{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_51995/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_51995","id":"gutenberg_51995","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51995","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"[Illustration]\n\n\n                Tanglewood Tales\n\n                    _by_\n\n               NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE\n\n              _Illustrated by_\n\n         _Virginia Frances Sterrett_\n\n\n\n           The Penn Publishing Company\n\n                   Philadelphia\n\n\n\n\n                Copyright 1921 by\n            The Penn Publishing Company\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n                                 PAGE\n\nThe Minotaur ....................   1\n\nThe Pygmies......................  43\n\nThe Dragon's Teeth...............  73\n\nCirce's Palace................... 117\n\nThe Pomegranate Seeds............ 161\n\nThe Golden Fleece................ 209\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nCadmus beheld a female figure, wonderfully beautiful\n\nHe tugged and toiled amain\n\nShe whipped up the snakes and ascended high over the city\n\n\"Thou hast slain the monster\", cried Ariadne, clasping her hands\n\nHe concluded that his dear son had been eaten by the Minotaur\n\nThis giant and these pygmies were all brethren\n\nThe giant gave them his brotherly kindness\n\nThey were constantly at war with the cranes\n\n\"Alas! my dear children\", answered poor Queen Telephassa\n\n\"Sacred Oracle of Delphi, wither shall I go\"?\n\nThis pitiless reptile had killed his poor companions\n\nAt a distance he beheld stately towers\n\nThe voyagers examined the web of cloth\n\n\"Wretch\"! cried Circe\n\nThey brought along with them a great many beautiful shells\n\nSo she peeped into the entrance of the cave\n\nThey arrived at the sunniest spot in the world\n\n\"I shall not touch it I assure you\", said she\n\n\"What shall I do\"? said he\n\n\"I am the king's daughter\"\n\nAt the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea\n\n\"What is it\"? asked Jason\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE MINOTAUR\n\nIn the old city of Tr\u0153zene, at the foot of a lofty mountain, there\nlived, a very long time ago, a little boy named Theseus. His\ngrandfather, King Pittheus, was the sovereign of that country, and was\nreckoned a very wise man; so that Theseus, being brought up in the\nroyal palace, and being naturally a bright lad, could hardly fail of\nprofiting by the old king's instructions. His mother's name was \u00c6thra.\nAs for his father, the boy had never seen him. But, from his earliest\nremembrance, \u00c6thra used to go with little Theseus into a wood, and sit\ndown upon a moss-grown rock, which was deeply sunken into the earth.\nHere she often talked with her son about his father, and said that he\nwas called \u00c6geus, and that he was a great king, and ruled over Attica,\nand dwelt at Athens, which was as famous a city as any in the world.\nTheseus was very fond of hearing about King \u00c6geus, and often asked his\ngood mother \u00c6thra why he did not come and live with them at Tr\u0153zene.\n\n\"Ah, my dear son,\" answered \u00c6thra, with a sigh, \"a monarch has his\npeople to take care of. The men and women over whom he rules are in the\nplace of children to him; and he can seldom spare time to love his own\nchildren as other parents do. Your father will never be able to leave\nhis kingdom for the sake of seeing his little boy.\"\n\n\"Well, but, dear mother,\" asked the boy, \"why cannot I go to this\nfamous city of Athens, and tell King \u00c6geus that I am his son?\"\n\n\"That may happen by and by,\" said \u00c6thra. \"Be patient, and we shall see.\nYou are not yet big and strong enough to set out on such an errand.\"\n\n\"And how soon shall I be strong enough?\" Theseus persisted in inquiring.\n\n\"You are but a tiny boy as yet,\" replied his mother. \"See if you can\nlift this rock on which we are sitting?\"\n\nThe little fellow had a great opinion of his own strength. So, grasping\nthe rough protuberances of the rock, he tugged and toiled amain, and\ngot himself quite out of breath, without being able to stir the heavy\nstone. It seemed rooted into the ground. No wonder he could not move\nit; for it would have taken all the force of a very strong man to lift\nit out of its earthy bed.\n\n[Illustration: He tugged and toiled amain.]\n\nHis mother stood looking on, with a sad kind of a smile on her lips and\nin her eyes, to see the zealous and yet puny efforts of her little boy.\nShe could not help being sorrowful at finding him already so impatient\nto begin his adventures in the world.\n\n\"You see how it is, my dear Theseus,\" said she. \"You must possess far\nmore strength than now before I can trust you to go to Athens, and\ntell King \u00c6geus that you are his son. But when you can lift this rock,\nand show me what is hidden beneath it, I promise you my permission to\ndepart.\"\n\nOften and often, after this, did Theseus ask his mother whether it\nwas yet time for him to go to Athens; and still his mother pointed\nto the rock, and told him that for years to come, he could not be\nstrong enough to move it. And again and again the rosy-cheeked and\ncurly-headed boy would tug and strain at the huge mass of stone,\nstriving, child as he was, to do what a giant could hardly have done\nwithout taking both of his great hands to the task. Meanwhile the rock\nseemed to be sinking farther and farther into the ground. The moss grew\nover it thicker and thicker, until at last it looked almost like a soft\ngreen seat, with only a few gray knobs of granite peeping out. The\noverhanging trees, also, shed their brown leaves upon it, as often as\nthe autumn came; and at its base grew ferns and wild flowers, some of\nwhich crept quite over its surface. To all appearance, the rock was as\nfirmly fastened as any other portion of the earth's substance.\n\nBut, difficult as the matter looked, Theseus was now growing up to be\nsuch a vigorous youth, that, in his own opinion, the time would quickly\ncome when he might hope to get the upper hand of this ponderous lump of\nstone.\n\n\"Mother, I do believe it has started!\" cried he, after one of his\nattempts. \"The earth around it is certainly a little cracked!\"\n\n\"No, no, child!\" his mother hastily answered. \"It is not possible\nyou can have moved it, such a boy as you still are!\" Nor would she\nbe convinced, although Theseus showed her the place where he fancied\nthat the stem of a flower had been partly uprooted by the movement of\nthe rock. But \u00c6thra sighed, and looked disquieted; for, no doubt, she\nbegan to be conscious that her son was no longer a child, and that,\nin a little while hence, she must send him forth among the perils and\ntroubles of the world.\n\nIt was not more than a year afterwards when they were again sitting on\nthe moss-covered stone. \u00c6thra had once more told him the oft-repeated\nstory of his father, and how gladly he would receive Theseus at his\nstately palace, and how he would present him to his courtiers and the\npeople, and tell them that here was the heir of his dominions. The eyes\nof Theseus glowed with enthusiasm, and he would hardly sit still to\nhear his mother speak.\n\n\"Dear mother \u00c6thra,\" he exclaimed, \"I never felt half so strong as now!\nI am no longer a child, nor a boy, nor a mere youth. I feel myself a\nman! It is now time to make one earnest trial to remove the stone.\"\n\n\"Ah, my dearest Theseus,\" replied his mother, \"not yet! not yet!\"\n\n\"Yes, mother,\" said he, resolutely, \"the time has come.