts of the people away.... \"There,\" said Apollo, when\nhe had finished, \"beat that if you can--and give me your skin!\"\n\n\"It is not fair,\" said Marsyas. \"This is not a singing match: the\nquestion is, Which is the best instrument--the flute or the lyre?\"\n\n\"It _is_ fair,\" said Apollo. \"If you can sing while you are playing\nthe flute, then I have nothing to say. But you can't sing, you see,\nbecause you have to use your lips and your breath in blowing into\nthose holes. Is not that instrument best which makes you sing\nbest--Yes or No? And if I mustn't use my breath, you mustn't use\nyours.\"\n\nYou must judge for yourself which was right. But the people decided\nfor Apollo. And so Apollo, having won the wager, took Marsyas and\nskinned him, and hung his body on a tree.\n\n\nPART III.--TOO MUCH GOLD; OR, THE FIRST STORY OF MIDAS.\n\nThere were other beings besides men upon the earth in those days. You\nought to know something about them now, because Apollo, while he was\nbanished from the sky, had a great deal to do with them. These beings\nwere called Nymphs, Fauns, and Satyrs.\n\nThe Nymphs were a kind of beautiful she-fairies.\n\nDryads were nymphs who lived in forests.\n\nHamadryads were nymphs who lived in trees. Every tree has a Hamadryad,\nwho lives in it, who is born when it first grows, and who dies when it\ndies. So that a Hamadryad is killed whenever a tree is cut down.\n\nNaiads were nymphs belonging to brooks and rivers. Every stream has\nits Naiad.\n\n\u014ereads were nymphs who lived upon hills and mountains. They used to\nattend upon Apollo's sister Diana, who went hunting every moonlight\nnight among the hills.\n\nThe Fauns and Satyrs were he-creatures, like men, with the hind-legs\nof goats, short horns on their foreheads, and long pointed ears. But\nthere was a difference between the Fauns and Satyrs. The Fauns were\nhandsome, gentle, innocent, and rather foolish. The Satyrs were\nhideous, clumsy, hairy monsters, with flat faces, little eyes, and\nhuge mouths, great gluttons, often drunk, and sometimes mischievous:\nmost of them were dull and stupid, but many of them had plenty of\nsense and knowledge. The Fauns and Satyrs lived among the woods and\nhills, like the Dryads and Oreads.\n\nThe king of all these Nymphs, Fauns, and Satyrs was a god named Pan,\nwho was himself a very hideous satyr. He had nothing to do with the\ngods of Olympus, but lived on the earth, chiefly in a part of Greece\ncalled Arcadia. \"Pan\" is the Greek for \"all\"--you may remember the\nsame word in the name of \"_Pan_-dora.\" He was called \"Pan\" because he\nwas the god of \"all\" nature--all the hills and mountains, all the\nwoods and forests, all the fields, rivers, and streams.\n\nThe ugliest, fattest, greediest, tipsiest, cleverest, and wisest of\nall the satyrs was named Silenus. He was hardly ever sober, but he\nknew so much and understood the world so well, that one of the gods,\nnamed Bacchus, made Silenus his chief adviser and counselor. You will\nhear more of Bacchus later on. I will only tell you now that he was\nnot one of the great gods of Olympus, but lived on the earth, like\nPan. Only, while Pan was the god of all wild, savage nature, Bacchus\nwas the god of nature as men make it: Bacchus taught men to turn Pan's\nwild woods into corn-fields and gardens, to put bees into hives, and\nto make wine. I think Silenus had an especially great deal to do with\nthe wine-making. You will often hear Bacchus called the god of wine,\nand so he was; but he was a great deal more and better.\n\nThis has been a long beginning to my story; but if you will get it\nwell into your head, you will find it easy to remember, and will make\na great step in understanding mythology.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow once upon a time Silenus got very drunk indeed--more drunk even\nthan usual. He was traveling about with Bacchus, but had strayed away\nby himself, and, when night came on, could not find his way back into\nthe road. He could do nothing but blunder and stagger about in the\nmiddle of the thick, dark forest, stumbling and sprawling over the\nroots of the trees, and knocking his head against the branches. At\nlast he gave a tremendous tumble into a bush, and lay there, too drunk\nand too fat to pick himself up again. So he went to sleep and snored\nterribly.\n\nPresently some huntsmen passed by, and thought they heard some wild\nbeast roaring. You may guess their surprise when they found this\nhideous old satyr helplessly drunk and unable to move. But they did\nnot catch a satyr every day: so they took him by the head and\nshoulders, and brought him as a prize to the king.\n\nThis king was King Midas of Phrygia, which is a country in Asia Minor.\nAs soon as King Midas saw the satyr, he guessed him to be Silenus, the\nfriend of Bacchus: so he did everything to make him comfortable till\nhis drunkenness should pass away. It passed away at last; and then\nKing Midas sent all round about to find where Bacchus was, so that\nSilenus might go back to him. While the search was being made, the\nking and the satyr became great friends, and Silenus, keeping fairly\nsober, gave Midas a great deal of good advice, and taught him science\nand philosophy.\n\nAt last Bacchus was found; and Midas himself brought Silenus back to\nhim. Bacchus was exceedingly glad to see Silenus again, for he was\nbeginning to be afraid that he had lost him forever. \"Ask any gift you\nplease,\" he said to King Midas, \"and it shall be yours.\"\n\n\"Grant me,\" said Midas, \"that everything I touch shall turn into\ngold.\"\n\nBacchus looked vexed and disappointed. But he was bound by his\npromise, and said:--\n\n\"It is a fool's wish. But so be it. Everything you touch _shall_ turn\nto gold.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nMidas thanked Bacchus, said good-bye to Silenus and went home. How\nrich he was going to be--the richest king in the whole world! He\nopened his palace door, and lo! the door became pure, solid gold. He\nwent from room to room, touching all the furniture, till everything,\nbedsteads, tables, chairs, all became gold. He got a ladder (which\nturned into gold in his hands) and touched every brick and stone in\nhis palace, till his whole palace was gold. His horses had golden\nsaddles and golden bridles. His cooks boiled water in golden kettles:\nhis servants swept away golden dust with golden brooms.\n\nWhen he sat down to dinner, his plate turned to gold. He had become\nthe richest man in the world, thought he with joy and pride, as he\nhelped himself from the golden dish before him. But suddenly his teeth\njarred against something hard--harder than bone. Had the cook put a\nflint into the dish? Alas! it was nothing of the kind. His very food,\nas soon as it touched his lips, turned to solid gold!\n\nHis heart sank within him, while the meat before him mocked his\nhunger. Was the richest man in the world to starve? A horrible fear\ncame upon him. He poured out wine into a golden cup, and tried to\ndrink, and the wine turned into gold! He sat in despair.\n\nWhat was he to do? What was the use of all this gold if he could not\nbuy with it a crust of bread or a draught of water? The poorest\nploughman was now a richer man than the king. He could only wander\nabout his golden palace till his hunger became starvation, and his\nthirst a fever. At last, in his despair, he set out and followed after\nBacchus again, to implore the god to take back the gift of gold.\n\nAt last, when nearly starved to death, he found him. \"What!\" said\nBacchus, \"are you not content yet? Do you want more gold still?\"\n\n\"Gold!\" cried Midas, \"I hate the horrible word! I am starving. Make me\nthe poorest man in the whole world. Silenus taught me much; but I have\nlearned for myself that a mountain of gold is not the worth of a\nsingle drop of dew.\"\n\n\"I will take back my gift, then,\" said Bacchus. \"But I will not give\nyou another instead of it, because all the gods of Olympus could not\ngive you anything better than this lesson. You may wash away your\nfolly in the first river you come to. Good-bye--and only don't think\nthat gold is not a good thing because too much of it is a bad one.\"\n\nMidas ran to the banks of the river Pactolus, which ran hard by. He\nthrew off his golden clothes, and hurried barefoot over the sands of\nthe river--and the sand, wherever his naked feet touched it, turned to\ngold. He plunged into the water, and swam through to the other side.\nThe Curse of the Golden Touch left him, and he ate and drank, and\nnever hungered after gold again. He had learned that the best thing\none can do with too much gold is to give it away as fast as one can.\n\nThe sand of the river Pactolus is said to have gold in it to this day.\n\n\nPART IV.--THE CRITIC; OR, THE SECOND STORY OF MIDAS.\n\nOnce upon a time the god Pan fell in love with a Naiad, or\nwater-nymph, named Syrinx. She was very beautiful, as all the nymphs\nwere; but Pan, as you know, was very ugly--so ugly that she hated him,\nand was afraid of him, and would have nothing to do with him. At last,\nto escape from him, she turned herself into a reed.\n\nBut even then Pan did not lose his love for her. He gathered the reed,\nand made it into a musical instrument, which he called a Syrinx. We\ncall it a Pan-pipe, after the name of its inventor, and because upon\nthis pipe Pan turned into music all his sorrow for the loss of Syrinx,\nmaking her sing of the love to which she would not listen while she\nwas alive.\n\nI suppose that King Midas still kept up his friendship for Silenus and\nthe satyrs, for one day he was by when Pan was playing on his pipe of\nreeds, and he was so delighted with the music that he cried out, \"How\nbeautiful! Apollo himself is not so great a musician as Pan!\"\n\nYou remember the story of Marsyas, and how angry Apollo was when\nanybody's music was put before his own? I suppose that some\nill-natured satyr must have told him what King Midas had said about\nhim and Pan. Anyway, he was very angry indeed. And Midas, the next\ntime he looked at himself in his mirror, saw that his ears had been\nchanged into those of an Ass.\n\nThis was to show him what sort of ears those people must have who like\nthe common music of earth better than the music which the gods send\ndown to us from the sky. But, as you may suppose, it made Midas very\nmiserable and ashamed. \"All my people will think their king an Ass,\"\nhe thought to himself, \"and that would never do.\"\n\nSo he made a very large cap to cover his ears, and never took it off,\nso that nobody might see what had happened to him. But one of his\nservants, who was very prying and curious, wondered why the king\nshould always wear that large cap, and what it was that he could want\nto hide. He watched and watched for a long time in vain. But at last\nhe hid himself in the king's bedroom; and when Midas undressed to go\nto bed, he saw to his amazement that his master had Ass's ears.\n\nHe was very frightened too, as well as amazed. He could not bear to\nkeep such a curious and surprising secret about the king all to\nhimself, for he was a great gossip, like most people who pry into\nother people's affairs. But he thought to himself, \"If I tell about\nthe king's ears he will most certainly cut off my own! But I _must_\ntell somebody. Whom shall I tell?\"\n\nSo, when he could bear the secret no longer, he dug a hole into the\nground, and whispered into it, \"King Midas has the Ears of an Ass!\"\nThen, having thus eased his mind, he filled up the hole again, so that\nthe secret might be buried in the earth forever.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut all the same, before a month had passed, the secret about the\nking's ears was known to all the land. How could that be? The king\nstill wore his cap, and the servant had never dared to speak about it\nto man, woman, or child. You will never be able to guess how the\nsecret got abroad without being told.\n\nIt was in this way. Some reeds grew up out of the place where the\nservant had made the hole, and of course the reeds had heard what had\nbeen whispered into the ground where their roots were. And they were\nno more able to keep such a wonderful secret to themselves than the\nservant had been. Whenever the wind blew through them they rustled,\nand their rustle said, \"King Midas has the Ears of an Ass!\" The wind\nheard the words of the reeds, and carried the news through all the\nland, wherever it blew, \"King Midas has the Ears of an Ass!\" And all\nthe people heard the voice of the wind, and said to one another, \"What\na wonderful thing--King Midas has the ears of an Ass!\"\n\n\nPART V.--SOME FLOWER STORIES.\n\n\nI.--THE LAUREL.\n\nOne day, Apollo, while following his flock of sheep, met a little boy\nplaying with a bow and arrows.\n\n\"That isn't much of a bow you've got there,\" said Apollo.\n\n\"Isn't it?\" said the boy. \"Perhaps not; but all the same, I don't\nbelieve you've got a better, though you're so big and I'm so small.\"\n\nNow you know that Apollo never could bear to be told that anybody\ncould have anything, or do anything, better than he. You remember how\nhe treated Marsyas and Midas for saying the same kind of thing. So he\ntook his own bow from his shoulder, and showed it to the boy, and\nsaid, \"As you think you know so much about bows and arrows, look at\nthat; perhaps you'll say that the bow which killed the great serpent\nPython isn't stronger than your trumpery little toy.\"\n\nThe boy took Apollo's bow and tried to bend it; but it was much too\nstrong for him. \"But never mind,\" said he. \"My little bow and arrows\nare better than your big ones, all the same.\"\n\nApollo was half angry and half amused. \"You little blockhead! how do\nyou make out that?\" asked he.\n\n\"Because,\" said the boy, \"your bow can kill everybody else--but mine\ncan conquer _you_. You shall see.\"\n\nAnd so saying he let fly one of his arrows right into Apollo's heart.\nThe arrow was so little that Apollo felt nothing more than the prick\nof a pin: he only laughed at the boy's nonsense, and went on his way\nas if nothing had happened.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut Apollo would not have thought so little of the matter if he had\nknown that his heart had been pricked by a magic arrow. The boy's name\nwas Cupid: and you will read a good deal about him both in this book\nand in others. Oddly enough, though the boy was one of the gods of\nOlympus, Apollo had never seen him before, and knew nothing about him.\nPerhaps Cupid had not been born when Apollo was banished from the sky.\nHowever this may be, there is no doubt about what Cupid's arrows could\ndo. If he shot into the hearts of two people at the same time with two\nof his golden arrows, they loved each other, and were happy. But if he\nshot only one heart, as he did Apollo's, that person was made to love\nsomebody who did not love him in return, and perhaps hated him: so he\nbecame very miserable.\n\nSo it happened to Apollo. He became very fond of a nymph named\nDaphne. But though he was so great and glorious a god, and she only a\nNaiad, she was only afraid of him and would have nothing to do with\nhim--because Cupid, out of mischief, shot her heart with one of his\nleaden arrows, which prevented love. Apollo prayed her to like him;\nbut she could not, and when she saw him coming used to hide away at\nthe bottom of her river.\n\nBut one day she was rambling in a wood a long way from her home. And,\nto her alarm, she suddenly saw Apollo coming towards her. She took to\nher heels and ran. She ran very fast indeed; but her river was far\naway, and Apollo kept gaining upon her--for nobody on the earth or in\nthe sky could run so fast as he. At last she was so tired and so\nfrightened that she could run no longer, and was obliged to stand\nstill.\n\n\"Rather than let Apollo touch me,\" she said, \"I would be a Hamadryad,\nand never be able to run again!\"\n\nShe wished it so hard, that suddenly she felt her feet take root in\nthe earth. Then her arms turned to branches, and her fingers to twigs,\nand her hair to leaves. And when Apollo reached the spot, he found\nnothing but a laurel bush growing where Daphne had been.\n\nThat is why \"Daphne\" is the Greek for \"Laurel.\" And forever after\nApollo loved the bush into which Daphne had been turned. You may know\nApollo in pictures by his laurel wreath as well as by his lyre and\nbow.\n\nIt is a very ancient saying that \"Love conquers all things.\" And that\nis exactly what Cupid meant by saying that his toy-bow was stronger\neven than the bow which had killed Python, and could conquer with ease\neven the god of the Sun.\n\n\nII.--THE HYACINTH.\n\nYou remember that Apollo and Diana were born in the island of Delos.\nThe part of Delos where they were born was a mountain called Cynthus;\nand for that reason Apollo was often called Cynthius, and Diana,\nCynthia. Bear this in mind, in order to follow this story.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhile Apollo was on earth, Amyclas, the King of Sparta, engaged him to\nbe the teacher of his son. This boy, named Hyacinthus, was so handsome\nand so amiable that Apollo became exceedingly fond of him; indeed, he\ncould not bear to be away from his pupil's company.\n\nBut the west wind, whose name is Zephyrus, was also very fond of the\nboy, whose chief friend he had been before Apollo came. He was afraid\nthat the son of Amyclas liked Apollo best; and this thought filled him\nwith jealousy. One day, as he was blowing about the king's garden, he\nsaw Apollo and the boy playing at quoits together. \"Quoits\" are heavy\nrings made of iron: each player takes one, and throws it with all his\nstrength at a peg fixed in the ground, and the one who throws his\nquoit nearest to the peg wins the game. Zephyrus was so angry and\njealous to see the two friends amusing themselves while he was blowing\nabout all alone, that he determined to be revenged upon both of them.\n\nFirst of all the boy threw his quoit, and came very near to the peg\nindeed--so near that even Apollo, who could do everything better than\nanybody, thought he should find it very hard to beat him. The peg was\na great way off, so Apollo took up the heaviest quoit, aimed perfectly\nstraight, and sent it flying like a thunderbolt through the air. But\nZephyrus, who was waiting, gave a great blast, and blew Apollo's quoit\nas it was flying, so that it struck the boy, who fell to the ground.\n\nIt was a cruel thing altogether. Apollo thought that he himself had\nstruck his friend by aiming badly: the boy thought the same, for\nneither could tell it was Zephyrus,--nobody has ever seen the wind.\n\nSo perished Hyacinthus: nor could Apollo do anything to show his love\nand grief for his friend except change him into a flower, which is\ncalled Hyacinth to this day. It is said that, if you look, you will\nfind \"Hya\" written in Greek letters upon every petal of the flower.\nSome people, however, say that it is not \"Hya\" at all, but \"Aiai,\"\nwhich means \"alas.\" I don't know which is true; but if you will some\nday look at the petal of a hyacinth through a microscope (the stronger\nthe better, I should say), you will find out for yourself and be able\nto tell me.\n\n * * * * *\n\nApollo seems to have been rather fond of turning his friends into\ntrees and flowers. There was another friend of his named Cyparissus,\nwho once, by accident, killed one of Apollo's favorite stags, and was\nso sorry for what he had done, and pined away so miserably, that the\ngod, to put him out of his misery, changed him into a cypress-tree.\n\"Cypress\" comes from Cyparissus, as you will easily see. And we still\nplant the cypress in churchyards, because it is the tree of tears and\nmourning that cannot be cured.\n\n\nIII.--THE SUNFLOWER.\n\nThere was a nymph named Clytie, who was so beautiful that Apollo fell\nin love with her. She was very proud and glad of being loved by the\ngod of the Sun, and loved him a great deal more than he loved her.\nBut she believed that his love was as great as her own: and so she\nlived happily for a long time.\n\nBut one day, Apollo happened to see a king's daughter, whose name was\nLeucothoe. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever\nseen: so he fell in love with her, and forgot Clytie as much as if\nthere was nobody but Leucothoe in the world. Clytie, however, knew\nnothing of all this, and only wondered why Apollo never came to see\nher any more.\n\nNow the king, whose name was Orchamus, kept his daughter very\nstrictly: and did not wish her to have anything to do with Apollo. I\nsuppose he was afraid of Apollo's loving her for a time, and then\nleaving her to be miserable and unhappy, as happened to many nymphs\nand princesses in those days besides Clytie. So when King Orchamus\nfound that Apollo was making love to Leucothoe, he shut her up in his\npalace, and would not allow her to go out or anybody else to go in.\n\nBut Apollo was much too clever to be beaten in that way. He disguised\nhimself as Leucothoe's own mother, and so came to see her whenever he\npleased, without anybody being anything the wiser. And so everything\nwent on just as he wished, if it had not been for Clytie, whom he had\ntreated just as King Orchamus was afraid he would treat Leucothoe.\n\nClytie wondered why Apollo never came to see her till she could bear\nit no longer; and she watched him, to find out what was the reason of\nit all. She watched till at last she saw somebody who looked like a\nqueen go into the palace of King Orchamus. But she knew Apollo much\ntoo well to be taken in by any disguise. She secretly followed him\ninto the palace, and found him making love to Leucothoe.\n\nIn her misery and jealousy, she went straight to King Orchamus, and\ntold him what she had seen. Perhaps she hoped that the king would send\nhis daughter away altogether, so that Apollo would then come back to\nher. She could not possibly foresee what would really happen. King\nOrchamus was so enraged with his daughter for receiving Apollo's\nvisits against his commands that he ordered Leucothoe to be buried\nalive. Of course he could not punish Apollo: because Apollo was a god,\nwhile he was only a king.\n\nPerhaps you will think that Apollo might have managed to save\nLeucothoe from such a terrible death as her father had ordered for\nher. As he did not, I suppose that King Orchamus had her buried before\nanybody could tell the news--at any rate she was dead when Apollo\narrived at her grave. All he could do for her was to show his love and\nhis sorrow by turning her into a tree from which people take a\nsweet-smelling gum called myrrh.\n\nAs to Clytie, whose jealousy had caused the death of the princess, he\nrefused ever to speak to her or look at her again: and he turned her\ninto a sunflower, which has no perfume like the myrrh-tree into which\nhe had changed Leucothoe. But, in spite of his scorn and of everything\nhe could do to her, Clytie loved him still: and though he would not\nlook at her, she still spends her whole time in gazing up at him with\nher blossoms, which are her eyes. People say that the blossoms of the\nsunflower always turn toward the sun--towards the east when he is\nrising, toward the west when he is setting, and straight up at noon,\nwhen he is in the middle of the sky. Of course, like all other\nblossoms, they close at night, when he is no longer to be seen. As for\nthe sun himself, I suspect he has forgotten both Clytie and Leucothoe\nlong ago; and sees no difference between them and any other trees or\nflowers.\n\n\nIV.--THE NARCISSUS.\n\nThis story has nothing to do with Apollo: but I may as well tell it\namong the other flower stories.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere was a very beautiful nymph named Echo, who had never, in all her\nlife, seen anybody handsomer than the god Pan. You have read that Pan\nwas the chief of all the Satyrs, and what hideous monsters the Satyrs\nwere. So, when Pan made love to her, she very naturally kept him at a\ndistance: and, as she supposed him to be no worse-looking than the\nrest of the world, she made up her mind to have nothing to do with\nlove or love-making, and was quite content to ramble about the woods\nall alone.\n\nBut one day, to her surprise, she happened to meet with a young man\nwho was as different from Pan as any creature could be. Instead of\nhaving a goat's legs and long hairy arms, he was as graceful as Apollo\nhimself: no horns grew out of his forehead, and his ears were not\nlong, pointed, and covered with hair, but just like Echo's own. And he\nwas just as beautiful in face as he was graceful in form. I doubt if\nEcho would have thought even Apollo himself so beautiful.\n\nThe nymphs were rather shy, and Echo was the very shyest of them all.\nBut she admired him so much that she could not leave the spot, and at\nlast she even plucked up courage enough to ask him, \"What is the name\nof the most beautiful being in the whole world?\"\n\n\"Whom do you mean?\" asked he. \"Yourself? If you want to know your own\nname, you can tell it better than I can.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Echo, \"I don't mean myself, I mean _you_. What is _your_\nname?\"\n\n\"My name is Narcissus,\" said he. \"But as for my being beautiful--that\nis absurd.\"\n\n\"Narcissus!\" repeated Echo to herself. \"It is a beautiful name. Which\nof the nymphs have you come to meet here in these woods all alone? She\nis lucky--whoever she may be.\"\n\n\"I have come to meet nobody,\" said Narcissus. \"But--am I really so\nbeautiful? I have often been told so by other girls, of course; but\nreally it is more than I can quite believe.\"\n\n\"And you don't care for any of those girls?\"\n\n\"Why, you see,\" said Narcissus, \"when all the girls one knows call one\nbeautiful, there's no reason why I should care for one more than\nanother. They all seem alike when they are all always saying just the\nsame thing. Ah! I do wish I could see myself, so that I could tell if\nit was really true. I would marry the girl who could give me the wish\nof my heart--to see myself as other people see me. But as nobody can\nmake me do that, why, I suppose I shall get on very well without\nmarrying anybody at all.\"\n\nLooking-glasses had not been invented in those days, so that Narcissus\nhad really never seen even so much of himself as his chin.\n\n\"What!\" cried Echo, full of hope and joy; \"if I make you see your own\nface, you will marry _me_?\"\n\n\"I said so,\" said he. \"And of course what I say I'll do, I'll do.\"\n\n\"Then--come with me!\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nEcho took him by the hand and led him to the edge of a little lake in\nthe middle of the wood, full of clear water.\n\n\"Kneel down, Narcissus,\" said she, \"and bend your eyes over the\nwater-side. That lake is the mirror where Diana comes every morning to\ndress her hair, and in which, every night, the moon and the stars\nbehold themselves. Look into that water, and see what manner of man\nyou are!\"\n\nNarcissus kneeled down and looked into the lake. And, better than in\nany common looking-glass, he saw the reflected image of his own\nface--and he looked, and looked, and could not take his eyes away.\n\nBut Echo at last grew tired of waiting. \"Have you forgotten what you\npromised me?\" asked she. \"Are you content now? Do you see now that\nwhat I told you is true?\"\n\nHe lifted his eyes at last. \"Oh, beautiful creature that I am!\" said\nhe. \"I am indeed the most divine creature in the whole wide world. I\nlove myself madly. Go away. I want to be with my beautiful image, with\nmyself, all alone. I can't marry you. I shall never love anybody but\nmyself for the rest of my days.\" And he kneeled down and gazed at\nhimself once more, while poor Echo had to go weeping away.\n\nNarcissus had spoken truly. He loved himself and his own face so much\nthat he could think of nothing else: he spent all his days and nights\nby the lake, and never took his eyes away. But unluckily his image,\nwhich was only a shadow in the water, could not love him back again.\nAnd so he pined away until he died. And when his friends came to look\nfor his body, they found nothing but a flower, into which his soul had\nturned. So they called it the Narcissus, and we call it so still. And\nyet I don't know that it is a particularly conceited or selfish\nflower.\n\nAs for poor Echo, she pined away too. She faded and faded until\nnothing was left of her but her voice. There are many places where she\ncan even now be heard. And she still has the same trick of saying to\nvain and foolish people whatever they say to themselves, or whatever\nthey would like best to hear said to them. If you go where Echo is,\nand call out loudly, \"I am beautiful!\"--she will echo your very words.\n\n\nPART VI.--PRESUMPTION; OR, THE STORY OF PHA\u00cbTHON.\n\nThere was a nymph named Clymene, who had a son so handsome that he was\ncalled Pha\u00ebthon, which means in Greek, \"bright, radiant, shining,\"\nlike the sun. When he grew up the goddess Venus was so charmed with\nhim that she made him the chief ruler of all her temples, and took him\ninto such high favor that all his friends and companions were filled\nwith envy.\n\nOne day, when Pha\u00ebthon was foolishly bragging about his own beauty and\ngreatness, and how much he was put by a goddess above other men, one\nof his companions, named Epaphus, answered him, scornfully:--\n\n\"Ah! you may boast and brag, but you are a nobody after all! _My_\nfather was Jupiter, as everybody knows; but who was yours?\"\n\nSo Pha\u00ebthon went to his mother Clymene, and said:--\n\n\"Mother, they taunt me for not being the son of a god; me, who am fit\nto be a god myself for my grace and beauty. Who was my father? He\nmust at least have been some great king, to be the father of such a\nson as I.\"\n\n\"A king!\" said Clymene. \"Ay--and a greater than all kings! Tell them,\nfrom me, that your father is Ph\u0153bus Apollo, the god of the Sun!\"\n\nBut when he went back and told his friends, \"My father is Ph\u0153bus\nApollo, the god of the Sun,\" Epaphus and the others only scorned him\nand laughed at him the more. \"You've caught your bragging from your\nmother,\" said they. \"You're _her_ son, anyhow, whoever your father may\nbe.\"\n\nWhen Clymene heard this, she felt terribly offended. \"Then I will\nprove my words,\" said she. \"Go to the Palace of the Sun and enter\nboldly. There you will see the Sun-god in all his glory. Demand of him\nto declare you to be his son openly before all the world, so that even\nthe sons of Jupiter shall hang their heads for shame.\"\n\nIf Apollo had been still banished upon earth, of course Pha\u00ebthon could\nhave found him very easily. But the nine years of banishment were over\nnow, and the only way to find the god of the Sun was to seek him in\nhis palace above the sky. How Pha\u00ebthon managed to get there I have\nnever heard; but I suppose his mother was able to tell him the secret\nway. You may imagine the glorious and wonderful place it was--the\nHouse of the Sun, with the stars for the windows that are lighted up\nat night, and the clouds for curtains, and the blue sky for a garden,\nand the Zodiac for a carriage-drive. The sun itself, as you have\nheard, is the chariot of Apollo, drawn by four horses of white fire,\nwho feed on golden grain, and are driven by the god himself round and\nround the world. Pha\u00ebthon entered boldly, as his mother had told him,\nfound Apollo in all his glory, and said:--\n\n\"My mother, Clymene, says that I am your son. Is it true?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said Apollo, \"it is true.\"\n\n\"Then give me a sign,\" said Pha\u00ebthon, \"that all may know and believe.\nMake me sure that I am your son.\"\n\n\"Tell them that _I_ say so,\" said Apollo. \"There--don't hinder me any\nmore. My horses are harnessed: it is time for the sun to rise.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Pha\u00ebthon, \"they will only say that I brag and lie. Give me\na sign for all the world to see--a sign that only a father would give\nto his own child.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Apollo, who was getting impatient at being so\nhindered. \"Only tell me what you want me to do, and it shall be done.\"\n\n\"You swear it--by Styx?\" said Pha\u00ebthon.\n\nNow you must know that the Styx was a river in Hades by which the gods\nswore; and that an oath \"by Styx\" was as binding upon a god as a\nplain promise is upon a gentleman.\n\n\"I swear it--by Styx!\" said Apollo, rather rashly, as you will see.\nBut he was now in a very great hurry indeed.\n\n\"Then,\" said Pha\u00ebthon, \"let _me_ drive the horses of the Sun for one\nwhole day!\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis put Apollo in terrible alarm, for he knew very well that no hand,\nnot even a god's, can drive the horses of the Sun but his own. But he\nhad sworn by Styx--the oath that cannot be broken. All he could do was\nto keep the world waiting for sunrise while he showed Pha\u00ebthon how to\nhold the reins and the whip, and pointed out what course to take, and\nwarned him of the dangers of the road. \"But it's all of no use. You'll\nnever do it,\" said he. \"Give it up, while there is yet time! You know\nnot what you do.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I do, though,\" said Pha\u00ebthon. \"I know I can. There--I\nunderstand it all now, without another word.\" So saying, he sprang\ninto the chariot, seized the reins, and gave the four fiery horses\nfour lashes that sent them flying like comets through the air.\n\n\"Hold them in--hold them hard!\" cried Apollo. But Pha\u00ebthon was off,\nand too far off to hear.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOff indeed! and where? The world must have been amazed that day to see\nthe sun rise like a rocket and go dashing about the sky, north,\nsouth, east, west--anywhere, nowhere, everywhere! Well the horses knew\nthat it was not Apollo, their master, who plied the whip and held the\nreins. They took their bits between their teeth, and--bolted. They\nkicked a planet to bits (astronomers know where the pieces are still):\nthey broke holes in the chariot, which we can see, and call\n\"sun-spots,\" to this day: it was as if chaos were come again. At last,\nPha\u00ebthon, whose own head was reeling, saw to his horror that the\nhorses, in their mad rush, were getting nearer and nearer to the earth\nitself--and what would happen then? If the wheels touched the globe we\nlive on, it would be scorched to a cinder. Nearer, nearer, nearer it\ncame--till a last wild kick broke the traces, overturned the sun\nitself, and Pha\u00ebthon fell, and fell, and fell, till he fell into the\nsea, and was drowned. And then the horses trotted quietly home.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe story of Pha\u00ebthon is always taken as a warning against being\nconceited and self-willed. But there are some curious things about it\nstill to be told. The Greeks fancied that the great desert of Sahara,\nin Africa, is the place where the earth was scorched by the sun's\nchariot-wheel, and that the African negroes were burned black in the\nsame way, and have never got white again. And the poplars are\nPha\u00ebthon's sisters, who wept themselves for his death into trees.\n\n\n\n\nDIANA; AND THE STORY OF ORION.\n\n\nYou know that the fixed stars are divided into groups, called\nconstellations. A name has been given to every constellation; and each\nis supposed to be like the shape of some creature or thing--such as\nthe Great Bear, the Swan, the Cup, the Eagle, the Dragon, and so on.\nMost of their names were given by the Greeks, who fancied they could\nsee in them the shapes after which they were named. We have kept the\nold names, and still paint the supposed figure of each constellation\non the celestial globe, which is the image or map of the sky.\n\nNow the grandest, brightest, and largest of all the constellations is\nnamed Orion. It is supposed to represent a giant, with a girdle and a\nsword, and is rather more like what is fancied than most of the\nconstellations are. You are now going to read the story of Orion, and\nhow he came to be placed among the stars. You may notice, by the way,\nthat the planets, the sun, and the moon are named after gods and\ngoddesses; the fixed stars after mortals who were raised to the skies.\n\nThere was once a man named Hyrieus, whose wife died, and he loved her\nso much, and was so overcome with grief that he vowed never to marry\nagain. But she left him no children. And when, in course of time, he\ngrew old, he sadly felt the want of sons and daughters to make his old\nage less hard and lonely.\n\nOne day it happened that Jupiter, Neptune, and Mercury (who was one of\nthe gods, and Jupiter's chief minister and messenger) were on a visit\nto earth. The night fell, and they grew tired and hungry. So they\nwandered on to find rest and food; and, as luck would have it, they\ncame to the cottage of Hyrieus, and asked for shelter. Hyrieus thought\nthey were only three poor benighted travelers who had lost their way.\nBut he was very good and charitable, so he asked them in and gave them\nthe best fare he had--bread, roots, and wine--he himself waiting upon\nthem, and trying to make them comfortable. He poured out a cup of\nwine, and offered it first to Neptune. But Neptune, instead of\ndrinking it, rose from his seat and gave the cup to Jupiter, like a\nsubject to a king who should be first served. You may not think there\nwas much to notice in this; but Hyrieus noticed it, and then, looking\nintently upon the stranger to whom Neptune had given the cup, he was\nstruck by a sudden religious awe that told him he was in the presence\nof the king and father of gods and men. He straightway fell on his\nknees and said:--\n\n\"I am poor and humble; but I have in my stall one ox to plough my\nfield. I will gladly offer him up as a sacrifice for joy that Jupiter\nhas thought me worthy to give him bread and wine.\"\n\n\"You are a good and pious man,\" said Jupiter. \"Ask of us any gift you\nplease, and it shall be yours.\"\n\n\"My wife is dead,\" said Hyrieus, \"and I have vowed never to marry\nagain. But let me have a child.\"\n\n\"Take the ox,\" said Jupiter, \"and sacrifice him.\"\n\nSo Hyrieus, being full of faith, sacrificed his ox, and, at the\nbidding of Jupiter, buried the skin. And from that skin, and out of\nthe ground, there grew a child, who was named Orion.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOrion grew and grew till he became a giant, of wonderful strength and\nsplendid beauty. He took the most loving care of Hyrieus, and was the\nbest of sons to him. But when the old man died, Orion went out into\nthe world to seek his fortune. And the first service he found was that\nof Diana, the sister of Apollo, and queen and goddess of the Moon.\n\nDiana, however, had a great deal to do besides looking after the moon.\nShe was three goddesses in one--a goddess of the sky, a goddess of\nearth, and a goddess of Hades besides. In heaven she was called Luna,\nwhose duty is to light the world when Apollo is off duty. In Hades she\nwas called Hecate, who, with her scepter, rules the ghosts of dead\nsouls. And on earth her name is Diana, the queen, of forests and\nmountains, of wild animals and hunters. She wears a crescent on her\nforehead and a quiver at her back; her limbs are bare, and she holds a\nbow, with which she shoots as well as her brother Apollo. Just as he\nis called Ph\u0153bus, so she is often called Ph\u0153be. She goes hunting\nall night among the hills and woods, attended by the Nymphs and\nOreads, of whom she is queen. There are not so many stories about her\nas about the other gods and goddesses, and yet she is really the most\ninteresting of them all, as you will see some day.\n\nThis great strange goddess had sworn never to love or marry--had sworn\nit by Styx, I suppose. But Orion was so beautiful and so strong and so\ngreat a hunter that she went as near to loving him as she ever did to\nloving any one. She had him always with her, and could never bear him\nto leave her. But Orion never thought of becoming the husband of a\ngoddess, and he fell in love with a mortal princess, the daughter of\n\u0152nopion, King of Chios, an island in the \u00c6gean Sea.\n\nWhen, however, he asked the king for his daughter, \u0152nopion was\nterribly frightened at the idea of having a giant for his son-in-law.\nBut he dared not say \"No.\" He answered him:--\n\n\"My kingdom is overrun with terrible wild beasts. I will give my\ndaughter to the man who kills them all.\" He said this, feeling sure\nthat any man who tried to kill all the wild beasts in Chios would\nhimself be killed.\n\nBut Orion went out, and killed all the wild beasts in no time, with\nhis club and his sword. Then \u0152nopion was still more afraid of him,\nand said:--\n\n\"You have won my daughter. But, before you marry her, let us drink\ntogether, in honor of this joyful day.\"\n\nOrion, thinking no harm, went with \u0152nopion to the sea-shore, where\nthey sat down and drank together. But \u0152nopion (whose name means\n\"The Wine-Drinker\") knew a great deal more about what wine will do,\nand how to keep sober, than Orion. So before long Orion fell asleep\nwith the strong Chian wine, which the King had invented; and when\nOrion was sound asleep, \u0152nopion put out both his eyes.\n\nThe giant awoke to find himself blind, and did not know what to do or\nwhich way to go. But at last, in the midst of his despair, he heard\nthe sound of a blacksmith's forge. Guided by the clang, he reached the\nplace, and prayed the blacksmith to climb up on his shoulders, and so\nlend him his eyes to guide him.