\"\n\nThen Theseus bent himself in good earnest to the task, and strained\nevery sinew, with manly strength and resolution. He put his whole brave\nheart into the effort. He wrestled with the big and sluggish stone,\nas if it had been a living enemy. He heaved, he lifted, he resolved\nnow to succeed, or else perish there, and let the rock be his monument\nforever! \u00c6thra stood gazing at him, and clasped her hands, partly with\na mother's pride, and partly with a mother's sorrow. The great rock\nstirred! Yes, it was raised slowly from the bedded moss and earth,\nuprooting the shrubs and flowers along with it, and was turned upon its\nside. Theseus had conquered!\n\nWhile taking breath, he looked joyfully at his mother, and she smiled\nupon him through her tears.\n\n\"Yes, Theseus,\" she said, \"the time has come and you must stay no\nlonger at my side! See what King \u00c6geus, your royal father, left for\nyou, beneath the stone, when he lifted it in his mighty arms, and laid\nit on the spot whence you have now removed it.\"\n\nTheseus looked, and saw that the rock had been placed over another slab\nof stone, containing a cavity within it; so that it somewhat resembled\na roughly-made chest or coffer, of which the upper mass had served as\nthe lid. Within the cavity lay a sword, with a golden hilt, and a pair\nof sandals.\n\n\"That was your father's sword,\" said \u00c6thra, \"and those were his\nsandals. When he went to be king of Athens, he bade me treat you as\na child until you should prove yourself a man by lifting this heavy\nstone. That task being accomplished, you are to put on his sandals, in\norder to follow in your father's footsteps, and to gird on his sword,\nso that you may fight giants and dragons, as King \u00c6geus did in his\nyouth.\"\n\n\"I will set out for Athens this very day!\" cried Theseus.\n\nBut his mother persuaded him to stay a day or two longer, while she got\nready some necessary articles for the journey. When his grandfather,\nthe wise King Pittheus, heard that Theseus intended to present himself\nat his father's palace, he earnestly advised him to get on board of\na vessel, and go by sea; because he might thus arrive within fifteen\nmiles of Athens, without either fatigue or danger.\n\n\"The roads are very bad by land,\" quoth the venerable king; \"and they\nare terribly infested with robbers and monsters. A mere lad, like\nTheseus, is not fit to be trusted on such a perilous journey, all by\nhimself. No, no; let him go by sea!\"\n\nBut when Theseus heard of robbers and monsters, he pricked up his\nears, and was so much the more eager to take the road along which they\nwere to be met with. On the third day, therefore, he bade a respectful\nfarewell to his grandfather, thanking him for all his kindness; and,\nafter affectionately embracing his mother, he set forth, with a good\nmany of her tears glistening on his cheeks, and some, if the truth must\nbe told, that had gushed out of his own eyes. But he let the sun and\nwind dry them, and walked stoutly on, playing with the golden hilt of\nhis sword, and taking very manly strides in his father's sandals.\n\nI can tell you only a few of the adventures that befell Theseus on the\nroad to Athens. It is enough to say, that he quite cleared that part\nof the country of the robbers, about whom King Pittheus had been so\nmuch alarmed. One of these bad people was named Procrustes; and he was\nindeed a terrible fellow, and had an ugly way of making fun of the poor\ntravellers who happened to fall into his clutches. In his cavern he had\na bed, on which, with great pretence of hospitality, he invited his\nguests to lie down; but if they happened to be shorter than the bed,\nthis wicked villain stretched them out by main force; or, if they were\ntoo tall, he lopped off their heads or feet, and laughed at what he\nhad done, as an excellent joke. Thus, however weary a man might be he\nnever liked to lie in the bed of Procrustes. Another of these robbers,\nnamed Scinis, must likewise have been a very great scoundrel. He was in\nthe habit of flinging his victims off a high cliff into the sea; and,\nin order to give him exactly his deserts, Theseus tossed him off the\nvery same place. But if you will believe me, the sea would not pollute\nitself by receiving such a bad person into its bosom, neither would the\nearth, having once got rid of him, consent to take him back; so that,\nbetween the cliff and the sea, Scinis stuck fast in the air, which was\nforced to bear the burden of his naughtiness.\n\nAfter these memorable deeds, Theseus heard of an enormous sow, which\nran wild, and was the terror of all the farmers round about; and, as he\ndid not consider himself above doing any good thing that came in his\nway, he killed this monstrous creature, and gave the carcass to the\npoor people for bacon. The great sow had been an awful beast, while\nramping about the woods and fields, but was a pleasant object enough\nwhen cut up into joints, and smoking on I know not how many dinner\ntables.\n\nThus, by the time he reached his journey's end, Theseus had done many\nvaliant feats with his father's golden-hilted sword, and had gained\nthe renown of being one of the bravest young men of the day. His\nfame travelled faster than he did, and reached Athens before him. As\nhe entered the city, he heard the inhabitants talking at the street\ncorners, and saying that Hercules was brave, and Jason too, and Castor\nand Pollux likewise, but that Theseus, the son of their own king, would\nturn out as great a hero as the best of them. Theseus took longer\nstrides on hearing this, and fancied himself sure of a magnificent\nreception at his father's court, since he came thither with Fame to\nblow her trumpet before him, and cry to King \u00c6geus, \"Behold your son!\"\n\nHe little suspected, innocent youth that he was, that here, in this\nvery Athens, where his father reigned, a greater danger awaited him\nthan any which he had encountered on the road. Yet this was the truth.\nYou must understand that the father of Theseus, though not very old\nin years, was almost worn out with the cares of government, and had\nthus grown aged before his time. His nephews, not expecting him to\nlive a very great while, intended to get all the power of the kingdom\ninto their own hands. But when they heard that Theseus had arrived in\nAthens, and learned what a gallant young man he was, they saw that\nhe would not be at all the kind of person to let them steal away his\nfather's crown and sceptre, which ought to be his own by right of\ninheritance. Thus these bad-hearted nephews of King \u00c6geus, who were\nthe own cousins of Theseus, at once became his enemies. A still more\ndangerous enemy was Medea, the wicked enchantress; for she was now the\nking's wife, and wanted to give the kingdom to her son Medus, instead\nof letting it be given to the son of \u00c6thra, whom she hated.\n\nIt so happened that the king's nephews met Theseus, and found out who\nhe was, just as he reached the entrance of the royal palace. With all\ntheir evil designs against him, they pretended to be their cousin's\nbest friends, and expressed great joy at making his acquaintance.\nThey proposed to him that he should come into the king's presence as\na stranger, in order to try whether \u00c6geus would discover in the young\nman's features any likeness either to himself or his mother \u00c6thra, and\nthus recognize him for a son. Theseus consented; for he fancied that\nhis father would know him in a moment, by the love that was in his\nheart. But, while he waited at the door, the nephews ran and told King\n\u00c6geus that a young man had arrived in Athens who, to their certain\nknowledge, intended to put him to death, and get possession of his\nroyal crown.\n\n\"And he is now waiting for admission to your majesty's presence,\" added\nthey.\n\n\"Aha!\" cried the old king, on hearing this. \"Why, he must be a very\nwicked young fellow indeed! Pray, what would you advise me to do with\nhim?\"\n\nIn reply to this question, the wicked Medea put in her word. As I\nhave already told you, she was a famous enchantress. According to\nsome stories, she was in the habit of boiling old people in a large\ncaldron, under pretence of making them young again; but King \u00c6geus,\nI suppose, did not fancy such an uncomfortable way of growing young,\nor perhaps was contented to be old, and therefore would never let\nhimself be popped into the caldron. If there were time to spare from\nmore important matters, I should be glad to tell you of Medea's fiery\nchariot, drawn by winged dragons, in which the enchantress used often\nto take an airing among the clouds. This chariot, in fact, was the\nvehicle that first brought her to Athens, where she had done nothing\nbut mischief ever since her arrival. But these and many other wonders\nmust be left untold; and it is enough to say, that Medea, amongst a\nthousand other bad things, knew how to prepare a poison, that was\ninstantly fatal to whomsoever might so much as touch it with his lips.\n\nSo, when the king asked what he should do with Theseus, this naughty\nwoman had an answer ready at her tongue's end.\n\n\"Leave that to me, please your majesty,\" she replied. \"Only admit\nthis evil-minded young man to your presence, treat him civilly, and\ninvite him to drink a goblet of wine. Your majesty is well aware that\nI sometimes amuse myself with distilling very powerful medicines. Here\nis one of them in this small phial. As to what it is made of, that is\none of my secrets of state. Do but let me put a single drop into the\ngoblet, and let the young man taste it; and I will answer for it, he\nshall quite lay aside the bad designs with which he comes hither.\"\n\nAs she said this, Medea smiled; but, for all her smiling face, she\nmeant nothing less than to poison the poor innocent Theseus, before\nhis father's eyes. And King \u00c6geus, like most other kings, thought any\npunishment mild enough for a person who was accused of plotting against\nhis life. He therefore made little or no objection to Medea's scheme,\nand as soon as the poisonous wine was ready, gave orders that the young\nstranger should be admitted into his presence. The goblet was set on a\ntable beside the king's throne; and a fly, meaning just to sip a little\nfrom the brim, immediately tumbled into it, dead. Observing this, Medea\nlooked round at the nephews, and smiled again.\n\nWhen Theseus was ushered into the royal apartment, the only object\nthat he seemed to behold was the white-bearded old king. There he sat\non his magnificent throne, a dazzling crown on his head, and a scepter\nin his hand. His aspect was stately and majestic, although his years\nand infirmities weighed heavily upon him, as if each year were a lump\nof lead, and each infirmity a ponderous stone, and all were bundled\nup together, and laid upon his weary shoulders. The tears of both joy\nand sorrow sprang into the young man's eyes; for he thought how sad\nit was to see his dear father so infirm, and how sweet it would be to\nsupport him with his own youthful strength, and to cheer him up with\nthe alacrity of his loving spirit. When a son takes his father into his\nwarm heart, it renews the old man's youth in a better way than by the\nheat of Medea's magic caldron. And this was what Theseus resolved to\ndo. He could scarcely wait to see whether King \u00c6geus would recognize\nhim, so eager was he to throw himself into his arms.\n\nAdvancing to the foot of the throne, he attempted to make a little\nspeech, which he had been thinking about, as he came up the stairs.\nBut he was almost choked by a great many tender feelings that gushed\nout of his heart and swelled into his throat, all struggling to find\nutterance together. And therefore, unless he could have laid his\nfull, overbrimming heart into the king's hand, poor Theseus knew not\nwhat to do or say. The cunning Medea observed what was passing in the\nyoung man's mind. She was more wicked at that moment than ever she had\nbeen before; for (and it makes me tremble to tell you of it) she did\nher worst to turn all this unspeakable love with which Theseus was\nagitated, to his own ruin and destruction.\n\n\"Does your majesty see his confusion?\" she whispered in the king's ear.\n\"He is so conscious of guilt, that he trembles and cannot speak. The\nwretch lives too long! Quick! offer him the wine!\"\n\nNow King \u00c6geus had been gazing earnestly at the young stranger, as he\ndrew near the throne. There was something, he knew not what, either\nthe white brow, or in the fine expression of his mouth, or in his\nbeautiful and tender eyes, that made him indistinctly feel as if he had\nseen this youth before; as if, indeed, he had trotted him on his knee\nwhen a baby, and had beheld him growing to be a stalwart man, while he\nhimself grew old. But Medea guessed how the king felt, and would not\nsuffer him to yield to these natural sensibilities; although they were\nthe voice of his deepest heart, telling him, as plainly as it could\nspeak, that here was our dear son, and \u00c6thra's son, coming to claim\nhim for a father. The enchantress again whispered in the king's ear,\nand compelled him, by her witchcraft, to see everything under a false\naspect.\n\nHe made up his mind, therefore, to let Theseus drink off the poisoned\nwine.\n\n\"Young man,\" said he, \"you are welcome! I am proud to show hospitality\nto so heroic a youth. Do me the favor to drink the contents of this\ngoblet. It is brimming over, as you see, with delicious wine, such as I\nbestow only on those who are worthy of it! None is more worthy to quaff\nit than yourself!\"\n\nSo saying, King \u00c6geus took the golden goblet from the table, and was\nabout to offer it to Theseus. But, partly through his infirmities, and\npartly because it seemed so sad a thing to take away this young man's\nlife, however wicked he might be, and partly, no doubt, because his\nheart was wiser than his head, and quaked within him at the thought\nof what he was going to do--for all these reasons, the king's hand\ntrembled so much that a great deal of the wine slopped over. In order\nto strengthen his purpose, and fearing lest the whole of the precious\npoison should be wasted, one of his nephews now whispered to him,--\n\n\"Has your majesty any doubt of this stranger's guilt? There is the\nvery sword with which he meant to slay you. How sharp, and bright, and\nterrible it is! Quick!--let him taste the wine; or perhaps he may do\nthe deed even yet.\"\n\nAt these words, \u00c6geus drove every thought and feeling out of his\nbreast, except the one idea of how justly the young man deserved to be\nput to death. He sat erect on his throne, and held out the goblet with\na steady hand, and bent on Theseus a frown of kingly severity; for,\nafter all, he had too noble a spirit to murder even a treacherous enemy\nwith a deceitful smile upon his face.\n\n\"Drink!\" said he, in the stem tone with which he was wont to condemn\na criminal to be beheaded. \"You have well deserved of me such wine as\nthis!\"\n\nTheseus held out his hand to take the wine. But, before he touched it,\nKing \u00c6geus trembled again. His eyes had fallen on the gold-hilted sword\nthat hung at the young man's side. He drew back the goblet.\n\n\"That sword!\" he exclaimed; \"how came you by it?\"\n\n\"It was my father's sword,\" replied Theseus, with a tremulous voice.\n\"These were his sandals. My dear mother (her name is \u00c6thra) told me\nhis story while I was yet a little child. But it is only a month since\nI grew strong enough to lift the heavy stone, and take the sword and\nsandals from beneath it, and come to Athens to seek my father.\"\n\n\"My son! my son!\" cried King \u00c6geus, flinging away the fatal goblet, and\ntottering down from the throne to fall into the arms of Theseus. \"Yes,\nthese are \u00c6thra's eyes. It is my son.