\n\nThe blacksmith consented, and seated himself on the giant's shoulder.\nThen said Orion:--\n\n\"Guide me to the place where I can see the first sunbeam that rises at\ndaybreak in the east over the sea.\"\n\nOrion strode out, and the blacksmith guided him, and at last they came\nto the place where the earliest sunbeam first strikes upon human eyes.\nIt struck upon Orion's, and it gave him back his sight again. Then,\nthanking the blacksmith, he plunged into the sea to swim back to\nDiana.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow Apollo had long noticed his sister's affection for Orion, and was\nvery much afraid for fear she should break her vow against love and\nmarriage. To break an oath would be a horrible thing for a goddess to\ndo. While Orion was away, making love and killing wild beasts in\nChios, there was no fear; but now he was coming back, there was no\nknowing what might happen. So he thought of a trick to get rid of\nOrion, and he said:--\n\n\"My sister, some people say that you can shoot as well as I can. Now,\nof course, that is absurd.\"\n\n\"Why absurd?\" asked Diana. \"I can shoot quite as well as you.\"\n\n\"We will soon see that,\" said Apollo. \"Do you see that little dark\nspeck out there, in the sea? I wager that you won't hit it, and that I\ncan.\"\n\n\"We _will_ see,\" said Diana. So she drew her bow and shot her arrow\nat the little dark speck, that seemed dancing on the waves miles and\nmiles away. To hit it seemed impossible. But Diana's arrow went true.\nThe speck was hit--it sank, and rose no more.\n\nIt was the head of Orion, who was swimming back to Diana. She had been\ntricked into killing him with an arrow from her own bow. All she could\ndo was to place him among the stars.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo her vow was kept; and from that time she never allowed herself to\nbe seen by a man. Women may see her; but if men see her, they go mad\nor die. There is a terrible story of a hunter named Act\u00e6on, who once\nhappened to catch a glimpse of her as she was bathing in a pool. She\ninstantly turned him into a stag, so that his own dogs fell upon him\nand killed him. And another time, when she saw a shepherd named\nEndymion on Mount Latmos, and could not help wishing to kiss him for\nhis beauty, she covered herself with clouds as she stooped, and threw\nhim into a deep sleep, so that he might not see her face, or know that\nhe had been kissed by the moon. Only from that hour he became a poet\nand a prophet, full of strange fancies; and it is said that every man\nbecomes a madman or a poet who goes to sleep in the moonlight on the\ntop of a hill. Diana comes and kisses him in his dreams.\n\n\n\n\nMINERVA; OR, WISDOM.\n\n\nOne day Jupiter had a very bad headache. He had never had one before,\nso he did not know what it was or what to do. One god recommended one\nthing and another proposed another, and Jupiter tried them all; but\nthe more things he tried the worse the headache grew. At last he\nsaid:--\n\n\"I can't stand this any more. Vulcan, bring your great sledge-hammer\nand split open my skull. Kill or cure.\"\n\nVulcan brought his sledge-hammer and split open Jupiter's skull with a\nsingle blow. And out there came a fine, full-grown goddess, clad in\ncomplete armor from head to foot, armed with a spear and shield, and\nwith beautiful large blue eyes. She was Minerva (or, in Greek,\nAthene), the Wisdom that comes from Jupiter's brain, and makes it ache\nsometimes.\n\nMinerva was wonderfully good as well as wonderfully wise: not that\nthere is much difference between goodness and wisdom. She is the only\ngoddess, or god either, who never did a foolish, an unkind, or a\nwrong thing. By the way, though, she once took it into her head that\nshe could play the flute, and the gods laughed at her; but when she\nlooked into a brook and saw what ugly faces she made when she played,\nshe knew at once what made the gods laugh, laughed at herself, threw\nthe flute away, and never played it again; so she was even wise enough\nnot to be vain, or to think she could do well what she did badly.\n\nThe only bad thing about good people is that there are so few good\nstories to tell of them. She was Jupiter's favorite daughter, and no\nwonder; and she was the only one of all the gods and goddesses whom he\nallowed to use his thunder. She was the only one he could trust, I\nsuppose. She was rather too fond of fighting, considering that she was\na lady, but she was as good at her needle as her sword. She was so\ngood at spinning, that a woman named Arachne, who was the best spinner\nand seamstress in the world, hanged herself in despair because she\ncould not spin a web so neatly and finely as Minerva. The goddess\nturned her into a spider, who is still the finest spinner in the\nworld, next to Minerva alone.\n\nOnce the people of Attica wanted a name for their capital, which they\nhad just been building. They asked the gods, and the gods in council\ndecreed that the new city should be named by the god who should give\nthe most useful new present to mankind. Neptune struck the earth with\nhis trident, and out sprang the horse, and nobody thought that his\ngift could be beaten. But Minerva planted the olive, which is the\nplant of peace. So the gods gave the honor of naming the new city to\nMinerva, because the emblem of peace is better than the horse, who is\nthe emblem of war. The name she gave was from her own--Athen\u00e6; and the\ncity is called Athens to this day. The Athenians always paid their\nchief worship to their goddess-godmother.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMinerva was very handsome, but rather manly-looking for a goddess, and\ngrave; her most famous feature was her blue eyes. \"The Blue-eyed Maid\"\nis one of her most usual titles in poetry. She wore a large helmet\nwith waving plumes; in one hand she held a spear; on her left arm she\ncarried the shield on which was the head of the Gorgon Medusa, with\nliving snakes darting from it. But sometimes she carried a distaff\ninstead of a spear. The olive was of course sacred to her, and her\nfavorite bird is the owl, who is always called the Bird of Wisdom.\n\n\n\n\nVENUS.\n\n\nPART I.--THE GOD OF FIRE.\n\nYou may remember reading, at the end of the story of \"The Gods and the\nGiants,\" that the quarrels of Jupiter and Juno never ceased to disturb\nthe peace of the sky where the gods dwell. Juno's temper was terrible,\nand so was her jealousy, and her pride was beyond all bounds. On the\nother hand, her character was without reproach, while Jupiter was the\nworst husband in the whole of heaven. To such a pitch did their\nquarrels at last reach, that Juno went away to earth, vowing never to\nsee Jupiter again.\n\nI suppose, however, that Jupiter loved Juno in the depth of his heart,\nor else he was afraid of the scandal that would follow upon a\nseparation between the King and Queen of Heaven. At any rate he\nconsulted his friends as to how the quarrel could be made up, and was\nadvised by one of them, King Cith\u00e6ron of Plat\u00e6a, to have it announced\nthat he was about to make some other goddess his queen. On hearing the\nnews, back flew Juno in a rage to the sky to stop the marriage, and\nfinding that there was no marriage to stop, consented to remain, and\nto forgive her husband once more.\n\nBut to quarrel once always makes it easier and easier to quarrel\nagain, and harder and harder to keep love or friendship alive. And\nbefore long came another quarrel--the worst of all. Juno scolded\nfuriously, and Jupiter at last said:--\n\n\"Enough. You shall destroy the peace of heaven no longer. Out you\nshall go.\"\n\n\"All the better,\" said Juno. \"I will go back to earth as I did before.\nAnd I am not going to be tricked by your false stories a second time.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jupiter; \"the happiness of the earth is as dear to me as\nthe happiness of the sky. You shall neither go to earth nor stay in\nheaven.\"\n\nTaking a long golden chain, he fastened it round her, under her\nshoulders. Then he sent for one of the Cyclopes' anvils, and fastened\nit to her feet. Securing the other end of the chain to the keystone of\nthe rainbow, he let her down, so that Juno hung suspended in mid-air,\nneither upon the earth nor in the sky, while the anvil at her feet\nprevented her from swinging and from climbing up again by the chain.\n\nIt was a terrible position for Juno. Her anger was still at full heat,\nand such a degradation, in full sight of gods and men, was a heavy\nwound to her pride, not to speak of the bodily pain which she had\nhelplessly to bear. But she scorned to beg for pardon. So there she\nhung, plotting revenge, until night came--till Apollo was asleep under\nthe sea, and Diana was away hunting, and Jupiter, making the most of\nhis long-lost quiet, was dozing upon his throne. Then Juno, who\ncertainly could not sleep with an anvil dragging at her legs and a\nchain at her shoulders, heard a whisper from above, \"Hush! Don't\nstart--don't scream; keep quite still, and I'll soon draw your majesty\nup again.\"\n\nNot that Juno had thought of starting or screaming--she was much too\ndignified. Besides, the whisper, though rather rough and hoarse, was\nvery pleasant to hear just then. For she recognized the voice of\nVulcan, her own son, and she knew that he was going to help her.\n\nSo she kept quite quiet as she was bidden, and presently she felt\nherself, anvil and all, being drawn very slowly upwards, just as you\nmay have seen a heavy sack drawn up by a machine to a warehouse\nwindow. It must have been rather painful being dragged up while the\nanvil dragged her down; but she found herself on firm sky at last, and\nsighed with relief when Vulcan, whipping out his knife, cut the cord\nat her feet, and let the anvil go thundering down upon the earth\nbelow.\n\nYou can fancy what a clatter it made. People started out of their\nsleep--not that that mattered. But it did matter that Jupiter started\nout of his. He sprang from his throne, and saw at once what had\nhappened. The next moment, with a tremendous kick, he sent Vulcan\nflying after the anvil.\n\nVulcan fell and fell, spinning through space, till he lost his senses,\nand then--\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe anvil had fallen upon the island of Lemnos, and the islanders,\nrushing out of their houses to see what the crash and clatter could be\nabout, were amazed to see what looked like a confused bundle of legs\nand arms tumbling and whirling through the air. As it came nearer, it\nseemed to be a human figure. So the people made a sort of network of\ntheir arms, to catch it and prevent its being dashed to pieces.\n\nAnd lucky it was for Vulcan that they did. For when he came to himself\nhe found himself with nothing worse the matter than one leg badly\nbroken.\n\nGod though he was, he always remained lame, and he was naturally\nsomewhat deformed. But neither lameness nor deformity prevented his\nhaving amazing strength; and he was as clever as he was strong. The\npeople of Lemnos treated him kindly, and he in return taught them to\nwork in metals. They built him a palace, and he set up forges and\nfurnaces, and made all sorts of useful and curious things. He used to\nwork at the forges himself, blowing the fires and wielding the hammer.\nAmong the curious things he made were two mechanical statues, which\nseemed alive, walked about with him, and even helped him in his work.\nAnd at last there came into his head a plan for getting called back\ninto heaven. So he shut himself up in his smithy with his two\nmechanical workmen, and let nobody know what he was doing there. Those\nmechanical workmen were among the most useful things he made, for he\ncould trust them to help him in his most secret work without\nunderstanding it or being able to tell how it was done.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne day the gods up in heaven were excited by the arrival of a\nsplendid golden throne--a present from the earth for Jupiter. How it\ncame there nobody knew. But there it was, and all agreed that nothing\nso magnificent in its way had ever been seen before, even in the\nskies. Jupiter was about to try how it felt to sit upon, when Juno,\njealous even of that, went quickly before him and seated herself.\n\n\"Ah! that _is_ a comfortable throne!\" she exclaimed. \"There is nothing\nlike gold to sit upon, after all.\"\n\nJupiter was annoyed with Juno's behavior, as indeed he was with most\nthings she did. As, however, he did not like to make another scene\nbefore all the gods and goddesses, he waited patiently for her to get\nup again. But she did not move.\n\nAt last--\"I think that is _my_ throne,\" he hinted, in a tone which\nseemed gentle, but which Juno understood exceedingly well. Still she\ndid not move.\n\n\"Thrones are not meant to go to sleep upon,\" he said in a yet more\nmeaning way.\n\nAnd still she did not move.\n\n\"Get up!\" he thundered at last, his patience gone.\n\n\"I can't!\" was all she could say, as she made a vain effort to rise.\n\"The throne is holding me with its arms!\"\n\nAnd so it proved. Juno was held so tightly by the throne that she\ncould scarcely struggle. It was very strange. And presently it became\nstranger still. Neither the authority of Jupiter, nor all the strength\nand skill of all Olympus together, could loosen the clutch of the\nmagic throne.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Mercury--who, you may remember, was Jupiter's chief\nmessenger, and the quickest and cleverest of all the gods--\"if only\nVulcan were here! He understands these things.\"\n\n\"And why is he not here?\" asked Jupiter, sternly.\n\nBut nobody dared answer, though everybody knew. However, Mercury took\nthe hint, vanished for an instant or two, and, while the gods were\nvainly tugging at the arms of the throne, reappeared, followed by a\nlimping figure all black and hot from the forge--in short, by Vulcan.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" asked Vulcan, as innocently as if he had nothing\nto do with it at all. \"Ah! I see. A clever invention; but--By the way,\nI can't afford another broken leg: so if I help my mother _this_\ntime--\"\n\nSeeing from the face of Jupiter that he had nothing to fear, he\npressed the tip of his grimy finger upon a secret spring--the arms\ninstantly opened, and Juno was free. What they did with the throne I\ncannot tell you; but you may be certain that nobody ever sat on it\nagain.\n\nAfter that, Vulcan remained among the gods as the god of Fire, and was\nthe chief blacksmith of nature. He opened vast forges in the middle of\nthe earth, where he made weapons and armor for gods and heroes, and\nthunderbolts for Jupiter. The Cyclopes, the giants with one eye in the\nmiddle of their foreheads, were his workmen. The chimneys of his\nfurnaces are called volcanoes, of which the chief is Mount \u00c6tna in the\nisland of Sicily; and one can tell when some great work is going on by\nthe smoke and flame that bursts out of these. Volcano, you will no\ndoubt notice, is very nearly the same word as Vulcan.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd so things went on quietly till one day a very wonderful thing\nhappened. Nobody has ever been able to account for it or understand\nit; so I must just tell you the story as it stands. One lovely spring\nmorning, when there was scarcely the softest breeze to stir the sea,\nshining like a mirror in the sun, a light amber-colored froth that\nfloated upon the ripples was seen, by watchers upon the shore of the\nisland of Cyprus, to gather into a delicate rosy cloud that presently\nbegan to tremble as if it were trying to be alive. It still rested\nlightly upon the water--so lightly that the breeze, soft and gentle as\nit was, might have blown it away; but its delicate trembling carried\nit upwards till at last it seemed to breathe, then to take shape, and\nat last blossomed into the most beautiful woman--if woman it was--that\nhad ever been seen in the world, or even in heaven. With wonderful\ngrace she glided to the shore; and poets have told how the zephyrs, or\nsoft west winds, guided her as she came, and the four seasons received\nher on the shore. The people of Cyprus could only wonder and worship;\nand this was the birth of the great goddess Venus, the Queen of Love,\nwhom the Greeks called Aphrodite, which means born of the Foam of the\nSea.\n\nAnd this wonderful goddess of Love and Beauty Jupiter chose to give in\nmarriage to Vulcan, the deformed and limping god of Fire.\n\n\nPART II.--LOVE AND THE SOUL; OR, THE STORY OF CUPID AND PSYCHE.\n\nThe fact was, that Jupiter himself had fallen in love with the\nbeautiful new goddess. But she would have nothing to say to him: and\nso, just out of anger and revenge, he ordered her to marry Vulcan,\nbecause he was ugly, deformed, and always black with working at his\nforges.\n\nAltogether it was an unlucky day when Venus came into the sky. Her\nbeauty turned the heads of the gods, and filled the goddesses with\nenvy and jealousy. But all that mattered nothing to her, for she had a\nmagic zone, or girdle, called \"Cestus\" in Latin: and whenever she put\nit on she became so irresistibly charming that everybody forgave her\neverything. Not only the gods, but men also, became her lovers, her\nown favorite among them all being Mars, the god of War--a cruel and\nsavage god, very unlike the rest, delighting in battle and slaughter.\nThen, on earth, she tried her best to make a very handsome young\nprince named Adonis fall in love with her. But he--strange to\nsay--cared nothing for her. The only thing he cared for in the world\nwas hunting: he scorned everything else, Venus included. Still, in\nspite of his scorn for her, she mourned for him miserably when he was\nkilled by a wild boar. She changed him into the flower called Anemone,\nso that she might still find him upon earth: though some people say\nher grief was such that Death took pity on her, and allowed him to\ncome to life again for six months at a time every year. This might\nmean that Adonis is only another name for the beauty of the earth,\nwhich comes to life for the six months of spring and summer, and dies\nfor the six months of autumn and winter. For most of these stories\nhave some sort of meaning.\n\n * * * * *\n\nVenus had a child, named Cupid, which means love. You must often have\nseen pictures and statues of him--a very beautiful boy, with wings,\ncarrying a bow and arrows. They were magic arrows. For if any man was\npricked by one of their points, he fell in love with the first woman\nhe saw: or a woman, in like manner, with the first man. And as Cupid\nwas exceedingly mischievous, and fond of aiming his arrows at people\nfor his own amusement, the wrong women were always falling in love\nwith the wrong men, and the wrong men with the wrong women: and so a\ngreat deal of fresh trouble came into the world, as if there had not\nbeen enough before, without the mischievous tricks of Cupid.\nSometimes he went about blindfolded, shooting his arrows about at\nrandom: and then, of course, the confusion was worse than ever. It has\nbeen said that the bandage over his eyes means that love is blind to\nfaults. But he does not always wear the bandage: and when he does, I\nbelieve it is only when he does not choose to see.\n\nNow in a certain city there lived a king and queen, who had three\nbeautiful daughters. The name of the youngest was Psyche, and she was\nthe most beautiful of all. So beautiful and so charming was she that\nthe people worshiped her as a goddess, instead of Venus. This made\nVenus very angry indeed, that a mortal girl should receive the honor\nand worship due to the goddess of Beauty. So, in her jealous wrath,\nshe said to Cupid:--\n\n\"Do you see that girl yonder? I order you, as your mother, to make her\nfall in love with the very meanest of mankind--one so degraded that he\ncannot find his equal in wretchedness throughout the whole wide\nworld.\"\n\nPsyche's elder sisters were both married to kings; but she herself was\nso marvelously beautiful that no mere mortal dared to ask for her in\nmarriage. This distressed the king, her father, greatly: for it was\nthought dishonorable for a princess not to marry. So he consulted the\noracle of Apollo--an \"oracle\" being a place where a god's voice\nanswered questions. And the voice answered him thus:--\n\n \"On a cliff the maiden place:\n Deck her as you deck the dead.\n None that is of mortal race\n Shall so fair a maiden wed.\n But a being dread and dire,\n Feared by earth, by heaven abhorred,\n Breathing venom, sword, and fire--\n He shall be the lady's lord.\"\n\nThis answer made the king more unhappy than ever at the thought of\nhaving to give his favorite daughter to be devoured by some terrible\nmonster. However, the oracle had to be obeyed, and the whole city gave\nitself up to mourning for many days. Then at last a funeral procession\nset out to conduct the poor princess to her doom. Her father and\nmother were distracted with grief, and Psyche alone showed\ncheerfulness and courage, doing all she could to comfort them, and to\nmake them resigned to the will of heaven.\n\nWhen the procession reached the highest peak of a neighboring\nmountain, it returned to the city, and Psyche was left there all\nalone. Then her courage left her, and she threw herself upon the rock\nall trembling and weeping. But suddenly, in the midst of her distress,\nshe was gently lifted up by the wind, and as gently let down upon the\nsoft turf of a secret valley in the very heart of the hill.\n\nIt was a very delightful place, and Psyche fell pleasantly asleep.\nWhen she woke she saw a grove, with a fountain of water as clear as\ncrystal, and near the fountain was a splendid palace, built of gold,\ncedar, and ivory, and paved with precious stones. Psyche approached it\ntimidly, and presently found courage to enter. The beauty of the\nchambers lured her on and on, until at last she was fairly bewildered\nwith admiration. All the wealth and beauty of the world seemed\ncollected in this wonderful palace, and all without a lock or a chain\nto guard them.\n\nSuddenly, in the midst of her wonder, she heard a musical voice,\nsaying:--\n\n \"Lady, wonder not nor fear;\n All is thine thou findest here.\n On yon couch let slumber bless thee,\n Hands unseen shall bathe and dress thee,\n Bring thee meat and pour thee wine--\n Thine are we, and all is thine.\"\n\nShe looked round, but saw nobody. However, she saw the couch, and,\nbeing very tired with wandering about the palace and seeing so many\nwonders, lay down upon it and soon fell asleep. When quite rested, she\nrose and took a bath, being waited upon by invisible hands. Then she\nsaw dishes of all sorts of dainties, and cups of wine, carried\napparently without hands to a table, at which, being by this time\nexceedingly hungry, she sat down and made a delicious meal, attended\nby voices for servants. When she had finished eating, another voice\nsang to an invisible harp, and this performance was followed by a full\nchorus of such music as is only heard in heaven. And so at last the\ndarkness of night came on.\n\nThen she heard a voice, different from all the rest, whisper close in\nher ear:--\n\n\"I am your husband, Psyche, of whom the oracle foretold. This my\npalace, with all its delight, is yours, and I shall make you very\nhappy. But you must obey me in two things. You must never see your\nfather or your mother or your sisters again, and you must never seek\nto see me at all. If you promise this, I swear to you that no harm\nshall befall your kindred, and that you shall be happy forever.\"\n\nThe whisper was strangely sweet and gentle for a terrible monster's.\nIndeed, it was so loving and so tender that she forgot even to\ntremble. It went to her heart, and she could only whisper back:--\n\n\"I promise you.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThenceforth Psyche lived in the palace, every day bringing her fresh\nsurprises and pleasures, the voices keeping her company, and\ndelighting her with their marvelous music. And as soon as it became\ntoo dark for her to see him, the lord of the palace, her husband,\ncame to her and stayed with her till nearly daybreak, until at last\nshe forgot everything except how good he was to her, and how much she\nhad learned to love him. It did not even trouble her that she had\nnever seen him, for she thought of nothing but pleasing him and\nobeying his commands.\n\nBut one day Psyche's sisters, having heard of her fate, and having\ncome all the way from their husbands' kingdoms to learn all about it,\nclimbed together to the top of the mountain-peak to see if they could\nfind any traces of her. Finding none, they wept and beat their breasts\ntill the rocks resounded with their cries. Nay, their lamentations\nreached the palace itself; and Psyche, who loved her sisters, ran,\nforgetful of her promise, to the foot of the mountain, whence she saw\nthem above mourning for her in an agony of woe.\n\nThe sight of their grief was too much for Psyche: it seemed so cruel\nthat her sisters should mourn for her as dead while all the while she\nwas alive and happy. Surely the husband who loved her so much did not\nmean the promise to prevent her from putting their hearts at ease. So\nshe gave a command, and forthwith the invisible hands lifted her\nsisters, and carried them down safely into the secret valley.\n\nImagine their surprise! But imagine it still more when their lost\nsister, after embracing them, led them into her palace, showed them\nher treasures, entertained them with invisible concerts, and feasted\nthem sumptuously.\n\n\"And the lord, your husband,\" asked the eldest sister at last, \"what\nmanner of man may he be? And does he use you well and make you happy?\"\n\nThe sudden question took Psyche aback. It seemed so strange to have to\nanswer that she had never seen the face of her husband--that she no\nmore knew what he was like than they. So, to avert their curiosity,\nshe said:--\n\n\"He is an excellent husband and makes me very happy indeed--a handsome\nyoung man, who has not yet grown a beard: he spends his days in\nhunting among the mountains, or no doubt you would have seen him....\nBut it is time for us to part, my sisters, or it will be dark before\nyou get home.\"\n\nSo, loading them with jewels and golden ornaments, she embraced them,\nand, calling the invisible hands, had them conveyed safely back to the\ntop of the mountain.\n\nWhether the sisters had been honest in their mourning for Psyche I\ncannot tell: though I think they made more noise about it than people\nmake who really and truly grieve. Anyhow, they were now filled with\nenvy of Psyche's wealth and happiness.\n\n\"To think of my being married to a bald, miserly old man,\" said the\neldest sister on their way home, \"while that minx has a handsome young\nhusband who squanders untold wealth upon her! And how proud she has\ngrown! Why, she spoke to us as if we were her slaves.\"\n\n\"And to think,\" said the second sister, \"of my being married to a\ngouty cripple! You may take things patiently, sister, and put up with\nher airs: but not I. I propose that we hit on some plan to take down\nher pride.\"\n\nSo they hid the presents that Psyche had given them, redoubled their\ncries and groans, told their father and mother that Psyche had\ncertainly been devoured, and returned to their own kingdoms for a\nwhile. But only for a while. Having arranged a plan, they returned to\nthe top of the mountain: and in such a hurry were they to revisit\nPsyche that they leapt into the valley and would have come down with\nbroken necks had not a passing breeze, who recognized them as Psyche's\nsisters, caught them and made their fall easy. Psyche could not help\nbeing glad to see them again, for she loved them very dearly, and, in\nspite of her happiness, hungered for news from home.\n\nAfter she had entertained them as before:--\n\n\"By the way,\" asked the eldest sister, \"the lord, your husband--what\nmanner of man is he? You told us; but I have forgotten.\"\n\nAnd so had poor Psyche forgotten what she had told them. So she said,\nthis time:--\n\n\"He is a middle-aged man, with a big beard, and a few gray hairs\nsprinkled here and there. He is a merchant, and travels into distant\ncountries, or no doubt he would have been here to give you welcome.\"\n\n\"Oh, you poor innocent!\" said the sister. \"As if he could be young and\nmiddle-aged, bearded and beardless, a merchant and a hunter! It's\nplain you've never seen that husband of yours, and no wonder he\nwouldn't let you. For _we_ have--we, who spend our lives in watching\nover your interests,\" she went on, squeezing out a hypocritical tear.\n\"Your husband is an enormous dragon, with many folds and coils, a neck\nswollen with poison, and huge gaping jaws. Think of the oracle, you\npoor, dear, deluded girl. He is only feeding you up with delicacies in\norder to eat you. Well--if you like the prospect, _we_ have done _our_\nduty. And when you are eaten up, you won't be able to say _we_ didn't\ntell you so.\"\n\nPsyche was aghast with dismay. She trusted her sisters: there was the\noracle: and it was certainly mysterious that her husband had never\nallowed her to look upon him.\n\n\"Oh! what _shall_ I do?\" she cried.\n\n\"Do? Why, there's only one thing to do. We have thought it all out for\nyou. Here is a lamp. Light it and hide it under a piece of tapestry.\nWhen the monster sleeps, uncover the lamp, and throw the light full\nupon him. Then take this knife, which has been well sharpened, and\nsever his head from his body. Thus the world will be freed from a\ncurse, and you will be saved.\"\n\nThereupon they left her. And how shall Psyche's feelings be described?\nWas it possible she was the wife of a horrible dragon? Promise or no\npromise, that she must know. So she hid the lighted lamp, as directed.\nThe night came and her husband with it. When he had fallen into a deep\nsleep, Psyche, with naked feet, crept noiselessly across the floor,\ndrew off the tapestry, and flooded the room with light, and she saw--\n\nA dragon? No--Cupid himself, asleep in all his beauty, with folded\nwings, and his bow and arrows by his side.\n\nShe hung over him in love and wonder. Alas! a drop of oil from the\nlamp fell upon him, and scalded his shoulder. He woke, cast a look of\nreproach and sorrow upon poor faithless Psyche, seized his bow and\narrows, spread his wings, and flew. She, overwhelmed with penitence\nfor her disobedience and distrust, and desperate at the thought of\nlosing him, clung with both hands to one of his feet, and was thus\ncarried through the window and far away through the night till her\nstrength failed her and she fell fainting to the ground.\n\nWhen she came to her senses, she found herself on the bank of a\nriver, and, in her despair, threw herself into the stream. But the\nriver took pity on her, and carried her into a bed of reeds, to whom\nthe god Pan was giving a music-lesson. Pan told her how foolish she\nwas to think she could mend matters by killing herself, and advised\npatience, which was none the worse counsel for being easy to preach\nand difficult to follow. However, he was very kind, so she thanked\nhim, and wandered out into the world, hoping that she might meet Cupid\nsome day, and beg him to forgive her.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMeanwhile Cupid lay tossing and groaning in his bed in his mother's\npalace, for his scalded shoulder gave him great pain. Venus wondered\nwhat could possibly have happened, for all her questioning could get\nnothing from him but moans. And maybe she would never have known, had\nnot a sea-gull come to her with a whole budget of scandal: among the\nrest, how Cupid was carrying on a love affair with a mortal. And when\nthe gull told her that the girl's name was said to be Psyche, the rage\nof the goddess knew no bounds. She hurried to Cupid's bedside, and\ngave him such a scolding that he must have forgotten the pain of the\nscald. Then she went, still storming, to Juno, and demanded the\ninstant arrest and punishment of Psyche. From Juno she went to Jupiter\nhimself, who put Mercury at her service. Mercury received from her a\nlittle book in which was written the name and description of Psyche,\nand with this he went about the world, proclaiming that whoever should\nseize a certain princess of that name, an escaped handmaid of Venus,\nshould receive seven kisses from the goddess herself for a reward.\n\nKnowing nothing of all this, Psyche wandered on and on till she saw a\ntemple on the top of a mountain. She thought it might be the dwelling\nof Cupid, so she climbed up to it and found it littered with sheaves\nof corn, bound and unbound, scythes, sickles, and such things, all\nlying about in confusion. Shocked at finding a temple in such a state,\nshe set to work to put everything in order. She was in the middle of\nher work, when a beautiful lady appeared before her, crowned with a\nwreath of wheat ears, whom she knew to be Ceres, the goddess of\nharvest.\n\n\"Who are you?\" said the goddess graciously, \"who work so hard to put\nthe floor of my house in order?\"\n\n\"Psyche,\" said she; \"and I implore you, great goddess, to grant me\nshelter for a few days. I will serve you faithfully and well.\"\n\nBut when the goddess heard the name of Psyche, her face changed.\n\"Willingly would I shelter you,\" said she. \"But I dare not shelter one\nwhom the wrath of Venus is following through earth and air. Begone!\nand be thankful that I do not keep you as a prisoner. Not even I dare\noffend Venus. My poor girl! I am sorry for you. But begone!\"\n\nTurned away by the kindest of all the goddesses, Psyche wandered on\nand on till she came to another temple in a gloomy valley, which\nproved to be the temple of Juno, to whom Psyche, falling on her knees\nbefore the altar, prayed for succour. But Juno, appearing to her,\nsaid:--\n\n\"Willingly would I help you; but though I am the Queen of Heaven, I\nmust obey the law. Venus claims you as her handmaid, and nobody may\ngive protection to a fugitive slave. Be thankful that I do not deliver\nyou to your mistress. I pity you; but begone!\"\n\nSo not even the greatest of all the goddesses could help her against\nthe vengeance of Venus. Again she wandered on and on, helpless and\ndespairing, till one of the servants of Venus met her and knew her.\nSeizing Psyche by the hair, she dragged her into the presence of the\nterribly beautiful goddess, who broke into a laugh of cruel triumph\nwhen she found her rival in her power. Venus delivered her over to her\ntorturers, Anguish and Sorrow. They, having scourged and tormented\nher, brought her again before Venus, who flew at her like a fury, as\nif she would tear her limb from limb.\n\n\"You ugly slave!\" said Venus, as soon as she recovered breath; \"you\nwant a lover, do you? Well, perhaps you may get one if you know how\nto drudge; you certainly won't any other way. I'll give you a trial.\"\n\nSo she took wheat, barley, millet, poppy seed, vetches, lentils, and\nbeans, mixed them up together, and said:--\n\n\"Sort out every seed into its proper heap before evening. If you can\ndo that, you shall not be scourged again.\"\n\nPsyche sat down before her task in silent despair, crushed in heart,\nand aching in every limb. She could only pray that death would come to\nher before nightfall; for she could not bear the thought of those\ncruel scourges. And so she sat motionless until a little white ant,\ntaking more pity on her than Ceres or Juno, called together his whole\ntribe, who sorted out the heap, grain by grain, into proper parcels,\nin no time, and then ran away.\n\nJudge of the surprise of Venus when she found the work done. \"Somebody\nhas helped you!\" said she. But she could not order her to be scourged,\nthe work being done; so she threw her a piece of coarse bread for\nsupper, and had her shut up in a wretched shed till day.\n\nIn the morning Venus came to her again. \"Do you see yonder sheep, with\ngolden fleeces, wandering without a shepherd? Go and bring me a piece\nof their wool, that you may escape another scourging.\"\n\nPsyche set out, not to get the wool, but to drown herself in the\nriver that ran along the meadow where the sheep were feeding. She was\nabout to leap into the water, when one of the reeds spoke to her, and\nsaid, murmuring:--\n\n\"Pollute not these pure waters by thy death, nor yet venture to\napproach yonder sheep during the heat of the sun; for they are fierce\nand savage, and they will slay thee with their horns. But when they\nare resting towards evening, creep into the meadow, and collect the\nwool that has clung to the bushes.\"\n\nThus Psyche brought to Venus a whole lapful of golden wool. \"Somebody\nhas helped you!\" again said the goddess, angrily. But she had to keep\nher word.\n\nStill she could not bring herself to believe that Psyche could have\nperformed these tasks unaided. She strongly suspected Cupid, though\nshe kept him closely shut up in his chamber, making believe that his\nscalded shoulder still wanted careful nursing, for fear lest he might\ncome across Psyche. She was quite sure he had never left his chamber\nfor a moment. Nevertheless she resolved to send Psyche next time where\nnot Love himself could follow or help her.\n\n\"Do you see yonder mountain-peak?\" she said to her next morning. \"From\nthat peak falls a black fountain, as cold as ice. Take this urn, fill\nit with the cold black water, and bring it to me.\"\n\nPsyche started off at once for the mountain-peak, meaning to throw\nherself from it, and so bring her miseries to an end. But it was not\nso easy to reach the top as she had hoped. The black fountain fell\nheadlong from the middle of a terrible rock into a still more dark and\nterrible ravine, from which fierce and horrible dragons stretched up\ntheir long necks to guard the waters; and the roar of the water as it\nfell was this--\"Begone, or perish!\"\n\nIn the midst of her terror, an eagle came flying overhead, and called\nout to her:--\n\n\"Do not touch the water: this is the spring of the Styx, that sacred\nand dreadful river by whom the gods swear. Give _me_ your urn.\"\n\nSo, swooping down, he took the urn in his talons, and flew with it\nthrough the gaping jaws of the dragons so swiftly that they had not\ntime to close upon him, or to pierce him with their fiery tongues.\nThus he reached the water, filled the urn, and flew back with it to\nPsyche, who brought it to Venus just as she had been bidden.\n\nVenus was more enraged than ever; but this time she hid her anger with\na smile. \"I see there is nothing too hard for you,\" she\nsaid--\"nothing. So do me one little service before we make friends.\nNobody else could do it; but then one who is clever enough to steal\nthe waters of the Styx can do everything. You see I have grown pale\nand thin with anxiety about my poor boy. Go as quickly as you can to\nthe palace of King Pluto, and ask to see the Lady Proserpine. When you\nsee her, say to her, 'Madam, Venus requests you to lend her a little\nof your beauty till to-morrow morning.' Here is a casket to bring it\nin; and be quick with your errand.\"\n\nThen indeed did Psyche give herself up for lost. For she knew what you\nhave read in the story of the Gods and the Giants--that Pluto was the\nKing of Hades, that underground world of ghosts and spirits where men\nand women go when they die. And of this world of Hades the Lady\nProserpine was queen.\n\nThinking that the shortest way to the world below was the best, she\nwent to the top of a high tower, meaning to hurl herself out of life\nheadlong. But the tower said:--\n\n\"Pause! for know that from the world where you are going none ever\nreturn. There is only one path by which you can reach Pluto's palace\nand come back again; and that path I will tell you. Listen carefully\nto all I say. Near to the city of Laced\u00e6mon is a hill called T\u00e6narus.\nIn the hill is hidden a cavern which you must find; and from this\ncavern a path, which no mortal has yet trodden, runs straight into the\nhill. Take the path, but provide yourself first with these things: two\npieces of barley-bread sopped in honey--one in each hand--and two\npieces of money in your mouth. If anybody accosts you on the way, pass\nhim by in silence. Give nothing to anybody with your hand. Show no\npity. Help nobody. Taste nothing but dry bread, and open not the box\nyou carry; for Venus knows you to be pitiful and helpful, and a little\ninquisitive as well, and will set traps for you to fall into.\nTherefore, be wise, and trust to nothing you see in the world of\ndreams and shadows. If you follow my directions, you may go and return\nin safety; if you fail in the least of them, you are a lost soul.\"\n\nPsyche set off at once to the city of Laced\u00e6mon, and, with a honey-sop\nin each hand and two silver coins in her mouth, sought for the cavern\nin the hill. She found it at last, and started along the path, blacker\nthan night, which wound downwards into the heart of the earth. After\nshe had traveled many hours, the path became illuminated with a pale\ntwilight, by which she could just manage to see--a strange sort of\nhalf-light, such as one never sees above ground. It seemed to Psyche\nas if the path would never end. At last she saw figures approaching\nher in the distance; and these, as they approached, proved to be a\nlame man driving a lame ass laden with wood, which was slipping from\nits cords.\n\n\"Lady,\" said the lame man, \"you see I am weak and helpless; help me to\ntie up my wood again so that it may not fall.