\"\n\n[Illustration: SHE WHIPPED UP THE SNAKES AND ASCENDED HIGH OVER THE\nCITY]\n\nI have quite forgotten what became of the king's nephews. But when\nthe wicked Medea saw this new turn of affairs, she hurried out of\nthe room, and going to her private chamber, lost no time in setting\nher enchantments at work. In a few moments, she heard a great noise\nof hissing snakes outside of the chamber window; and, behold! there\nwas her fiery chariot, and four huge winged serpents, wriggling and\ntwisting in the air, flourishing their tails higher than the top of the\npalace, and all ready to set off on an aerial journey. Medea staid only\nlong enough to take her son with her, and to steal the crown jewels,\ntogether with the king's best robes, and whatever other valuable things\nshe could lay hands on; and getting into the chariot, she whipped up\nthe snakes, and ascended high over the city.\n\nThe king, hearing the hiss of the serpents, scrambled as fast as he\ncould to the window, and bawled out to the abominable enchantress\nnever to come back. The whole people of Athens, too, who had run out\nof doors to see this wonderful spectacle, set up a shout of joy at\nthe prospect of getting rid of her. Medea, almost bursting with rage,\nuttered precisely such a hiss as one of her own snakes, only ten times\nmore venomous and spiteful; and glaring fiercely out of the blaze of\nthe chariot, she shook her hands over the multitude below, as if she\nwere scattering a million curses among them. In so doing, however,\nshe unintentionally let fall about five hundred diamonds of the\nfirst water, together with a thousand great pearls, and two thousand\nemeralds, rubies, sapphires, opals, and topazes, to which she had\nhelped herself out of the king's strong box. All these came pelting\ndown, like a shower of many-colored hailstones, upon the heads of grown\npeople and children, who forthwith gathered them up, and carried them\nback to the palace. But King \u00c6geus told them that they were welcome\nto the whole, and to twice as many more, if he had them, for the sake\nof his delight at finding his son, and losing the wicked Medea. And,\nindeed, if you had seen how hateful was her last look, as the flaming\nchariot flew upward, you would not have wondered that both king and\npeople should think her departure a good riddance.\n\nAnd now Prince Theseus was taken into great favor by his royal father.\nThe old king was never weary of having him sit beside him on his\nthrone, (which was quite wide enough for two,) and of hearing him tell\nabout his dear mother, and his childhood, and his many boyish efforts\nto lift the ponderous stone. Theseus, however, was much too brave and\nactive a young man to be willing to spend all his time in relating\nthings which had already happened. His ambition was to perform other\nand more heroic deeds, which should be better worth telling in prose\nand verse. Nor had he been long in Athens before he caught and chained\na terrible mad bull, and made a public show of him, greatly to the\nwonder and admiration of good King \u00c6geus and his subjects. But pretty\nsoon, he undertook an affair that made all his foregone adventures seem\nlike mere boy's play. The occasion of it was as follows:--\n\nOne morning, when Prince Theseus awoke, he fancied that he must have\nhad a very sorrowful dream, and that it was still running in his mind,\neven now that his eyes were open. For it appeared as if the air was\nfull of a melancholy wail; and when he listened more attentively,\nhe could hear sobs, and groans, and screams of woe, mingled with\ndeep, quiet sighs, which came from the king's palace, and from the\nstreets, and from the temples, and from every habitation in the city.\nAnd all these mournful noises, issuing out of thousands of separate\nhearts, united themselves into one great sound of affliction, which\nhad startled Theseus from slumber. He put on his clothes as quickly\nas he could, (not forgetting his sandals and gold-hilted sword,) and\nhastening to the king, inquired what it all meant.\n\n\"Alas! my son,\" quoth King \u00c6geus, heaving a long sigh, \"here is a\nvery lamentable matter in hand! This is the woefulest anniversary in\nthe whole year. It is the day when we annually draw lots to see which\nof the youths and maidens of Athens shall go to be devoured by the\nhorrible Minotaur!\"\n\n\"The Minotaur!\" exclaimed Prince Theseus and like a brave young prince\nas he was, he put his hand to the hilt of his sword. \"What kind of a\nmonster may that be? Is it not possible, at the risk of one's life, to\nslay him?\"\n\nBut King \u00c6geus shook his venerable head, and to convince Theseus that\nit was quite a hopeless case, he gave him an explanation of the whole\naffair. It seems that in the Island of Crete there lived a certain\ndreadful monster, called a Minotaur, which was shaped partly like a\nman and partly like a bull, and was altogether such a hideous sort of\na creature that it is really disagreeable to think of him. If he were\nsuffered to exist at all, it should have been on some desert island,\nor in the duskiness of some deep cavern, where nobody would ever be\ntormented by his abominable aspect. But King Minos, who reigned over\nCrete, laid out a vast deal of money in building a habitation for\nthe Minotaur, and took great care of his health and comfort, merely\nfor mischief's sake. A few years before this time, there had been a\nwar between the city of Athens and the island of Crete, in which the\nAthenians were beaten and compelled to beg for peace. No peace could\nthey obtain, however, except on condition that they should send seven\nyoung men and seven maidens, every year, to be devoured by the pet\nmonster of the cruel King Minos. For three years past, this grievous\ncalamity had been borne. And the sobs, and groans, and shrieks, with\nwhich the city was now filled, were caused by the people's woe, because\nthe fatal day had come again, when the fourteen victims were to be\nchosen by lot; and the old people feared lest their sons or daughters\nmight be taken, and the youths and damsels dreaded lest they themselves\nmight be destined to glut the ravenous maw of that detestable man-brute.\n\nBut when Theseus heard the story, he straightened himself up, so\nthat he seemed taller than ever before; and as for his face, it was\nindignant, despiteful, bold, tender, and compassionate, all in one look.\n\n\"Let the people of Athens, this year, draw lots for only six young men,\ninstead of seven,\" said he. \"I will myself be the seventh; and let the\nMinotaur devour me, if he can!\" \"O my dear son,\" cried King \u00c6geus,\n\"why should you expose yourself to this horrible fate? You are a royal\nprince, and have a right to hold yourself above the destinies of common\nmen.\"\n\n\"It is because I am a prince, your son, and the rightful heir of your\nkingdom, that I freely take upon me the calamity of your subjects,\"\nanswered Theseus. \"And you my father, being king over this people, and\nanswerable to Heaven for their welfare, are bound to sacrifice what is\ndearest to you, rather than that the son or daughter of the poorest\ncitizen should come to any harm.\"\n\nThe old king shed tears, and besought Theseus not to leave him desolate\nin his old age, more especially as he had just begun to know the\nhappiness of possessing a good and valiant son. Theseus, however,\nfelt that he was in the right, and therefore would not give up his\nresolution. But he assured his father that he did not intend to be\neaten up, unresistingly, like a sheep, and that, if the Minotaur\ndevoured him, it should not be without a battle for his dinner. And\nfinally, since he could not help it, King \u00c6geus consented to let\nhim go. So a vessel was got ready, and rigged with black sails; and\nTheseus, with six other young men, and seven tender and beautiful\ndamsels, came down to the harbor to embark. A sorrowful multitude\naccompanied them to the shore. There was the poor old king, too,\nleaning on his son's arm, and looking as if his single heart held all\nthe grief of Athens.