\"\n\nPsyche was just about to lay down her honey-sops and help him, when\nshe remembered the tower's warning, and passed him by without a word.\n\nOn she went until she came to the bank of a broad river with water as\nblack as ink; and just where the path ran down to the water was a\nferry-boat, in which sat a very old man naked to the waist, and\nholding an oar. Psyche stepped into the boat, and the old man, in dead\nsilence, pushed off, and began to row heavily across the black and\nsluggish stream. When the boat reached the middle, she looked down,\nand saw a skinny hand raise itself slowly out of the water. Then she\nperceived that the hand belonged to a corpse-like form floating half\nunder the black ooze, which, in a hollow voice, thus besought her:--\n\n\"Lady, for pity's sake take me into your boat, that I may reach the\nother side. Else must I float here between life and death forever.\"\n\nPsyche was about to bid the ferryman take the poor, half-dead creature\ninto the boat, when she remembered the tower's warning against pity,\nand let the body drift by.\n\nArrived at the other side, the ferryman held out his hand for his fee.\nPsyche was about to take one of the coins from her mouth, when she\nsuddenly remembered the tower's warning to give nothing to anybody\nwith her hand. So, bringing one of the coins between her teeth, she\ndropped it into the open palm of the ferryman, and went her way.\n\nA little farther on she came upon some old women weaving.\n\n\"Lady,\" said the eldest, \"we are old, and it is dark, and our eyes are\ndim, and we have much to do before nightfall. Help us with our web, we\npray you.\"\n\nPsyche was about to comply, when she remembered the tower's warning\nagainst giving help, and passed on.\n\nStill on and on she went until she reached a huge palace built of\nblack marble, which she knew at once to be the abode of Pluto and\nProserpine. But how was she to enter? For on the threshold stood a\nmonstrous dog, with three heads and six flaming eyes, barking\nthunderously, and with horrible yawning jaws. This was the dog\nCerberus, who never sleeps, and guards the palace of Pluto night and\nday. There was only one chance of passing him, and Psyche took it. She\nthrew him one of her honey-sops, and ran past him while he was\nswallowing it down.\n\nIn the hall beyond the threshold sat Proserpine, Queen of Hades, and\ngoddess of the Underworld, dark and beautiful, and crowned with white\npoppies and stars, with a two-pronged scepter in her hand. She\nreceived Psyche kindly, made her sit down on a cushion beside her, and\nbade the attendants bring meat, fruit, and wine. Psyche, hungry and\nthirsty after her long journey, was about to eat, when she remembered\nthe tower's warning, and refreshed herself with a little dry bread\nonly. Then rising, she said to Proserpine:--\n\n\"Madam, Venus requests you to lend her a little of your beauty till\nto-morrow morning, and here is a casket for me to carry it in.\"\n\n\"With pleasure,\" said Proserpine, taking the casket, opening it,\nbreathing into it, closing it again, and returning it to Psyche, who,\nhaving performed her errand, departed reverently.\n\nShe got past Cerberus by throwing him her other sop, and gave the\nferryman her other piece of money to row her back across the river.\nAnd so, without further peril or adventure, she reached the cavern in\nthe hill, and the sunshine, and the broad light of day, with the\ncasketful of beauty safe in her hand.\n\nThen a great curiosity came upon her to know what this beauty of the\nUnderworld might be--beauty so great that even Venus desired it to add\nto her charms. At last Psyche's curiosity grew so strong that she\ncould withstand it no longer, and the tower's last warning was\nforgotten. What harm could a single glimpse do? So, first timidly,\nthen more boldly, she raised the lid of the casket. And from the\ncasket into which Proserpine had breathed there came forth a deep\nsleep, which fell over Psyche, so that first she felt faint, then her\nblood turned dull and cold, and the color left her cheeks, then her\nheart stopped, and then her breath,--for the Sleep of Death had come\nupon her, and she lay in the sunshine, pale and cold. For Death is the\nbeauty of Proserpine.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCupid, wearied out of patience by being kept prisoner in his chamber\non account of a trifling hurt that no longer pained him, and loving\nhis lost Psyche as much as ever, thought and thought how he might\nescape from the tiresome watchfulness of his mother. And it happened\nat last that the nurse on duty threw open the window for a moment to\nlet in a breath of air. That moment was enough for Cupid: spreading\nhis wings, he was through the window and away before the nurse could\ntell him from a bird. His wings had grown the stronger from their long\nrest, and he reveled in the freedom of the sunshine and the open air.\nNever had life felt so full of joy. Ah, if he could only find Psyche,\nnot his mother herself should part them any more! And surely he would\nfind her, for what cannot Love find or do?\n\nHe fled fast to the palace in the secret valley, but she was not\nthere. There was scarce a corner of the world where he did not fly, in\nless time than it would take the very swiftest of birds. And at last--\n\nHe found her; and his wings lost their strength, and his heart melted\nfor sorrow when he saw her stretched in the Sleep of Death upon the\nhillside--beautiful still, but with the beauty of Proserpine. The\nfatal casket lay open beside her, so he knew what had befallen.\n\"Alas!\" he thought, \"if I had not flown from her in my anger she would\nnot have died.\" He clasped her in his arms; he kissed her lips with\nenough love to wake the dead, if such a thing could be.\n\nAnd such a thing could be--such a thing was! For at the kiss of Love\nthe Sleep of Death began to slowly pass away. Back came the color to\nher lips and cheeks; her heart fluttered and beat; she breathed; she\nopened her eyes. And then she woke in his arms, glad and alive.\n\nThis is the story of Cupid and Psyche, of which there is nothing more\nto tell except that Psyche's troubles had a very happy and glorious\nending indeed. For Jupiter, to make her a fitting wife for Cupid,\nreceived her into heaven, and on her arrival gave her with his own\nhands a goblet of nectar to drink--the wine of the gods, which makes\nall who taste of it immortal. Even Venus became reconciled to her, and\nthe wedding-feast of Cupid and Psyche is one of the most famous\nfestivals in the whole history of the skies.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI said a little way back that most of these stories have some sort of\nmeaning, and people have found more meaning in the story of Psyche\nthan in most of them. \"Psyche\" is the Greek for \"soul,\" and I have\nalready told you that \"Cupid\" means \"love.\" So the story may show how\nthe soul of man is loved by heaven; but how it has to pass through\nmany sufferings and trials, and at last through death, before it\nreaches immortal happiness.\n\n\"Psyche\" also means \"butterfly,\" and Psyche herself, after she was\nreceived into heaven, always appears in pictures with a butterfly's\nwings. It seems curious at first that the same word means \"soul\" and\n\"butterfly\"; but it is not so curious when one thinks a little of the\nstory. Just as the caterpillar that crawls on the earth seems to die\nwhen it becomes a chrysalis and then rises again as a winged\nbutterfly, so man, bound down to earth like a caterpillar, seems to\ndie, and then lives again, only changed.\n\nIn some very old pictures you may see a butterfly flying out from\nbetween a man's lips. That means that he is dying, and that his\n\"Psyche,\" his \"soul\" or \"butterfly,\" is leaving him.\n\n\n\n\nMERCURY AND IRIS.\n\n\nVery often, in these stories, you have met with Mercury, and have\nheard that he was Jupiter's chief messenger. The office he held made\nhim so busy with all the affairs of heaven, earth, and Hades, that\nthere is scarcely a story without Mercury in it; and it is therefore\ntime to know something more about him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow you must know that the people who, ages ago, made these stories\nabout the gods and goddesses in whom they believed, thought that the\nearth (which you know to be a globe) was a large island surrounded by\na boundless ocean. The sky--so they imagined--was a solid dome, on\nwhich the sun, moon, and stars made their various journeys. Every\nmorning Ph\u0153bus drove the chariot of the Sun forth from the stable\nbeyond the ocean in the east, across the blue dome, till it sank\nbeyond the western ocean, and then passed underground back to the\neastern stable, so as to be ready to start again. The Moon, that is to\nsay, the chariot of Diana, also had her proper course across the dome,\nand so had every planet and star. And this dome, or sky, with all its\nwonders, was supported on the shoulders of Atlas, a gigantic Titan,\ncondemned to this task (some say) for having helped the giants in\ntheir war against the gods.\n\nThis Atlas was a great king, and his kingdom stretched westward till\nit touched the ocean which surrounds the earth. And that is why this\npart of the sea is called the Ocean of Atlas, or Atlantic Ocean. The\nname of his kingdom was Mauritania, now called Morocco, where he owned\na thousand flocks, and orchards with apples of gold. And he had seven\nbeautiful daughters, whose names were Alcyone, Asterope, Cel\u00e6no,\nElectra, Maia, Merope, and Taygeta. Six of these married gods; Merope\nalone married a mortal. After their death they were honored by being\nset as stars in the sky, where you may often see the seven sisters\nclustered together in a beautiful constellation called the Pleiades.\nBut it is very difficult to see Merope, because she married a mortal\ninstead of a god, and therefore shines dimly. If you can see more than\nsix of the seven sisters you have good eyes.\n\nOf all the Pleiades Maia is the brightest, for she was chosen by\nJupiter. She had a son named Mercury, and a promising child he must\nhave been. For on the very day he was born he stole the oxen of King\nAdmetus of Thessaly, although (as you may remember) Apollo himself was\nthen the king's herdsman. And Mercury not only stole the oxen, but ran\naway with Apollo's quiver of arrows. Proud of this feat, he stole the\nzone of Venus, the sword of Mars, and the hammer of Vulcan; and at\nlast he carried off the very scepter of Jupiter. Instead of punishing\nhim, however, Jupiter was so delighted with his cleverness and\nimpudence that he made Mercury his chief messenger and cup-bearer. He\nalso gave him a winged cap, wings for his heels, a short sword, and a\nscepter called _caduceus_--a rod round which two living serpents\ncoiled. The winged cap was called _petasus_, and whenever he put it on\nhe became invisible; the wings for his heels were called _talaria_,\nand made him able to fly faster than lightning to any place he\npleased. The _caduceus_ was a magic wand. It first belonged to Apollo,\nwho used to drive the flocks of King Admetus with it. But when Mercury\ninvented the lyre, he gave the lyre to Apollo in exchange for the\n_caduceus_. The lyre became Apollo's favorite instrument, and Mercury\nused the _caduceus_ to drive the flocks of dead souls to Hades, for\nthat was one of his duties. He could also send people to sleep with\nit, and could bring back the dead to life by touching them with its\npoint. You will always know a picture or statue of Mercury from his\n_caduceus_, and from the wings on his cap and heels.\n\nHe needed to be quick, active, and clever, for he had a great deal to\ndo--so much that Jupiter relieved him of the office of cup-bearer and\ngave it to a young Phrygian shepherd, named Ganymede. This is what\nMercury had to do. He had to carry all Jupiter's messages, which, of\ncourse, obliged him to be almost everywhere at once; he had to see\nthat the laws of the great council of the gods were properly carried\nout; to keep Jupiter's secrets; to know everything that was going on\nall over the world; to conduct the souls of the dead to Hades--each\none of which things was enough, one would think, to take up his whole\ntime. However, he managed to do it all, and a great deal more, and was\nnot very particular how. For it must be owned that Mercury, though a\ngod, was not above lying and cheating whenever it suited his purpose.\nHe was wonderfully eloquent, and could make anybody believe anything.\nAnd he was the patron, that is to say, the friend and protector, of\nmerchants, travelers, orators, and thieves.\n\n * * * * *\n\nJuno also had a chief messenger--a goddess named Iris. The path of\nIris from heaven to earth and back again is the rainbow; so whenever\nyou see a rainbow you may know that Iris is bringing a message down\nfrom Juno. Indeed \"Iris\" means \"Rainbow.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nI ought to tell you that the planet nearest to the sun is called\nMercury, and that Mercury is another name for the metal quicksilver.\n\n\n\n\nNEPTUNE.\n\n\nIf you look back at the second of these stories--that of Jupiter and\nJuno--you will read that \"when Jupiter became god and king of the\nwhole world, he made his two brothers, Neptune and Pluto, kings under\nhim. He made Neptune god and king of the sea: Pluto he made god and\nking of Hades.\" You will read the story of Pluto presently. This is\nabout Neptune, of whom there is much less to say. You have already\nread, in the story of Minerva, how Neptune contended with the goddess\nof Wisdom for the honor of naming the capital of Attica, and how he\nproduced the first horse by striking the earth with his\n_trident_--that is to say, with his scepter in the shape of a fork\nwith three prongs, by which he may always be known. You will remember\nthat the honor was given to Minerva, because she produced the olive,\nthe emblem of peace, and therefore better for mankind than the horse,\nthe emblem of war. This decision, however, did not satisfy Neptune. So\nwhen the people of Argolis also built a capital city, he disputed with\nMinerva for the honor of naming that. Jupiter, however, settled the\nmatter by giving it a name which had nothing to do with either god or\ngoddess--that is to say, Tr\u0153zene--and by making Minerva its\npatroness and Neptune its patron. But this did not please Neptune\neither. He wanted to have some city or piece of dry land all to\nhimself, which was natural enough for a god who had nothing of his own\nbut the sea. So he went to law with Apollo for the possession of the\nisthmus of Corinth. The case was tried before Briareus, the Cyclops\nwith fifty heads and a hundred hands, as judge. Briareus decided that\nNeptune should have the isthmus, all except a certain headland, which\nwas given to Apollo.\n\nBut Neptune was not even yet satisfied. What was the sea and one\nlittle isthmus when Jupiter had all earth and air and sky, and when\nPluto had the still greater world below? Then Jupiter ruled over the\nimmortal gods and living men and women, and Pluto over all the dead;\nbut Neptune had neither gods nor men, dead or alive, for\nsubjects--only fishes and sea-monsters, creatures really not worth the\nruling. It is true he had all sorts of treasures got from shipwrecks;\nbut what is the good of gold and jewels at the bottom of the sea? And\nhe had many wonderful and beautiful things belonging to him by\nnature--pearls, and sea-weed, and coral, and amber; but he had no use\nfor them. At any rate he was thoroughly discontented, and thought\nJupiter's division of the universe exceedingly unfair.\n\nIt so happened that, while he was in this envious state of mind, Juno\nwas furious against Jupiter for throwing Vulcan out of heaven, and\nApollo was seeking revenge for the death of \u00c6sculapius. So these\nthree--Neptune, Juno, and Apollo--made a conspiracy against Jupiter.\nTheir plot was to excite all the gods and goddesses to rebel against\ntheir king, to take him by surprise, to imprison him forever, and to\nget--I do not know what they meant to get by it; most likely, like all\nrebels, they did not know that themselves. However, in one way and\nanother, by promises, and by working up all sorts of grievances, they\ndrew nearly every god and goddess into their treason, of which\nJupiter, in his trust of them all, had not the faintest suspicion. He\nwent on ruling and feasting, little guessing that his own wife, his\nown brother, and the whole of his court, were secret traitors. Even\nMinerva, in spite of her wisdom and her old quarrel with Neptune, is\nsaid to have joined in the plot against her own father, though this is\nhard to believe.\n\nThe plotters made only one mistake--they forgot that traitors must\nexpect treachery. There was a certain sea-nymph named Thetis, married\nto a mortal, and she, having been admitted into the plot, tried to\nthink of some way of saving the king of gods and men. But what could\none sea-nymph do? If she went and told Jupiter, he would not believe\nher; he would most likely only punish her for lying and slander. So,\nin her trouble, she went for advice to the giant Briareus, who had\nfifty heads to think with instead of only one. Having thought with\nthem all, one after another, he said at last, \"Leave it to me.\"\n\nAt length the time came for carrying out the plot. The conspirators\nheld a great meeting, and, having talked themselves into a great state\nof rage against Jupiter, marched in a body into the council chamber of\nOlympus, where they expected to find him at that time of day sleeping\nupon his throne, and at their mercy. And so indeed they did find him.\nBut, to their dismay, there sat beside him a monstrous and terrible\ngiant, with a hundred huge hands and fifty yawning mouths, and a\nhundred eyes wide awake and rolling. And so terrified were they by the\nunexpected sight, that they stood rooted to the spot by fear; and when\nJupiter woke up and saw how matters were, they could only confess\ntheir treason and pray for pardon.\n\nThus Jupiter learned the lesson that a king must not venture to go to\nsleep, even on his throne, unless he is guarded by at least a hundred\nfaithful hands, fifty shrewd brains, and a hundred vigilant eyes,\nwhich cannot happen often, since a Briareus is not to be found every\nday. But Jupiter thought that the plotters, or at least their\nringleaders, deserved a lesson also. He thought it better to hush up\nthe conspiracy, and not to make another scandal by punishing Juno.\nBut he banished Apollo from Olympus for nine years as a punishment for\nhaving killed the Cyclopes, as you have read in the story of Marsyas;\nand he condemned Neptune, by way of hard labor, to build the walls of\nthe famous city of Troy. And so the great Olympian conspiracy came to\nan end, and Jupiter remained more powerful than ever.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNeptune is chiefly known by his trident or three-pronged scepter, by\nmeans of which he causes earthquakes, and can bring up islands from\nthe bottom of the sea. He had a great many sea-gods and sea-goddesses\nunder him, his queen-consort being Amphitrite. There were Oceanus and\nTethys, the father and mother of all the Rivers; Triton, a strange\ngod, in shape half man and half fish, who makes storms and calms by\nblowing a shell as if it were a horn; Proteus, who foretells the\nfuture to anybody who can find him on the sea-shore, catch him, and\nchain him up so that he cannot change his shape and escape into the\nsea; Nereus, with his long blue hair and beard. There were also the\nNereids, his fifty daughters, among whom was Thetis; the Oceanides or\nsea-nymphs; and the Sirens--mermaids who drew sailors to their island\nby their wonderful singing, and then fell upon them and devoured them.\nThere were the Harpies also: three horrible monsters, each with a\nwoman's face, a vulture's body, and feet and hands having sharp claws\nfor toes and fingers--these were the whirlwinds. But it is impossible\nto make a list of the wonders of the sea.\n\n\n\n\nHADES.\n\n\nPART I.--THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE DEAD.\n\n \"Not far from Enna's walls there lies a lake,\n Pergus by name: than which not Cayster's stream\n Is fuller of the songs of gliding swans.\n A woodland girds it with a veil of leaves\n To shelter from the heat; where the fresh soil\n Bears purple flowers, and keeps perpetual spring.\"\n\nSo the poet Ovid describes the pleasant place where the nymph\nProserpine, the beautiful daughter of Ceres, goddess of the fruits of\nthe earth, was one day with her companions, gathering violets and\nlilies. All were trying who should gather the most, and were very\nhappy and merry. In her search for flowers, Proserpine wandered out of\nsight of her companions, who went on gathering and singing and\nlaughing: till suddenly their merriment was stopped by a piercing\nscream for help; and then by another and another; till the cries grew\nfainter and fainter, and were at last heard no more.\n\nWhere was Proserpine? They were sure it was her cries they had heard:\nand, though they searched through the whole wood, they could not find\nher anywhere. All they could do was to go to Ceres, and tell her that\nher daughter had disappeared, and could not be found for all their\nseeking.\n\nCeres, who is the best and kindest of all the goddesses, loved her\ndaughter dearly, and was disconsolate at the news. Though always so\nbusy with seed-time and harvest, fields and orchards, she set out to\nseek for her lost Proserpine; or at least to find out what had become\nof her. \"Mother!\" had been Proserpine's last cry. Ceres wandered, in\nher search, over the whole world,--nay, she explored the very depths\nof the sea,--but all in vain. She questioned gods, goddesses, nymphs,\nfauns, and satyrs, men and women; but none could give her any news of\nProserpine. She never slept, but set fire to the pine-trees on the top\nof Mount \u00c6tna to serve as torches, so that she might see to search by\nnight as well as by day. She forgot to eat and drink, and, though the\ngoddess of Corn and Plenty, she would have perished of hunger and\nthirst had not an old woman named Baubo, though ignorant who she was,\ntaken pity on her, and given her some hot porridge, which Ceres drank\neagerly--so eagerly that a boy who saw her drinking jeered at her for\na glutton. This was too much for the goddess, in her despair, to bear.\nShe for once lost her temper, and threw the rest of the hot porridge\nover the grinning boy, whom it turned into a spotted lizard for\nlaughing at a stranger's needs and an old woman's charity.\n\nAt length, worn out and desperate, the poor mother wandered back to\nSicily, so changed that nobody knew her. Nor could she say who she\nwas, for grief had made her dumb. In this state she arrived at a place\ncalled Cyane, near to where Proserpine had been lost. And here one\nday, while looking at a pool (for she never ceased to look everywhere)\nshe saw her daughter's girdle lying at the bottom of the water. Then,\ngiving up her last spark of hope, she found her voice again, and\nmourned aloud. Her grief was terrible to hear and see. She cursed the\nearth, so that it no longer brought forth corn: she broke the ploughs:\nthe seeds perished in the fields, and the cattle in their stalls.\n\nBut one day Ceres, roaming along the banks of the river Alpheus,\nplainly heard its waters say:--\n\n\"We have seen Proserpine! She is unhappy; but she is a great queen:\nshe is the wife of Pluto, the King of the Underworld.\"\n\nThen Ceres knew that Proserpine had been carried off by the great and\ndreadful god Pluto, to whom, when Jupiter divided the world, had been\ngiven Hades--the underground kingdom of ghosts and of the souls of the\ndead: the greatest kingdom of all. It was true:--Pluto had seen\nProserpine while she was gathering flowers in the wood, had snatched\nher up into his chariot with black horses, and, in spite of her\nstruggles and cries for help, had driven off with her to his\nunderground palace through a cavern which he opened with a touch of\nhis two-pronged scepter: the cavern then filled up with water, and\nbecame the lake of Cyane, at the bottom of which Ceres had found the\ngirdle. As soon as she could recover her senses, Ceres flew up to\nheaven, threw herself before Jupiter, and passionately demanded that\nher daughter should be given back to her.\n\nIt was a difficult question for Jupiter to settle. He pitied Ceres\nwith all his heart, and wished to help her. But high reasons of state\nmade him unwilling to offend Pluto: and then, who had ever heard of\nanybody coming back from Hades? That would be against all the laws of\ngods and men.\n\nBut there were three mysterious beings, of whom I have not yet told\nyou, called the Fates--three sisters who rule over life and death, and\nwhose will even the gods of heaven, even Jupiter himself, must obey.\nSomewhere or other they sit and spin with their distaffs the histories\nof nations and the lives and deaths of men. Nothing can happen without\ntheir leave; and nobody can prevent from coming to pass whatever the\nFates decree. So Jupiter inquired of the Fates if it was their will\nthat Proserpine should return from the kingdom of the grave.\n\n\"She may return,\" said they. \"But not if she has eaten or drunk in the\nkingdom of Pluto. If she has tasted the food of death, then she may\nnot return.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen Pluto received this message he was greatly troubled; for, though\nhe had carried off Proserpine in that cruel way, he very deeply loved\nher, and hoped that, if he could keep her with him, he should at last\nconquer her sorrow and get her to love him in return. He had made her\nhis wife and queen, and could not bear the thought of losing her. He\nanxiously inquired of every ghost and spirit in Hades if Queen\nProserpine had tasted food, if ever so little; but not one had seen\nher touch even bread or water since she had been brought below. It was\nPluto's turn to lose Proserpine. Ceres was already rejoicing in the\nthought of seeing her long-lost daughter. Proserpine was just about to\nreturn to earth, when there stepped forth one of Pluto's courtiers,\nnamed Asculaphus, and accused Proserpine of having tasted the juice of\nseven pomegranate seeds. And the Fates knew that it was true.\n\nAnd Proserpine also knew it, and cried aloud for sorrow that she\nshould never see her mother again; and her cry turned the treacherous,\ntale-bearing Asculaphus into a hooting owl. But this did not undo the\nwork of those seven fatal pomegranate seeds. Even the Fates were\nfilled with pity; even the heart of Pluto was touched by the mother's\nand the daughter's despair. The Fates could not change their decree.\nBut it was settled that, though Proserpine must continue to be the\nwife of Pluto and the Queen of Hades, she should be allowed to spend\nsix months out of every year on earth with Ceres. And that is the\nreason of summer and winter. It is summer when Ceres is happy with her\ndaughter, and makes the earth rejoice with flowers and fruit and corn.\nIt is winter when she is left alone, and Proserpine goes back to Pluto\nuntil next spring. Proserpine is the beauty and joy of the earth,\nwhich seems to die in winter, but only to come to life again. And she\nis the beauty of death besides. You will remember what you read in the\nstory of Psyche about the beauty of Proserpine.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt was Ceres who taught men to plow, harrow, sow, and reap; and they\nwere very grateful to her everywhere. The worship of Ceres, under many\nnames, was the chief part of the religion of ancient times. You will\nknow her, from pictures and statues, as a noble and stately goddess,\ncrowned with a garland of corn, holding a lighted torch, sometimes\nstanding in a chariot drawn by flying dragons. I have said she had\nmany names, one of the most famous being Demeter, which means \"Mother\nEarth\"; and \"Bona Dea,\" that is to say, \"the Good Goddess,\" was\nanother.\n\nProserpine, as Queen of Hades, became a very strange and mysterious\ngoddess indeed. One of her names is Hecate, and under that name she\nrules over magic. She often wears a veil, and a crown of stars; and,\nlike Pluto, carries the scepter with two prongs, differing from\nNeptune's trident, which has three.\n\nPluto was a dark and gloomy god. No temples were ever built to him,\nand only black animals were sacrificed upon his altars. But he was\njust, although pitiless and stern. He sits upon a throne of sulphur in\nhis underground palace, from which flow the four rivers of\nHades--Cocytus, the river of Lamentation; Acheron, the river of\nSorrow; Lethe, the river of Forgetfulness; and Phlegethon, the river\nof Fire. On his left hand sits Proserpine, near to whom stand the\nFuries, three fiends with snakes instead of hair; on his right stand\nthe Fates spinning; at his feet lies the three-headed dog, Cerberus;\nand the Harpies hover over him, waiting for orders.\n\nOn the whole, it is not strange that Proserpine should be glad when\nthe time for her six months' visit to her mother comes round.\n\n\nPART II.--THE KINGDOM.\n\n\"Hades,\" the name of the kingdom of Pluto and Proserpine, means\n\"invisible,\" because it is unseen by living eyes. It is surrounded by\nthe river Styx by which the gods swore their sacred oath, and which\nflows round and round it in nine circles before springing up into the\nliving world. Even when the Styx rises out of the ground in the land\nof Arcadia, it still remains a cold black river, whose waters are\npoisonous to drink; but if anybody was bold enough to bathe in them,\nand lucky enough to come out alive, no weapon afterwards would have\npower to wound him. Some people say that Thetis (the goddess who saved\nJupiter from the great plot) dipped her child Achilles into the Styx\nas soon as he was born, head foremost, holding him by the left heel\nbetween her finger and thumb. But she forgot that her thumb and finger\nprevented the water from touching the skin just where she held him.\nAnd so, when he grew up, though no weapon could hurt him anywhere\nelse, yet, when he was hit by an arrow in the left heel, he died of\nthe wound.\n\nWhen anybody died, his body was buried or burned by his friends, and\nhis soul left him and went down to Hades, till it reached the banks of\nthe Styx. Here it waited for Charon's ferry-boat, about which you read\nin the story of Psyche. If its friends had buried its body properly,\nthey had given it a small silver coin to pay the ferryman, who took\nthe money and at once rowed it across the river. But if the soul had\nno money to pay for its passage, it had to wait for a hundred years,\nshivering and cold. Arrived on the other side, the soul was taken\nbefore the three judges of Hades--Minos, \u00c6acus, and Rhadamanthus. All\nthree had been kings on earth, so famous for wisdom and justice that,\nwhen they died, Pluto made them the judges of the dead. These decided\nwhat was to be done with the soul. If it had been virtuous during its\nlife upon earth, it was allowed to enter Elysium, or the region of\nhappiness; if it had been wicked, it was condemned to the horrible\nprison of Tartarus, there to be punished by torture.\n\nElysium, which is also called \"the Elysian fields,\" or \"the Islands of\nthe Blest,\" was a very delightful place, like the most beautiful\ncountry in the finest weather, never too hot or too cold, and full of\nsweet scents and sounds. There the souls of the happy enjoyed forever,\nwithout ever getting tired, whatever had given them the most pleasure\nupon earth--hunting, or war, or learning, or music, or whatever it\nmight be: only all their pleasures became innocent and noble, and\neven if they fought, it was all in friendship and without harm.\nNothing was quite real there: it was more like a beautiful and happy\ndream, lasting forever. Some of the very best and greatest human souls\nwere taken up into Olympus and made \"Demi-gods,\" that is to say\n\"Half-gods\"; but of course this was a very rare honor. The dream of\nElysium was thought to be reward enough for the souls which, in their\nlives, had done more good than evil.\n\nTartarus, the place of torment, was a very different place, as I need\nnot say. It was farther below the earth than the earth is below the\nsky, and was surrounded by three brazen walls, and by Phlegethon, the\nriver of Fire. The only entrance was through a high tower, with gates\nwhich not even the gods could open, and guarded by the three-headed\ndog Cerberus, which never slept; and the air was three times darker\nthan the darkest midnight, lighted only by the terrible flames of\nPhlegethon. The jailers were Nemesis and the Furies. Nemesis is the\ngreat stern power who never allows the guilty to escape from their\njust punishment, nor the good to lose their just reward. If people are\nhappier or more fortunate than they deserve to be, she always, either\nin this life or in Hades, gives them enough misery at last, until they\nare just as happy or unhappy as they deserve to be, and neither less\nnor more; and if they seem less happy or less fortunate than they\ndeserve, she makes it up to them in the end. She is often so strangely\nslow in coming, that she has been called lame. But she always comes at\nlast: if she is slow, she is sure.\n\nThere was once a king of the island of Samos, named Polycrates, who\nwas famous for his marvelous good fortune. Nothing ever went wrong\nwith him; he did not seem able to fail in anything, even if he tried;\nhe knew neither misfortune nor sorrow. Though only the prince of a\nlittle island, he became, by one stroke of good luck after another,\nthe most powerful monarch of his time, so that the kings of the\ngreatest nations came to his court to do him homage and admire his\nglory. Among these was Amasis, King of Egypt, who was frightened at\nthe sight of such prosperity, and thought, \"This is surely more than\nany mortal deserves--Nemesis must surely be near at hand!\" So he\nadvised Polycrates to bring some misfortune upon himself, to keep\nNemesis away. At first Polycrates laughed at such counsel; but, to\nremove the friendly fears of Amasis, he threw into the sea a ring with\na magnificent seal, which he prized the most of all his jewels, and\nthe loss of which made him really unhappy--so you may guess how little\nunhappiness he had ever known before. A few days afterwards, however,\nwhile at dinner with Amasis, he happened to cut open a large fish;\nand behold, inside the fish he found the ring, which thus came back\nto him from the bottom of the sea. Instantly Amasis rose from the\ntable and hurried back to Egypt, exclaiming, \"I dare not have anything\nmore to do with so fortunate a man--Nemesis must be at the door!\" And\nhe was right; and when she came, she came indeed! From the hour when\nthe ring was found in the fish, all the prosperity of Polycrates\ndeparted from him; he sank lower and lower; until at last he was\ntreacherously captured by the governor of one of his own cities, and\nput to a shameful death by torture. You will often hear people speak\nof \"the Ring of Polycrates.\" When they do, they mean (or ought to\nmean) that a life of mixed joy and sorrow, such as most of us have, is\nwhat most of us deserve; and that this is the happiest as well as the\nbest for us in the long-run. It is not good for us to know nothing of\nsorrow or pain. And if we ever feel that we suffer unjustly--well,\nNemesis, the slow but the sure, will make it up to us in the end.\n\nHowever, I must go back to Tartarus, in spite of its unpleasantness. I\nwas speaking of the Furies, who served under Nemesis as its jailers.\nThese were three creatures like women, with hissing and writhing\nsnakes instead of hair, holding a torch in one hand, and a whip made\nof live scorpions in the other. These whips were the whips of\n_Conscience_, with which they scourged and stung the souls both of\nthe dead and the living. They were the chief servants of Nemesis,\nbecause the stings of Conscience are the most terrible of all her\npunishments. The Furies were the most dreadful creatures in or out of\nHades. People had such awe and horror of them that they dared not even\nname them. The real name of the Furies was the \"Erinyes,\" which means\nthe desperate madness of those whom the gods or fates have cursed. But\npeople who wanted to speak of them always called them the\n\"Eumenides\"--that is to say, \"the Gracious Ladies\"--just as timid\npeople in England used to say \"the Good Folk\" instead of \"the\nFairies,\" for fear of making them angry by naming their real name.\n\nThe tortures of Tartarus were of all sorts and kinds. Among the evil\nsouls which suffered there, the most famous were the three wicked\nkings, Ixion, Sisyphus, and Tantalus. Ixion was tied by his arms and\nlegs to the spokes of a wheel, which whirled round and round at full\nspeed without ever giving him one moment's rest. Sisyphus had to carry\nup to the top of a high and steep hill a huge stone, which, as soon as\nhe got it up, instantly rolled to the bottom again, so that his labor\nhad no end. The torment of Tantalus was perhaps the worst of all.\nMaddened with hunger and thirst, he was chained to a rock in such a\nmanner that he could not seize one of the delicious fruits that hung\nclose to his eyes, or one of the cups of cool and fragrant drink which\nunseen hands put to his lips, and then, just as he was about to taste,\nsnatched away again. Being \"tantalized\" means being treated like\nTantalus. Then there were the Danaides, or the forty-nine daughters of\nKing Dananus, who had all murdered their husbands, and were condemned\nto fill sieves with water, which of course ran out through the holes\nas soon as they poured it in. There had been fifty Danaides; but the\nfiftieth had taken no part in her sisters' crime. There was also the\nwicked giant Tityus, who was so huge that his body covered nine acres\nof ground, and whose punishment was, to be perpetually devoured by\nvultures.\n\nSouls not good enough for Elysium, but not bad enough for Tartarus,\nwere treated in another way. Some were sent to wander about the world\nas Lemures, or homeless ghosts; others were given to drink of the\nwaters of the Lethe, the river of Forgetfulness, which threw them into\na dreamless sleep forever.\n\n\nPART III.--ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.\n\nUpon the heights of Mount Helicon, by the spring of water called\nHippocrene, and upon the peak of Parnassus, whence flows forth the\nfountain of Castalia, dwelt the Muses--the nine gracious goddesses\nwhose gifts to men are music, poetry, painting, eloquence, and all the\npleasures of the mind. The Muse who had the sweetest voice was named\nCalliope; and she had a son named Orpheus, who grew up to be the most\nwonderful musician that ever was known. When he sang and played, it\nwas as if his mother's voice were singing to Apollo's lyre, so that he\ncharmed gods as well as men.\n\nBut though he thus charmed all, he cared for nothing in the whole\nworld but his art, until he met with a girl named Eurydice, with whom\nhe fell passionately in love, and who loved him with her whole heart\nin return. They married, and for a long time were perfectly happy. But\none unlucky day Eurydice, while running through some long grass, was\nstung by a poisonous snake in the foot; and she died.\n\nTo Orpheus it was like losing his own soul; and it was indeed\nbitterly cruel to have lost Eurydice in the midst of their happiness\ntogether. Nothing could comfort him. He could only wander out among\nthe hills and streams with his lyre, lamenting Eurydice, and imploring\nher to come back to him, in such heartbroken passionate music that the\nvery rivers and mountains and winds seemed to find a voice, and to\njoin with him in his ceaseless prayer of \"Eurydice! come back to me,\neven from the grave.\" And so for days and nights he wandered, singing\nthe same song to his lyre, with all his heart and soul, till it seemed\nimpossible that Death itself should be deaf to such a prayer.\n\nAt last a very strange thing befell. So desperately sweet did his\nmusic grow that the earth could bear it no longer, but opened; so that\nhe saw before him the black waters of the Styx, and Charon's boat\nfilled with its freight of souls. His wonderful music, made more\nwonderful still by love and sorrow, had opened to him the very gate of\nHades, where Eurydice had gone. Hope rose in his heart. Still playing,\nhe stepped into the boat and crossed the Styx, none hindering him, or\neven asking him for his fee. Minos, \u00c6acus, and Rhadamanthus, the three\nstern judges of the dead, let him pass unquestioned--even they forgot\ntheir duty in the music of his voice and lyre. As he played and sang\nthere floated round him, drawn by his music, thousands of souls like\nflocks of birds. The sound of his lyre reached into Tartarus itself.\nCerberus crouched harmless; the Furies felt a thrill of pity; for one\nwhole instant Tantalus forgot his thirst, the wheel of Ixion ceased\nwhirling, and the stone of Sisyphus stopped rolling down-hill.\n\nThus Orpheus played his way into the very presence of Pluto and\nProserpine. Pluto pitied him; but it was Proserpine who, no doubt\nremembering her own mother's sorrows and wanderings, thought of a way\nto help him.\n\n\"You may have back your wife,\" said she; \"but on one condition. You\nhave conquered Death; but that is not enough. You must conquer even\nLove, for her sake. Go back to earth, playing and singing as you came,\nand Eurydice shall follow behind you. But if, until you pass the gate\nof Hades, you turn your head to look at her; if you give even a single\nglance behind you to see if she is there, then you shall never see her\nagain.\"\n\nYou may think that Eurydice might have been given to him back without\nany conditions. But Hades was ruled by strict laws, which not even the\nking and queen could break; and nobody could be allowed to conquer\ndeath without showing that he could conquer temptation. Orpheus was\noverjoyed. Singing a hymn of thanks, he went back the way he came;\nand presently he could hear a faint sound behind him, as if the\nwhisper of a footfall were keeping pace with him. Was it indeed\nEurydice? He longed to look round and see; but he remembered\nProserpine's condition, and he did not let his eyes wander from the\nchink of daylight which presently began to gleam before him. As he\ncame nearer and nearer to the upper world of light, and life, and day,\nthe footfall behind him grew more and more distinct, until he knew it\nto be Eurydice's: it was as if a silent phantom were gradually putting\non its body again as it followed him. If he could but once look\nround--not to look was almost more than he could bear. But he might\nlisten; and now he heard her breathe, deeply and gladly, as the breath\nof life came back to her. His music was indeed bringing her back from\nthe grave!\n\nAt last he saw, full in sight, the sunlit hills of the upper world.\nForgetting that the gate of Hades had not yet been passed, he, in his\nimpatience, turned round to clasp Eurydice to his heart--only to see\nher change back again into a pale, cold ghost, which, with a wail of\nlove and sorrow, faded away forever.\n\nSo Orpheus came back again from Hades heartbroken and alone. Once\nmore, doubly hopeless, and hating himself for his own weakness, he\nwandered among the mountains and forests with his lyre. But while he\nwas broken-hearted, his music became more wonderful than ever; for had\nhe not seen with his eyes all the marvels of the under-world? Lions\nand tigers followed him as he sang, and became as gentle as lambs. The\nstrongest oaks bent down to listen--nay, even the very mountains bowed\ntheir heads, and the swiftest rivers stood still to hear. He sang of\nLove and Death and Sorrow, and of all the mysteries of the world\nabove, and of the world below, so that men looked upon him as a\nprophet, and came to him to learn wisdom.\n\nBut his own heart remained broken and dead within him. He had no more\nlove left to give to any human being. The noblest and fairest women in\nthe land sought to win his love, but he was deaf and blind to them\nall. So their love turned to hate; and at last a number of them,\nenraged by his coldness, fell upon him and slew him, and threw his\nhead into the river Hebrus. And, as his head floated away, the dead\nlips were heard to murmur:--\n\n\"Eurydice! Eurydice!\"\n\n\nPART IV.--THE MAN WHO NEVER DIED.\n\nThere was just one mortal who kept clear of Hades altogether. But\nwhether he was really lucky in that or not, I must leave you to settle\nwhen you have heard his story.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIf you have ever seen the sun rise, you have seen the wings of Aurora.\nAurora is the dawn; and as she opens her wings you see all their\ncolors--first pale-grey; then a delicate amber, which deepens into\nsaffron; then the tint of a pink-rose, which grows fuller and fuller\ntill it becomes crimson and purple, which turns to gold when the\nchariot of the Sun appears. It is she who throws open the gates of the\nsky for Ph\u0153bus Apollo to start upon his daily journey, just as it\nis Thetis who shuts them, and brings the twilight, when his journey is\ndone.\n\nAurora is always glad and beautiful and young; always full of hope,\nbecause she closes her splendid wings and goes to sleep before the\ntroubles of the day begin; and her only work is to feed the flowers\nwith dew. But once upon a time she fell in love with a mortal named\nTithonus; and she promised to grant him whatever boon he most desired.\n\nI suppose almost everybody has tried to think of what he would wish\nfor if a goddess or fairy gave him such a chance. Tithonus thought\nhard for a minute, and then said:--\n\n\"Great and beautiful goddess, my wish is that I may never die, so that\nI may see you every morning forever.\"\n\nNow of course it was against all the laws of Hades that a mortal\nshould never die--unless, of course, he was allowed to taste the\nAmbrosia, the food of the gods, which was very seldom allowed. How\nAurora managed it, I cannot tell, because I have never been told. But\nshe kept her word somehow, and Tithonus got leave to live forever.\n\nAnd so long as he was young and strong, and could get up early in the\nmorning to look at the color of Aurora's wings, that was all very\nwell. It did just as well as if he were to die in time, like other\nmen. But it happened at last that, while Aurora remained as young as\never, Tithonus began to get old. The promise of endless life did not\nprevent him from growing bald, and toothless, and liable to catch cold\nif he went out into the keen morning air. By the time that he was a\nhundred years old, he became tired of getting up to see the sun rise\nday after day. At two hundred he felt like a bundle of aches and\npains, and he liked a doze in the sun better than a thousand Auroras.\nAt three hundred he became tired of living, and wanted to be able to\ncreep into some quiet corner of Hades, drink a cup of Lethe, and go to\nsleep and think of nothing. But he could not; for though racked with\npain and weary of life, he could not die!\n\nHe could only shrink and shrivel till, after many hundreds of years,\nhe was less than two inches long. His skin turned dry and brown. His\nvoice became cracked, and thin, and shrill. He lost his senses, and\nkept on chirping the same thing over and over again. He never stirred\nfrom the warmth of the chimney-corner, night or day. His legs grew as\nthin as threads of cotton. He dwindled into a dry, wooden-like insect.\n\nIn short, a _Cricket_.\n\nAnd such he remains to this day. But Aurora is as young and as\nbeautiful and as fresh as ever, and has clean forgotten him; while he\nspends his life in trying to be merry, and in chirping:--\n\n\"Oh, how I want to die!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF PERSEUS.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king of Argos named Acrisius, to whom it\nhad been foretold that he would be slain by his daughter's son.\n\nThis troubled him greatly. So he built a high tower of brass, and\nimprisoned his daughter Dana\u00eb in the very highest room. Having\nfurnished her with provisions and amusements to last her all her life,\nhe closed up all the entrances, so that nobody could get into the\ntower, and set guards all round it, so that nobody could even come\nnear it. He did all this so that she should never marry and have a son\nwho would grow up to kill him.\n\nYou may imagine what sort of a life Danae led, shut up in the brazen\ntower. She was made comfortable enough, and had plenty to eat and\ndrink, and musical instruments, and pictures, and jewels, and all such\nthings; but she never, from year's end to year's end, saw a face,\nexcept when she looked into the looking-glass, nor heard a voice but\nwhen she sang to herself--which she soon got tired of doing. She could\nnot even look out of the window, because there were no windows to\nlook from. She lived by lamplight, and she knew that this was to be\nher life for all the rest of her days.\n\nSo Acrisius felt safe and satisfied, and thought he had baffled Fate\nvery cleverly indeed. And thus things went on for many years--what\nendless years they must have been to the imprisoned princess!--till\none day she heard a little chinking noise, as if a gold coin had\nfallen upon the brazen floor of her room. She did not, however, pay\nany particular heed; indeed, she must by that time have got used to\nall sorts of queer fancies. But presently she heard it again. And,\nlooking down in an idle way, sure enough she saw a couple of gold\ncoins lying on the floor.\n\nThat seemed rather odd, for whence could they have come? Then a third\ncoin joined the two others, and, raising her eyes to the ceiling, she\nsaw coin after coin coming through a crack so small that she had not\nknown till now that it was there. Faster and faster came the coins,\ntill they became a shower, and the heap of gold on the floor stood\nhigher than her head. Then the shower ceased, and the crack was still\nso small that she could not see whence the coins had fallen. As she\nstood wondering, the heap began to stir itself; the gold pieces melted\ninto a single mass, which gradually seemed to take life and form. At\nlast, where the gold had been, she saw the form of a man, but so\nstately and royal, and so much grander and nobler than any mere man\ncould be, that she fell upon her knees before him.\n\n\"I am Jupiter,\" said he, raising her, \"and I have chosen you to be my\nearthly bride.\"\n\nSo just that little crack in the ceiling, only just big enough for a\nthin gold coin to squeeze through, brought about what Acrisius had\nbeen at such trouble to prevent. And in time the news came to the king\nthat a child had been heard crying in the brazen tower. He broke his\nway in, hurried up the staircase to the highest room, and there, to\nhis rage and terror, he found Danae with a child, a boy, in her arms.\n\nBut he was determined not to let fate conquer him. He could not very\nwell have his daughter and grandson put to death--at least openly. But\nhe had them carried out to sea and then turned adrift in a small leaky\nboat without sail, oars or rudder, so that they were certain to be\ndrowned. This having been done, Acrisius felt happy and comfortable\nagain.\n\nNow there lived on the little island of Seriphus, more than two\nhundred miles away, an honest fisherman named Dictys. It is often\nrough weather about there, and bad for fishing; but he was a brave and\nskilful sailor, and the weather, in order to keep him ashore, had to\nbe very rough indeed. You may think, therefore, how bad the weather\nwas when, for the first time in his life, he was unable to cast his\nnets for many days and nights together,--so many that he began to\nwonder what in the world he should do to get food for his wife and\nchildren. He used to lie awake listening to the howling wind and\nroaring sea, and then, going down to the beach, sought for food among\nthe rocks and pools, thinking himself lucky if he could find a damaged\ncrab or a bunch of eatable sea-weed.\n\nOne morning while he was searching about with a heavy heart, he,\npassing a jutting rock, came suddenly upon a young and handsome woman,\nin clothes all torn and drenched by the waves, sitting with a baby in\nher lap, and forlornly rocking herself to and fro. Hard by were the\nbroken timbers of a boat, which had doubtless been blown ashore by the\nwind. Dictys questioned her kindly, but she could not or would not\nanswer; so, taking her by the hand, he led her to his cottage, where\nhis wife, who was as good-hearted as he, made a big fire of\nwreck-wood, and gave the mother and child a share of what food they\nhad left, though it could ill be spared. From their famished looks he\njudged that they must have been tossing about on the waves for many\ndays. But though the woman thanked him gratefully, with tears in her\neyes, she did not tell him anything of her story except what he could\nsee for himself--that she had been lost at sea.\n\n\"Perhaps she has lost her memory,\" he said to his wife, when their\nguests were sleeping, worn out with all they had gone through. \"What\nis to be done? We do not even know who they are.\"\n\n\"And look at their clothes!\" said his wife. \"For all their being in\nrags, they might have been made for a queen and a queen's son. But\nwhoever they are,\" she said with a sigh, \"we can't let them perish of\nhunger and cold. I never saw such a beautiful child--not even among\nour own.\"\n\nDictys sighed still more deeply, for to be burdened with two more\nmouths to feed in those bad times was a serious thing, even though his\nheart also bled for the misery of the mother and the beauty of the\nboy.... \"I have it, wife!\" he exclaimed at last. \"As soon as they are\nrested, and as I've nothing else to do, worse luck, I'll take them to\nthe king. He'll do something for them, I'm sure. And if he doesn't,\nwhy, we must do what we can, that's all, and hope for better times.\"\n\nSo when the mother and child were quite rested and refreshed, Dictys\nset off with them for the king's palace, doing his best to cheer them\nby the way. Seriphus is a very little island, not more than a dozen\nmiles round, so they had not to go far, and fortunately they found the\nking at home. The King of Seriphus at that time was Polydectes, who,\nhaving heard the fisherman's story, and being struck with the beauty\nand high-born air both of the woman and of the child, kept them in\nhis own palace, treated them as guests whom he delighted to honor, and\nwas much too polite to ask questions. The mother told nobody anything\nexcept that her child's name was Perseus, and that hers was Danae.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPerseus grew up into such splendid manhood that for a long time\nPolydectes was fond and proud of him, and treated him as if he were\nhis own son. He was strong and handsome, brave, noble-minded, and\nmarvelously accomplished both in mind and body. He was devoted to his\nmother; and he could never do enough to show his gratitude to Dictys\nthe fisherman, who had been kind to her in her need. But his very\nvirtues became his misfortune. Polydectes gradually became jealous of\nhim, for he could not help seeing that the people of Seriphus loved\nand honored Perseus more than the king himself, and he was afraid that\nthey might rebel and make Perseus their king. Besides that, he wanted\nto have Danae in his power, and without a protector, so that he might\nmarry her against her will. Therefore he bethought him of a plot by\nwhich he could get rid of Perseus forever in a seemingly honorable\nway.\n\nSo one day he called the young man to him, and said:--\n\n\"Perseus, I know how brave you are, and how fond of all sorts of\ndifficult adventures. Did you ever hear of the Gorgons? Well, the\nGorgons are three terrible demon sisters who live in the middle of\nAfrica. Their bodies are covered with scales like dragons, which no\nspear can pierce; their hands are brazen claws; they have snakes\ninstead of hair, just like the Furies--I mean the Eumenides; and they\nhave teeth as long as the tusks of a wild boar; and whoever looks upon\nthem is turned to stone. All three are dreadful; but the one who is\nnamed Medusa is the most dreadful of all. Now I have been thinking, as\nyou are so fond of adventures, you might go and cut off Medusa's head.\nIt would be something to be proud of for the rest of your days.\"\n\nPerseus was rather taken aback by such an errand. In the first place,\nhe did not know where to find the Gorgons; in the second place, how\nwas he to kill a creature who would turn him into stone by one glance\nof her eyes? But he was much too brave to refuse, or even to think of\nrefusing. \"I will just bid my mother good-bye, and then I will start\nat once,\" said he. He did not tell his mother what he had undertaken\nto do for fear of alarming her; but he said good-bye to her as\ncheerfully as if he were only going for a night's fishing with their\nfriend the fisherman. Then, having asked Dictys to take care of his\nmother till he came back again, he lay down to get a little sleep\nbefore starting.\n\nHe had a curious dream. He thought that Pluto, Minerva, and Mercury\ncame to his bedside, and that each made him a parting present. Pluto\ngave him a helmet, Minerva a shield, and Mercury a pair of sandals,\nwith little wings fastened to them, and a curious weapon, of which the\nblade was shaped like a scythe, and made of a single diamond. But the\ndream was not so strange as what he found when he woke. There, on his\nbed, actually lay the helmet, the shield of polished steel, the winged\nsandals, and the scythe-shaped dagger.\n\nWell, somebody must have put them there. Perhaps they were parting\ngifts from King Polydectes. So first he put on the helmet; then he\nplaced the weapon in his belt; then he slung the shield over his\nshoulders; last of all, he bound the winged sandals on his feet, and\nwhen the wings spread themselves at his heels, and carried him high up\ninto the air, he began to think that the visit of the gods must have\nbeen something more than a dream.\n\nHe went up so high that the earth looked like a large map spread out\nbelow him, on which the island of Seriphus seemed but a mere speck in\nthe sea over which he was drifting southward. After many hours of this\nstrange sort of travel, he began to descend, and came down upon his\nfeet in the middle of a hot sandy plain, where neither hill nor tree\nnor water was to be seen. He could not tell where he was. But he did\nnot lose courage; and he set out across the desert, knowing that if\nhe kept straight on in one direction, he must reach somewhere or other\nin time.\n\nBut not till nearly nightfall did he see, in the far distance, a\ncluster of palm-trees--the sure sign of water, which his long journey\nover the hot and glaring sand, under the blazing sun, had made him\nneed sorely. Reaching the palm-trees at last, he found, in the midst\nof the cluster, a wooden hut. Wondering that anybody should live in\nsuch a place, but hoping to find food and guidance, he knocked boldly\non the door with the hilt of his sword, and was bidden, by a hoarse,\ncracked voice, to come in.\n\nHe entered, and found three very old women warming their hands at a\nfew burning sticks, although it was so hot in the desert that Perseus\ncould hardly bear the weight of his shield. As he came in, the three\ncrones turned their faces towards him; and he saw that one of them had\nonly one eye and no teeth, that another had only one tooth and no eye,\nand that the third had neither teeth nor eyes.\n\n\"I am a traveler,\" said Perseus, \"and have lost my way. Will you\nkindly tell me where I am?\"\n\n\"Come in and show yourself,\" said the crone who had the eye, sharply.\n\"I must see who you are before I answer,\" she added, though her one\neye was looking straight at him all the while.\n\n\"Here I am,\" said Perseus, stepping into the middle of the room. \"I\nsuppose you can see me now.\"\n\n\"It's very strange--very strange!\" said the old woman. \"Sisters, I\nhear a man's voice, but I see no man!\"\n\n\"Nonsense, sister!\" said the one who had the tooth. \"You can't have\nput the eye in right. Let me try.\"\n\nTo the amazement of Perseus, the first old woman took out her eye and\npassed it to the second, who, after giving it a polish, put it into\nher own face and looked round; but she also saw nothing.\n\nThe two wrangled for a while as to whether there was anything to be\nseen; and then the eye was passed round to the third sister. But she\nalso failed to see Perseus, though the eye rolled in her head, and\nglowed like a live coal.\n\nAnd so they kept passing the eye round from one to another, and yet\nnothing could they see. At last Perseus, feeling terribly hot and\ntired, took off Pluto's helmet to cool himself, when suddenly--\n\n\"There he is! I see him now!\" exclaimed the old woman who, at the\nmoment, happened to be using the eye.\n\nThen Perseus found out that his helmet made him invisible when he put\nit on; and he had already found out the use of his sandals. Perhaps\nthe other gifts would have their uses too.\n\nHe let the old women have a good look at him each in turn, and then\nsaid--\n\n\"I am very hungry and thirsty and tired, and don't know where I am.\nWill you give me a little food, and tell me who such kind ladies are,\nand what this place is, and put me on the right road to where I want\nto go?\"\n\nIt was the one who happened to have the eye in her head that always\nspoke.\n\n\"We will give you some food,\" said she, \"for you seem a very\nwell-behaved young man. This place is the great desert of Libya\"\n(which is what we now call the desert of Sahara, in Africa) \"and we\nare three sisters, called the Grai\u00e6. And where do you want to go?\"\n\n\"I want to visit the Gorgons, and particularly Medusa,\" said he. \"Do\nyou happen to know where they are?\"\n\n\"Of course we know, for they are our own kinswomen! But never, no,\nnever, will we tell you where they live, or the way to get there.\nNever will we let so handsome a youth be turned into stone!\"\n\n\"Never!\" croaked the old woman with the tooth.\n\n\"Never!\" mumbled the third.\n\nPerseus did all he could to persuade them, but they were so stubborn\nthat he was only wasting words. Meanwhile they laid out supper, which\nthey ate in a very strange way, each taking her turn with the one\ntooth which they had among them, and passing it round from one to the\nother, just as they did with their only eye. This made the meal rather\nlong and slow, for they ate enormously. After supper they put the eye\nand the tooth into a little box while they took a nap, when Perseus,\nwatching his opportunity, snatched up the box, put on his helmet, and\ncried out--\n\n\"Now tell me the way to Medusa, or else you shall never see or eat\nagain!\"\n\nThe poor old Grai\u00e6 went down on their knees, and implored him to give\nthem back their only tooth and their only eye. But he said--\n\n\"It is my turn to be stubborn. Tell me where to find Medusa, and you\nshall have them back; but not a minute before.\"\n\n\"I suppose we must, then,\" said the eldest, with a sigh. \"Well, it\nwon't be our fault now, whatever happens. And after all, it's better\nthat you should be turned into stone than that we should be blind and\nstarved.\"\n\n\"Much better,\" her sisters groaned.\n\n\"Very well, then,\" said the eldest Graia, \"you must go straight on,\nnight and day, until you come into the country of King Atlas, which is\ncalled Mauritania. Near the king's palace is a garden where the trees\nbear golden apples, guarded by a dragon. If the dragon does not devour\nyou, you must pass the garden gate, and go on, a long, long way, till\nyou come to a great lake where, if you do not find the Gorgons, you\nwill be a lucky man.\"\n\nPerseus gave the old women back their tooth and eye, which they\nreceived with joy, and thanking them for their information, left the\nhut and traveled on. After many days and nights, during which he found\nit hard to find food, he came into a fertile country wherein stood a\nstately palace, so high that it seemed to touch the clouds. Hard by\nwas a vast garden enclosed by a high wall, and at the gate, sure\nenough, sat a monstrous dragon with glaring eyes. But Perseus, wearing\nhis invisible helmet, passed by safely, because unseen.\n\nIn time he came to the lake, where he took off his helmet to quench\nhis thirst. While he was drinking, he was startled by the approach of\nwhat sounded like a mighty rush of wind, and he had but just time to\nput on his helmet again before he saw, reflected in the lake, the\nflying form of the terrible Medusa--the Gorgon whom he had vowed to\nslay, and who, not seeing him, sat down beside him with folded wings.\n\nWell was it for Perseus that he remembered what would happen to him if\nhe looked at Medusa. And yet how in the world was he to fight her\nwithout looking at her? That was a puzzle indeed. Suddenly he\nbethought himself of Minerva's shield, which was polished like a\nmirror. He turned it towards Medusa, and saw, not herself indeed, but\nher reflection in the polished shield, which did just as well.\n\nShe was indeed a monster--more terrible even than he had expected. She\nwas of gigantic size, hideous and cruel in face, with the scales and\nwings of a dragon, horrible claws, and hundreds of writhing and\nhissing snakes on her head instead of hair. No wonder that anybody who\nlooked on her was turned at once into stone. Perseus, wearing his\nhelmet, and guiding himself by his mirror, from which he never moved\nhis eyes, drew his diamond blade, sprang upon the monster, gave one\nstroke just between her chin and where her scales began, and, in a\nsingle moment, her hideous head was rolling on the sand. The snakes\ngave one last hiss, and the deed was done.\n\nStill keeping his eyes turned away, Perseus, by using his mirror,\nfound the head, which he slung out of his sight behind him. Scarcely\nhad he done this when he heard again the sound of wings, like a great\nwind--the sisters of Medusa, the other two Gorgons, were flying over\nthe lake like hurricanes to take vengeance upon her slayer. They could\nnot see Perseus himself, because of his helmet; but they saw their\nsister's head at his back, and could thus swoop down upon him. But\nPerseus, remembering his winged sandals, sprang up into the air, and\noff he flew, with the raging Gorgons after him.\n\nIt was a terrible race! Perseus would not throw away the head, though\nit left such a track behind him. For from one of the splashes of blood\nwhich fell upon the earth sprang the giant Chrysaor, armed with a\ngolden sword; from another leaped into life the winged horse Pegasus,\nwho immediately darted off through the air and never stopped until he\nalighted among the Muses upon Mount Helicon; the smaller drops of\nblood as they fell became countless serpents, and all manner of\nloathsome crawling things. On and on Perseus flew, not knowing\nwhither, like one hunted in some horrible dream, till his strength\nfailed him, and he came down to earth, swiftly and half fainting.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes and raised himself from the ground, he found\nhimself in the most beautiful garden he had ever seen, full of trees\nladen with fruits of gold. But before him stood a huge giant, so tall\nthat his head was above the clouds. The giant stooped till Perseus\ncould see his face, and said in a voice of thunder:--\n\n\"I am Atlas, King of Mauritania! How has a miserable pigmy like you\npassed the dragon who guards the gate of the garden of golden apples,\nand entered in?\"\n\n\"Then from you, as king of this land,\" said Perseus, \"I claim shelter\nand protection in my father's name! For the avengers of blood are\nfollowing after me to kill me.\"\n\n\"You are safe with me,\" said Atlas. \"But who is your father, that you\nclaim shelter and protection in his name?\"\n\n\"My name is Perseus,\" said Perseus, proudly, \"and I am the son of\nJupiter, the king of gods and men!\"\n\n\"Of Jupiter?\" thundered Atlas. \"Then--prepare to die!\"\n\n\"You would kill a son of Jupiter?\" asked Perseus, amazed.\n\n\"Ay, and any son of Jupiter who comes in my way! For hath it not been\nforetold that by a son of Jupiter shall I be robbed of my golden\napples? For what else are you here? Son of Jupiter, once more, prepare\nto die!\" And so saying, he lifted his enormous arm, one blow of which\nwould have swept away ten thousand men as if they were a swarm of\nflies.\n\nPerseus gave himself up for lost, for he had no more chance against\nAtlas than a beetle would have against an elephant. However, like a\nbrave knight, he resolved to die fighting: he drew his sword and\ngrasped his shield--at least what he meant to be his shield; for it\nchanced to be Medusa's head which he brought from behind his shoulder\nand held up before the giant. Down came the huge right arm of Atlas to\ncrush him. But even in death the head did its work. No sooner were\nMedusa's staring eyes turned upon the giant than all in a moment his\nlimbs stiffened, and he became a vast mountain of stone, with its\nhead above the clouds. And there stands Mount Atlas to this day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThankful for his wonderful escape, Perseus, without taking a single\ngolden apple, continued his journey, no longer pursued by the Gorgons,\nwho had doubtless lost trace of him. Leaving Mauritania, he recrossed\nthe great Libyan desert, and traveled on and on until he reached the\ncoast of Ethiopia, and entered a great city on the sea-shore.\n\nBut though the place was evidently great and rich, the whole air\nseemed full of sadness and gloom. The people went about silent and\nsighing, and altogether so woe-begone that they had no attention to\nspare for a stranger. When he reached the king's palace the signs of\nmourning were deeper still: it was like entering a tomb, all was so\nplunged in speechless sorrow.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" asked Perseus at last, seizing a passing servant\nby the arm, and compelling him to listen. \"Is it the death of the\nking?\"\n\n\"Ah, if it were only that!\" said the man. \"But no; King Cepheus is\nalive and well. Alas, and woe is me!\" And so once more he fell to\nwailing, and passed on.\n\nThus over and over again Perseus vainly sought an answer, getting\nnothing but tears and groans. And so, none heeding him, he went on\ntill he reached a chamber where sat the king himself in the midst of\nhis court; and here was the deepest mourning of all.\n\n\"I perceive you are a stranger,\" said King Cepheus. \"Pardon us if we\nhave seemed inhospitable and unlike the \u00c6thiopians, the friends of the\ngods; it is not our way. But,\" he continued, the tears flowing as he\nspoke, \"if you knew, you would understand.\"\n\n\"Let me know,\" said Perseus gently, for he was filled with pity for\nthe king's tears.\n\n\"My daughter, the Princess Andromeda,\" answered the king, \"is\ncondemned to a horrible death; I know not whether she is yet alive.\"\n\n\"How,\" asked Perseus, \"can a king's daughter be condemned to death\nagainst her father's will?\"\n\n\"No wonder it sounds strange,\" answered Cepheus; \"but listen:\nAndromeda is my only child. For some reason--I know not what--the gods\nhave permitted the land to be ravaged by a monster which came out of\nthe sea, whose very breath is a blight and a pestilence, and which\nspares neither man, woman, nor child. Not one of us is left without\ncause to mourn. Fearing the destruction of all my people, I asked of\nthe great oracle of Ammon in what way the work of the monster could be\nstayed. Alas! the oracle declared that nothing would avail but\ndelivering up Andromeda herself to its fury to be devoured. What could\nI do? Could I doom all my people to lose all their children for the\nsake of my own? There was but one thing for a king, who is the father\nof all his people, to do: and even now--\" But he could say no more.\n\n\"Oracle or no oracle,\" cried Perseus, \"it shall not be while I am\nalive! Where is the princess?\"\n\n\"She was chained at sunrise to a rock on the sea-shore, there to wait\nfor the monster. But where she is now--\"\n\nPerseus did not wait for another word, but, leaving the palace,\nhurried along the shore, already half covered by the rising tide,\nhelping himself over the difficult places by the wings at his heels.\nAt last he came to what made his heart beat and burn with pity and\nrage. Chained by her wrists to a pillar of rock was the most beautiful\nof all princesses, stripped naked, but for the long hair that fell\nover her shoulders, and for the rising waves, which were already\nnearly waist-high. But what struck Perseus most was her look of quiet\ncourage and noble pride--the look of one who was devoting herself to a\ncruel death for her country's sake, and in order that others might be\nsaved.\n\nThe whole heart of Perseus went out to her: he vowed, if he could not\nsave her, to share her doom. But before he could reach her side, a\nhuge black wave parted, and forth came the monster--a creature like\nnothing else of land or sea, with a bloated, shapeless body, studded\nwith hungry, cruel eyes, and hundreds of long, slimy limbs, twisting\nand crawling, each with a yawning mouth, from which streamed livid\nfire and horrible fumes. Andromeda turned pale as the loathsome\ncreature came on with a slowness more dreadful than speed. Perseus\ncould not wait. Springing from the rock with his wings, he threw\nhimself, like lightning, full upon the monster, and then began such a\nstruggle as had never been seen before. The creature twined its limbs\nround Perseus, and tried to crush him. As soon as Perseus tore himself\nfrom one, he was clutched by another, while the pulpy mass seemed\nproof against thrusts or blows.\n\nPerseus felt his life passing from him; he put all the strength left\nhim into one last blow. It fell only on the monster's right shoulder.\nBut that was the one place where it could be pierced. The coils\nrelaxed, and Perseus, to his own amaze, saw the monster floating, a\nshapeless corpse, upon the waves.\n\nHaving released Andromeda, who had watched the struggle in an agony of\ndread for what had seemed the certain fate of her champion, he carried\nher back through the air to her father's palace; and I need not tell\nhow the mourning turned into wonder and joy!\n\n\"What can I do to show my gratitude?\" asked Cepheus of Perseus. \"Ask\nof me whatever you will, and it shall be yours, on the word of a\nking!\"\n\n\"Give me Andromeda to be my wife,\" said Perseus. \"That is all I want\nin the world.\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said Cepheus; but suddenly he became grave. \"I have\npromised on the word of a king, which cannot be broken. But I must\nwarn you that you are not the first in the field. Andromeda has long\nbeen claimed in marriage by the powerful Prince Phineus: and he is not\nthe man to lose what he wants without giving trouble.\"\n\n\"He never gave any trouble to the monster,\" said Perseus, thinking\nthat Cepheus, though kind and honorable, was rather a weak and timid\nsort of king. So the marriage of Perseus and Andromeda was settled, to\nthe great joy of both; and all the nobles were invited to a great\nfestival in honor of the wedding, and of the delivery of the land. The\n\u00c6thiopians were famous for their feasts,--so much so that the gods\nthemselves would often leave the nectar and ambrosia of Olympus to be\nguests at their tables.\n\nEverything went on very happily, when in the very midst of the banquet\nwas heard the clash of arms; and those who were nearest the door cried\nout that Prince Phineus had come with an army to carry off the bride.\n\n\"Do not be alarmed,\" said Perseus. \"Only let everybody shut his eyes\nuntil I bid him open them again.\"\n\nIt seemed an odd order; but Cepheus and all his Court had such faith\nin Perseus that they instantly obeyed him, and all shut their eyes.\nPerseus, especially bidding Andromeda close hers, drew forth Medusa's\nhead, turning the face towards the door. And when, at his bidding,\nCepheus and the rest opened their eyes and looked, they saw Phineus\nand his army all turned into statues of stone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAfter resting from his adventures at the Court of King Cepheus,\nPerseus set sail with Andromeda, in one of the king's ships, for\nSeriphus, where they arrived after a safe and pleasant voyage. He was\nimpatient to see his mother again, and to show King Polydectes how\nwell he had done his errand. On reaching Seriphus, he left Andromeda\nin the ship, while he went alone on shore to see how things had gone\nwhile he had been away.\n\nHis way to the palace led him past the temple of Minerva, at the gate\nof which he found great confusion. Forcing his way through the crowd,\nhe entered, and was astonished to see his mother, Danae, crouching in\nterror by the altar, with Dictys the fisherman standing before her,\nand defending her from King Polydectes and his guards, who were\ncrowding the temple. Clearing his way to the altar-steps, Perseus\nheard hurriedly from Dictys what was happening: how the king, taking\nadvantage of his absence, had been persecuting Danae to marry him\nagainst her will, and had at last driven her into the temple to make\nher his wife by force. Dictys alone had come to her rescue; but what\ncould one man do against the king and all his guards?\n\n\"And now you have come,\" sighed Dictys, \"you will be slain too. See,\nthey are coming on!\"\n\n\"You sent me to slay Medusa, King Polydectes,\" cried Perseus. \"See how\nwell I have obeyed you!\"\n\nSo saying, he held up the fatal head; and the king and his guards\nforthwith became stone. Thus was Polydectes destroyed by his own\ntreachery.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe people desired to make Perseus king; but he had a longing to pay a\nvisit to the land of Argos, where he had been born, but which he had\nnever seen. So he made Dictys the fisherman King of Seriphus, thinking\nthat kindness, courage, and faithfulness were the chief things to be\nlooked for in the choice of a ruler, and set sail for Argos with his\nwife and mother.\n\nOf course nobody there knew any of them; for Perseus had left the\ncountry when a child in arms, and Danae had spent her girlhood shut up\nin a brazen tower. It so happened that, when they reached land, the\npeople of Larissa were celebrating some solemn games in honor of their\nking, who had just died--wrestling, racing, and so forth; and Perseus,\nhearing the news, went round by way of Larissa to take part in them.\n\nHaving shown himself best in every sport, he joined in a game of\nquoits, in which, as always, he found himself without a rival. Having\noutdone all others, he thought he would outdo even himself; and,\ntaking up the heaviest quoit, he cast it so far that it passed over\nthe heads of the circle of spectators, so that none could see where it\nfell--\n\nUntil they were startled by a cry which made the people crowd to where\nan old man had fallen from his seat, and now lay dead upon the ground.\nThe quoit had struck him on the head, and--\n\n\"Fly!\" cried those who stood about Perseus. \"It is Acrisius, King of\nArgos, whom your unlucky quoit has killed!\"\n\nAnd thus came to pass what had been foretold at the beginning--King\nAcrisius had been slain by his daughter's son.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs for Perseus, whose adventures were now at an end, he refused the\nkingdom of Argos, which had come to him in such an unfortunate manner,\nand, traveling further into Greece, built a city and made a kingdom\nfor himself, which he called Mycen\u00e6. Here, with Andromeda and Danae,\nhe lived in peace and happiness, ruling so well and wisely that when\nhe died he was made a demi-god, and admitted into Olympus. There are\ntwo constellations which are still called Perseus and Andromeda. The\nGorgon's head he consecrated to Minerva, who fixed it in the middle of\nher shield, where it still retained its power of turning the enemies\nof the goddess of Wisdom into blocks of stone.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI suspect that one part of this story has reminded you of how St.\nGeorge of England rescued the Princess Sabra from the dragon. Well,\nthere is this great likeness among all good knights, that they have\nthe help of heaven, because they would be equally good and brave\nwhether they had such help or no.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE.\n\n\nWhen \u00c6son, who was King of Iolcos, began to grow old, he left his\nkingdom to his infant son, Jason. But the throne was usurped by his\nuncle P\u0113l\u012das, who forthwith consulted an oracle as to what he\nshould do to make himself secure. The answer of the oracle was\nstrange. It was--\"Fear nobody who cometh not with and without a shoe.\"\n\n\"There is nothing very alarming about that,\" thought Pelias; so,\ninstead of having Jason killed, as he had first thought of doing, he\nsent away the child into Thessaly, a long way off, among the people\ncalled Centaurs, hoping that he would never hear of him again.\n\nThe Centaurs were a very singular race. They were half man and half\nhorse, as if a man's body down to the waist were set upon a horse's\nshoulders. Thus they had a horse's four legs for running, and a man's\nhead and arms for thinking and fighting: they were famous archers,\nvery learned, and very brave. Their most famous chief was Chiron, who,\nbesides being their best archer, was also a great philosopher and\nphysician. Chiron, struck by Jason's quickness, became his teacher,\nso that the young prince grew up skilled both in all manly exercises\nand in every branch of human knowledge.\n\nWhen he had become a man, the Centaur thought it only right that he\nshould know his birth and parentage, and should have a chance of\nregaining his father's throne, since he was so fit to be a king. But\nfirst he consulted the oracle, which gave to Chiron as strange an\nanswer as it had given to Pelias--\"Who seeks a crown shall wear the\nleopard's hide.\"\n\nSo Jason, by Chiron's counsel, went out hunting, and, having killed a\nleopard, dressed himself in its skin. Then he set out, on foot and\nalone, for Iolcos; and proceeded without anything happening to him,\nuntil he reached a mountain-torrent, so deep, so broad, and so strong,\nthat the best of swimmers could not hope to reach the other side.\n\nHe was gazing at the torrent, wondering what he should do, when a very\nold woman, bent and lame, came hobbling by, and asked him why he\nstared so sadly at the stream.\n\n\"Reason enough,\" said he, \"when that water is keeping me from a\nkingdom.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" asked the old woman; \"I can soon put that right for\nyou. I am going across myself; and I'll take you on my back with the\ngreatest pleasure in the world.