\n\nJust as Prince Theseus was going on board, his father bethought himself\nof one last word to say.\n\n\"My beloved son,\" said he, grasping the prince's hand, \"you observe\nthat the sails of this vessel are black; as indeed they ought to be,\nsince it goes upon a voyage of sorrow and despair. Now, being weighed\ndown with infirmities, I know not whether I can survive till the\nvessel shall return. But, as long as I do live, I shall creep daily\nto the top of yonder cliff, to watch if there be a sail upon the sea.\nAnd, dearest Theseus, if by some happy chance, you should escape the\njaws of the Minotaur, then tear down those dismal sails, and hoist\nothers that shall be bright as the sunshine. Beholding them on the\nhorizon, myself and all the people will know that you are coming back\nvictorious, and will welcome you with such a festal uproar as Athens\nnever heard before.\" Theseus promised that he would do so. Then, going\non board, the mariners trimmed the vessel's black sails to the wind,\nwhich blew faintly off the shore, being pretty much made up of the\nsighs that everybody kept pouring forth on this melancholy occasion.\nBut by and by, when they had got fairly out to sea, there came a stiff\nbreeze from the northwest, and drove them along as merrily over the\nwhite-capped waves as if they had been going on the most delightful\nerrand imaginable. And though it was a sad business enough, I rather\nquestion whether fourteen young people, without any old persons to keep\nthem in order, could continue to spend the whole time of the voyage in\nbeing miserable. There had been some few dances upon the undulating\ndeck, I suspect, and some hearty bursts of laughter, and other such\nunseasonable merriment among the victims, before the high, blue\nmountains of Crete began to show themselves among the far-off clouds.\nThat sight, to be sure, made them all very grave again.\n\nTheseus stood among the sailors, gazing eagerly towards the land;\nalthough, as yet, it seemed hardly more substantial than the clouds,\namidst which the mountains were looming up. Once or twice, he fancied\nthat he saw a glare of some bright object, a long way off, flinging a\ngleam across the waves.\n\n\"Did you see that flash of light?\" he inquired of the master of the\nvessel.\n\n\"No, prince; but I have seen it before,\" answered the master. \"It came\nfrom Talus, I suppose.\"\n\nAs the breeze came fresher just then, the master was busy with trimming\nhis sails, and had no more time to answer questions. But while the\nvessel flew faster and faster towards Crete, Theseus was astonished to\nbehold a human figure, gigantic in size, which appeared to be striding,\nwith a measured movement, along the margin of the island. It stepped\nfrom cliff to cliff, and sometimes from one headland to another, while\nthe sea foamed and thundered on the shore beneath, and dashed its\njets of spray over the giant's feet. What was still more remarkable,\nwhenever the sun shone on this huge figure, it flickered and glimmered;\nits vast countenance, too, had a metallic lustre, and threw great\nflashes of splendor through the air. The folds of its garments,\nmoreover, instead of waving in the wind, fell heavily over its limbs,\nas if woven of some kind of metal.\n\nThe nigher the vessel came, the more Theseus wondered what this immense\ngiant could be and whether it actually had life or no. For though it\nwalked, and made other lifelike motions, there yet was a kind of jerk\nin its gait, which, together with its brazen aspect, caused the young\nprince to suspect that it was no true giant, but only a wonderful\npiece of machinery. The figure looked all the more terrible because it\ncarried an enormous brass club on its shoulder.\n\n\"What is this wonder?\" Theseus asked of the master of the vessel, who\nwas now at leisure to answer him.\n\n\"It is Talus, the man of Brass,\" said the master.\n\n\"And is he a live giant, or a brazen image?\" asked Theseus.\n\n\"That, truly,\" replied the master, \"is the point which has always\nperplexed me. Some say, indeed, that this Talus was hammered out for\nKing Minos by Vulcan himself, the skilfulest of all workers in metal.\nBut who ever saw a brazen image that had sense enough to walk round\nan island three times a day, as this giant walks round the Island of\nCrete, challenging every vessel that comes nigh the shore? And, on\nthe other hand, what living thing, unless his sinews were made of\nbrass, would not be weary of marching eighteen hundred miles in the\ntwenty-four hours, as Talus does, without ever sitting down to rest? He\nis a puzzler, take him how you will.\"\n\nStill the vessel went bounding onward; and now Theseus could hear the\nbrazen clangor of the giant's footsteps, as he trod heavily upon the\nsea-beaten rocks, some of which were seen to crack and crumble into the\nfoamy waves beneath his weight. As they approached the entrance of the\nport, the giant straddled clear across it, with a foot firmly planted\non each headland, and uplifting his club to such a height that its\nbutt-end was hidden in a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture,\nwith the sun gleaming all over his metallic surface. There seemed\nnothing else to be expected but that, the next moment, he would fetch\nhis great club down, slam bang, and smash the vessel into a thousand\npieces, without heeding how many innocent people he might destroy; for\nthere is seldom any mercy in a giant, you know, and quite as little in\na piece of brass clockwork. But just when Theseus and his companions\nthought the blow was coming, the brazen lips unclosed themselves, and\nthe figure spoke.\n\n\"Whence come you, strangers?\"\n\nAnd when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a reverberation\nas you may have heard within a great church bell, for a moment or two\nafter the stroke of the hammer.\n\n\"From Athens!\" shouted the master in reply.\n\n\"On what errand?\" thundered the Man of Brass.\n\nAnd he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as if he\nwere about to smite them with a thunderstroke right amidships, because\nAthens, so little while ago, had been at war with Crete.\n\n\"We bring the seven youths and the seven maidens,\" answered the master,\n\"to be devoured by the Minotaur!\"\n\n\"Pass!\" cried the brazen giant.\n\nThat one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there was a\nbooming reverberation within the figure's breast. The vessel glided\nbetween the headlands of the port, and the giant resumed his march. In\na few moments, this wondrous sentinel was far away, flashing in the\ndistant sunshine, and revolving with immense strides around the Island\nof Crete, as it was his never-ceasing task to do.\n\nNo sooner had they entered the harbor than a party of the guards of\nKing Minos came down to the water side, and took charge of the fourteen\nyoung men and damsels. Surrounded by these armed warriors, Prince\nTheseus and his companions were led to the king's palace, and ushered\ninto his presence. Now, Minos was a stern and pitiless king. If the\nfigure that guarded Crete was made of brass, then the monarch, who\nruled over it, might be thought to have a still harder metal in his\nbreast, and might have been called a man of iron. He bent his shaggy\nbrows upon the poor Athenian victims. Any other mortal, beholding their\nfresh and tender beauty, and their innocent looks, would have felt\nhimself sitting on thorns until he had made every soul of them happy,\nby bidding them go free as the summer wind. But this immitigable Minos\ncared only to examine whether they were plump enough to satisfy the\nMinotaur's appetite. For my part, I wish he himself had been the only\nvictim; and the monster would have found him a pretty tough one.