\"\n\nJason thought she was laughing at him. But something about her--he\ncould not tell what--made him feel that she was no common old woman;\nand even as he looked her back seemed to straighten itself and her\nfigure to enlarge. No; she was certainly not joking: her smile was\nonly friendly and kind. It might not be very dignified for a rightful\nking to enter his kingdom dressed up in a leopard's skin and riding on\nthe back of an old woman, and it did not seem very safe, either.\nHowever, as there was certainly nothing else to be done, he got upon\nthe back of the old woman, who at once stepped out into the raging\nstream.\n\nHow strong the flood was he could tell from the forest-trees which it\nhad torn up by the roots and was carrying away headlong. But while\nJason's brain reeled with the whirl, the old woman remained as steady\nas a rock, and strode through the deepest and roughest places with\nease. In a wonderfully short time Jason reached the other side, with\nno worse mishap than the loss of his left shoe.\n\n\"Never mind that,\" said the old woman. \"The river is bound to have\nsomething. You have only given it a shoe; most people have to give it\ntheir lives.\"\n\n\"But what do you give it then?\" asked Jason.\n\n\"Oh, the gods go toll-free,\" said the old woman. \"I am Juno.\" And\nbefore Jason had recovered from his surprise, she was gone.\n\nJason continued his journey till he reached Iolcos, where the oddity\nof a man dressed in nothing but a leopard's skin soon gathered a crowd\naround him. The news of the sight spread about till it reached the\nears of King Pelias himself, who came out of his palace to discover\nwhat was going on. But as soon as he caught sight of the stranger in\nthe leopard-skin he started with dismay. There stood a man with a shoe\nand without a shoe--just what the oracle had warned him to fear!\n\nSeeing that it was the king, Jason at once went up to him, and said--\n\n\"I am Jason, the son of \u00c6son. Give up to me this kingdom, which is\nrightfully mine!\"\n\nHis boldness and his royal bearing had a great effect upon the people,\nwho hated Pelias, and were glad to welcome back the rightful heir.\nThey set up a great shout for Jason, which alarmed Pelias still more;\nand many of them pressed forward with drawn swords.\n\nBut Pelias, if he had not much courage, had plenty of craft. And so he\nanswered, after a moment's thought:--\n\n\"Why, of course you shall have what is your own. Do you think I want\nto rob you--to keep what is not mine for a single day! I am only too\nglad to welcome you, my dear nephew, home again. I have been wondering\nwhat had become of you, and not till after long searching did I give\nyou up for lost. I think you will find that I have taken good care of\nyour kingdom while you have been away. I deserve some credit for\nhaving had all the hard work, while you, no doubt, have been going\nabout and amusing yourself. I am very glad to see you--indeed I am.\"\n\nJason was rather surprised to find everything so easy, and his uncle\nso friendly. Indeed he hardly knew what to say.\n\n\"I am only eager to enter upon my duties,\" said he at last; \"and I\nshall look to you to help me to govern well.\"\n\n\"That is the right spirit,\" said Pelias. \"So I will tell you the first\nof your duties; one that I rejoice to give over to better and younger\nhands than mine. It is difficult and even dangerous--\"\n\n\"All the better,\" said Jason. \"It will bring all the more glory.\"\n\n\"You are an admirable young man! Well, you must know that many\ngenerations ago King Athamas of Thebes married a princess of\nCloudland, named Nephele, and had two children, Phryxus and Helle.\nNephele going mad, he divorced her, and married the princess Ino, and\nhad two children more. Ino hated Nephele's children, because they\nstood in the way of her own. So, being a witch, she desolated Thebes\nby a plague, and got a false oracle to declare that the plague should\nnever cease so long as Phryxus and Helle were alive. Do you\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"Perfectly,\" said Jason. \"Except that I don't see what all this old\nfamily history has to do with me.\"\n\n\"Patience, and you will see,\" said Pelias. \"Just as Phryxus and his\nsister Helle were about to be sacrificed, a winged ram, with a fleece\nof pure gold, came out of the sea, took the brother and sister on his\nback, and flew away with them through the air. Unluckily, while they\nwere flying, Helle turned giddy, tumbled off the ram's back, and was\ndrowned. You have heard of the Hellespont, I suppose? Well, that is\nthe part of the sea where Helle fell. Phryxus, however, arrived safely\nat the Court of \u00c6etes, King of Colchis, beyond the great Black Sea,\nwhere he sacrificed the ram to Jupiter, out of gratitude for his\nescape; but kept the golden fleece and married the king's daughter. At\nlast \u00c6etes, wanting the fleece for himself, murdered Phryxus.\nThere--do you see your royal duty now?\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" said Jason, \"honestly say that I do.\"\n\n\"What? Why, Phryxus was the son of Athamas, who was the son of \u00c6olus,\nwho was the father of Cretheus, who was the father of \u00c6son, who is the\nfather of _you_. It is as clear as day that Phryxus was your own first\ncousin once removed. And what duty can be clearer than avenging the\nmurder of a first cousin once removed? Especially when the murderer\nhas a fleece of pure gold waiting for some brave man to bring away. It\nis so clear a duty that, if you decline it, I will undertake the\nadventure myself, old as I am, rather than let the wrongs of our royal\nhouse go unavenged.\"\n\nNow glory was Jason's ruling passion. He would have felt disgraced if\nhe had declined any adventure, however difficult it might be: and the\ngreater the danger, the greater the glory.\n\nSo he had it announced through Iolcos and all the neighboring\ncountries that he had undertaken the Adventure of the Golden Fleece,\nand that all brave knights who desired to share in its perils and\nglories would be welcome. The effect of the proclamation was something\nwonderful. Iolcos was speedily thronged with princes and knights, the\nbest and noblest of all Greece, eager to take part in the expedition;\nso that Jason found himself captain of a host the like of which for\nbirth and valor had never been seen--fifty chiefs, and every one of\nthem known to fame. It would be too long to name them all. But I must\nmention \"the great twin brethren,\" Castor and Pollux, whom you know by\nmore than name: and Orpheus the minstrel, and that other great\nminstrel, Amphion, whose music had built the walls of Thebes: and\nAutolycus, the craftiest, and Nestor, the wisest, of all mankind: and\nHerc\u016dles, the son of Jupiter, of whose deeds you will read\nhereafter: and Meleager, who has also a famous story of his own: and\nTheseus of Athens, with whom you will also meet again,--all these and\nall their comrades were, like their captain, in the very flower of\ntheir youth, strength, and valor. Atalanta, a princess of Scyros, a\ngreat huntress, joined the expedition disguised as a man: and\n\u00c6sculapius was its surgeon and physician.\n\nThe next thing was to build a ship to carry so large a company across\nthe great and terrible Black Sea, which the Greeks called the\n\"Euxine,\" or \"Friendly\"--giving it a good name just because they were\nafraid to give it a bad one, lest it should be angry. The ship was at\nlast built, and called the _Argo_.\n\nThe \"Argonauts,\" as Jason and his company are called--that is to say,\nthe crew of the _Argo_--set sail in great state and honor from a port\nof Thessaly, crossed the \u00c6gean Sea, passed through the Dardanelles\ninto the Sea of Marmora (as those parts are now called), and then\nthrough the Hellespont, the strait where Helle had been drowned, into\nthe Black Sea.\n\nFrom end to end of these dark and dangerous waters the good ship\n_Argo_ sailed without mishap, save the death of its pilot, Tiphys,\nsoon after starting. Erginus took his place at the helm. But I cannot\nhelp thinking that there was another reason for the good luck of the\n_Argo_. For once, when a great storm arose and threatened shipwreck,\nsuddenly two flames of light were seen to play round the heads of\nCastor and Pollux, and forthwith the wind fell and the waves became\ncalm. You know that--\n\n \"Safe comes the ship to haven,\n Through tempests and through gales,\n If once the great Twin Brethren\n Sit shining on the sails\";\n\nand if this was the virtue of their spirits after death, one may be\ncertain that it was a good thing to have Castor and Pollux on board\nduring their brave and blameless lives. Those two flames of light are\nstill often seen hovering about a ship in stormy weather, and sailors\nstill believe them to be of good omen.\n\nAfter a long voyage, the _Argo_ arrived safely at \u00c6a, the capital of\nColchis, where dwelt King \u00c6etes, the same who had murdered Phryxus.\nColchis proved to be a rich and fertile country, inhabited by a people\ncuriously like the Gypsies, with very dark complexions and black hair,\ndressed in brightly colored linen which they alone knew how to weave\nand dye. They claimed to be descended from a tribe of Egyptians who\nhad wandered thither ages ago; and they had many other secrets which\nnone but they and the Egyptians knew.\n\nJason, at the head of his company, went before King \u00c6etes, and\ndemanded from him the Golden Fleece. \u00c6etes received him in state,\nsitting upon his throne; and, after hearing Jason's demand,\nanswered:--\n\n\"Far be it from me, a mere barbarian chieftain, to refuse what is\nasked of me by so noble an embassy of princes and heroes. I would even\nnow deliver up to you the Golden Fleece, were it in my power. But how\ncan I give it to you when it is guarded, even from myself, by two\nfierce bulls with brazen horns, which breathe forth flame, and are a\nmatch for armies? Before you can obtain the fleece, you must first\ntame these bulls.\"\n\nJason desired nothing better. So he and all his comrades went into the\nfield where the bulls were, and endeavored to bind them. But neither\nhe, with all his courage, nor the craft of Autolycus, nor the might of\nHercules, nor the courage, skill, and strength of the whole company\ntogether, could prevail against the bulls, who breathed fire, and\ngored right and left with their brazen horns. There was work for\n\u00c6sculapius that day.\n\nKing \u00c6etes had known very well how it would be; but Jason, when night,\ncame, retired to the chamber which had been assigned to him in\ndespair. Midnight found him still waking, when the door opened, and\nthere stood before him, holding a lamp, a tall and beautiful woman,\ndark-skinned, black-eyed, and with long black hair--beautiful, as I\nhave said, but terrible in her beauty.\n\n\"You have no cause for shame,\" said she, in a softer voice than he\nwould have expected. \"They were enchanted bulls: and not ten times\nyour number would have fared better. This is a nation of enchanters,\nwhose king knows how to laugh you Greeks and your boasted bravery to\nscorn. But I am the greatest of all enchanters; and I will teach you\nhow to tame the bulls--if you will promise me one thing.\"\n\n\"Anything!\" said Jason. \"Only tell me who you are, and what you\nrequire of me.\"\n\n\"I am Medea, the king's daughter,\" said she. \"And what I require is\nthat you shall marry me this night in the Temple of Hecate, the Queen\nof Witches, and that you will swear before her altar to be true and\nfaithful to me forever.\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" exclaimed Jason, who, to succeed in his adventure, would\nhave gladly sworn anything to any one.\n\nSo he followed her to the Temple of Hecate, the Witch-Queen, and\nthere, with many strange and dreadful rites, he married her, and swore\nto be true and faithful to Medea forever. Then she gave him a magic\nherb, and said:--\n\n\"This will tame the bulls.\" And she also gave him a sling and a stone,\nadding, \"Use this when there is need.\"\n\nThe next morning Jason went into the field alone. As soon as the scent\nof the herb reached the bulls' nostrils they crouched at his feet;\nand when \u00c6etes and his Court, and the Greek princes with them, came\nforth, lo! there was Jason quietly driving a plough drawn by the\nbulls, who were now as tame as common oxen.\n\n\"Some one has been betraying me,\" thought the king angrily. But he hid\nhis anger, and said: \"You have done very well so far. I am sorry to\nsay, however, that the Golden Fleece has other guards. Do you see\nthese serpents' teeth? You must sow these in the furrow you have made\nwith your plough--and then the gods help you if they can.\"\n\nSo Jason, having finished his ploughing, sowed the serpents' teeth as\nif they were seeds of corn. And then from that seed sprang up, in less\nthan an hour, a strange harvest--an army of giants, as many as the\nstalks of wheat in a wide field, who rushed upon Jason and the Greeks,\nand trampled them to the ground.\n\nAnd every one of them would have been slain had not Jason bethought\nhim of Medea's sling and stone. Aiming at the chief of the giants, he\nlet fly, and straightway the army vanished like the phantoms of a\ndream.\n\nThe king began to be afraid, for he was coming to an end of his\nspells. He felt sure he had been betrayed, but could not guess the\ntraitor. But again he pretended friendship, and said: \"That, too, was\nvery well done. I see there is something in you Greeks, after all.\nBut it grieves me to the heart to tell you that the most terrible\nguards of the Golden Fleece still remain--a mighty dragon that never\nsleeps, but watches the Fleece night and day. If you can kill\n_him_--why then--\"\n\n\"I can but try,\" said Jason. So he and his comrades were guided by\nwinding paths to the foot of a tree on which hung the Golden Fleece,\nsplendid in the sun. But at the foot of the tree was a dragon that\ncould have devoured ten times as many, armor and all, with one crunch\nof his jaws. And he breathed forth such fiery pestilence that none\ncould come near.\n\nTruly it seemed at last as if the adventure was to be in vain.\n\nBut, at midnight, Medea came to Jason as before, and gave him another\nherb, and said, \"Take this--and remember your vow.\"\n\nJason was not thinking of the vow, but only of the dragon. The next\nmorning he set forth alone, and having found his way to the tree,\nwaved the herb before the monster. No sooner had the smell of it\nreached its nostrils than its eyes began to droop and close, and\npresently the ever-watchful dragon was sleeping soundly. Instantly\nJason darted past him, snatched the Golden Fleece from the tree, and\nhastening back to the palace, displayed it before the king's\nastonished eyes.\n\n\"Seize the robber!\" cried King \u00c6etes, to his guards. But he had come\nto an end of his enchantments: Jason's comrades rallied round their\ncaptain with drawn swords, and made for the shore.\n\nThe king raved and stormed. \"Fetch Medea to me,\" he cried; \"she shall\nraise such a tempest as will sink the foreign pirates to the bottom of\nthe sea.\" But even as he spoke, in ran one of the slaves with the\nnews--\n\n\"The Princess Medea--the Greeks are carrying her away!\"\n\n\"Medea--against her will? No!\" cried the king, who now knew who had\nbetrayed him. \"There is no power on earth that could make _her_\ncaptive, or carry her away unless she chose to go. Absyrtus,\" he said,\nturning to his son, \"hasten after those brigands, and bid your sister\nreturn, and I will follow with my whole army to cut them off from\ntheir ship and destroy them all.\"\n\nThe news was true: Medea was so passionately in love with Jason that\nshe had forgotten her father and her country, and was even now guiding\nthe Greeks back to where the _Argo_ lay. But, great enchantress though\nshe was, she was not all-powerful, and she knew that her spells would\nbe in vain against her own people. And her father and her brother knew\nthis too.\n\nHer ears were quick, however; and while the Greeks were still far from\nthe shore, she heard the footsteps of Absyrtus swiftly tracking them;\nand what was worse, she heard, further off, a tramp and clash, which\ntold her that the whole Colchian army was in pursuit at full speed.\n\n\"Hasten on,\" she said to Jason. \"I will wait here.\"\n\nSo, while he and the Greeks pressed forward, she faced round and stood\nin the middle of the path until Absyrtus came up with her. Before he\ncould utter a word, she plunged a dagger into her brother's heart, cut\noff his head and limbs, and then slowly followed Jason, dropping a\nbleeding limb in the path every few yards.\n\nThings happened just as she intended. When King \u00c6etes, riding fast at\nthe head of his horsemen, saw his son's head lying in the path before\nhim, he threw himself from his horse with a cry of grief; and seeing\nwhat lay further along the ground, forgot everything else, even the\nGolden Fleece, in his sorrow. The cruel witch, Medea, had foreseen\nthat her father would never leave the remains of his dead son\nungathered and unburied by the wayside, for the advancing horses to\ntrample and for the vultures to devour. King \u00c6etes was so long in\nseeking for the last limb that, by the time it was found, Jason and\nthe Greeks had reached their ship and had set sail, and Medea with\nthem.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut the murder of Absyrtus seemed to cling like a curse to the _Argo_,\nand to keep her from coming home. Driven out of her course by storms\nand contrary winds, she wandered into unknown oceans, drifting even so\nfar as the wild and desolate islands of Britain, in the mysterious\nNorthern Sea. The Argonauts narrowly escaped being devoured, ship and\nall, by the horrible sea-fiend Scylla, with twelve feet, six hideous\nheads, each with three rows of teeth, and a body made of barking dogs,\nwho sits upon a rock and watches for sailors. And, just avoiding her\njaws, they nearly fell into the whirlpool of Charybdis, another\nsea-fiend, so close to Scylla that it was hardly possible to escape\none without being destroyed by the other. They passed the island of\nthe Sirens, of whom you read in the story of Neptune, and would have\nfallen victims to their singing had not Orpheus made such music on his\nlyre that the Sirens ceased their own song to listen, and let the ship\npass by.\n\nI do not know what Medea was doing all this while. Perhaps she was\npowerful only on land; perhaps she could do nothing without her magic\nherbs; perhaps her passion for Jason had made her weak; perhaps she\nfelt some touch of remorse; perhaps her wicked witchcraft was of no\neffect in the presence of \u00c6sculapius, who, knowing more magic even\nthan she, used his knowledge for helping and healing. But I do know\nthat Jason was beginning to suffer sorely because of the vow he had\nmade of his faith and life to Medea, and to feel that murder and\nblack magic, and a wife whom he dreaded and did not love, were too\nhigh a price to pay even for glory. He was not like Perseus, who had\nwarred against evil with the weapons of the gods: Jason had sought\nonly his own glory, and had gained it by means hateful to gods and\nmen.\n\nBut his comrades knew nothing of all this--to them he was a hero of\nheroes, and they made the wanderings of the _Argo_ famous for\nsomething better than narrow escapes from peril. They cleared the sea\nof pirates--a work in which Castor and Pollux especially distinguished\nthemselves; and they righted many wrongs, and carried the knowledge of\nthe gods among far away barbarian tribes. And at last they saw once\nmore the coast of Greece; at last they touched the land of Calydon,\nwhere the father of Meleager, one of the Argonauts whom I have already\nnamed, was king.\n\nNow this Meleager had a charmed life. The three Fates had been present\nat his birth--the first had given him courage; the second, strength;\nbut the third had decreed that he should live only so long as a log of\nwood, then burning upon the hearth, should remain unconsumed. So his\nmother, Alth\u00e6a, had forthwith snatched the brand from the burning, and\nhad kept it with care, because upon it depended the life of her son.\nMeleager welcomed Jason and his companions to Calydon: but they no\nsooner landed than they heard evil news. The whole country was being\nlaid waste by a huge boar, which not even armies could kill.\n\nHere was another adventure for the Argonauts. They proclaimed a great\nhunt, and tracked the boar, through mountains and forests, to his very\nden. In front of the hunters was Meleager; but next to him came\nAtalanta--that famous huntress, swift-footed as Diana, who had sailed\nwith the Argonauts in the disguise of a man, and had betrothed herself\nto Meleager while they were homeward bound. Then followed the rest,\nvying with each other which should be foremost; and besides the\nArgonauts were the princes and nobles of Calydon, led by the two\nbrothers of Alth\u00e6a, who still kept the fatal fire-brand secure.\n\nThey drove the boar to bay at last, and, after a desperate struggle,\nMeleager gave it its death-blow. All his companions rejoiced at his\ngood fortune; but when he gave the boar's head, as a trophy, to\nAtalanta, the two brothers of Alth\u00e6a stood forth and said:--\n\n\"It is not right to give such honor to a woman--a woman who has no\nmore right to it than we. Such trophies are for men!\"\n\nSo saying, they tried to seize it from her. But Meleager, enraged at\nthe insult to Atalanta, defended her with his sword, and so\nunfortunately well that both his uncles were slain.\n\nAlth\u00e6a, watching from her window for the return of the hunters, at\nlast saw them pass mournfully, bearing the bodies of her dead\nbrothers. \"Who has done this?\" she cried; and being told it was\nMeleager, she cursed him, and, in her grief and passion, threw the\nfatal brand upon the hearth, where it was caught by a flame. Meleager,\nthough still far off, was forthwith seized with scorching pains in all\nhis limbs. As the brand burned, so he burned also, and when it was\nconsumed, a flame seemed to clutch his heart, and he fell dead in\nAtalanta's arms.\n\nAlth\u00e6a, overwhelmed, when it was too late, with horror at the result\nof her rage, slew herself with her own hand. And such was the\nmiserable ending of the Hunt of Calydon.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Argonauts, having now returned to Greece, parted, and went each to\nhis own home. Jason drew the _Argo_ on shore near Corinth,\nconsecrating it to Neptune, and leaving it there as a monument of so\nfamous a voyage. Then he returned to Iolcos, bringing the Golden\nFleece with him.\n\nHe was received with triumph and rejoicing, and a great feast was\nprepared to welcome him home. But, to his sorrow, he found his father\n\u00c6son so enfeebled by old age as not to be able to be present at the\nfestival.\n\n\"Do not trouble yourself about that,\" said Medea. \"Let \u00c6son only put\nhimself in my hands, and he shall be as young as you.\"\n\nJason, knowing his wife's power, consented. So she drew all the blood\nout of \u00c6son's veins, and filled them with the juice of certain herbs;\nand he came to the festival as young-looking and as vigorous as his\nown son.\n\nBut Pelias, the usurper, who hated Jason, was getting old, too; and\nhis daughters, when they saw what had happened to \u00c6son, besought Medea\nthat she would make their father also young and strong again.\n\n\"You need not come to me for that,\" said she. \"You can do it for\nyourselves when I have shown you how.\"\n\nSo she killed an old ram, cut him up, and boiled the pieces in a\ncaldron into which she had secretly thrown some herbs. When the water\nwas cold, out from the caldron skipped a young lamb, and frisked away.\n\nThe whole thing looked so easy that the daughters of Pelias, that very\nnight, prepared a caldron; and, when the water boiled, killed their\nfather, divided him limb from limb, and threw in the pieces, just as\nMedea had done with the ram. But nothing happened, though they waited\ntill the flesh had boiled away from the bones.\n\nThey hastened to Medea to help them. But she received them with scorn.\n\n\"Murderesses!\" she exclaimed, \"and fools! It is you who butchered\nPelias; it is you who must make him live again, if you can. His death\nis on your hands; not on mine.\"\n\nThus Jason was delivered from his enemy. But the manner of his\ndeliverance got about among the people. They rose up against Medea,\nand drove her out of the city; and Jason had to follow her to whom he\nhad sold his soul for glory.\n\nHe had never loved her; and now his fear of her was turning into hate,\nand the hate into loathing and horror. All the wickednesses and\ncruelties she had committed for his sake seemed to have become his\nown, and to be so many curses upon him. And even her magic had not\nprospered, seeing that it had cost him the kingdom he might have\ngained by fair means, and had driven him into exile. His only comfort\nwas in their two children, whom he loved dearly; and at last he could\nbear life with the terrible Medea no longer. He determined to divorce\nher; to take the children away from such a mother; and to take another\nwife whom he could love, and who would not be a terror to him.\n\nSuch a wife he found in Creusa, a princess of Corinth. But he was\nterribly mistaken if he thought he could break the vow he had made to\nMedea at the altar of Hecate, the Witch-Queen.\n\nMedea affected to be quite content with what had been arranged. She\nsent Creusa a wedding-dress, and had her children brought to her to\nbid them farewell. The feast was at its height, and Jason was\nrejoicing in his freedom, when a cold cloud seemed to come over the\nguests; and there stood Medea, dark and stern, leading her two\nchildren by the hand.\n\n\"Traitor and perjurer!\" she said to Jason, so that all the guests\ncould hear. \"Is this your return for the love I have given you; for\nthe country I left for you; for the sins I have done for you--sins\nthat you took the fruits of, but were too cowardly to do? I have given\nyou to the last moment to prove your faith; and now the last moment\nhas gone. As you choose to be bound to me no longer, my own hands\nshall destroy the last links that bind you and me.\"\n\nSo saying, like the tigress she was, she took up the children and\ndashed them dead upon the floor. At the same moment Creusa shrieked\nwith the agony of the poisoned robe that was clinging to her and\ndestroying her. Jason rushed upon Medea with his sword. But before he\ncould reach her, a chariot drawn by flying dragons, none knew whence,\nhad borne her away, none knew whither, through the air.\n\n * * * * *\n\nJason, from that time, seemed haunted by the Furies. He wandered\naimlessly about the world, unable to rest, until one day his eyes\nfell upon the ship _Argo_, still reposing peacefully upon the shore.\nOne may imagine all the things the sight brought to his mind--his old\ndreams of glory; the unholy vow which had seemed to fulfill them; the\nweakness and the unfaithfulness which had destroyed them, and him, and\nothers through him. Doubtless, he then saw in Medea not so much the\ncruel witch as the evil of his own heart, which had taken shape and\nform and had become a curse from which he could not get free. \"If I\ncould only rest like you!\" he cried out, falling on his knees before\nthe ship with bowed head and clasped hands. And it seemed as if the\n_Argo_ heard her old captain's prayer. A yard dropped from the\nmainmast upon his bowed head: and ship and captain lay at rest\ntogether.\n\n\n\n\nA LOST SECRET.\n\n\nMinos, the chief judge of the Court of the Dead in Hades, had been\nduring his life the King of Crete--that large island where Jupiter had\nbeen hidden from Saturn. Before the reign of Minos the Cretans had\nbeen a number of rude and savage tribes, brigands by land and pirates\nby sea. He, however, made a single nation of them, civilized them,\nsuppressed brigandage and piracy, built cities, formed a regular army\nand navy, and gave his people a code of wise and just laws which never\nhad to be changed.\n\nWhen he, for his justice and his knowledge of law, was made chief\njudge in Hades, he was succeeded in his kingdom of Crete by his son,\nMinos the Second. He also was a great and powerful king. He conquered\nmany of the neighboring islands, adding them to his dominions, and\nmade war upon the Athenians, whom he defeated utterly. One of his sons\nhaving been killed in that war, he took a cruel revenge upon the\nvanquished enemy. He laid a tribute upon the city of Athens; and the\ntribute was that the Athenians should send him every year seven boys\nand seven girls to be devoured by a monster called the Minotaur--a\ncreature half man and half bull.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen this savage monster first appeared, Minos had been sorely puzzled\nwhat to do with such a scourge. Nobody could kill it; and unless it\nwas regularly supplied with a full meal of boys and girls, its fury\nbecame uncontrollable. It was partly to keep the Minotaur quiet that\nhe had exacted that particular tribute from his enemies. But neither\nwere the Cretan children safe while the Minotaur was at large.\n\nOne day, however, there came to the Court of Minos a stranger who gave\nhis name as D\u00e6dalus, an Athenian, and announced himself as having fled\nfrom his native city to escape a charge of murder. He was accompanied\nby a young man, his son, whom he called Icarus; and he asked for\nwhatever employment the king might choose to give him.\n\n\"What can you do?\" asked Minos.\n\n\"Three things,\" said D\u00e6dalus. \"I can split the hardest rocks; I can\nmake ships go without oars; and out of wood and metal I can make\nliving men.\"\n\n\"Prove your words,\" said Minos; \"and if you do these things I shall\ntake both you and your son into my service, and pay you well.\"\n\nD\u00e6dalus bowed, and obtained leave to set up a forge, where he and\nIcarus were soon heard working all night and all day. If the\nlisteners could have looked in, they would have been surprised. He was\nmaking nothing more wonderful than pieces of iron, sharp at one end\nand thick at the other. When he had made enough, he summoned the king\nand his Court to see him split the biggest and hardest rock they could\nfind on the sea-shore.\n\nThey fixed upon a granite cliff. D\u00e6dalus put the sharp end of one of\nhis pieces of iron into one of the smallest cracks in the face of the\ncliff, and hammered upon the blunt end till he had driven it home.\nThen between this and the stone he drove in another piece of iron; and\nbetween these two a third; and so on, and so on, while the rock began\nto gape, and then to split, until the upper portion parted itself from\nthe lower, and thundered down into the sea.\n\nThe secret was simple enough. D\u00e6dalus had simply invented the _wedge_,\nwhich can do much greater things than that when it is skillfully used.\nBut the Cretans were amazed to see, as they thought, one man knocking\nover a cliff with a common hammer.\n\nThen D\u00e6dalus set up a workshop by the shore, with some long sheds, and\na supply of hemp and timber. Here also he worked day and night; and at\nlast called Minos and his Court to see a ship go without oars.\n\nThe ship had a tall pole rising from the middle of the deck. D\u00e6dalus\nand Icarus went on board, and were seen pulling at some long ropes;\nand presently the ship seemed to spread out wings like a bird, and to\nskim over the water as fast as the wind without the help of an oar.\n\nD\u00e6dalus had invented _sails_. But the Cretans were more amazed than\nbefore, never having thought of such a simple thing for themselves.\n\nD\u00e6dalus then went back to his forge; and what he did there nobody\ncould guess, for scarce a sound was heard. After many days, however,\nhe went to the king's palace, he and Icarus carrying a long and heavy\nchest between them. The chest being opened before Minos, D\u00e6dalus took\nout from it a number of images, exquisitely wrought in wood, bronze,\nivory, silver, and gold--men and women; fauns, nymphs, animals;\ncreatures of all sorts and kinds.\n\nWhen Minos had looked at them and admired them, D\u00e6dalus touched them\none after another; and then, with a whirring noise, the images seemed\nto live. The nymphs and satyrs joined hands, and danced in a ring\nround a bronze Pan who piped to them; a number of wooden young men\nboxed and wrestled: in short--\n\nIn short, D\u00e6dalus had invented _clock-work_. But the Cretans were more\namazed than ever, and stood staring, half delighted, half frightened,\ntill he put up the figures in their box again.\n\n\"You are the man for me!\" exclaimed Minos. \"I said I would take you\ninto my own service; and I will. You shall make a cage for the\nMinotaur!\"\n\nThis was certainly not the reward which D\u00e6dalus had looked for.\nHowever, he said nothing, but again shut himself up, this time with\nwriting materials, compasses, and rules. After a long time he got a\nbody of workmen together, and built a Labyrinth--a mass of passages\nand windings so contrived that nobody who was outside could find the\nway in, and nobody who was once inside could find the way out again.\nNobody, that is to say, unless he had the clue, which was of course to\nbe kept secret. The clue which D\u00e6dalus invented--and a very good sort\nit was--was a long silken thread, with one end fastened to the center\nof the Labyrinth, carried along all the windings to the entrance.\nAnybody wishing to get in would have to know this, and in which of the\nmany entrances (for there were hundreds of false ones) he must look\nfor the hidden end of the thread. Then all he would have to do would\nbe to wind up the thread into a ball, following it as he wound, until\nhe reached the middle of the maze. And of course there was another\nclue to lead him out again in the same way. The middle of the\nLabyrinth was a hall with many columns, and an opening in the roof to\nlet in light and air. This Labyrinth having been finished, D\u00e6dalus\nenticed the Minotaur into the central hall, locked him up there, and\ngave Minos the key.\n\nSo the Cretan children were safe, and the monster had to be content\nwith his fourteen young Athenians every year.\n\nD\u00e6dalus kept on doing work after work for Minos, inventing one thing\nafter another, until the queen, who was a wicked woman, persuaded\nD\u00e6dalus to help her in some piece of wickedness which was discovered\nby the king. Whatever the affair was, it was kept secret to prevent a\nCourt scandal. The king's anger fell upon D\u00e6dalus and Icarus, both of\nwhom he imprisoned in their own Labyrinth--not, I suppose, in the same\nchamber with the Minotaur.\n\nIndeed I am sure not; because if they had been in the same chamber,\nD\u00e6dalus could have got out by means of the clue. But there was no clue\nto the chamber where he was imprisoned, and he had built the Labyrinth\nso cleverly that he himself was lost in its mazes.\n\nPoor Icarus was in despair. But D\u00e6dalus only sat down on the base of a\ncolumn and thought things over in his usual silent and quiet way.\nAfter thinking for some days, until they were nearly starved, he set\nIcarus wondering by doing as follows, in order:--\n\nFirst, with one of his wedges, he chipped off pieces of stone from the\ncolumns.\n\nSecondly, he, in the same way, broke the fragments into pieces of\nnearly the same size, rounding them roughly.\n\nThirdly, from a strip of his coat he made a sling.\n\nFourthly, he watched the opening in the roof, and whenever a bird\npassed overhead he discharged a stone, and generally brought it down.\n\nFifthly, when he had got a sufficient number of birds, he plucked out\nand sorted their wing-feathers.\n\nSixthly, he collected all the wax-candles in the chamber, and melted\nthem in a fire which he obtained by some secret invention of his own.\n\nSeventhly--but what he did seventhly Icarus could not see.\n\nAt last, however, his mysterious work, whatever it was, seemed done.\nThere lay before him two pairs of wings, beautifully made of wax and\nfeathers.\n\n\"I have long thought,\" said D\u00e6dalus, \"how to invent a method of\nflying. I am glad of this imprisonment, which has obliged me to fix my\nwhole mind upon it without interruption.\"\n\n\"You have found out how to fly--and with wings like those!\" exclaimed\nIcarus in amaze.\n\n\"With these very wings. Why not? Science always looks simple. What can\nlook more simple than a wedge, a sail, a clock-spring? Fasten those\nwings on your shoulders with the wax, just as you see me fasten these\non mine. There. Now open them; do you not feel as if you could reach\nthe clouds? Spread them--mount--fly!\"\n\nSo saying, he soared up through the opening in the roof, Icarus\nfollowing him, and steered westward, higher and higher through the\nair. It was morning when they started; by noon they were over the sea\nout of sight of land.\n\n\"Take care!\" cried D\u00e6dalus. \"Don't fly _too_ high!\"\n\nBut Icarus, reveling in all the delights of a sea-gull--nay, of an\neagle--soared higher and higher towards the noontide sun. In vain\nD\u00e6dalus called upon him to come lower. He only laughed at his father\nfor being timid and cautious, and soared higher and higher still\ntowards the blazing sky.\n\nSuddenly he felt his wings weakening--the wax was melting in the heat\nof the sun. He tried to spread them, so as to let himself down safely.\nThey hung soft and limp, and down he came headlong into the sea.\n\n\"It's quite clear that one must think of something stronger than wax,\"\nthought D\u00e6dalus, as he saw Icarus sink and drown. \"Well--I've lost my\nson, but I've gained a wrinkle.\" Taking care to fly as low as he\ncould, he himself reached the island of Sicily, where he set up\nanother forge, found another king to keep him going, and invented so\nmany wonderful things that to this very day nobody knows what they\nwere.\n\nAs for his flying-machine, nobody else has come so near to one as even\nwax and feathers.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHAMPION OF ATHENS.\n\n\n\u00c6thra, a daughter of the King of Tr\u0153zene, was the wife of a foreign\nprince, and the mother of an only child, a boy, whom they named\nTh\u0113seus. While Theseus was still an infant, his father said one day\nto \u00c6thra--\n\n\"I am obliged to set off on a long and distant journey, through\ncountries infested by wild beasts and robbers. If I should never\nreturn, take care of our child, bring him up like a king's son, and\nsend him to the city of Athens as soon as he grows strong enough to\nlift that stone.\"\n\n\u00c6thra promised, and her husband left Tr\u0153zene never to return.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHaving given up all hope of seeing her husband again, \u00c6thra devoted\nherself to obeying his last commands. She gave Theseus the education\nof a prince; and every day, from the time he left her arms, she made\nhim try to lift the stone. The child grew up to be the handsomest,\nstrongest, and bravest youth in all the land, so that he had not a\nrival of his own age in all manly sports and feats of arms. But he\ncould no more move the stone than he could fly.\n\nAt last, however, the moment came when the stone gave way a little.\nThe next day he raised it a trifle further, and so on until he lifted\nit bodily from the ground, and rolled it away. Underneath it he found\na splendid sword, with a curiously carved hilt, unlike any he had ever\nseen.\n\nThe time had therefore come for him to set out for Athens, according\nto his father's commands. His mother implored him to go by sea, and\nnot by those perilous paths by which her husband had never returned.\nBut Theseus was only tempted by the dangers; and so, taking the sword\nwith him, he set out for Athens overland.\n\nAfter a long journey through a wild and difficult country, he reached\na village, where he sought for supper and a night's lodging. But the\nplace seemed deserted, and it was only after a long search that he\ndiscovered an old shepherd, of whom he asked where a traveler might\nfind food and shelter.\n\n\"Alas!\" answered the shepherd, \"there is not a scrap of food left in\nthe place, not a house left unplundered. For Sciron has been here.\"\n\n\"And who is Sciron?\" asked Theseus.\n\n\"Ah, you must be a stranger indeed! Sciron is the chief of all the\nrobbers. Do you see yonder castle among the mountains? That is where\nhe lives, and thence he issues forth, when he wants food for his\ngluttony, to plunder and lay waste all the country round. And he is as\ncruel and savage as he is greedy. Not content with carrying off our\ncattle and our stores of corn and wine, he seizes men and women, and\nmakes them wait upon him while he feasts; and when the feast is over,\nhe amuses himself by throwing them from a high rock into the sea.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Theseus. \"Then I will sup with Sciron.\" And off he\nstarted for the robber's castle, leaving the amazed shepherd to think\nhim a madman.\n\nIt was a long climb to the castle, which stood on the peak of a high\ncliff looking down into the sea. Theseus knocked upon the gate with\nthe hilt of his sword, and, when it was opened by a ferocious-looking\nbrigand, announced himself as a stranger who requested hospitality.\n\n\"You've come to the right place for that!\" said the brigand, grimly.\n\"Come with me.\"\n\nTheseus followed him into the hall, where broth was being brewed in\ncaldrons, and a fat ox was being roasted whole. The robbers were all\nabout--some preparing the feast, some already carousing, some\nquarreling over their plunder, some sprawling about the floor. In the\nmidst of all the steam and din sat the chief, a huge and\ncruel-looking brute, whom Theseus did not need to be told was Sciron.\n\n\"So you want hospitality, do you?\" asked Sciron. \"Very well, as you're\na traveler, and don't know the ways of the castle, you shall be let\noff easily. Of course you'll have to be thrown from the cliff after\nsupper--that's the rule. But instead of being tortured, you shall only\nwash my feet for me and wait on me at table. You look as if you\nunderstood washing and how things ought to be served. Now, then, get\nsome hot water and begin,\" he said, thrusting out a pair of feet which\nlooked as if they had not been touched by water for years.\n\nA grinning robber brought a bowl of hot water. Theseus took it and\nthrew it in the face of Sciron. \"That wants washing, too,\" said he.\n\nSciron rushed at him; but Theseus received him at the point of his\nsword, and the two fought furiously, while the robbers looked on,\nenjoying the game. Sciron was twice the size and weight of Theseus;\nbut Theseus was the best swordsman in all Greece, and presently had\nhim down.\n\n\"There,\" said he, pricking Sciron's throat with his sword, \"you have\nhad a lesson in manners. You shall wash _my_ feet and wait on _me_\nbefore you go over the cliff after your victims. For I am not going\naway to leave a brigand like you alive behind me.\"\n\nSciron, like all such bullies, was a coward at heart, and his own men\nhad no longer any respect for him now that he had been worsted by a\nstripling. Amid the laughter of the robbers, he had to wash the feet\nof Theseus, and to serve him humbly with meat and drink, and was\nfinally punished for his many cruel murders by being thrown into the\nsea.\n\nHaving received the thanks of the country for ridding it of such a\nscourge, Theseus traveled on till he came to another village, where he\nthought he would rest a little.\n\nNo sooner had he entered the place, however, than he was surrounded by\na number of armed men, who gave him to understand that he was their\nprisoner.\n\n\"Is this the way you treat travelers in your country?\" asked he.\n\n\"Assuredly,\" answered the captain of the troop. \"You are in the\ncountry of King Cercyon, and the law is that no traveler may leave it\nuntil he has wrestled with the king.\"\n\n\"I ask for nothing better,\" said Theseus. \"What happens to the\ntraveler if he conquers Cercyon?\"\n\n\"Then he may pass on.\"\n\n\"But if Cercyon conquers him?\"\n\n\"Then he is tortured till he dies.\"\n\n\"It is strange,\" said Theseus, \"that I never heard of such a law, or\neven of King Cercyon.\"\n\n\"Not at all strange,\" said the captain. \"I don't see how you could\nhave heard it, seeing that no traveler has ever lived to tell the\ntale. Cercyon has conquered and killed them all, as he will conquer\nand kill you.\"\n\nAnd when he saw Cercyon Theseus could well believe it. The king was of\nimmense height, with broad shoulders, and muscles that stood out like\nglobes of iron. He smiled savagely when he saw Theseus, and stripped\nwithout a word. Theseus stripped also, and the two were soon clasping\neach other like a pair of fierce bears, or rather like a bear and a\nman.\n\nIt was a tremendous struggle, with all the brute strength on the side\nof Cercyon. But Theseus knew a hundred turns and twists of which the\nsavage chieftain knew nothing; and at last, to the amazement of all\nwho witnessed the struggle, Cercyon fell dead upon the ground with a\nbroken spine. Thenceforth every traveler might pass through that\ncountry safely and without fear.\n\nTheseus traveled on until he found himself benighted in a wild\ncountry, through which he wandered about until he reached a castle,\nwhere he craved a night's shelter. Here he was kindly received, and\ntold that the lord of the castle and of the country round was one\nProcrustes, who never turned a traveler from his door; nay, even now\nthere were two guests with him. And so it proved. Procrustes\nentertained Theseus and the other two travelers at supper pleasantly\nand generously, and when it was time to retire for the night, himself\nconducted them into a chamber, where a bed, with nothing remarkable\nabout it, stood ready in a corner.\n\n\"That is the guest-bed,\" said Procrustes; \"and I hope it will fit\nyou.\"\n\n\"Fit us?\" asked Theseus, puzzled.\n\n\"Yes; it is the law of the country that if the bed does not fit the\ntraveler, the traveler must be made to fit the bed. Do you try the bed\nfirst,\" he said to one of the guests, the tallest of the three.\n\nThe traveler lay down, but found the bed rather short, and had to draw\nup his knees a little. \"Be good enough to lie straight,\" said\nProcrustes. He did so, his feet appearing beyond the bottom. Instantly\nProcrustes, with a sharp hatchet, chopped them off, one after another.\n\"You'll fit nicely now,\" said he. \"It's your turn next,\" he said to\nthe second traveler.\n\nThis one thought himself safe; for, being short, his toes did not\nreach the bed's end by a full two inches. Procrustes gave a signal,\nand immediately two strong attendants seized the unfortunate man, one\nby the shoulders and the other by the legs, and proceeded to pull him\nout to the proper length, despite his yells of pain.\n\n\"Stretch him on the rack,\" said Procrustes. \"Now,\" he said to\nTheseus, \"it is your turn in the game, and I hope, for your sake, you\nwill give less trouble than the rest of them.\"\n\nTheseus had been taken aback at first by these extraordinary\nproceedings; but he now perceived that he had fallen upon another of\nthose brigand chiefs who infested the country, and who resembled ogres\nrather than mere cruel and blood-thirsty savages.\n\nSo he drew his sword and closed with Procrustes; nor did he cease\nfighting till he had fitted the robber to his own bed by making him a\nwhole head shorter. The robbers in the place, cowed by the death of\ntheir chief, submitted to Theseus, who went round the castle, and set\nat liberty hundreds of maimed victims of the slain monster's cruelty.\n\nHaving received such thanks as they could give him, he journeyed on\nand on until at last he reached Athens. What he was to do there he did\nnot know; but there was no need for him to ask. Somehow the fame of\nhis deeds had flown before him,--how he had rid the country of Sciron\nand Cercyon and Procrustes, and other wild beasts and brigands, and he\nwas received as befitted his valor.\n\nNow the King of Athens at that time was \u00c6geus; and the queen was no\nother than the great and dreadful sorceress Medea, who had come to\nAthens after the murder of her children, and had married the king.\n\u00c6geus took a fancy to Theseus from the young stranger's first\nappearance in Athens, gave him a high place at Court, and treated him\nas if he had been his own son. But with Medea it was different. She\nhad a son of her own, and she was filled with jealousy lest \u00c6geus\nshould make Theseus the heir to his throne. Moreover, she envied and\nhated him for his courage and his fame, in which he so far surpassed\nher own son Medus; and she feared him too, for she failed to bring him\nunder her spells. So she plotted to destroy him in such a way that his\ndeath should never be brought home to her, just as she had made the\ndaughters of Pelias the seeming murderesses of their own father.\n\nShe therefore pretended a great admiration for Theseus, and got the\nking to hold a great festival in his honor. It was arranged that\n\u00c6geus, during the feast, should send him a golden cup filled with\nwine, in which Medea secretly steeped one of her deadliest poisons.\n\nAll went as she had planned. \u00c6geus sent the poisoned goblet by one of\nthe cup-bearers to Theseus, who stood up to drink the health of the\nking and queen. But--\n\n\"Hold!\" suddenly cried \u00c6geus, starting; \"what sword is that at your\nside?\"\n\nTheseus put down the cup to answer:--\n\n\"It is the sword with which I fought my way to Athens. I wear it\nto-day as my sword of honor.\"\n\n\"But how comes it at _your_ side?\"\n\nThen Theseus told the story of how it had been left by his unknown\nfather under a stone at Tr\u0153zene, and how his mother's name was\n\u00c6thra. Scarcely had he finished when \u00c6geus, leaving his throne, fell\nupon his neck, exclaiming:--\n\n\"I was that father! You are my first-born son, and the heir to my\ncrown!\"\n\nThe Athenians, who already looked upon Theseus as their national hero,\ngreeted their prince and future king with shouts of joy; and when the\nfirst excitement was over, Medea was seen no more. Enraged at the\nfailure of her plot, and fearing discovery and vengeance, she vanished\nfrom Athens: some said they had seen her borne by dragons through the\nair. And this is the last of her.\n\nFreed from her evil influence, the old love of \u00c6geus for \u00c6thra\nrevived, and he could not make enough of his and \u00c6thra's son. But\nTheseus did not become idle, and became in all ways the champion and\nprotector of his father's people. It was he who caught alive the\nfamous wild bull of Marathon, which had ravaged the country for years,\nand sacrificed it to Minerva. He never spared himself, and he never\nfailed.\n\nAt last, however, drew nigh that evil hour of Athens--that day in\nevery year when the seven youths and seven maidens had to be sent to\nKing Minos of Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur. The rule was to\nchoose the victims by lot: so that none felt safe who had sons and\ndaughters young enough to suit the taste of the monster. The seven\ngirls were first chosen. But when it came to drawing lots for the\nyouths, Theseus said:--\n\n\"You need draw only six this year. I will myself be the seventh. It\nmay be that I shall find a way to deliver Athens from this tribute; if\nnot, it is for a prince who cannot save his people to perish with\nthem.\"\n\n\u00c6geus was in despair. But no entreaties could turn Theseus from his\ndesperate resolve: neither the prayers of his own father, nor those of\nall the fathers and mothers in Athens, who would have drawn the\nseventh lot rather than he who was the pride and hope of the city\nshould go to certain destruction. The ship which bore the yearly\nvictims to Crete always carried black sails in token of public\nmourning. Theseus, in order to leave a little hope behind him,\npromised that, if he came back alive, he would hoist a white sail\nwhile returning, so that his safety might be seen from afar. Then, in\nsolemn procession, amid the weeping of the crowd, the youths and\nmaidens embarked in the black-sailed ship, Theseus leading them with\nthe calmness of the only true courage--that which can, in cold blood,\nface danger for the sake of duty. None would have thought the worse of\nhim had he stayed behind: and if he perished it would be as a mere\nvictim, and without glory. Nor was it as if he were encouraged by any\noracles, or helped by gifts from the gods. He is the first hero who\nwas both a mere man and who never had any help but his own manfulness.\nAnd for all these reasons I think that his voyage to Crete is the\nfinest story I have yet told.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen the ship reached Crete, the fourteen victims were conducted to\nthe Labyrinth, there to be imprisoned until they should be given to\nthe Minotaur. As they passed before Minos and his Court, the king's\nyoungest daughter, Ariadne, was filled with pity and love for Theseus,\nand set her thoughts to work how she might save him from his doom. But\nhow in the world was such a thing to be done? None without the clue\ncould either enter or escape from the maze: and even were that\npossible, it was not likely that the Minotaur would let himself be\nbalked of his prey.\n\nBut she watched and waited: she hovered round the Labyrinth night\nafter night, examining every door: until at last she was rewarded by\nfinding, just within one of them, a little silken skein hidden away in\na dark corner. The next night, having procured a torch and a sword,\nshe bravely entered the door where the skein was, and, by winding up\nthe silk, followed the clue. Through one twisting passage after\nanother she wandered on and on, up and down long flights of steps,\nsometimes through great halls confused with columns, and sometimes\nthrough tunnels in which it was scarcely possible to stand. There\nseemed no end to the way. At last, however, the end of the silken\nthread told her that she had reached the inmost hall: and there her\ntorch showed a sight that froze her with fear.\n\nThe victims had been delivered over to the Minotaur. Crowded together\nin a corner of the hall were six youths and seven girls: stamping and\ntossing his horned head was the horrible monster, furious with hunger\nand the sight of human food. Between the Minotaur and his despairing\nprey stood Theseus, facing the monster, so that he, by being the first\nvictim, might prolong the lives of the others. He had no hope: he\ncould not even struggle, for his hands were bound behind him with\ncords.\n\nThe sight of his courage gave back Ariadne hers. She darted forward,\nand cut his bonds with her sword. \"Fly!\" she cried: \"follow me--I have\nthe clue!\" But as soon as Theseus felt the touch of the steel, he\nseized the sword from her hand, and, instead of flying, set upon the\nMinotaur with such fury that the monster bellowed with rage,\namazement, and pain.\n\nIt was the hardest fight Theseus had ever fought: the wild bull of\nMarathon had been nothing to the Minotaur, who fought with a bull's\nstrength and a man's skill and cunning. But the champion of Athens\nprevailed at last: and the monster fell dead with a groan which echoed\nthrough the Labyrinth like the bellowing of thunder.\n\n\"It will wake the whole city!\" cried Ariadne: \"follow me!\" Theseus and\nhis companions, scarce knowing that they were saved, followed Ariadne,\nwho wound up the clue as she ran. When they reached the entrance-gate,\nthe alarm of their escape had been given. Making straight for the\nshore, they found their black-sailed ship, sped on board, and, thanks\nto a kindly wind, were out at sea before they could be pursued.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe wind carried them to the island of Naxos: and here they\nremained--Theseus, Ariadne, and the rest--till the breeze should blow\ntowards Athens. Such a breeze came in time; and then Theseus set sail\nfor home with his thirteen companions, leaving Ariadne behind, to her\ngreat sorrow. Nor can anything make me believe that he meant this for\na real parting, or that she thought so. One can think of many reasons\nwhy she should remain in Naxos for a while: it is quite certain that\nher powerful father Minos, who had already conquered the Athenians,\nand shown, by a cruel vengeance, how he hated them, would have\nattacked them again with all his fleets and armies if he had heard\nthat they were giving shelter to a daughter who had betrayed him. So,\nleaving Ariadne safe in Naxos, Theseus returned to Athens as the\nsavior of his city and the slayer of the Minotaur.\n\nMeanwhile his father, \u00c6geus, had been every day and all day long\nlooking out to sea from the farthest point of the shore for the return\nfrom Crete of the ship of mourning. He had but little hope, but nobody\ncan help having a little: nor did he quite despair until one morning\nhe saw on the horizon a vessel which he felt sure was the one he was\nwatching for in such agony of mind. Nearer and nearer it came--alas!\nits sails were still as black as when it was outward bound. Theseus\nhad forgotten to hoist the white sail which was to be the sign of\nsafety.\n\nSo \u00c6geus, giving up his son for lost, threw himself into the sea and\nperished, just when Theseus was within sight of home. And that sea is\ncalled the \u00c6gean, or the Sea of \u00c6geus, to this day. And thus Theseus,\nto the joy of the people, but with sorrow in his own heart, found\nhimself king.\n\nAnd the best of kings he made. The strength of his rule was only\nequaled by its gentleness. He made wise laws; he took care that all\nmen received justice; he honored the gods; he obtained the respect and\nfriendship of foreign nations; he taught the Athenians to be free, and\nto govern themselves, so that when he died they remained as great a\npeople as while he was alive.\n\nHe sent for his mother, \u00c6thra, and kept her in all love and honor. I\nwish I could tell you that he sent for Ariadne also. But he never had\nany other wife: and she was lost to him. There is a strange,\nmysterious story of how, when she was left sorrowing in Naxos, the god\nBacchus (of whom you read in the First Story of Midas)--the god of the\nbounty of Nature and of the joy that men and women find in\nher--comforted Ariadne, and made her his bride, and raised her above\nthe earth, giving her a crown of seven stars, which is still to be\nseen in the sky, and is called \"Ariadne's Crown.\"\n\nAnd there is a yet stranger story of how Theseus, after he was king,\nhad the very wildest of all adventures--nothing less than an attempt\nto rescue from Hades the goddess Proserpine, and other imprisoned\nsouls. But what happened to him there, and how he escaped the\npunishment of his daring, belongs to another story. It is as the hero\nand champion of Athens that he is remembered: and as such we will\nleave him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HERO OF HEROES.\n\n\nPART I.--THE ORACLE.\n\nPerseus and Andromeda had two sons, Alc\u00e6us, King of Thebes, and\nElectryon, King of Argos and Mycen\u00e6. Alc\u00e6us had a son named\nAmphitryon, and Electryon had a daughter named Alcmena. These two\ncousins--Amphitryon and Alcmena--married; and Jupiter resolved that\nthey should have a son who should be the greatest and most famous of\nmen.\n\nBut Juno was in one of her jealous moods; and she was especially\njealous that such favor should be shown to Alcmena. Having considered\nhow she should spoil his plan, she came to Jupiter in seeming\ngood-humor, and said:--\n\n\"I have a question to ask you. Of two first cousins, which shall rule\nthe other, and which shall serve--the elder or the younger?\"\n\n\"Why, of course, the elder must rule the younger,\" answered Jupiter.\n\n\"You swear that--by the Styx?\" asked Juno.\n\n\"By the Styx,\" Jupiter answered, wondering what she could mean by\nwhat seemed so trifling a question, and then thinking no more of the\nmatter. But Juno knew what she meant very well. Alcmena had a brother,\nSthenelus, who had married the Princess Nicippe of Phrygia. And Juno\nsaid to herself, \"They also may have a son as well as Alcmena. Then\nthe two boys would be first cousins; and Jupiter has sworn that the\nfirst-born shall rule the other. So if Nicippe has a son first,\nAlcmena's son will have to serve him and obey him: and then, O\nJupiter, there will be a greater man than Alcmena's son; for he who\nrules must be greater than he who obeys.\"\n\nNow it is Juno herself who settles when children shall come into the\nworld. It was easy, therefore, for her to manage so that Nicippe's son\nshould be born two whole months before Alcmena's. Jupiter was enraged\nwhen, too late, he found what a trick had been played upon him; but he\nhad sworn by the Styx--the oath which could not be broken. Thus it\nbecame the will of heaven that the son of Alcmena should be the\nservant of the son of Nicippe.\n\nThe son of Nicippe was named Eurystheus: the son of Alcmena was named\nHercules.\n\nAbout the childhood of Eurystheus there was nothing remarkable. But\nwhen Hercules and his twin-brother, Iphicles, were only eight months\nold, the whole palace of Amphitryon was alarmed by the screams of\nIphicles, which brought Alcmena and the whole household running into\nthe room where the two children had been left alone. They saw a\nstrange sight indeed. Poor Iphicles was found half dead with fright in\na corner; and no wonder, for Hercules was being attacked by two huge\nserpents which were trying to crush him to death in their coils. But\nso far from being frightened, Hercules had got one of his baby hands\nround the neck of each serpent right and left; and so he quietly\nthrottled them till they lay dead upon the floor. And this at only\neight months old!\n\nHis strength grew with him till it became a marvel like that of Samson\namong the children of Israel, and in bulk and stature also he towered\nover all other men. Like many who are large and strong, he was grave\nand somewhat silent, using, when he spoke, but few words, not easily\nmoved either to action or to anger, but, when once roused, then roused\nindeed. One seems to think of him as of some great lion. As for\ntraining, he had the best that could be given him. Castor taught him\nhow to use the sword; Pollux, how to use his fists; Eurytus, the\nfinest archer in the world, taught him to shoot; Autolycus, to ride\nand drive. Nor were accomplishments forgotten; for Linus, the brother\nand pupil of Orpheus, taught him to play the lyre, and Eumolpus to\nsing. Finally, he was sent to finish his education under Chiron, the\nCentaur, who had taught Jason, and indeed nearly all the heroes of\nthat age.\n\nAt eighteen he was already famous for his strength, his\naccomplishments, and his promise of a great career. But he was far\nfrom perfect in other ways. One finds nothing of the knightliness of\nhis great-grandfather Perseus, or of Theseus, in this strong young\ngiant full of pride and passion, feeling himself already greater than\nthe best of his fellow-creatures, and looking upon the world as if it\nwere made for him alone. He would allow of no opposition to his least\ndesire; he did not desire glory so much as power. Good-tempered as he\nmostly was, it was not safe to provoke him, as Linus, his\nmusic-master, found, who had his own lyre broken upon his head for\npresuming to correct his pupil a little too sharply.\n\nHercules now began to think of adventures worthy of his strength, and\npresently, as if to give him one, a lion came forth from the forests\nof Mount Cith\u00e6ron, and ravaged the lands of Thespius, a neighboring\nking. To hunt and kill it unaided was child's-play to Hercules. And\nother services he did to the country, of small account in his own eyes\nbut great in those of others; so that Creon, who was then King of\nThebes, gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him his viceroy.\n\nBut Nicippe's son, Eurystheus, now king of Argos and Mycen\u00e6,\nremembered that he had a right to his younger cousin's services by\nthe oath of Jupiter. So Eurystheus sent a message to Hercules,\ncommanding him to come forthwith to Mycen\u00e6, and become the king's\nservant there.\n\nHercules, as may well be supposed, haughtily refused to obey this\ninsolent order. Why should he, the ruler of Thebes, already the most\nfamous man in all Greece, as well as the strongest, make a sort of\nslave of himself to a kinsman whom he scorned? For Eurystheus was just\na commonplace person, with even less than common courage, who only\nwanted to feed his own vanity by having in his service such a man as\nHercules to do whatever he bade. \"Hercules may be master of Greece;\nbut I am master of Hercules,\" was the sort of boast that ran in his\nmind.\n\nI have said it was not strange that Hercules flatly refused to go to\nMycen\u00e6 at his cousin's bidding. But it was more than strange that,\nfrom this moment, he began to fall into so strange a state of mind\nthat any one would think he was being haunted by the Furies, until he,\nthe pride of Thebes and the hope of Greece, became a dangerous madman,\nwhom none dared approach for fear of being slain. And all the time his\nstrength still increased; so that it seemed as if he had come into the\nworld to be a terror and a curse to mankind.\n\nMany dreadful things he did in his madness. And when at length the\nfrenzy passed from him, he was left in a more dreadful condition\nstill. He was in an agony of remorse for all the violence he had done,\nand believed himself to be accursed and an outcast from his\nfellow-men. Melancholy and despairing, he fled from Thebes, and\nwandered out alone among the forests and the mountains. And thus he\nlived like a savage, hiding himself away from the sight of men.\n\nThe time came when he thought he could bear life no longer. He felt as\nif he were hunted by demons, and with the scourges of Hades. In his\nlast despair he wandered to Delphi, in whose temple Apollo's oracle,\nor living voice, was heard; and implored the gods to tell him what he\nshould do.\n\nAnd the voice of Apollo answered him and said:--\n\n\"O Hercules! those things were not sins which you did in your madness.\nYour madness is not sin, but the punishment for your real sin--the sin\nof pride, and self-love, and defiance of the will of Heaven. In\nrebelling against Eurystheus, you have rebelled against the gods, who\ndecreed even before your birth that he should rule and you should\nserve. Is it not so, always? are not oftentimes the good made subject\nto the wicked, the wise to the foolish, the strong and valiant to the\nweak and craven? This is the oracle--the gods give each man his own\ndifferent place and work: to you they have appointed service--therefore\nObey. Seek not to know why this should be, nor question the justice of\nthe gods. Know your duty, and do it with your might; and so you will be\ngreat enough; for no man can do more than serve the gods with such\nstrength as they have given him.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nFor long Hercules stood before the altar, doing battle with his pride.\nThen, at last, he took the road to Mycen\u00e6. And as he went, each step\nbecame quicker, his heart grew lighter, the shadow left his soul, and\nhis peace of mind returned.\n\n\nPART II.--HIS FIRST LABOR: THE LION.\n\nHercules, being arrived at Mycen\u00e6, submitted himself to Eurystheus,\nwho, to tell the truth, was a little alarmed at the sight of his\ncousin, and suspicious of what such sudden submission might mean. And\nhe was all the more bewildered when he saw the humility with which his\nkinsman approached him. Hercules could not do anything by halves; and\nin Eurystheus he saw, not a mere insignificant, timid, mean-minded\nman, but only the master whom the gods had appointed to him.\n\n\"And now,\" asked Hercules, in his impatience to prove his obedience,\n\"what do you order me to do?\"\n\nOne would think that Eurystheus would have acted generously. So far\nfrom that, however, he thought to himself, \"I had better send him on\nthe most dangerous adventure I can think of. If he succeeds, it will\nbe the more glory for me to have such a man under my power; and\nbesides, it will prove whether this submission is real or sham. And if\nhe perishes--well, I shall be safe from danger at his hands.\" So he\nsaid:--\n\n\"You have proved yourself a good lion-hunter. Bring me the carcass of\nthe Nemean lion.\"\n\nNow the lion of the forest of Nemea was far more terrible than the\nlion of Mount Cith\u00e6ron. However, Hercules set out at once for the\nforest, glad that his first service was one of honor.\n\nEurystheus was quite relieved when he was gone; and, sending for\nskilled workmen, bade them make for him a large brazen pot, big enough\nto hold him comfortably, and with an opening just large enough for him\nto get in and out by. For he thought to himself, \"If Hercules ever\ngets angry or rebellious, I can creep into my brazen pot, and be safe\nthere.\"\n\nHercules was not long in finding the lion--the largest, strongest, and\nfiercest ever seen in the world. He let fly an arrow, but it scarcely\npricked the beast's tough hide; then another, and another; but the\nlion minded them no more than if they had been shot by a child from a\ntoy bow. At last one, however, pricked him sharply enough to enrage\nhim, and he came on with a rush and a roar. All Hercules had time to\ndo was to pull up a young oak-tree by the roots, for a weapon to meet\nthe charge. The next moment the lion sprang. But Hercules stood his\nground, and so belabored the lion with his club that he fairly beat it\nback into its den, into which he followed it. Then was there a fearful\nwrestle between Hercules and the lion. But Hercules prevailed, by\ngetting his arms round the lion and crushing its breath out of its\nbody.\n\nThrowing the corpse over his shoulders, and holding it by bringing\nthe fore-legs round his neck, he returned to Mycen\u00e6. Thus equipped, he\nhimself looked like some monstrous lion; and so terrified was\nEurystheus at the news that he crept into his brass pot, and in this\nmanner received Hercules, to whom he talked through a speaking-tube in\nthe side.\n\n\"Go and kill the Hydra!\" he called out.\n\nSo Hercules set out on his second labor: and Eurystheus crept out of\nhis pot again.\n\n\nPART III.--HIS SECOND LABOR: THE HYDRA.\n\nNow the Hydra was more formidable than the lion--nobody in his senses\nwould dream of attacking it with the least hope of succeeding. It was\na huge water-snake which lived in Lake Lerna, whence it used to issue\nto seek for human food. It had a hundred heads, and from each of its\nhundred mouths darted a forked tongue of flame, dripping with deadly\npoison.\n\nI said that nobody in his senses would attack the Hydra. But I was not\nquite right. There was just one sense which would lead a man to attack\nany evil, even without hope--of course I mean the sense of Duty. And\nit was in that sense that Hercules set forth for Lake Lerna. But he\ndid not go to work without ample forethought, and taking all the\nprecautions he could think of. He remembered the thickness and\ntoughness of the Nemean lion's skin; so he had it made into a sort of\ncloak, which served him for armor better than brass or steel. He also\nmade the young oak-tree into a regular club, which thenceforth became\nhis favorite weapon. And instead of going alone, he took with him his\nfriend and kinsman Iolas, to act as his squire. You may always know\nHercules in pictures and statues by his knotted club and his\nlion-skin.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt was easy enough to find the Hydra--only too easy. It had its nest\nin a foul stagnant swamp, the air of which its breath turned to\npoison. Giving Iolas his other arms to hold, Hercules attacked the\nHydra with his club alone, trusting to his lion-skin to receive the\nstrokes of the creature's fangs. With a tremendous blow he crushed one\nof the Hydra's hundred heads, leaving ninety-nine more to destroy if\nhe could hold out so long. That was bad enough to think of--but, to\nhis dismay, out of the crushed head sprang two new living heads: and\nout of each of these, when he beat them to pieces, sprang forth two\nmore. And so it was with every head the Hydra had: so that, in truth,\nthe more Hercules destroyed it, the stronger it grew--its hundred\nheads were rapidly becoming a thousand; and the thousand would become\nten thousand; and so on, forever.\n\nJust as Hercules realized the hopelessness of the labor, and was\nfinding it work enough to ward off the innumerable fangs, a wretched\ncrab crawled out of the ooze and seized him by the foot, so that he\nalmost fainted with the sudden pain. It was too cruel, in the midst\nof such a battle as that, to feel himself at the mercy of the\nmiserable vermin of the slime.\n\nHowever, he crushed the crab under his heel, and, ceasing to multiply\nhis enemies by killing them, contented himself with defense, while he\nthought what could possibly be done.\n\n\"No doubt those first hundred heads must all have come from some one\nhead,\" thought he. \"They could not grow like that without a root; so\nthat if I could only destroy the root they would cease to grow. This\nis my mistake: I am fighting only with what I see, instead of going to\nthe root of things, and attacking the evil there.\"\n\nSo he called out to Iolas to heat a piece of iron red-hot; and when\nthis was ready, to stand by, and to scorch with it the place of every\nhead which the club shattered. The plan answered wonderfully. Hercules\ncrushed head after head; Iolas applied the red-hot iron; and so root\nafter root was burned up and perished. And at last they came to the\nroot of all the heads; and when this was reached and burned, the\nmonster sputtered and died, just when Hercules felt that he, strong as\nhe was, could scarce have struck another blow.\n\nHercules cut open the Hydra, and dipped his arrows in its gall, so\nthat they should give deadly wounds. Wearily he returned to Mycen\u00e6,\nhoping for a little rest. But Eurystheus had hidden himself in his\nbrazen pot again, whence he cried out:--\n\n\"Be off at once; and catch the stag of \u0152noe alive!\"\n\n\nPART IV.--HIS THIRD LABOR: THE STAG.\n\nThe stag of \u0152noe was sacred to Diana; and no wonder, for besides\nbeing so swift that no horse or hound could follow it, it had brazen\nfeet and horns of pure gold. Of course this labor was not so dangerous\nas the others, but apparently more utterly impossible.\n\nImpossible as it was, however, Hercules had to try. Had he been\nordered to bring the stag to Mycen\u00e6 dead, he might perhaps hope to\ncatch it with an arrow; but his orders were to bring it alive. So,\nhaving started it from its lair, he followed it with his utmost speed\nand skill. At first he tried to run it down; but the stag was not only\nthe swifter, but had as much endurance as he. Then he tried to drive\nit to bay, but it always managed to escape out of the seemingly most\nhopeless corners. He tried to catch it asleep; but his slightest and\nmost distant movement startled it, and off it raced again. All the\narts of the deer-stalker he put in practice, but all in vain. And thus\nhe hunted the stag of \u0152noe, scarce resting day and night for a\nwhole year. It looked as if he were to spend the rest of his life in\npursuing what was not to be caught by mortal man; and the worst of it\nwas that, while there was real use in destroying wild beasts and\nmonsters, like the lion and the Hydra, his present labor, even if it\nsucceeded, would be of no use at all.\n\nStill it had to be attempted; and I suppose you have guessed that he\nsucceeded, and that it was in some wonderful way. Well--he did succeed\nat last, but it was not in a wonderful way at all. It was just by not\ngiving in. One of the two had to give in, and it was not Hercules. One\nday he managed to drive the stag into a trap and to seize it by the\nhorns.\n\nAs he was returning to Mycen\u00e6, dragging the stag, he met a tall and\nbeautiful woman, dressed for the chase, and carrying a bow and quiver.\nAs soon as her eyes fell upon the struggling stag she frowned\nterribly.\n\n\"What mortal are you,\" she asked, \"who have dared to lay hands on my\nown stag, the stag sacred to me, who am Diana? Loose it, and let it\ngo.\"\n\nHercules sighed. \"I would do so gladly, great goddess,\" he answered;\n\"but it is not in my power.\"\n\n\"Not in your power to open your hand?\" she asked, in angry surprise.\n\"We will soon see that,\" and she seized her stag by the other horn to\npull it away.\n\n\"It goes against me,\" said Hercules, \"to oppose a goddess; but I have\ngot to bring this stag to Mycen\u00e6, and neither gods nor men shall\nprevent me, so long as I am alive.\"\n\n\"I am Diana,\" she said again, \"and I command you to let the stag go.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said he, \"am only Hercules, the servant of Eurystheus, and\ntherefore I cannot let it go.\"\n\n\"Then I wish,\" said Diana, \"that any of the gods had so faithful a\nservant as Eurystheus has! So you are Hercules?\" she said, her frown\nchanging to a smile. \"Then I give you the stag, for the sake of the\noracle of my brother Apollo. I am only a goddess; you are a man who\nhas conquered himself, and whom therefore even the gods must obey.\"\n\nSo saying, she vanished. And the stag no longer struggled for freedom,\nbut followed Hercules to Mycen\u00e6 as gently and lovingly as a tame fawn.\n\n\nPART V.--HIS FOURTH LABOR: THE BOAR.\n\nThe chase of the stag with the golden horns had taken so long that\nEurystheus was beginning to give Hercules up for lost: and he was not\nsorry, for he was becoming more and more afraid of the man who only\nlived to do his bidding. He could not but think that his cousin must\nbe playing some deep and underhand game. So when Hercules came back,\nwith the stag following tamely at heel, he hid himself again, and by\nway of welcome bade Hercules capture and bring him, alive, a very\ndifferent sort of wild beast--not a harmless stag, but the great and\nfierce wild boar which had its den in the mountains of Erymanthus, and\nravaged the country round.\n\nHercules was getting weary of these labors, to which he saw no end.\nNot for a moment did he think of disobeying, but he set out with a\nheavy heart, and with some rising bitterness against his taskmaster.\nHis way to the mountains of Erymanthus lay through the country of the\nCentaurs, and of his old teacher, Chiron.\n\nHere he halted at the dwelling of one of the Centaurs, Pholus, who\nreceived him kindly. But Hercules was feeling fairly worn out in\nspirit, and Pholus failed to cheer him.\n\n\"What is the use of it all?\" he complained. \"No doubt the gods are\njust, and ought to be obeyed; but they are not kind. Why did they send\nme into the world, and give me strength, only to go about after wild\nbeasts at the bidding of a coward? Why did they give me passions, only\nto have the trouble of keeping them down? If I had been like other\nmen--as weak and as cold-blooded as they are--I should have been\nhappy, and perhaps done some real good, and at any rate lived my own\nlife in my own way. It isn't as if I cared for glory, but I do want a\nlittle peace and pleasure. Come, Pholus, let me have some wine: I want\nit, and let it be in plenty!\"\n\n\"I am very sorry,\" said Pholus. \"I have no wine.\"\n\n\"Why, what is that, then?\" asked Hercules, pointing to a big barrel in\nthe corner.\n\n\"That is wine,\" said Pholus; \"but I can't give you any of it, because\nit is not my own. It belongs to all the Centaurs; and, as it is public\nproperty, nobody may take any of it without the leave of the whole\ntribe.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" said Hercules. \"Wine I want, and wine I'll have.\"\n\nSo saying, he stove in the head of the cask with a single blow of his\nfist, and, dipping and filling a goblet, began to drink eagerly.\n\nThe wine soon began to warm his blood and raise his heart. After the\nfirst cup or two, the cloud which had been falling over him rolled\naway, and life again seemed worth living for its own sake, and not\nonly for duty's. But he did not stop at two cups, nor at three; nor\neven when it began to mount into his brain, and to bring back those\nwild instincts which he thought he had left behind him in the Temple\nof Apollo.\n\nMeanwhile the news had spread among the Centaurs that Hercules was\namong them, and making free with the public wine. The odor of the\nbroken cask brought a crowd of them at full gallop, and disturbed\nHercules in the midst of his carouse.\n\n\"Do you call this hospitality, you savages?\" he shouted, stumbling out\nof the house, and laying about him with his club freely among the\ncrowd, while Pholus vainly tried to prevent mischief. Down went\nCentaur after Centaur, till those who were uninjured galloped away\npanic-stricken, Pholus himself being among the slain.\n\n\"To Chiron!\" cried the Centaurs; \"he will know how to deal with this\nmadman.\"\n\nThey rode as hard as they could to Chiron's dwelling, Hercules,\nfurious with wine and anger, still pursuing. As they were outstripping\nhim, he let fly his arrows among them; and, as evil luck would have\nit, at that very moment Chiron rode out from his gate to see what was\nhappening, and to quiet the disorder, and one of the arrows struck him\nin the knee, and he fell.\n\nHercules became sober enough when he came up and found his old friend\nand teacher writhing in terrible agony; for the arrow was one which he\nhad dipped in the deadly poison of the Hydra. He could only look on\nwith remorse. Chiron knew him, and, when the agony passed away into\ndeath, gave him a look of forgiveness. What the wise Centaur's last\nword to his favorite pupil was, I know not; but I think it must have\nbeen something like: \"Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest\nhe fall.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nI will not try to think of what Hercules felt when he watched the\nburial of the friends whom he had slain in a fit of drunken passion,\nfor no cause. However, his duty lay still before him, and it had\nbecome more clear. Never again would he complain of his fate, or\nquestion the justice of the gods, or think of the life which had been\nlent to him as if it were his own.\n\nIn due time, after a long and dangerous journey among the mountains,\nhe came upon the den of the great wild boar which he was to capture\nalive. There was nothing to be done but to follow it as he had\nfollowed the stag, watching for a chance of trapping it unawares: and\nin the pursuit another whole year passed away. Then, in the middle of\nwinter, there fell such a snow that the boar was unable to leave its\nden. Hercules forced his way through the snowed-up entrance, and tried\nto seize the brute as he had seized the Nemean lion. The boar,\nhowever, rushed past him, and would have escaped again had not the\nsnow hindered his running, and at last exhausted him. Hercules, though\nnearly exhausted himself, chose the right moment for closing with him,\nand, after a long struggle, bound him with a halter in such a manner\nthat, in spite of its efforts, he could drag it by main strength down\nthe mountain.