\n\nOne after another, King Minos called these pale, frightened youths and\nsobbing maidens to his footstool, gave them each a poke in the ribs\nwith his scepter, (to try whether they were in good flesh or no,) and\ndismissed them with a nod to his guards. But when his eyes rested on\nTheseus, the king looked at him more attentively, because his face was\ncalm and brave.\n\n\"Young man,\" asked he, with his stern voice, \"are you not appalled at\nthe certainty of being devoured by this terrible Minotaur?\"\n\n\"I have offered my life in a good cause,\" answered Theseus, \"and\ntherefore I give it freely and gladly. But thou, King Minos, art thou\nnot thyself appalled, who, year after year, hast perpetrated this\ndreadful wrong, by giving seven innocent youths and as many maidens\nto be devoured by a monster? Dost thou not tremble, wicked king, to\nturn thine eyes inward on thine own heart? Sitting there on thy golden\nthrone, and in thy robes of majesty, I tell thee to thy face, King\nMinos, thou art a more hideous monster than the Minotaur himself!\"\n\n\"Aha! do you think me so?\" cried the king, laughing in his cruel way.\n\"To-morrow, at breakfast time, you shall have an opportunity of judging\nwhich is the greater monster, the Minotaur or the king! Take them away,\nguards; and let this free-spoken youth be the Minotaur's first morsel!\"\n\nNear the king's throne (though I had no time to tell you so before)\nstood his daughter, Ariadne. She was a beautiful and tender-hearted\nmaiden, and looked at these poor doomed captives with very different\nfeelings from those of the ironbreasted King Minos. She really wept,\nindeed, at the idea of how much human happiness would be needlessly\nthrown away, by giving so many young people, in the first bloom and\nrose blossom of their lives, to be eaten up by a creature who, no\ndoubt, would have preferred a fat ox, or even a large pig, to the\nplumpest of them. And when she beheld the brave, spirited figure of\nPrince Theseus bearing himself so calmly in his terrible peril, she\ngrew a hundred times more pitiful than before. As the guards were\ntaking him away, she flung herself at the king's feet, and besought him\nto set all the captives free, and especially this one young man.\n\n\"Peace, foolish girl!\" answered King Minos. \"What hast thou to do with\nan affair like this? It is a matter of state policy, and therefore\nquite beyond thy weak comprehension. Go water thy flowers, and think no\nmore of these Athenian caitiffs, whom the Minotaur shall as certainly\neat up for breakfast as I will eat a partridge for my supper.\"\n\nSo saying, the king looked cruel enough to devour Theseus and all the\nrest of the captives, himself, had there been no Minotaur to save him\nthe trouble. As he would hear not another word in their favor, the\nprisoners were now led away, and clapped into a dungeon, where the\njailer advised them to go to sleep as soon as possible, because the\nMinotaur was in the habit of calling for breakfast early. The seven\nmaidens and six of the young men soon sobbed themselves to slumber. But\nTheseus was not like them. He felt conscious that he was wiser, and\nbraver, and stronger than his companions, and that therefore he had the\nresponsibility of all their lives upon him, and must consider whether\nthere was no way to save them, even in this last extremity. So he kept\nhimself awake, and paced to and fro across the gloomy dungeon in which\nthey were shut up.\n\nJust before midnight, the door was softly unbarred, and the gentle\nAriadne showed herself, with a torch in her hand.\n\n\"Are you awake, Prince Theseus?\" she whispered.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Theseus. \"With so little time to live, I do not choose\nto waste any of it in sleep.\"\n\n\"Then follow me,\" said Ariadne, \"and tread softly.\"\n\nWhat had become of the jailer and the guards, Theseus never knew. But,\nhowever that might be, Ariadne opened all the doors, and led him forth\nfrom the darksome prison into the pleasant moonlight.\n\n\"Theseus,\" said the maiden, \"you can now get on board your vessel, and\nsail away for Athens.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered the young man; \"I will never leave Crete unless I can\nfirst slay the Minotaur, and save my poor companions, and deliver\nAthens from this cruel tribute.\"\n\n\"I knew that this would be your resolution,\" said Ariadne. \"Come,\nthen, with me, brave Theseus. Here is your own sword, which the guards\ndeprived you of. You will need it; and pray Heaven you may use it well.\"\n\nThen she led Theseus along by the hand until they came to a dark,\nshadowy grove, where the moonlight wasted itself on the tops of the\ntrees, without shedding hardly so much as a glimmering beam upon their\npathway. After going a good way through this obscurity, they reached\na high, marble wall, which was overgrown with creeping plants, that\nmade it shaggy with their verdure. The wall seemed to have no door, nor\nany windows, but rose up, lofty, and massive, and mysterious, and was\nneither to be clambered over, nor, so far as Theseus could perceive, to\nbe passed through. Nevertheless, Ariadne did but press one of her soft\nlittle fingers against a particular block of marble, and, though it\nlooked as solid as any other part of the wall, it yielded to her touch,\ndisclosing an entrance just wide enough to admit them. They crept\nthrough, and the marble stone swung back into its place.\n\n\"We are now,\" said Ariadne, \"in the famous labyrinth which D\u00e6dalus\nbuilt before he made himself a pair of wings, and flew away from our\nisland like a bird. That D\u00e6dalus was a very cunning workman; but of\nall his artful contrivances, this labyrinth is the most wondrous. Were\nwe to take but a few steps from the doorway, we might wander about all\nour lifetime, and never find it again. Yet in the very center of this\nlabyrinth is the Minotaur; and, Theseus, you must go thither to seek\nhim.\n\n\"But how shall I ever find him,\" asked Theseus, \"if the labyrinth so\nbewilders me as you say it will?\"\n\nJust as he spoke, they heard a rough and very disagreeable roar, which\ngreatly resembled the lowing of a fierce bull, but yet had some sort of\nsound like the human voice. Theseus even fancied a rude articulation in\nit, as if the creature that uttered it were trying to shape his hoarse\nbreath into words. It was at some distance, however, and he really\ncould not tell whether it sounded most like a bull's roar or a man's\nharsh voice.\n\n\"That is the Minotaur's noise,\" whispered Ariadne, closely grasping the\nhand of Theseus, and pressing one of her own hands to her heart, which\nwas all in a tremble. \"You must follow that sound through the windings\nof the labyrinth, and, by and by, you will find him. Stay! take the\nend of this silken string; I will hold the other end; and then, if you\nwin the victory, it will lead you again to this spot. Farewell, brave\nTheseus.\"\n\nSo the young man took the end of the silken string in his left hand,\nand his gold-hilted sword ready drawn from its scabbard, in the other,\nand trod boldly into the inscrutable labyrinth. How this labyrinth was\nbuilt is more than I can tell you. But so cunningly contrived a mizmaze\nwas never seen in the world, before nor since. There can be nothing\nelse so intricate, unless it were the brain of a man like D\u00e6dalus, who\nplanned it, or the heart of any ordinary man; which last, to be sure,\nis ten times as great a mystery as the labyrinth of Crete. Theseus\nhad not taken five steps before he lost sight of Ariadne; and in five\nmore his head was growing dizzy. But still he went on, now creeping\nthrough a low arch, now ascending a flight of steps, now in one crooked\npassage, and now in another, with here a door opening before him, and\nthere one banging behind, until it really seemed as if the walls spun\nround, and whirled him along with them. And all the while, through\nthese hollow avenues, now nearer, now farther off again, resounded the\ncry of the Minotaur; and the sound was so fierce, so cruel, so ugly,\nso like a bull's roar, and withal so like a human voice, and yet like\nneither of them, that the brave heart of Theseus grew sterner and\nangrier at every step, for he felt it an insult to the moon and sky,\nand to our affectionate and simple Mother Earth, that such a monster\nshould have the audacity to exist.