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOnce more Eurystheus had given Hercules up for lost: and the snow\nprevented him from hearing any news beforehand. So when, while he was\nstanding at the city gate, there suddenly appeared before him, not\nonly Hercules--all grim and rough from his year's hunting--but the\nlargest and most savage wild boar in the world, looking ready to\ndevour him, he was so terrified that he whisked like a frightened\nmouse into his pot, and did not dare come out again for seven days.\n\nAs for Chiron the Centaur, he became a constellation in heaven, where\nhe is still to be seen. He was the teacher of nearly all the heroes\nand demi-gods: and after his death there seems to have been an end of\nthem. There have been plenty of brave men since; but not like Castor\nand Pollux, Perseus, Theseus, and Hercules. Nor, since that fatal day,\ndoes one hear of the Centaurs any more. Thus did one passing fit of\ncauseless anger, instantly repented of, destroy these wisest and most\nvaliant creatures, and deprive the whole world of more than it has\never regained during thousands of years.\n\nHercules solemnly sacrificed the boar, and then took a little rest,\nmeditating on all that had befallen. But his rest was not to be for\nlong. For there was Eurystheus in his pot, trying to think of\nsomething that should keep him occupied forever.\n\nAnd--\"I have it!\" he exclaimed at last, summoning Hercules by a stroke\non his pot's brazen side.\n\n\nPART VI.--HIS FIFTH LABOR: THE AUGEAN STABLE.\n\nThe next labor which Eurystheus laid upon Hercules was to clean out a\nstable.\n\nThat does not sound very much after the others. But then the stable\nwas that of Augeas, King of Elis, which was at once the largest and\nthe dirtiest in the whole world.\n\nAugeas had a prodigious number of oxen and goats, and the stable in\nwhich they were all kept had never been cleaned. The result was a\nmountain of filth and litter, which not even Hercules could clear away\nin a lifetime--not, of course, from want of strength, but from want of\ntime. Hercules beheld with disgust and dismay the loathsome and\ndegrading toil in which he was to spend the rest of his days. The\nother labors had at least been honorable, and befitting a prince: this\nwould have appalled a scavenger.\n\n\"It is very good of such a hero as you,\" said Augeas, \"to undertake to\nclean my stable. It really does want cleaning, as you see: and it was\nvery kind of Eurystheus to think of it. You shall not find me\nungrateful. I will give you one ox and one goat in every ten--when\nthe job is done.\"\n\nHe could very safely promise this, because he knew that the job could\nnever be done.\n\n\"I am not serving for hire,\" said Hercules. \"Nevertheless it is only\nright that you should not let your stable get into such a state as\nthis, and then get it put right for nothing. You want a lesson: and\nyou shall have it, too.\"\n\nSeeing that mere strength would be wasted in such toil, Hercules went\nto work with his brain as well. Through the land of Elis ran the river\nAlpheus, that same Alpheus which had told Ceres what had become of\nProserpine. Hercules carefully studied the country; and having laid\nhis plans, dug a channel from near the source of the river to one of\nthe entrances of the stable. Then, damming up the old channel, he let\nthe stream run into the new. The new course was purposely made narrow,\nso that the current might be exceedingly strong. When all was ready,\nhe opened the sluice at one entrance of the stable, so that the water\npoured in a flood through the whole building, and out at a gate on the\nother side. And it had all been so managed that when the river had\npoured through, and was shut off again, all the filth and litter had\nbeen carried away by the Alpheus underground, and the stable had been\nwashed clean, without a scrap of refuse to be found anywhere. For the\nAlpheus, you must know, did not run into the sea, like other rivers.\nIt disappeared down a deep chasm, then ran through a natural tunnel\nunder the sea, and rose again, far away, in the island of Sicily,\nwhere it had brought to Ceres the news from underground. Thus\neverything thrown into it in Elis came up again in Sicily--and the\nSicilians must have been considerably astonished at that extraordinary\neruption of stable litter. Perhaps it is that which, acting as manure,\nhas helped to make Sicily so fertile.\n\nHercules made a point of claiming his price. But Augeas said:--\n\n\"Nonsense! A bargain is a bargain. You undertook to clean my stable:\nand you have done nothing of the kind. No work, no pay.\"\n\n\"What can you mean?\" asked Hercules. \"Surely I have cleaned your\nstable--you will not find in it a broken straw.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Augeas. \"It was the Alpheus did that: not you.\"\n\n\"But it was I who used the Alpheus--\"\n\n\"Yes; no doubt. But the impudence of expecting me to pay a tenth of\nall my flocks and herds for an idea so simple that I should have\nthought of it myself, if you hadn't, just by chance, happened to think\nof it before me! You have not earned your wages. You cleaned the\nstable by an unfair trick: and it was the river cleaned it--not you.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Hercules, grimly. \"If you had paid me honestly, I\nwould have given you your goats and your oxen back again; for, as I\ntold you, I do not serve for reward. But now I perceive that I have\n_not_ quite cleaned your stable. There is still one piece of dirt left\nin it--and that is a cheating knave, Augeas by name. So, as I cannot\ngo back to Mycen\u00e6 till my work is done--\"\n\nHe was about to throw Augeas into the river, to follow the rest of the\nlitter: and about what afterwards happened, different people tell\ndifferent things. I very strongly agree, however, with those who tell\nthat Hercules spared the life of Augeas after having given him a\nlesson: for certainly he was not worth the killing. And I am the more\nsure of this because, after his death, Augeas was honored as\nhero--which surely would not have happened if he had not learned to\nkeep both his stables and his promises clean before he died.\n\n\nPART VII.--MORE LABORS: AND THE CATTLE OF GERYON.\n\nEurystheus was getting to his wits' end for work which should keep his\ncousin employed. He sent him to kill the man-eating birds of Lake\nStymphalus; to catch, and bring to Mycen\u00e6 alive, a wild bull which was\ndevastating Crete; to obtain for Eurystheus the famous mares which fed\non human flesh, and belonged to the Thracian King Diomedes, who used\nto throw men and women alive into their manger. In three years' time\nHercules destroyed all the birds, and brought to Mycen\u00e6 both the bull\nand the mares, to whom he had given the body of their master.\n\nThese were the sixth, seventh, and eighth labors, which had taken\neight years. The ninth was of a different kind. There lived in the\ncountry of Cappadocia, which is in Asia, a nation of women, without\nany men among them. They were called the Amazons, and were famous for\ntheir skill in hunting, and for their fierceness and courage in war,\nconquering the neighboring nations far and wide. Their queen at this\ntime was Hippolyta; and Eurystheus bade Hercules bring him Queen\nHippolyta's girdle. Perhaps he thought that a strong man would be\nashamed to put out his strength against a woman. If so, however, he\nreckoned wrongly. Hercules had to do his work, whether man or woman\nstood in the way; and he won the queen's girdle in fair fight, without\nharming the queen.\n\n\"I must send Hercules to the very end of the earth,\" thought poor\nEurystheus, who grew more and more frightened by every new success of\nhis cousin. So he inquired diligently of every traveler who came to\nMycen\u00e6, and in time had the good luck to hear of a suitable monster\nnamed Geryon, who lived in a cave at Gades, now called Cadiz, on the\ncoast of Spain, very near indeed to what the Greeks then thought to be\nthe end of the world. Geryon, so the travelers reported, had three\nbodies and three heads, and kept large and valuable flocks and herds.\n\"That will be just the thing for Hercules!\" thought Eurystheus. So he\ncalled from his brazen pot--\n\n\"Go to Gades, and get me the cattle and the sheep of Geryon.\"\n\nSo Hercules set off for Spain by way of Egypt and that great Libyan\ndesert through which Perseus had passed on his adventure against the\nGorgons. It was an unfortunate way to take, for there reigned over\nEgypt at that time King Busiris, who had made a law that every\nforeigner entering the country should be sacrificed to Jupiter.\nHercules, knowing nothing of this law, was taken by surprise as soon\nas he landed, overpowered by numbers, bound in iron chains, and laid\nupon the altar to be slain. But scarcely had the sacrificing priest\nraised his knife when Hercules burst the chains, and, being no longer\ntaken at disadvantage, made a sacrifice of Busiris and his ministers,\nthus freeing the land of Egypt from a foolish and cruel law.\n\nThence he passed into the great desert, and traveled on until one day\nhe reached a pile of human skulls, nearly as big as a mountain. While\nwondering at the sight, a shadow fell over him, and a big voice said--\n\n\"Yes, you may well look at that! I have nearly enough now.\"\n\nIt was a giant, nearly as high as the heap of skulls. \"And who are\nyou?\" asked Hercules; \"and what are these?\"\n\n\"I am Ant\u00e6us,\" answered the giant; \"and the Sea is my father and the\nEarth is my mother. I am collecting skulls in order to build a temple\nwith them upon my mother the Earth to my father the Sea.\"\n\n\"And how,\" asked Hercules, \"have you managed to get so many?\"\n\n\"By killing everybody I see, and adding his skull to the heap--as I am\ngoing to add yours.\"\n\nSo saying, he seized Hercules to make an end of him. And amazed enough\nthe giant was when he himself was dashed to the ground with force\nenough to break any ordinary bones.\n\nAnt\u00e6us, however, though astonished, was not in the least hurt; so that\nit was the turn of Hercules to be surprised. Again they closed, and\nagain Hercules threw him, with still greater strength; and they closed\nagain.\n\nAnd again and again Hercules threw him, but every time with greater\ndifficulty. The more he was thrown, the stronger the giant became; he\nrose from every fall fresher than before. Plainly, if this went on,\nAnt\u00e6us would be beaten until he became stronger than Hercules, and\nwould end by winning.\n\nIt seemed very strange that the more a man was dashed to the ground\nthe fresher and stronger he should grow. But--\n\n\"I see!\" thought Hercules to himself. \"This giant is the son of the\nEarth; so whenever he falls, it is upon the bosom of his own mother,\nwho strengthens and refreshes her son. So I must take another way.\"\n\nSo thinking, he put out all his strength, and again lifted Ant\u00e6us in\nhis arms. But this time he did not dash him to the Earth; he held him\nin the air, and crushed him to death between his hands.\n\nAfter this he traveled on, without further adventure, until he reached\nthe far western end of the Mediterranean Sea, which was thought to be\nthe end of the world. If you happen to look at a map you will easily\nfind the exact place--it is where the south of Spain very nearly\ntouches Africa. When Hercules arrived there, Spain quite touched\nAfrica, so that one might walk from one into the other. It is said\nthat Hercules himself opened out the narrow passage which lets the\nMediterranean Sea out into the great ocean, so that ships could\nafterwards sail to Britain and all over the world. That passage is now\ncalled the Strait of Gibraltar. But the rock of Gibraltar in Spain,\nand the opposite rock in Africa, between which the Strait flows, are\nstill often called the \"Pillars of Hercules.\"\n\nTo get from there to Gades was no great distance; and to kill the\nmonstrous ogre Geryon and to seize his flocks and herds for Eurystheus\nwas no great feat after what he had already done. But to drive such a\nnumber of sheep and cattle all the way from Gades in Spain to Mycen\u00e6\nin Greece was not an easy matter. There was only one way of doing so\nwithout being stopped somewhere by the sea, and this, as a map will\nshow at once, is by crossing those two great mountain-ranges, the\nPyrenees and the Alps--and for one man to drive thousands of sheep and\nthousands of horned cattle over such mountains as those was the most\ntiresome and troublesome labor that Hercules had ever undergone.\n\nHe got as far as Italy without the loss of a single sheep or cow, and\nwas thinking that he saw the end of his trouble. One morning, however,\nhaving counted the cattle as usual, and having gone some miles upon\nhis day's journey, he became aware that there was something wrong. The\nsheep began to bleat and the cattle to bellow in an odd and excited\nway. And frequently, from behind him, he heard an answering sound\nwhich at first he took for an echo. But no, it could not be that, for\nan echo would have repeated the bleating as well as the bellowing, and\nwhat he heard behind him was the sound of bellowing only--precisely\nlike that of Geryon's cows. He counted the herd over again, and,\nthough he was convinced that it was all right at starting, he found a\nfull dozen missing.\n\nNow a dozen was not much to lose out of thousands. But he had been\nordered to bring back the whole herd, and he would have felt that he\nwould not have done his duty if he, by any neglect or laziness of his\nown, lost even one lamb by the way. So, following the distant sound,\nhe, with infinite labor, drove his cattle back across the hills,\nleague after league, till he reached a huge black cavern, the mouth of\nwhich was strewn and heaped with human bones. His cattle became more\nexcited and more restive, for the sound he was following evidently\ncame from within the cave.\n\nHe was about to enter and search when a three-headed ogre issued,\nwhose three mouths, when he opened them to speak, breathed smoke and\nflames.\n\n\"This is my cave,\" said he, with all three mouths at once; \"and no\nman shall enter it but I.\"\n\n\"I only want my cattle,\" said Hercules. \"Bring them out to me.\"\n\n\"Cattle?\" asked the ogre. \"There are no cattle here. I swear it by the\nhead of my mother.\"\n\n\"And who was she,\" asked Hercules, \"that her head is an oath to swear\nby?\"\n\n\"I am Cacus, the son of the Gorgon Medusa,\" answered the ogre, \"and I\nswear----\"\n\nBut before he could finish his oath, there came such a bellowing from\nwithin the cave that the very cattle seemed as if they could not\nendure such falsehood, and were proclaiming that Cacus lied.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" said Hercules. \"I am weary of traveling, and of\nmonsters, and of giants, and of ogres, and of liars, and of thieves. I\nreally do not want to kill any more. You are not one of my labors, and\nI have had enough trouble. Still, if you had as many heads as the\nHydra and as many arms as Briareus, I should have to fight you rather\nthan lose one of the cattle I was bidden to bring.\"\n\nCacus laughed. \"Do you see those bones?\" he asked. \"They are all that\nis left of people who have looked for what they have lost in my cave.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Hercules, \"either you shall add mine to the heap, or I\nwill add yours.\"\n\nAnd presently the bones of Cacus the Robber were added to the heap,\nand Hercules, having got his cattle back, at last reached Mycen\u00e6.\n\n * * * * *\n\nEurystheus almost forgot to be frightened in his joy at becoming the\nowner of such flocks and herds. He listened with interest to the story\nof his cousin's travels, and, having heard it to an end, said--\n\n\"So you crossed the great Libyan desert until you reached the ocean\nwhich surrounds the world? Why, then, you must have found the way to\nthe gardens of the Hesperides--the gardens of golden fruit which the\ngreat sleepless dragon guards, and which our forefather Perseus saw\nwhen he turned Atlas into stone. Did you also see those gardens?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Hercules.\n\n\"Then,\" said Eurystheus, \"go and see them at once. Go and bring me\nsome of the Golden Apples--as many as you can.\"\n\n\nPART VIII.--HIS ELEVENTH LABOR: THE GARDEN OF THE HESPERIDES.\n\nSo Hercules, without being allowed any time for rest, had to go back\nthe whole way he had come, without any certain knowledge of where the\ngolden-fruited gardens of the Hesperides were to be found, except that\nit was somewhere in Africa. Somebody must know, however, or else the\ngardens would never have been heard of, for travelers never told\nanything but the truth in those days. He therefore diligently asked\neverybody he met where the gardens were to be found, and, among\nothers, some nymphs whom he met on the banks of the river Po, while he\nwas passing through Italy.\n\n\"We cannot tell you,\" said they; \"but we know who can--old Nereus, the\nsea-god, if you can only get him to tell.\"\n\n\"And why should he not tell?\" asked Hercules.\n\n\"Because he never will tell anybody anything, unless he is obliged.\"\n\n\"And how is he to be obliged?\" asked Hercules again.\n\n\"He is bound to answer anybody who is stronger than he.\"\n\n\"Well, I am pretty strong,\" said Hercules, modestly. \"Anyhow, I can\nbut try.\"\n\n\"Yes, you do look strong,\" said the nymphs; \"but----\" Here they broke\ninto a laugh, as if some sort of a joke were in their minds. \"Well, if\nyou go to the \u00c6gean Sea, where King \u00c6geus was drowned, you'll be sure\nto find Nereus sleeping in the sun somewhere along the shore.\"\n\n\"And how shall I know him when I see him?\" asked Hercules.\n\n\"You will see a very, very old man, older than anybody you ever saw,\nwith bright blue hair, and a very long white beard. He has fifty\ndaughters, so he often gets tired, and likes to sleep as much as he\ncan.\"\n\nHercules thanked the nymphs, whom he still heard laughing after he\nleft them, and thought to himself that it would not be much trouble to\nprove himself stronger than a very old man who was always tired. So,\nhaving journeyed back again to the \u00c6gean Sea, he walked along the\nshore till, sure enough, he saw, sound asleep in a sunny cove, a man\nwho looked a thousand years old, with a white beard reaching below his\nwaist, and with hair as blue as the sea.\n\n\"Will you kindly tell me the way to the gardens of the Hesperides?\"\nasked Hercules, waking Nereus by a gentle shake--though I suspect one\nof Hercules' shakes was not what most people would consider gentle.\n\nInstead of answering, Nereus tried to roll himself into the sea, at\nthe bottom of which was his home. Hercules caught him by the leg and\narm: when, to his amazement, Nereus suddenly turned into a vigorous\nyoung man, who wrestled with him stoutly to get away.\n\nHercules got him down at last. \"Now tell me the way to the gardens of\nthe Hesperides!\" he panted--for he was out of breath with the\nstruggle. But he found himself holding down, no longer a man, but a\nhuge and slippery seal, which all but succeeded in plunging into the\nsea.\n\nBut he held on until the seal also was exhausted. And then Hercules\nfound out what had made the nymphs laugh so. For when the seal was\nwearied out it changed into a gigantic crab, the crab into a\ncrocodile, the crocodile into a mermaid, the mermaid into a\nsea-serpent, the sea-serpent into an albatross, the albatross into an\noctopus, the octopus into a mass of sea-weed, which was the hardest to\nhold of all. But the sea-weed turned back into the old man again, who\nsaid:--\n\n\"There--you have conquered me in all my shapes; I haven't got any\nmore. You may let me go now, and I will answer you. You must go on\nthrough Italy and Spain, and thence across into Africa. You will then\nbe in the land of Mauritania. You must still go south, following the\nsea-shore, till you come to the giant Atlas, who supports the sky upon\nhis head, and so keeps it from falling. He\"--the old sea-god's voice\nwas growing fainter and fainter--\"he will tell you all about the\ngardens of the Hesperides. They're close by--the gardens of the\nHesp----\"\n\nAnd so, having finished his answer, Nereus turned over and went\ncomfortably to sleep again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOnce more Hercules set out upon the journey which had seemed as if it\nwould never even begin. Once more he traveled through Italy and Spain,\nand crossed into Africa over the strait which he himself had made. And\non and on he went, always southward by the sea, till, full six hundred\nmiles from the Pillars of Hercules, he saw what he knew must be the\ngiant Atlas on whose head rested the sky. There Atlas, King of\nMauritania, had stood ever since he had looked upon the head of\nMedusa. And if you wonder how the sky was held up before that time,\nyou must ask Nereus, if you can catch him--not me.\n\nAs you may suppose, the poor giant was terribly weary of having to\nhold up, night and day, year after year, the whole weight of the sun,\nmoon, and stars. Even his strength is not able to keep stars from\nfalling now and then--sometimes on a clear night you may see them\ntumbling down by scores, so it is terrible to think of what would\nhappen if he took even a moment's rest. The whole sky would come\ncrashing down, and the universe would be in ruins. He was longing for\nthe rest he dared not take, and so, when Hercules, said to him, \"I am\nseeking fruit from the gardens of the Hesperides,\" a crafty idea came\ninto the giant's mind.\n\n\"Ah!\" said he, with a nod which shook down a whole shower of stars.\n\"There is no difficulty. All you have to do is walk through the sea\ntowards the setting sun, till you get there. And there's nothing to\nprevent you from getting the golden fruit but the dragon who guards\nthe tree on which it grows. The sea doesn't come up higher than my\nwaist, even in the deepest part; and, if you can get past the dragon,\nmy three daughters, the Hesperides, will no doubt receive you with the\ngreatest surprise.\"\n\nFor the first time, Hercules felt dismayed. He had no boat, nor the\nmeans of building one; he could not swim further than his eyes could\nsee. As for wading through an ocean that would come up to the waist of\na giant as high as the skies, that was absurd. And as to the dragon,\nhe remembered that Perseus had only passed it by means of a helmet\nwhich made its wearer invisible.\n\nAtlas saw his perplexity.\n\n\"Ah, I forgot you were such a little fellow,\" said the giant. \"I'll go\nand get you some of the fruit myself. It isn't many of my steps from\nhere to the garden, and the dragon knows me--and if he didn't, I could\nstep over him. And he couldn't hurt me, seeing that I've been turned\nto stone. But wait, though--what on earth's to become of the sky while\nI'm gone?\"\n\n\"I'm pretty strong,\" said Hercules. \"If I climb up to the peak of the\nnext mountain to you, I daresay I could hold the sky up while you're\naway.\"\n\nAtlas smiled to himself, for this was just what he had intended.\n\n\"Come up, then,\" said he. So Hercules clambered to the highest peak he\ncould find, and Atlas, slowly bending, gradually and carefully let\ndown the sky upon the head and shoulders of the hero. Then, heaving a\ndeep roar of relief, he strode into the sea.\n\nIt was surely the strangest plight in which a mortal ever found\nhimself--standing on a mountain-peak, and, by the strength of his own\nshoulders, keeping the skies from falling. He was answerable for the\nsafety of the whole world: the burden of the entire universe was laid\nupon the shoulders of one man. They were strong enough to bear it; but\nit seemed like an eternity before Atlas returned. A hundred times a\nminute Hercules felt as if he must let all go, whatever happened;\nindeed he was actually tempted to yield, for he was weary of these\nendless labors; and it was only for mankind's sake, and not for his\nown, that he held on through the agony of the crushing weight of the\nwhole universe.\n\nBut Atlas came at last, with three golden apples in his hand.\n\n\"Here they are!\" he roared. \"And now, good-bye!\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Hercules. \"Are you not coming back to your duty?\"\n\n\"Am I a fool?\" asked the giant. \"Not I. Keep the honor of holding up\nthe skies yourself, since you are so strong and willing. Never again\nfor me!\"\n\n\"At least, then,\" said Hercules, \"let me place my lion's skin between\nmy shoulders and the sky, so that the weight may be less painful to\nbear.\"\n\nAtlas could take no objection to that, so he put his own shoulders\nunder the dome of heaven to let Hercules make himself as comfortable\nas the situation allowed. Hercules seized the chance, and let the\nwhole weight of the sky fall upon the shoulders of Atlas once more.\nAnd there it still rests; and thus Atlas failed in trying to shift his\nown proper burden to another's shoulders.\n\n\"Only _three_ apples!\" exclaimed Eurystheus, when Hercules returned.\n\"You can't have taken much trouble, to get so little. Go to Hades, and\nbring me Cerberus, the three-headed dog of Pluto!... He will never do\nthat?\" he thought to himself. \"To reach Hades, one must die!\"\n\n\nPART IX.--HIS TWELFTH LABOR: THE DESCENT INTO HADES.\n\nI daresay you have forgotten--for it is a long way back--the name of\nAdmetus, that King of Pher\u00e6 in Thessaly, whom Apollo, when banished\nfrom heaven, served as a shepherd for nine years. Admetus did not know\nthat it was a god whom he had to keep his sheep; but he was so good\nand kind a master that Apollo, revealing himself at the end of his\nexile, bade him name any boon he desired, and it should be granted.\n\nThere is no such difficult question in the world to answer as that.\nAdmetus answered, \"Grant that I may never die.\"\n\nBut that is the one thing which not even the gods can grant to mortal\nmen. The very cause of Apollo's having been banished to earth was his\nkilling the Cyclops for forging the thunderbolt with which Jupiter had\nkilled \u00c6sculapius for making dead men live again. Not even the Fates\ncould change that law even for the sake of Apollo. But they said,\n\"Admetus shall live so long as he can find somebody else to die\ninstead of him whenever his death-time comes,\" which was all they\ncould allow.\n\nAfter the return of Apollo to heaven, Admetus lived on in great\nhappiness and welfare. He was one of the Argonauts; and he took part\nin the hunting of the Calydonian boar. He had fallen in love with\nAlcestis, the beautiful daughter of that King Pelias of whom you read\nin the story of the Golden Fleece, whose hand had been promised to the\nman who should come for her in a chariot drawn by a wild boar and a\nlion. This Admetus did; and in this chariot he drove her back to his\nown kingdom of Pher\u00e6, where he made her his queen. And there they\nlived in great love and happiness for many years.\n\nBut the day came at last which had been appointed to Admetus for his\ndeath-time. Then Admetus, remembering the promise of the Fates, and\nnot able to bear losing the happiness of living, thus besought his old\nfather, Pheres--\n\n\"Father, you are already old and near to death; you have lived your\nlife; it matters nothing to you whether your old age lasts a year less\nor a year more. What you now call life is only weariness and pain. But\nI am still young and strong, with the best part of my life still\nunlived, and my children ungrown, and my kingdom to govern: I beseech\nyou to die for me, so that I also may live to be as old and as wise as\nyou.\"\n\nBut his father answered: \"No, my son; life is precious, even when one\nis old. The nearer we approach the cold dark grave, the dearer grow\nthe sunshine and the living air. I will do anything else for you, but\nnot die.\"\n\nThen Admetus besought Clymene, his mother--\n\n\"Mother, you are old and weak, and a woman; I am young and strong, and\na man. What is such life as yours compared with mine? I beseech you to\ndie for me: let not a mother doom to death her own child.\"\n\nBut his mother answered: \"No, my son; he who loves his life as you\nlove it, and fears death as you fear it, is not one for whom even his\nmother ought to die.\"\n\nThen Admetus besought all his friends and kinsmen; but all were deaf\nto him. For well the Fates had known that their promise would be in\nvain. But at last his dear and beautiful wife Alcestis came to him,\nand said--\n\n\"I will die for you, and gladly!\" Ah, those Fates do not know\neverything after all!\n\nAdmetus, with all his selfishness, had never thought sacrificing his\nwife; and he was overcome with horror. He prayed that Apollo's gift\nmight be taken back; but the Fates are not to be played fast and loose\nwith in that way, and they were angry perhaps at finding themselves\nbaffled by a mere loving woman. Alcestis had to die instead of\nAdmetus; and so she died, as she had said, proudly and gladly.\n\nNow that it was too late, her husband was broken-hearted at having\ncaused his wife's death for the sake of what had been but a selfish\nwhim. All he could do for her in return was honor her love and\ndevotion by a splendid funeral, to which people came from far and near\nto cover her grave with flowers.\n\nAlcestis was buried, and the farewell hymn was being sung, when there\nthrust his way, rather roughly, through the crowded temple a stranger\nof mighty build, carrying a club, and clad with a lion's skin,\nseemingly the worse for wine. Admetus was too absorbed in his grief to\nnotice this rude intrusion; but some of the bystanders cried shame on\nthe stranger, and one of the priests came in his way, and said\nsternly--\n\n\"Who are you that dare to trouble grief like ours?\"\n\n\"Who am I? Why, the servant of Eurystheus, King of Argos and Mycen\u00e6.\nIs this how you receive strangers in your land? I had heard that\nAdmetus of Pher\u00e6 is the most generous of kings, and Alcestis the most\ngracious of queens; and here I find you all like ghosts at a funeral.\nWhere is the king?\"\n\n\"There stands the king,\" said the priest, solemnly. And then he told\nthe stranger the story which many a poet has told since--the story of\nhow strong true love is, and how foolish it is to measure life by the\nnumber of its years.\n\nHercules--for he the stranger was--was sobered in a moment. \"It is a\nshame!\" he exclaimed, bringing down his club on the floor. \"Fates or\nno fates, it shall not be! I am bound to Hades on an errand for my own\nking, and I will not come back unless I do a better one for yours.\"\n\nSo, leaving them all offended at what they took for a drunken boast,\nhe dropped into the open grave: the people only thinking that he had\npassed from the temple somewhat suddenly. Hence he followed the\npassage taken by the queen's soul till he reached the Styx; and hard\nwork must poor old Charon have had to row across such a weight as\nHercules instead of the ghosts to which he was accustomed. On he went,\nfinding his way as best he could without a guide, until, chancing upon\nthe black gate of Tartarus, there growled in the middle of his path\nthe three-headed dog Cerberus, with flashing eyes and flaming jaws.\n\nOrpheus, you remember, had quieted Cerberus with the music of his\nlute: Hercules, going to work in other fashion, brought down his club\nupon one of the dog's skulls in a way that bewildered the other two.\nThen, seizing the monster by the throat, and in spite of its furious\nstruggles, he fairly dragged it along with him by sheer strength, even\ninto the very presence of Pluto and Proserpine.\n\n\"And,\" he cried, \"god and goddess though you are, I will brain this\ndog of yours upon the steps of your throne unless you surrender to me\nthe soul of Alcestis, that I may deliver her from death, and lead her\nback into life again.\"\n\nIt was an unheard-of thing that a man should thus take Hades by storm,\nand dictate terms to its king and queen. But for that moment I verily\nbelieve that Hercules became more than man--nay, more than Alcestis,\nbecause, while she had betaken herself to Elysium for the love of one\nwho was dear to her, he had dared the torments of Tartarus out of pity\nfor strangers and hate of wrong. Nay, I think it was truly this which\nhad made his grip so fast on the dog's throat, and his club so heavy\non the dog's three skulls; and this that made a mortal stand as their\nmaster before even Pluto and Proserpine.\n\n\"In the name of all the gods,\" said Pluto, \"take the woman, and\nbegone.\"\n\nThen Alcestis appeared--a mere gray shade, the touch of whose hand was\nbut like a film of gossamer. But as he dragged the less and less\nstruggling Cerberus with one hand, and led her with the other, her\nshade took color and formed, and her fingers tightened upon his, until\nthe living Alcestis, more beautiful than before, stepped with him out\nof her still open grave, and threw herself into her husband's arms.\n\nHercules did not wait for thanks; indeed, with Cerberus still on his\nhands, his only thought was to hurry back to Mycen\u00e6. It is the\nstrangest picture one can think of--a man dragging along the\nthree-headed dog of Hades in the open light of day. It was one long\nstrain on his whole strength, all day and all night long, for many\nnights and days. But he reached Mycen\u00e6 at last--and into his brazen\npot leaped Eurystheus in the twinkling of an eye.\n\n\"I have brought him,\" said Hercules. \"Cerberus is yours.\"\n\n\"Then,\" cried Eurystheus, as well as his terror would let him, \"be off\nwith you, Cerberus and all. Never more be servant of mine; never let\nme see your face or hear of you again!\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThus Hercules, by obedient service, won his freedom, and his great\npenance was fulfilled. And the first use he made of freedom was to\ngive it to Cerberus, who straightway, with a terrible howl, plunged\ninto the earth, and disappeared.\n\n\nPART X.--THE CHOICE OF HERCULES.\n\nYes; at last Hercules was free, after twelve long years of slavery,\nduring which he had scarce known a day's pleasure or ease. It seemed\ntoo good to be true.\n\nHis only trouble now was what to do with his liberty. He was his own\nmaster; the whole world was before him, and he was strong enough to do\nwhatever he pleased. And while thus thinking what he should do with\nhis life and strength, there came to him in the middle of the night a\nvision as of two women, real and yet unreal, bringing with them a\nstrange light of their own.\n\nThe first to speak was young and beautiful, crowned with flowers, and\nwith a voice as sweet as her smile.\n\n\"What folly is thinking!\" said she. \"You have toiled enough; you have\nwon the right to do whatever you like best for the rest of your days.\nNo more labor to serve another's will or whim; no more hateful tasks,\none ending only for another to begin; no more cold, hunger, thirst,\nstrife with monsters, and self-denial; and all for what? Why, for\nnothing. My name is Pleasure. Choose me for your soul, and you shall\nhave Power, Glory, Riches, Comfort, Delight--all your whole heart's\ndesire.\"\n\nThe other shape wore no flowers: her lips did not smile, and the light\nof her clear bright eyes was cold; and her voice belonged to her eyes.\n\n\"Yet think,\" said she, \"before you choose, because you must choose\nto-night once for all. Was it Pleasure who helped you to rid the\npeople of the ravage of the Nem\u00e6an lion? No, indeed: she would have\nbidden you stay at home. Was it Pleasure who stood by you as you\nstruck off the heads of the Hydra, one by one? No, indeed. Did\nPleasure join with you in chasing the Erymanthine boar and the stag\nwith the golden horns? Did she clean away the Augean stable? Did she\nsend you forth to free the world of the man-eating birds of Lake\nStymphalus, and the dreadful Cretan bull, and the mares of King\nDiomedes, and the Giant Ant\u00e6us, and the Ogre Geryon, and Cacus the\nRobber? Did Pleasure save Alcestis from death, and break through the\nvery gates of hell? No; it was Obedience. And if obedience to a mere\nearthly master has worked such wonders for the good of all mankind,\nhow much more good will come of willing obedience to Me?\"\n\n\"And how, then, are you called?\" asked Hercules, looking from one to\nthe other--from the warm glowing smile of Pleasure to the grave eyes\nof the form which had last spoken.\n\n\"Among men I am called Duty,\" said she.\n\nHercules could not help sighing--for the more he looked at Pleasure\nthe more beautiful she grew; while the face of Duty seemed every\nmoment to become more stern and cold.\n\n\"It does seem hard,\" said he, \"to use my freedom in only making a\nchange of service. But after all, what is the good of having more\nstrength than other men, except to help them? It's true, though I\nnever thought of it before. And if Pleasure won't help me to rid the\nworld of the rest of its monsters, and Duty will, why, there's only\none thing for a man to do, and that's to choose Duty, and obey her,\nhowever hard she may be.\"\n\nThen he went to sleep with his mind made up, and when he woke in the\nmorning his choice woke with him.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo Hercules, instead of being the servant of Eurystheus, became, of\nhis own free will, the servant of all mankind. He made it his work to\nseek out wrong, and never to rest until he had set it right: he\ntraveled about the world, carrying everywhere with him the love of law\nand justice, and the worship of the gods, even into savage lands where\nsuch things had never been known. Ogres and monsters disappeared: it\nseemed as if his strength were bringing back the Golden Age.\n\nOne day his wanderings brought him into the heart of the great\nmountain-range called Caucasus, a vast and dreadful region of\nsnow-covered peaks which no human foot had ever climbed. Never had\neven he known a harder labor than to make his way among these icy\nprecipices, where every step meant danger. Not a sign of life was to\nbe seen or heard, when suddenly he heard a terrible cry like that of a\ngiant in pain.\n\nHe looked round; but saw nothing but the silent mountains. Then the\ncry came again, as if from far above him; and, lifting his eyes to the\nhighest peak of all, he was sure that something moved there like the\nflapping of great wings.\n\nWhat could it be? What could be happening upon the highest mountain\npeak in the world? He set himself to climb its sides, often so steep\nand icy that he was over and over again on the point of giving up in\ndespair; and the higher he climbed the louder and more full of agony\nbecame the cry. At last, after many days of toil, he reached the\ntopmost peak whence the cry came, and there he forgot hunger, cold,\nand weariness in wonder at what he saw.\n\nBound to the rocks by huge chains, so that he could not move a limb,\nlay what seemed a man, bigger than Hercules himself, with every muscle\ndrawn and writhing in agony. And with good reason, for a gigantic and\nhorrible vulture had his limbs in its talons and its beak in his\nheart, which it was fiercely tearing.\n\nThe vulture was too busy at his cruel feast to see Hercules. But its\ntortured victim cried--\n\n\"Depart, whoever you are: I am Prometheus the Titan, who tried to\nconquer the strength of the gods by cunning, and am thus punished for\nmy sin forever.\"\n\nAnd then he sent forth another dreadful cry as the vulture plunged its\nbeak into his heart again.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPrometheus! Yes; it was nothing less than Prometheus the Titan, who,\nwhen his race was beaten in the great battle with the gods of Olympus,\nhad stolen fire from heaven, and made Man, and who was thus punished\nfor having made what gave the gods such trouble. But Hercules, though\nhe knew all this, and the story of Pandora besides, exclaimed--\n\n\"Then, gods or no gods, sin or no sin, this shall not be!\"\n\nAnd at the word he grasped the vulture by the throat, and then\nfollowed a struggle beside which even his battle with the hell-hound\nCerberus had been as nothing. For it was no common vulture of the\nmountains: it was the demon of Remorse, whose beak had not left the\nheart of Prometheus one moment for thousands and thousands of years.\nBut it was over at last, and the vulture lay strangled at the feet of\nHercules.\n\nTo free Prometheus from his chains was the work of a moment, and the\nTitan rose and stretched his free limbs with a heart at ease.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhat passed between the Titan and the Mortal is beyond my guessing,\nand I have never heard. I only know that a mere Man had, by his\nstrength and his courage, saved one who was greater and wiser than he\nfrom Remorse and Despair. I have thought of this story till it means\ntoo much for me to say anything more. Only, if you have forgotten the\nstory of Prometheus and Pandora, I should be glad if you will read it\nagain.\n\n\nPART XI.--THE TUNIC OF NESSUS.\n\nHercules, passing through the land of Thessaly, fell deeply in love\nwith the Princess Iole, daughter of King Eurytus, whom her father, a\nfamous archer, had promised in marriage to the man who should fly an\narrow further than he.\n\nThis Hercules did with such ease that the king, angry at being\nsurpassed, refused to perform his promise, so that Hercules went mad\nwith rage and sorrow. In a sudden fury he slew Iphitus, a brother of\nIole, and his own friend and comrade, and then, still more maddened by\nwhat he had done, wandered away again to Delphi to ask Apollo's oracle\nonce more what he should do.