\n\nAs he passed onward, the clouds gathered over the moon, and the\nlabyrinth grew so dusky that Theseus could no longer discern the\nbewilderment through which he was passing. He would have felt quite\nlost, and utterly hopeless of ever again walking in a straight path,\nif, every little while, he had not been conscious of a gentle twitch at\nthe silken cord. Then he knew that the tender-hearted Ariadne was still\nholding the other end, and that she was fearing for him, and hoping\nfor him, and giving him just as much of her sympathy as if she were\nclose by his side. O, indeed, I can assure you, there was a vast deal\nof human sympathy running along that slender thread of silk. But still\nhe followed the dreadful roar of the Minotaur, which now grew louder\nand louder, and finally so very loud that Theseus fully expected to\ncome close upon him, at every new zigzag and wriggle of the path. And\nat last, in an open space, at the very center of the labyrinth, he did\ndiscern the hideous creature.\n\nSure enough, what an ugly monster it was! Only his horned head belonged\nto a bull; and yet, somehow or other, he looked like a bull all over,\npreposterously waddling on his hind legs; or if you happened to view\nhim in another way, he seemed wholly a man, and all the more monstrous\nfor being so. And there he was, the wretched thing, with no society, no\ncompanion, no kind of a mate, living only to do mischief, and incapable\nof knowing what affection means. Theseus hated him, and shuddered at\nhim, and yet could not but be sensible of some sort of pity; and all\nthe more, the uglier and more detestable the creature was. For he kept\nstriding to and fro, in a solitary frenzy of rage, continually emitting\na hoarse roar, which was oddly mixed up with half-shaped words; and,\nafter listening a while, Theseus understood that the Minotaur was\nsaying to himself how miserable he was, and how hungry, and how he\nhated everybody, and how he longed to eat up the human race alive.\n\nAh, the bull-headed villain! And O, my good little people, you will\nperhaps see, one of these days, as I do now, that every human being who\nsuffers anything evil to get into his nature, or to remain there, is a\nkind of Minotaur, an enemy of his fellow-creatures, and separated from\nall good companionship, as this poor monster was.\n\nWas Theseus afraid? By no means, my dear auditors. What! a hero like\nTheseus afraid! Not had the Minotaur had twenty bull heads instead of\none. Bold as he was, however, I rather fancy that it strengthened his\nvaliant heart, just at this crisis, to feel a tremulous twitch at the\nsilken cord, which he was still holding in his left hand. It was as\nif Ariadne were giving him all her might and courage; and, much as he\nalready had, and little as she had to give, it made his own seem twice\nas much. And to confess the honest truth, he needed the whole; for now\nthe Minotaur, turning suddenly about, caught sight of Theseus, and\ninstantly lowered his horribly sharp horns, exactly as a mad bull does\nwhen he means to rush against an enemy. At the same time, he belched\nforth a tremendous roar, in which there was something like the words\nof human language, but all disjointed and shaken to pieces by passing\nthrough the gullet of a miserably enraged brute.\n\nTheseus could only guess what the creature intended to say, and that\nrather by his gestures than his words; for the Minotaur's horns were\nsharper than his wits, and of a great deal more service to him than his\ntongue. But probably this was the sense of what he uttered:--\n\n\"Ah, wretch of a human being! I'll stick my horns through you, and toss\nyou fifty feet high, and eat you up the moment you come down.\"\n\n\"Come on, then, and try it!\" was all that Theseus deigned to reply; for\nhe was far too magnanimous to assault his enemy with insolent language.\n\nWithout more words on either side, there ensued the most awful fight\nbetween Theseus and the Minotaur that ever happened beneath the sun or\nmoon. I really know not how it might have turned out, if the monster,\nin his first headlong rush against Theseus, had not missed him, by a\nhair's breadth, and broken one of his horns short off against the stone\nwall. On this mishap, he bellowed so intolerably that a part of the\nlabyrinth tumbled down, and all the inhabitants of Crete mistook the\nnoise for an uncommonly heavy thunder storm. Smarting with the pain,\nhe galloped around the open space in so ridiculous a way that Theseus\nlaughed at it, long afterwards, though not precisely at the moment.\nAfter this, the two antagonists stood valiantly up to one another, and\nfought, sword to horn, for a long while. At last, the Minotaur made a\nrun at Theseus, grazed his left side with his horn, and flung him down;\nand thinking that he had stabbed him to the heart, he cut a great caper\nin the air, opened his bull mouth from ear to ear, and prepared to\nsnap his head off. But Theseus by this time had leaped up, and caught\nthe monster off his guard. Fetching a sword stroke at him with all his\nforce, he hit him fair upon the neck, and made his bull head skip six\nyards from his human body, which fell down flat upon the ground.\n\n[Illustration: \"THOU HAST SLAIN THE MONSTER\", CRIED ARIADNE, CLASPING\nHER HANDS]\n\nSo now the battle was ended. Immediately the moon shone out as brightly\nas if all the troubles of the world, and all the wickedness and the\nugliness that infest human life, were past and gone forever. And\nTheseus, as he leaned on his sword, taking breath, felt another twitch\nof the silken cord; for all through the terrible encounter, he had held\nit fast in his left hand. Eager to let Ariadne know of his success,\nhe followed the guidance of the thread, and soon found himself at the\nentrance of the labyrinth.\n\n\"Thou hast slain the monster,\" cried Ariadne, clasping her hands.\n\n\"Thanks to thee, dear Ariadne,\" answered Theseus, \"I return victorious.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Ariadne, \"we must quickly summon thy friends, and get them\nand thyself on board the vessel before dawn. If morning finds thee\nhere, my father will avenge the Minotaur.\"\n\nTo make my story short, the poor captives were awakened, and, hardly\nknowing whether it was not a joyful dream, were told of what Theseus\nhad done, and that they must set sail for Athens before daybreak.\nHastening down to the vessel, they all clambered on board, except\nPrince Theseus, who lingered behind them, on the strand, holding\nAriadne's hand clasped in his own.\n\n\"Dear maiden,\" said he, \"thou wilt surely go with us. Thou art too\ngentle and sweet a child for such an iron-hearted father as King Minos.\nHe cares no more for thee than a granite rock cares for the little\nflower that grows in one of its crevices. But my father, King \u00c6geus,\nand my mother, \u00c6thra, and all the fathers and mothers in Athens, and\nall the sons and daughters too, will love and honor thee as their\nbenefactress. Come with us, then; for King Minos will be very angry\nwhen he knows what thou hast done.