\n\nBut this time the voice of Apollo was silent. It seemed as if, in\nspite of all he had done for men, the gods had turned away their faces\nfrom him, and had become deaf to his prayers, even to his\nrepentance--for he would have given his own life if that would bring\nIphitus to life again. Were they angry because he had saved Prometheus\nfrom their vengeance? Or were the labors of a life to be lost for one\nmoment of passion? Then were the gods unjust, and Hercules, who\nabhorred injustice, broke forth against the gods themselves.\n\n\"I will no longer serve such wretches!\" he cried. \"Beings which bring\nman into the world only to torment him, and to be a sport and a jest\nfor them! I will tear down their temples and destroy their altars; I\nwill side with the fallen Titans; I will sooner bear the punishment of\nPrometheus forever, with none to save me, than serve monsters of\ninjustice, who allow man to sin and to suffer without help, and then\ncast him away.\"\n\nBut Apollo was as deaf to his curses as to his prayers. So Hercules\nput forth his whole strength against the temple, and no doubt would\nhave left it a ruin, when, from the clear sky there burst such flames\nand thunders that the Titans themselves would have been dismayed. And\nthen spoke the oracle at last--\n\n\"Is this the free service you vowed when you chose between Pleasure\nand Duty? It is the justice of the gods that you go back into slavery\nagain until you have learned how to be free.\"\n\nThe thunder and the lightning ceased, and Hercules saw beside him a\nyoung man who looked like a traveling merchant--at least for such he\ntook him, until the stranger for one moment stood revealed as the god\nMercury, with winged heels and cap, and bearing the rod round which\ntwo live serpents twined. It was only for a moment; the next, the god\nbecame the traveling merchant again.\n\n\"As we are to be fellow-travelers,\" said Mercury, \"I will tell you at\nonce that I am under orders from the Court of Olympus to take you to\nmarket and sell you for a slave. Do you submit? Or do you wish to\nlearn from me the strength of heaven?\"\n\n\"I wish I could learn its justice,\" said Hercules. \"But I suppose I am\ntoo stupid to understand. Everything is so dark and so strange. But\nwhat does it all matter, after all? I would as soon be a slave as\nanything else, now that I have lost Iole and killed my friend.\"\n\n\"That is not the right mood,\" said Mercury. \"It is better to rebel, as\nyou did a minute ago, than to think that nothing matters, as you do\nnow. However, let us go.\"\n\nMercury was always the most delightful and amusing of companions; and\nhe was very good-natured also, and did his best to make the journey\ncheerful. But, though he was the god of Eloquence, and of Business\nbesides, he could not persuade anybody to become the purchaser of\nHercules either by auction or by private bargain. Nobody wanted a\nslave who looked so certain to become his master's master. Besides,\npeople had forgotten all his good deeds, and only remembered that he\nhad been a dangerous madman. But in time they came to a country in\nAsia called Lydia, which was then ruled by a queen whose name was\nOmphale. And she, having seen Hercules, was brave enough to buy him.\n\nOf course Hercules expected that she would make him outdo what he had\ndone for Eurystheus; and nothing would have pleased him better than to\nbe sent on the most impossible errands, so that, in toil and danger,\nhe might forget his murder of Iphitus and his love for Iole. Instead,\nhowever, of treating him like the most glorious hero of his time, and\nemploying him on services of honor, she amused herself by giving him a\nspindle and distaff, and setting him to spin among her women, while\nshe robed herself in his lion-skin and tried to swing his club in her\ndelicate hands. And whenever he was clumsy with the distaff, which was\nvery often, she would laugh at him, and strike him across the face\nwith her slipper.\n\nFor three long years Hercules sat and span among Omphale's handmaids;\nand then she, being tired of her amusement and of his submission, set\nhim free, and gave him back his club and lion-skin. They had been\nthree wasted, unwholesome years, and his strength had wasted with\nthem; moreover, his fame was being forgotten, and nothing seemed left\nfor him to do. How long it seemed since he had fought the Hydra and\nborne upon his shoulders the weight of the sky--it was as if he had\nbecome another and a feebler man.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhile waiting to see what should happen, he abode at the Court of King\nTyndarus of Sparta, the step-father of the great twin brethren, Castor\nand Pollux, and of their sister Helen--the most beautiful woman in the\nwhole world; of whom you will hear more some day. And it was while\nhere that he heard of the fame of another beautiful woman, the\nPrincess Deianira, daughter of King \u0152neus of \u00c6tolia, whose hand was\nto be the prize of a great wrestling-match to be held at Calydon.\nHercules, longing for some adventure to try his strength again, betook\nhimself thither; and, weakened though he was, overthrew every one of\nhis rivals with ease. Then, after his marriage with Deianira, he set\nout with her for the Court of King Ceyx of Trachinia, where he\nintended to remain a while.\n\nBut when they reached the river Evenus, which they had to cross on\ntheir way from Calydon to Trachinia, the water was so swollen with\nheavy rains that Hercules did not know how to bring his wife over. As\nthey stood wondering what they should do without boat or bridge, there\ncantered up a Centaur, who saw the plight they were in, and said--\n\n\"I am Nessus. If this fair lady will deign to seat herself upon my\nback, I will swim over with her quickly; and then I will come back for\nyou also.\"\n\nHe spoke frankly and courteously; so Hercules, thinking no harm,\nlifted Deianira upon the back of the Centaur, who plunged into the\nriver, and soon reached the other side. But on landing, instead of\nperforming his promise, he set off at a gallop; and it was soon clear\nenough that he meant to run away with Deianira, while Hercules stood\nhelpless beyond the river.\n\nHe was almost out of sight when Hercules let fly an arrow, which had\nbeen dipped in the poison of the Hydra, with such force and so true an\naim that it pierced the Centaur without touching Deianira. Nessus fell\nto the earth, and, feeling himself dying, said to her--\n\n\"I die for love of you; but I forgive you freely. Take my tunic; for\nit is of magic power. If your husband's heart ever strays from you,\nbid him wear it, and his love will return to you and never wander\nagain.\"\n\nSo saying, he groaned and died; and Deianira, having taken from him\nhis blood-stained tunic, waited there till Hercules, having found a\nford higher up the river, was able to rejoin her. And so at last they\nreached the Court of King Ceyx, who received them with all kindness\nand honor.\n\nHere they dwelt in great content; nor was there any cause why they\nshould not have spent all their life to come in rest and peace, had\nnot, by ill luck, a great war broken out between King Ceyx and King\nEurytus of Thessaly. Hercules gained the victory for his host; King\nEurytus was slain; and then--among the prisoners of war was the slain\nking's daughter, Iole; she on whose account Hercules had killed\nIphitus, and cursed the gods, and been a slave.\n\nYet, seeing her again, all thought of Deianira passed away from him,\nand his love for Iole was stronger even than at first; while he found\nthat her love had remained true to him and unchanged. He could not\npart from her, and so he took her with him to Mount \u0152ta, where he\nwas about to sacrifice to Jupiter in honor of his victory.\n\nThe altar was prepared, and the sacrifice was ready, when there\narrived from Trachinia, the city of King Ceyx, his servant Lichas, who\nknelt before him, and said--\n\n\"The Princess Deianira, your loving wife, has heard of this great\nsacrifice, and sends you by me this tunic, which she prays you to wear\nfor her sake, that she may have some part in your thanksgiving.\"\n\nBut in truth it was of her husband's love for Iole that Deianira had\nheard; and therefore she had sent him the tunic of Nessus, which was\nto bring his heart back to her again.\n\nLittle she guessed the cunning revenge of the Centaur, who knew that\nthe arrow of Hercules, in piercing the tunic, had left upon it a drop\nof the poison of the Hydra. Hercules put on the gift of Deianira, and,\naccompanied only by Prince Philoctetes of Melib\u0153a, ascended Mount\n\u0152ta to celebrate the sacrifice. But no sooner had he reached the\naltar than the poison began to work, eating through his skin into his\nflesh, even to his bones, so that his agony was too great to bear.\n\nHe tried to tear off the fatal tunic; but the more he tore at it the\nmore it clung. At last the agony began to gnaw his heart, and he\ndespaired.\n\n\"Would,\" he cried, \"that I had never been born! My strength has been\nmy curse. I have labored to clear the world of evil; and pain and sin\nare still as strong as if the serpents had strangled me in my cradle.\nThe Hydra is dead, but its poison goes on working; and open savage\nforce is only changed into fraud and guile. Happier is Eurystheus,\nwhom weakness and cowardice have kept from doing harm; wiser are they\nwho choose peace and pleasure; who sit with folded hands, and let\nmonsters and ogres devour whomsoever else they will. As for me, I have\nbeen a curse to those whom I have loved the best, and leave more evil\nin the world than I found. There is no use in strength, since it can\nbe conquered by pain; nor in subduing others, when one cannot master\none's own self; nor in duty without knowledge; nor in life, which is\nonly blunder and misery and toil and sin. The best thing is never to\nhave been born; and the next best thing is to die.\"\n\nSo he gave his bow and arrows to Philoctetes, whom he swore to bury\nhis ashes in the earth, and never to reveal where they were laid.\n\"For,\" said he, \"I wish to sleep and forget and be forgotten. I will\nnot that men shall pay me even so much honor as a tomb.\" Then he\nspread his lion skin over the altar, and laid himself upon it with his\nclub for a pillow, and bade Philoctetes set fire to it, so that he\nmight die, not of poison and treachery, but like a man, and of his own\nfree will, making himself the sacrifice he had vowed.\n\nPhiloctetes mournfully obeyed. And thus miserably perished Hercules,\nthe greatest and last of the heroes; for after him there came no more.\nThus died the strongest of men, in the belief that all effort is\nuseless, and that he had lived in vain.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut the gods knew better; for not once had they been unjust, in spite\nof seeming. They knew both his strength and his weakness; they saw the\nwhole man--often foolish and sinful and weak; often failing and\nfalling, but willing what was right, and loving it even when he fell\ninto wrong. They judged him by his whole life, not by its wretched\nend, when he was maddened by passion and tortured by pain. The gods\nremembered how he had chosen between Pleasure and Duty; how he had\nstriven with Tartarus for the life of Alcestis; how he had scaled\nCaucasus because he had heard a cry of pain; how, even when he cursed\nthe gods at Delphi, it was because he thought them unjust, and because\nhe loved justice and hated injustice with his whole soul and being. He\nmight hold his own service cheap; but not they, for, with the gods,\neffort cannot fail: to fight is the same thing as to conquer. If\nHercules had cut off ninety-nine of the Hydra's heads, and been slain\nby the hundredth, men would still have held him a hero. And so was it\nwith the gods. They had watched his long battle with the Hydra of Life\nand Evil, and did not condemn him because he was slain before the end.\n\nAnd so, in the fire of the altar on Mount \u0152ta, his pains, his sins,\nhis weaknesses, were purged away. And even as he was the only mortal\nwho ever conquered Tartarus, so was he the only one who ever received\nsuch reward. Instead of being sent among the happy shades of the\nElysian fields, he was received into the glory of Olympus, among the\ngods themselves, there, with strength made pure and perfect, to serve\nand help mankind forever.\n\n\n\n\nTHE APPLE OF DISCORD.\n\n\nNever was such a wedding-feast known as that of Peleus and Thetis. And\nno wonder; for Peleus was King of Thessaly, and Thetis was a\ngoddess--the goddess who keeps the gates of the West, and throws them\nopen for the chariot of the Sun to pass through when its day's journey\nis done.\n\nNot only all the neighboring kings and queens came to the feast, but\nthe gods and goddesses besides, bringing splendid presents to the\nbride and bridegroom. Only one goddess was not there, because she had\nnot been invited; and she had not been invited for the best of all\nreasons. Her name was Ate, which means Mischief; and wherever she went\nshe caused quarreling and confusion. Jupiter had turned her out of\nheaven for setting even the gods by the ears; and ever since then she\nhad been wandering about the earth, making mischief, for they would\nnot have her even in Hades.\n\n\"So they won't have Me at their feast!\" she said to herself, when she\nheard the sound of the merriment to which she had not been bidden.\n\"Very well; they shall be sorry. I see a way to make a bigger piece\nof mischief than ever was known.\"\n\nSo she took a golden apple, wrote some words upon it, and, keeping\nherself out of sight, threw it into the very middle of the feasters,\njust when they were most merry.\n\nNobody saw where the apple came from; but of course they supposed it\nhad been thrown among them for frolic; and one of the guests, taking\nit up, read aloud the words written on it. The words were:--\n\n \"FOR THE MOST BEAUTIFUL!\"\n\n--nothing more.\n\n\"What a handsome present somebody has sent me!\" said Juno, holding out\nher hand for the apple.\n\n\"Sent _you_?\" asked Diana. \"What an odd mistake, to be sure! Don't you\nsee it is for the most beautiful? I will thank you to hand me what is\nso clearly intended for _Me_.\"\n\n\"You seem to forget _I_ am present!\" said Vesta, making a snatch at\nthe apple.\n\n\"Not at all!\" said Ceres; \"only _I_ happen to be here, too. And who\ndoubts that where I am there is the most beautiful?\"\n\n\"Except where _I_ am,\" said Proserpine.\n\n\"What folly is all this!\" said Minerva, the wise. \"Wisdom is the only\ntrue beauty; and everybody knows that I am the wisest of you all.\"\n\n\"But it's for the _most_ beautiful!\" said Venus. \"The idea of its\nbeing for anybody but Me!\"\n\nThen every nymph and goddess present, and even every woman, put in her\nclaim, until from claiming and disputing it grew to arguing and\nwrangling and downright quarreling: insults flew about, until the\nmerriment grew into an angry din, the like of which had never been\nheard. But as it became clear that it was impossible for everybody to\nbe the most beautiful, the claimants gradually settled down into three\nparties--some taking the side of Venus, others of Juno, others of\nMinerva.\n\n\"We shall never settle it among ourselves,\" said one, when all were\nfairly out of breath with quarreling. \"Let the gods decide.\"\n\nFor the gods had been silent all the while; and now they looked at one\nanother in dismay at such an appeal. Jupiter, in his heart, thought\nVenus the most beautiful; but how could he dare decide against either\nhis wife Juno or his daughter Minerva? Neptune hated Minerva on\naccount of their old quarrel; but it was awkward to choose between his\ndaughter Venus and his sister Juno, of whose temper he, as well as\nJupiter, stood in awe. Mars was ready enough to vote for Venus; but\nthen he was afraid of a scandal. And so with all the gods--not one was\nbold enough to decide on such a terrible question as the beauty of\nthree rival goddesses who were ready to tear out each other's eyes.\nFor Juno was looking like a thunder-cloud, and Minerva like lightning,\nand Venus like a smiling but treacherous sea.\n\n\"I have it,\" said Jupiter at last. \"Men are better judges of beauty\nthan the gods are, who never see anything but its perfection. King\nPriam of Troy has a son named Paris, whose judgment as a critic I\nwould take even before my own. I propose that you, Juno, and you,\nMinerva, and you, Venus, shall go together before Paris and submit\nyourselves to his decision, whatever it may be.\"\n\nAnd so it was settled, for each of the three goddesses was equally\nsure that, whoever the judge might be, the golden apple was safe to be\nhers. The quarrel came to an end, and the feast ended pleasantly; but\nAte, who had been watching and listening, laughed in her sleeve.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTroy, where King Priam reigned, was a great and ancient city on the\nshore of Asia: it was a sacred city, whose walls had been built by\nNeptune, and it possessed the Palladium, the image of Minerva, which\nkept it from all harm. Priam--who had been the friend of Hercules--and\nhis wife Hecuba had many sons and daughters, all brave and noble\nprinces and beautiful princesses; and of his sons, while the bravest\nand noblest was his first-born, Hector, the handsomest and most\namiable was Paris, whom Jupiter had appointed to be the judge of\nbeauty.\n\nParis, unlike his brothers, cared nothing for affairs of State, but\nlived as a shepherd upon Mount Ida with his wife \u0152none, a nymph of\nthat mountain, in perfect happiness and peace, loved and honored by\nthe whole country round, which had given him the name of \"Alexander,\"\nwhich means \"The Helper.\" One would think that if anybody was safe\nfrom the mischief of Ate, it was he.\n\nBut one day, while he was watching his flocks and thinking of\n\u0152none, there came to him what he took for three beautiful\nwomen--the most beautiful he had ever seen. Yet something told him\nthey were more than mere women, or even than Oreads, before the\ntallest said--\n\n\"There is debate in Olympus which is the most beautiful of us three,\nand Jupiter has appointed you to be the judge between us. I am Juno,\nthe queen of gods and men, and if you decide for me, I will make you\nking of the whole world.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the second, \"am Minerva, and you shall know everything\nin the whole universe if you decide for me.\"\n\n\"But I,\" said the third, \"am Venus, who can give neither wisdom nor\npower; but if you decide for me, I will give you the love of the most\nbeautiful woman that ever was or ever will be born.\"\n\nParis looked from one to the other, wondering to which he should award\nthe golden apple, the prize of beauty. He did not care for power: he\nwould be quite content to rule his sheep, and even that was not always\neasy. Nor did he care for wisdom or knowledge: he had enough for all\nhis needs. Nor ought he to have desired any love but \u0152none's. But\nthen Venus was really the most beautiful of all the goddesses--the\nvery goddess of beauty; no mortal could refuse anything she asked him,\nso great was her charm. So he took the apple and placed it in the\nhands of Venus without a word, while Juno and Minerva departed in a\nstate of wrath with Paris, Venus, and each other, which made Ate laugh\nto herself more than ever.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow the most beautiful woman in the whole world was Helen,\nstep-daughter of King Tyndarus of Sparta, and sister of Castor and\nPollux: neither before her nor after her has there been any to compare\nwith her for beauty. Thirty-one of the noblest princes in Greece came\nto her father's Court at the same time to seek her in marriage, so\nthat Tyndarus knew not what to do, seeing that, whomsoever he chose\nfor his son-in-law, he would make thirty powerful enemies. The most\nfamous among them were Ulysses, King of the Island of Ithaca; Diomed,\nKing of \u00c6tolia; Ajax, King of Salamis, the bravest and strongest man\nin Greece; his brother Teucer; Philoctetes, the friend of Hercules;\nand Menelaus, King of Sparta. At last, as there was no other way of\ndeciding among them, an entirely new idea occurred to Ulysses--namely,\nthat Helen should be allowed to choose her own husband herself, and\nthat, before she chose, all the rival suitors should make a great and\nsolemn oath to approve her choice, and to defend her and her husband\nagainst all enemies thenceforth and forever. This oath they all took\nloyally and with one accord, and Helen chose Menelaus, King of Sparta,\nwho married her with great rejoicing, and took her away to his\nkingdom.\n\nAnd all would have gone well but for that wretched apple. For Venus\nwas faithful to her promise that the most beautiful of all women\nshould be the wife of Paris: and so Menelaus, returning from a\njourney, found that a Trojan prince had visited his Court during his\nabsence, and had gone away, taking Helen with him to Troy. This Trojan\nprince was Paris, who, seeing Helen, had forgotten \u0152none, and could\nthink of nothing but her whom Venus had given him.\n\nThen, through all Greece and all the islands, went forth the summons\nof King Menelaus, reminding the thirty princes of their great oath:\nand each and all of them, and many more, came to the gathering-place\nwith all their ships and all their men, to help Menelaus and to bring\nback Helen. Such a host as gathered together at Aulis had never been\nseen since the world began; there were nearly twelve hundred ships and\nmore than a hundred thousand men: it was the first time that all the\nGreeks joined together in one cause. There, besides those who had come\nfor their oath's sake, were Nestor, the old King of Pylos--so old that\nhe remembered Jason and the Golden Fleece, but, at ninety years old,\nas ready for battle as the youngest there; and Achilles, the son of\nPeleus and Thetis, scarcely more than a boy, but fated to outdo the\ndeeds of the bravest of them all. The kings and princes elected\nAgamemnon, King of Mycen\u00e6 and Argos, and brother of Menelaus, to be\ntheir general-in-chief; and he forthwith sent a herald to Troy to\ndemand the surrender of Helen.\n\nBut King Priam was indignant that these chiefs of petty kingdoms\nshould dare to threaten the sacred city of Troy: and he replied to the\ndemand by a scornful challenge, and by sending out his summons also to\nhis friends and allies. And it was as well answered as that of\nMenelaus had been. There came to his standard Rhesus, with a great\narmy from Thrace; and Sarpedon, the greatest king in all Asia; and\nMemnon, king of \u00c6thiopia, with twenty thousand men--the hundred\nthousand Greeks were not so many as the army of Priam. Then Agamemnon\ngave the order to sail for Troy: and Ate laughed aloud, for her apple\nhad brought upon mankind the First Great War.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAnd now I seem to be waking from a dream which is fading away. The\ngods are becoming shadows, vanishing farther and farther away from\nman. I could tell you, if I would, the story of how Troy was taken and\nburned after ten years of fighting, and how Priam and his sons were\nslain; of the wonderful adventures of Ulysses by sea and land before\nhe returned home; of the deeds of Achilles and Hector; of how the few\nTrojans who escaped the slaughter followed Prince \u00c6neas into Italy,\nwhere he made a kingdom, and was the forefather of Romulus, who built\nthe city of Rome; which brings us from Mythology--the stories of gods\nand heroes--into History--the stories of men. All these things came\nfrom Ate's apple: yes, even the history of Rome, and of England, and\nof all the world.\n\nYou will read in the great poems of Homer the story of the siege of\nTroy and the wanderings of Ulysses; and in the \"\u00c6neid\" of Virgil--to\nmy mind the very greatest of all poems--the whole story of \u00c6neas. But\nmy stories end where the great poets begin theirs. I seem, as I have\nsaid, to have been dreaming a long dream: and before I quite wake I\nsee the gods growing fainter and fainter, year by year and century by\ncentury, while men and women believed in them less and less,\nuntil--when they were well-nigh forgotten, or thought of only as\npoets' fables--there came a great loud cry which made the whole world\nsigh and tremble:--\n\n \"PAN IS DEAD!\"\n\nmen heard all Nature cry; and they knew it to mean that the last of\nthe gods was no more; that a new time had come for the world. And that\nsame night a star rose into sight at Bethlehem, and stood over the\nmanger where a young Child lay.\n\nAnd yet, gone and lost though the gods be, you will be very blind\nindeed if you never catch a glimpse of a Dryad in the woods or of an\nOread on the hill; if you never think of Hercules when things seem\nagainst you and hard to understand; if you do not see in Perseus the\ntrue knight that a true man should strive to be. What more shall I say\nbefore I lay down my pen? Only that these stories are not\nnonsense--no, not one of them; that the more one thinks of them the\nwiser he is; and that I love them so much, and think so much of what\nmade me begin them, that I cannot believe that I have come to the\nend.\n\n\n\n\nPRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF PROPER NAMES.\n\nKEY TO DIACRITICAL MARKS\n\n\n \u0101 as in f\u0101te\n \u00e0 as in sen\u00e0te\n \u0103 as in f\u0103t\n \u00e4 as in \u00e4rm\n a\u0324 as in a\u0324ll\n \u0227 as in \u0227sk\n\n \u0113 as in m\u0113te\n \u00e8 as in \u00e8vent\n \u0115 as in m\u0115t\n \u1ebd as in h\u1ebdr\n\n \u012b as in \u012bce\n \u00ec as in \u00ecdea\n \u012d as in \u012dt\n \u0129 as in s\u0129r\n\n \u014d as in \u014dld\n \u00f2 as in \u00f2bey\n \u014f as in n\u014ft\n \u00f4 as in n\u00f4r\n\n \u016b as in \u016bse\n \u00f9 as in \u00f9nite\n \u016d as in \u016dp\n \u1ee5 as in p\u1ee5ll\n\n y = i\n\n c as in call\n \u00e7 as in \u00e7ity\n \ua793 as in s\ua793hool\n\n g as in go\n \u0121 as in ca\u0121e\n \u1e49 as in i\u1e49k\n ph as in phantom\n\n \u00e6 and \u0153 = e\n eu = \u016b\n s\u031d as in his\u031d\n\nAll other unmarked consonants have their usual English sounds. Silent\nletters are italicized.\n\nVowels when obscured and turned toward the neutral sound are marked\nthus, a\u032f, e\u032f, etc.\n\nIn the terminations _as_, _on_, and some others, words familiar in\nEnglish have the vowels marked obscure; less familiar words have the\nvowels marked short: \u00c6nea\u032fs, Amycl\u0103s; Jaso\u032fn, Typh\u014fn, etc.\n\nThe termination _eus_ from Greek nouns of the third declension in\n\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2 is treated as one syllable, though its resolution into two\nsyllables is admissible on good authority: Br\u012b\u00b4a\u032fr\u0113\u016bs or Br\u00ec\u0101\u00b4r\u00e8 \u016ds,\nOr\u00b4ph\u0113\u016bs or Or\u00b4ph\u00e8 \u016ds, etc.\n\n \u0102b s\u1ef9r\u00b4t\u016ds\n \u0102 \ua793h\u00b4\u00e8 r\u014fn\n \u0226 \ua793h\u012dl\u00b4l\u0113s\u031d\n \u0226 cr\u012ds\u00b4\u012d \u016ds\n \u0102c t\u01e3\u00b4\u014fn\n \u0102d m\u0113\u00b4t\u016ds\n \u0226 d\u014d\u00b4n\u012ds\n \u01e2\u00b4a\u032f\n \u01e2\u00b4a\u032f c\u016ds\n \u00c6\u0300 \u0113\u00b4t\u0113s\u031d\n \u00c6\u0300 \u0121\u0113\u00b4a\u032fn\n \u00c6\u0300 \u0121\u0113\u00b4\u016ds\n \u00c6\u0300 n\u0113\u00b4a\u032fs\n \u00c6\u0300 n\u0113\u00b4\u012dd\n \u00c6\u0306s c\u00f9 l\u0101\u00b4p\u012d \u016ds\n \u01e2\u00b4so\u032fn\n \u01e2 th\u012d \u014d\u00b4p\u012d a\u032f\n \u01e2\u00b4thra\u032f\n \u00c6\u0306t\u00b4na\u032f\n \u00c6\u0300 t\u014d\u00b4l\u012d a\u032f\n \u0102f\u00b4r\u012d ca\u032f\n \u0102g a\u032f m\u0115m\u00b4no\u032fn\n \u0100\u00b4j\u0103x\n \u0102l \u00e7\u01e3\u00b4\u016ds\n \u0102l \u00e7\u0115s\u00b4t\u012ds\n \u0102lc m\u0113\u00b4na\u032f\n \u0102l \u00e7\u0233\u00b4\u00f2 n\u00e8\n \u0102l ph\u0113\u00b4\u016ds\n \u0102l th\u01e3\u00b4a\u032f\n \u0226 m\u0101\u00b4s\u012ds\n \u0102m\u00b4mo\u032fn\n \u0102m ph\u012b\u00b4o\u032fn\n \u0102m ph\u012d tr\u012b\u00b4t\u00e8\n \u0102m ph\u012dt\u00b4ry\u0306 \u014fn\n \u0102m\u00b4y\u0306 cl\u0103s\n \u0102n dr\u014fm\u00b4\u00e8 da\u032f\n \u0226 n\u0115m\u00b4\u00f2 n\u00e8\n \u0102n t\u01e3\u00b4\u016ds\n \u0102ph r\u00f2 d\u012b\u00b4t\u00e8\n \u0226 p\u014fl\u00b4l\u00f2\n \u0226 r\u0103\ua793h\u00b4n\u00e8\n \u00c4r c\u0101\u00b4d\u012d a\u032f\n \u00c4r\u00b4g\u00f2\n \u00c4r\u00b4g\u00f2 l\u012ds\n \u00c4r\u00b4g\u00f2 na\u0324_u_ts\n \u00c4r\u00b4g\u014fs\n \u00c0 r\u012d \u0103d\u00b4n\u00e8\n \u0102s c\u016b\u00b4la\u032f ph\u016ds\n \u0100\u00b4s\u012d a\u032f\n (sh)\n \u0102s t\u0115r\u00b4\u00f2 p\u00e8\n \u0102t a\u032f l\u0103n\u00b4ta\u032f\n \u0100\u00b4t\u00e8\n \u0102th\u00b4a\u032f m\u0103s\n \u0226 th\u0113\u00b4n\u00e6\u0300\n \u0226 th\u0113\u00b4n\u00e8\n \u0102t\u00b4la\u032fs\n \u0102t\u00b4t\u012d ca\u032f\n A\u0324_u_\u00b4\u0121\u00e8 \u0103s\n A\u0324_u_\u00b4l\u012ds\n A\u0324_u_ r\u014d\u00b4ra\u032f\n A\u0324_u_ t\u014fl\u00b4y\u0306 c\u016ds\n\n B\u0103c \ua793h\u016ds\n Ba\u0324_u_\u00b4b\u00f2\n Br\u012b\u00b4a\u032f reus\n B\u00f9 s\u012b\u00b4r\u012ds\n\n C\u0101\u00b4c\u016ds\n C\u0103d\u00b4m\u016ds\n _c\u0227 d\u016b c\u00e8 \u016ds_\n (sh)\n C\u0103l l\u012b\u00b4\u00f2 p\u00e8\n C\u0103l\u00b4y\u0306 d\u014fn\n C\u0103p pa\u032f d\u014d\u00b4c\u012d a\u032f\n (sh)\n C\u0103s t\u0101\u00b4l\u012d a\u032f\n C\u0103s\u00b4to\u032fr\n Ca\u0324_u_ c\u0101\u00b4sia\u032fn\n (sh)\n Ca\u0324_u_\u00b4ca\u032f s\u016ds\n C\u00e0 y\u0306s\u00b4t\u1ebdr\n \u00c7\u00e8 l\u01e3\u00b4n\u00f2\n \u00c7\u0113\u00b4pheus\n \u00c7\u1ebdr\u00b4b\u00e8 r\u016ds\n \u00c7\u1ebdr\u00b4\u00e7y\u0306 \u014fn\n \u00c7\u0113\u00b4r\u0113s\u031d\n _\u00e7\u0115s\u00b4t\u016ds_\n \u00c7\u0113\u00b4y\u0306x\n \ua792h\u0101\u00b4r\u014fn\n \ua792h\u0227 ry\u0306b\u00b4d\u012ds\n \ua792h\u00e8 l\u014d\u00b4n\u00e8\n \ua792h\u012b\u00b4a\u032fn\n \ua792h\u012b\u00b4\u014fs\n \ua792h\u012b\u00b4r\u014fn\n \ua792hr\u1ef3 s\u0101\u00b4\u00f4r\n \u00c7\u00ec th\u01e3\u00b4r\u014fn\n Cly\u0306m\u00b4\u00e8 n\u00e8\n Cl\u0233\u00b4t_i_\u00e8 _or_ Cly\u0306t\u00b4\u012d \u00e8\n C\u00f2 c\u0233\u00b4t\u016ds\n \u00c7\u0153\u0304\u00b4l\u016dm\n \u00c7\u0153\u0304\u00b4l\u016ds\n \u00c7\u014fl\u00b4\ua793h\u012ds\n C\u014fr\u00b4\u012dnth\n Cr\u0113\u00b4\u014fn\n Cr\u0113t_e_\n Cr\u0113\u00b4theus\n Cr\u00e8 \u016b\u00b4sa\u032f\n C\u016b\u00b4p\u012dd\n \u00c7\u0233\u00b4a\u032f n\u00e8\n \u00c7\u0233 cl\u014d\u00b4p\u0113s\u031d\n \u00c7\u0233\u00b4cl\u014fps\n \u00c7y\u0306n\u00b4th\u012d a\u032f\n \u00c7y\u0306n\u00b4th\u012d \u016ds\n \u00c7y\u0306n\u00b4th\u016ds\n \u00c7y\u0306p a\u032f r\u012ds\u00b4s\u016ds\n \u00c7\u0233\u00b4pr\u016ds\n\n D\u00e6\u0306d\u00b4a\u032f l\u016ds\n D\u0103n\u00b4a\u032f \u00e8\n D\u0227 n\u0101\u00b4\u012d d\u0113s\u031d\n D\u0103n\u00b4a\u032f \u016ds\n D\u0103ph\u00b4n\u00e8\n D\u00e4r da\u032f n\u0115l_le_s\u031d\n D\u0113 ia\u032f n\u012b\u00b4ra\u032f\n (y)\n D\u0113\u00b4l\u014fs\n D\u0115l\u00b4ph\u012b\n D\u00e8 m\u0113\u00b4t\u1ebdr\n Deu c\u0101\u00b4l\u012d o\u032fn\n D\u00ec \u0101\u00b4na\u032f _or_ D\u00ec \u0103n\u00b4a\u032f\n D\u012dc\u00b4ty\u0306s\n D\u012b\u00b4\u00f2 m\u0115d\n D\u012b \u00f2 m\u0113\u00b4d\u0113s\u031d\n\n \u0114\ua793h\u00b4\u00f2\n \u0112\u00b4gy\u0306pt\n \u00c8 l\u0115c\u00b4tra\u032f\n \u00c8 l\u0115c\u00b4try\u0306 \u014fn\n \u0112\u00b4l\u012ds\n \u00c8 ly\u0306s\u031d\u00b4\u012d a\u032fn\n \u00c8 ly\u0306s\u031d\u00b4\u012d \u016dm\n \u0114n dy\u0306m\u00b4\u012d o\u032fn\n \u0114n\u00b4na\u032f\n \u0114p\u00b4a\u032f ph\u016ds\n \u0114p \u012d m\u0113\u00b4theus\n \u1ebcr \u0121\u012b\u00b4n\u016ds\n \u00c8 r\u012dn\u00b4y\u0306 \u0113s\u031d\n \u0114r y\u0306 m\u0103n\u00b4th\u016ds\n Eu m\u0115n\u00b4\u012d d\u0113s\u031d\n Eu m\u014fl\u00b4p\u016ds\n Eu\u00b4ro\u032fp_e_\n Eu ry\u0306d\u00b4\u012d \u00e7\u00e8\n Eu ry\u0306s\u00b4theus\n Eu\u00b4ry\u0306 t\u016ds\n Eux\u00b4\u012dn_e_\n \u00c8 v\u0113\u00b4n\u016ds\n\n G\u0101\u00b4d\u0113s\u031d\n G\u0103n\u00b4y\u0306 m\u0113d_e_\n G\u0115r\u00b4y\u0306 \u014fn\n G\u012d bra\u0324l\u00b4ta\u032fr\n G\u00f4r\u00b4go\u032fn\n Gr\u0101\u00b4ia\u032f\n (y)\n Gr\u0101\u00b4i\u00e6\u0300\n (y)\n\n H\u0101\u00b4d\u0113s\u031d\n H\u00e4r\u00b4py\u0306\n H\u0113\u00b4b\u00e8\n H\u0115c\u00b4\u00e0 t\u00e8 _or_ H\u0115c\u00b4\u00e0te\n H\u0115c\u00b4to\u032fr\n H\u0115c\u00b4\u00f9 ba\u032f\n H\u0115l\u00b4\u0115n\n H\u0115l\u00b4\u012d co\u032fn\n H\u0115l\u00b4l\u00e8\n H\u0115l\u00b4l\u0115s p\u014fnt\n H\u1ebdr\u00b4c\u00f9 l\u0113s\u031d\n H\u0115s p\u0115r\u00b4\u012d d\u0113s\u031d\n H\u012dp\u00b4p\u00f2 cr\u0113n_e_\n H\u012dp p\u014fl\u00b4y\u0306ta\u032f\n H\u014d\u00b4m\u1ebdr\n H\u0233 a\u032f \u00e7\u012dn\u00b4th\u016ds\n H\u0233\u00b4dra\u032f\n Hy\u0306r\u00b4\u012d eus\n\n \u012cc\u00b4a\u032f r\u016ds\n \u012a\u00b4da\u032f\n \u012a\u00b4n\u00f2\n \u012a\u00b4\u00f2 la\u032fs\n \u00cc\u014fl\u00b4c\u014fs\n \u012a\u00b4\u00f2 l\u00e8\n \u012cph\u00b4\u012d cl\u0113s\u031d\n \u012a\u00b4r\u012ds\n \u012ct\u00b4a\u032f ly\u0306\n \u012cth\u00b4a\u032f ca\u032f\n \u012cx \u012b\u00b4o\u032fn\n\n J\u0101\u00b4so\u032fn\n J\u016b\u00b4n\u00f2\n J\u016b\u00b4p\u012d t\u1ebdr\n\n L\u0103b\u00b4y\u0306 r\u012dnth\n L\u0103\u00e7 \u00e8 d\u01e3\u00b4mo\u032fn\n L\u0227 r\u012ds\u00b4sa\u032f\n L\u0103t\u00b4m\u014fs\n L\u0227 t\u014d\u00b4na\u032f\n L\u0115m n\u014fs\n L\u0115m\u00b4\u00f9 r\u0113s\u031d\n L\u1ebdr\u00b4na\u032f\n L\u0113\u00b4th\u00e8\n Leu c\u014fth\u00b4\u00f2 \u00e8\n L\u012db\u00b4y\u0306 a\u032f\n L\u012b\u00b4\ua793h\u0103s\n L\u012b\u00b4n\u016ds\n L\u016b\u00b4na\u032f\n Ly\u0306d\u00b4\u012d a\u032f\n\n M\u0101\u00b4ia\u032f\n (y)\n M\u0103r\u00b4a\u032f tho\u032fn\n M\u00e4r\u00b4m\u00f2 ra\u032f\n M\u00e4rs\u031d\n M\u00e4r\u00b4sy\u0306 \u0103s\n Ma\u0324_u_ r\u012d t\u0101\u00b4n\u012d a\u032f\n M\u00e8 d\u0113\u00b4a\u032f\n M\u0115d \u012d t\u0115r r\u0101\u00b4n\u00e8 a\u032fn\n M\u0113\u00b4d\u016ds\n M\u00e8 d\u016b\u00b4sa\u032f\n M\u0115l \u0113\u00b4a\u032f \u0121\u1ebdr\n M\u0115l \u012d b\u0153\u0304\u00b4a\u032f\n M\u0115m\u00b4n\u014fn\n M\u0115n \u00e8 l\u0101\u00b4\u016ds\n M\u1ebdr\u00b4c\u00f9 ry\u0306\n M\u0115r\u00b4\u00f2 p\u00e8\n M\u012b\u00b4d\u0103s\n M\u012dn \u1ebdr\u00b4va\u032f\n M\u012b\u00b4n\u014fs\n M\u012dn\u00b4\u00f2 ta\u0324_u_r\n M\u00f2 r\u014fc\u00b4c\u00f2\n M\u1ef3 \u00e7\u0113\u00b4n\u00e6\u0300\n\n N\u00e4r \u00e7\u012ds\u00b4s\u016ds\n N\u0103x\u00b4\u014fs\n N\u0113\u00b4m\u00e8 a\u032f\n N\u0115m\u00b4\u00e8 s\u012ds\n N\u0115ph\u00b4\u00e8 l\u00e8\n N\u0115p\u00b4t\u016bn_e_\n N\u0113\u00b4r\u00e8 \u012dd\n N\u0113\u00b4reus\n N\u0115s\u00b4s\u016ds\n N\u00ec \u00e7\u012dp\u00b4p\u00e8\n Ni\u00b4\u00f2 b\u00e8\n\n \u00d2 \u00e7\u00e8 \u0103n\u00b4\u012d d\u0113s\u031d\n \u00d2 \u00e7\u0113\u00b4a\u032f n\u016ds\n \u0152\u0305\u00b4neus\n \u0152\u0306n\u00b4\u00f2 \u00e8\n \u0152\u0300 n\u014d\u00b4n\u00e8\n \u0152\u0300 n\u014d\u00b4p\u012d \u014fn\n \u0152\u0305\u00b4ta\u032f\n \u00d2 ly\u0306m\u00b4p\u016ds\n \u014em\u00b4pha\u032f l\u00e8\n \u00d4r\u00b4\ua793ha\u032f m\u016ds\n \u00d2 r\u012b\u00b4o\u032fn\n \u00d4r\u00b4pheus\n \u014ev\u00b4\u012dd\n\n P\u0103c t\u014d\u00b4l\u016ds\n P\u0103l l\u0101\u00b4d\u012d \u016dm\n P\u0103n\n P\u0103n d\u014d\u00b4ra\u032f\n P\u0103r\u00b4\u012ds\n P\u00e4r n\u0103s\u00b4s\u016ds\n P\u0113\u00b4leus\n P\u0113\u00b4l\u012d \u0103s\n P\u1ebdr\u00b4g\u016ds\n P\u1ebdr\u00b4seus\n _p\u0115t\u00b4 a\u032f s\u016ds_\n Ph\u0101\u00b4\u00e8 tho\u032fn\n Ph\u0113\u00b4r\u00e6\u0300\n Ph\u0113\u00b4r\u0113s\u031d\n Ph\u012dl \u014fc t\u0113\u00b4t\u0113s\u031d\n Ph\u012b\u00b4neus\n Phl\u0115\u0121\u00b4\u00e8 th\u014fn\n Ph\u0153\u0304\u00b4b\u00e8\n Ph\u0153\u0304\u00b4b\u016ds\n Ph\u014d\u00b4l\u016ds\n Phry\u0306\u0121\u00b4\u012da\u032f\n Phry\u0306x\u00b4\u016ds\n Pl\u00e0 t\u01e3\u00b4a\u032f\n Pl\u0113\u00b4ia\u032f d\u0113s\u031d\n (y)\n Pl\u016b\u00b4t\u00f2\n P\u014d\n P\u014fl\u00b4l\u016dx\n P\u00f2 ly\u0306c\u00b4r\u0227 t\u0113s\u031d\n P\u014fl y\u0306 d\u0115c\u00b4t\u0113s\u031d\n Pr\u012b\u00b4a\u032fm\n Pr\u00f2 cr\u016ds\u00b4t\u0113s\u031d\n Pr\u00f2 m\u0113\u00b4theus\n Pr\u014fs\u00b4er p\u012dn_e_\n Pr\u014d\u00b4teus\n _P_s\u0233\u00b4\ua793h\u00e8\n P\u0233\u00b4l\u014fs\n Py\u0306r\u00b4\u00e8 n\u0113\u0113s\n Py\u0306r\u00b4r_h_a\u032f\n P\u0233\u00b4th\u014fn\n\n R_h_\u0103d a\u032f m\u0103n\u00b4th\u016ds\n R_h_\u0113\u00b4a\u032f\n R_h_\u0113\u00b4s\u016ds\n R\u014fm\u00b4\u00f9 l\u016ds\n\n S\u0101\u00b4bra\u032f\n Sa\u032f h\u00e4\u00b4ra\u032f\n S\u0103l\u00b4a\u032f m\u012ds\n S\u0101\u00b4m\u014fs\n S\u00e4r p\u0113\u00b4do\u032fn\n S\u0103t\u00b4\u016drn\n S_c_\u012b\u00b4r\u014fn\n S_c_y\u0306l\u00b4la\u032f\n S_c_\u0233\u00b4r\u014fs\n S\u00e8 r\u012b\u00b4ph\u016ds\n S\u00ec l\u0113\u00b4n\u016ds\n S\u012b\u00b4r\u0115n\n S\u012ds\u00b4y\u0306 ph\u016ds\n Sp\u0101_i_n\n Sp\u00e4r\u00b4ta\u032f\n Sth\u0115n\u00b4\u00e8 l\u016ds\n Sty\u0306m ph\u0101\u00b4l\u016ds\n Sty\u0306x\n S\u0233\u00b4r\u012dnx\n\n T\u00e6\u0306n\u00b4a\u032f r\u016ds\n _t\u0227 l\u0101\u00b4r\u012d a\u032f_\n T\u0103n\u00b4ta\u032f l\u016ds\n T\u00e4r\u00b4ta\u032f r\u016ds\n T\u00e0y\u0306\u0121\u00b4\u00e8 ta\u032f\n T\u0115r\u00b4ra\u032f\n T\u0113\u00b4thy\u0306s\n Teu\u00b4\u00e7\u1ebdr\n Th\u0113b_e_s\u031d\n Th\u0113\u00b4m\u012ds\n Th\u0115s\u00b4p\u012d \u016ds\n Th\u0115s\u00b4sa\u032f ly\u0306\n Th\u0113\u00b4t\u012ds\n T\u012b\u00b4phy\u0306s\n T\u012b\u00b4ta\u032fn\n T\u012d th\u014d\u00b4n\u016ds\n T\u012dt\u00b4y\u0306 \u016ds\n Tra\u032f \ua793h\u012dn\u00b4\u012d a\u032f\n Tr\u0153\u0300 z\u0113\u00b4n\u00e8\n Ty\u0306n\u00b4da\u032f r\u016ds\n T\u0233\u00b4ph\u014fn\n\n \u00d9 ly\u0306s\u00b4s\u0113s\u031d\n\n V\u0113\u00b4n\u016ds\n V\u0115s\u00b4ta\u032f\n Vir\u00b4g\u012dl\n V\u016dl\u00b4ca\u032fn\n\n Z\u0115ph\u00b4y\u0306 r\u016ds\n Z\u014d\u00b4d\u012d \u0103c\n\n\n\n\nANNOUNCEMENTS\n\n\nCLASSICS FOR CHILDREN\n\nThis series of books consists so far as possible of complete works\nfrom the great masters, specially edited to meet the wants of young\npeople in the school and in the home.\n\n \u00c6sop's Fables\n Andersen's Fairy Tales, Part 1\n Andersen's Fairy Tales, Part 2\n Arabian Nights\n Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress\n Burt's Stories from Plato\n Cervantes's Don Quixote\n Chamisso's Peter Schlemihl\n Chesterfield's Letters\n Church's Stories of the Old World\n Defoe's Robinson Crusoe\n Dickens's Tale of Two Cities\n Epictetus\n Fiske-Irving's Washington\n Fouqu\u00e9's Undine\n Francillon's Gods and Heroes\n Franklin: His Life by Himself\n Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield\n Grimm's Fairy Tales, Part I\n Grimm's Fairy Tales, Part II\n Grote and S\u00e9gur's Two Great Retreats\n Hughes's Tom Brown at Rugby\n Hugo's Jean Valjean\n Irving's Alhambra\n Irving's Sketch-Book (Six Selections)\n Jefferies's Sir Bevis\n Johnson's Rasselas\n Kingsley's Greek Heroes\n Kingsley's Water-Babies\n Lamb's Adventures of Ulysses\n Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare\n Litchfield's Nine Worlds\n Marcus Aurelius\n Martineau's Peasant and the Prince\n Montgomery's Heroic Ballads\n Plutarch's Lives\n Ram\u00e9e's Bimbi\n Ruskin, Selections from\n Ruskin's King of the Golden River\n Saintine's Picciola\n Scott's Guy Mannering\n Ivanhoe\n Lady of the Lake\n Lay of the Last Minstrel\n Marmion\n Old Mortality\n Quentin Durward\n Rob Roy\n Tales of a Grandfather\n Talisman\n Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice\n Southey's Life of Nelson\n Spyri's Heidi\n Swift's Gulliver's Travels\n White's Selborne\n Williams and Foster's Selections for Memorizing\n Wyss's Swiss Family Robinson\n\nGINN & COMPANY Publishers\n\n\nSTORIES OF THE ANCIENT GREEKS\n\nBy CHARLES D. SHAW\n\nIllustrated by George A. Harker. 12mo. Cloth. 264 pages. List price,\n60 cents; mailing price, 70 cents\n\nThis collection of stories of the ancient Greeks is intended for\nsupplementary reading, and may be used profitably as early as the\nthird year. It includes many of the charming tales of the Greek\nmythology retold in a manner suitable for young people. The second\npart of the volume deals more particularly with Greek history. The\nfamiliar stories are given in chronological order. Sufficient\nattention is everywhere paid to the matter of guarding the reader\nagainst too implicit belief in tales which have been partially\ndiscredited by modern research. Yet it has been thought wise to keep\nin currency narratives which have so long added to the pleasure of the\nworld, though they cannot be defended as actual history.\n\nThe style is simple, picturesque, and vivacious. The twenty-five\nfull-page illustrations, from original decorative pen drawings by\nGeorge A. Harker, are unusually attractive and help to explain the\ntext. The special cream-tinted paper, the attractive binding, and\nartistic arrangement of type and illustrations give a pleasing and\nappropriate setting to the text.\n\nGINN & COMPANY Publishers\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nVariations in spelling are preserved as printed.\n\nMinor punctuation errors have been fixed.\n\nHyphenation has been made consistent.\n\nThe author sometimes employed a writing style where a word is dropped\nfrom a phrase--for example, \"Who gave it you?\" rather than \"Who gave\nit to you?\", or \"though ignorant who she was\" rather than \"though\nignorant of who she was.\" All such instances are preserved as printed.","title":"Gods and Heroes; or, The Kingdom of Jupiter","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":66572}