\"\n\nNow, some low-minded people, who pretend to tell the story of Theseus\nand Ariadne, have the face to say that this royal and honorable maiden\ndid really flee away, under cover of the night, with the young stranger\nwhose life she had preserved. They say, too, that Prince Theseus (who\nwould have died sooner than wrong the meanest creature in the world)\nungratefully deserted Ariadne, on a solitary island, where the vessel\ntouched on its voyage to Athens. But, had the noble Theseus heard these\nfalsehoods, he would have served their slanderous authors as he served\nthe Minotaur! Here is what Ariadne answered, when the brave prince of\nAthens besought her to accompany him:--\n\n\"No, Theseus,\" the maiden said, pressing his hand, and then drawing\nback a step or two, \"I cannot go with you. My father is old, and has\nnobody but myself to love him. Hard as you think his heart is, it would\nbreak to lose me. At first, King Minos will be angry; but he will soon\nforgive his only child; and, by and by, he will rejoice, I know, that\nno more youths and maidens must come from Athens to be devoured by the\nMinotaur. I have saved you, Theseus, as much for my father's sake as\nfor your own. Farewell! Heaven bless you!\"\n\nAll this was so true, and so maiden-like, and was spoken with so sweet\na dignity, that Theseus would have blushed to urge her any longer.\nNothing remained for him, therefore, but to bid Ariadne an affectionate\nfarewell, and to go on board the vessel, and set sail.\n\nIn a few moments the white foam was boiling up before their prow,\nas Prince Theseus and his companions sailed out of the harbor, with\na whistling breeze behind them. Talus, the brazen giant, on his\nnever-ceasing sentinel's march, happened to be approaching that part of\nthe coast; and they saw him, by the glimmering of the moonbeams on his\npolished surface, while he was yet a great way off. As the figure moved\nlike clockwork, however, and could neither hasten his enormous strides\nnor retard them, he arrived at the port when they were just beyond the\nreach of his club. Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland,\nas his custom was, Talus attempted to strike a blow at the vessel, and,\noverreaching himself, tumbled full length into the sea, which splashed\nhigh over his gigantic shape, as when an iceberg turns a somerset.\nThere he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by means of\nbrass had better go thither with a diving bell, and fish up Talus.\n\nOn the homeward voyage, the fourteen youths and damsels were in\nexcellent spirits, as you will easily suppose. They spent most of their\ntime in dancing, unless when the sidelong breeze made the deck slope\ntoo much. In due season, they came within sight of the coast of Attica,\nwhich was their native country. But here, I am grieved to tell you,\nhappened a sad misfortune.\n\nYou will remember (what Theseus unfortunately forgot) that his father,\nKing \u00c6geus, had enjoined upon him to hoist sunshiny sails, instead\nof black ones, in case he should overcome the Minotaur, and return\nvictorious. In the joy of their success, however, and amidst the\nsports, dancing, and other merriment, with which these young folks\nwore away the time, they never once thought whether their sails were\nblack, white, or rainbow colored, and, indeed, left it entirely to the\nmariners whether they had any sails at all. Thus the vessel returned,\nlike a raven, with the same sable wings that had wafted her away. But\npoor King \u00c6geus, day after day, infirm as he was, had clambered to the\nsummit of a cliff that overhung the sea, and there sat watching for\nPrince Theseus, homeward bound; and no sooner did he behold the fatal\nblackness of the sails, than he concluded that his dear son, whom he\nloved so much, and felt so proud of, had been eaten by the Minotaur.\nHe could not bear the thought of living any longer; so, first flinging\nhis crown and scepter into the sea, (useless baubles that they were to\nhim now!) King \u00c6geus merely stooped forward, and fell headlong over the\ncliff, and was drowned, poor soul, in the waves that foamed at its base!\n\n[Illustration: He concluded that his dear son had been eaten by the\nMinotaur.]\n\nThis was melancholy news for Prince Theseus, who, when he stepped\nashore, found himself king of all the country, whether he would or no;\nand such a turn of fortune was enough to make any young man feel very\nmuch out of spirits. However, he sent for his dear mother to Athens,\nand, by taking her advice in matters of state, became a very excellent\nmonarch, and was greatly beloved by his people.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE PYGMIES\n\nA great while ago, when the world was full of wonders, there lived\nan earth-born Giant, named Ant\u00e6us, and a million or more of curious\nlittle earth-born people, who were called Pygmies. This Giant and these\nPygmies being children of the same mother, (that is to say, our good\nold Grandmother Earth,) were all brethren, and dwelt together in a very\nfriendly and affectionate manner, far, far off, in the middle of hot\nAfrica. The Pygmies were so small, and there were so many sandy deserts\nand such high mountains between them and the rest of mankind, that\nnobody could get a peep at them oftener than once in a hundred years.\nAs for the Giant, being of a very lofty stature, it was easy enough to\nsee him, but safest to keep out of his sight.\n\nAmong the Pygmies, I suppose, if one of them grew to the height of\nsix or eight inches, he was reckoned a prodigiously tall man. It must\nhave been very pretty to behold their little cities, with streets two\nor three feet wide, paved with the smallest pebbles, and bordered\nby habitations about as big as a squirrel's cage. The king's palace\nattained to the stupendous magnitude of Periwinkle's baby house, and\nstood in the center of a spacious square, which could hardly have\nbeen covered by our hearth rug. Their principal temple, or cathedral,\nwas as lofty as yonder bureau, and was looked upon as a wonderfully\nsublime and magnificent edifice. All these structures were built\nneither of stone nor wood. They were neatly plastered together by the\nPygmy workmen, pretty much like birds' nests, out of straw, feathers,\negg shells, and other small bits of stuff, with stiff clay instead of\nmortar; and when the hot sun had dried them, they were just as snug and\ncomfortable as a Pygmy could desire.\n\nThe country round about was conveniently laid out in fields, the\nlargest of which was nearly of the same extent as one of Sweet Fern's\nflower beds. Here the Pygmies used to plant wheat and other kinds of\ngrain, which, when it grew up and ripened, overshadowed these tiny\npeople, as the pines, and the oaks, and the walnut and chestnut trees\novershadow you and me, when we walk in our own tracts of woodland. At\nharvest time, they were forced to go with their little axes and cut\ndown the grain, exactly as a woodcutter makes a clearing in the forest;\nand when a stalk of wheat, with its overburdened top, chanced to come\ncrashing down upon an unfortunate Pygmy, it was apt to be a very sad\naffair. If it did not smash him all to pieces, at least, I am sure, it\nmust have made the poor little fellow's head ache. And O, my stars!\nif the fathers and mothers were so small, what must the children and\nbabies have been? A whole family of them might have been put to bed in\na shoe, or have crept into an old glove, and played hide and seek in\nits thumb and fingers. You might have hidden a year-old baby under a\nthimble.\n\nNow these funny Pygmies, as I told you before, had a Giant for their\nneighbor and brother, who was bigger, if possible, than they were\nlittle. He was so very tall that he carried a pine tree, which was\neight feet through the butt, for a walking stick. It took a far-sighted\nPygmy, I can assure you, to discern his summit without the help of\na telescope; and sometimes, in misty weather, they could not see\nhis upper half, but only his long legs, which seemed to be striding\nabout by themselves. But at noonday, in a clear atmosphere, when the\nsun shone brightly over him, the Giant Ant\u00e6us presented a very grand\nspectacle. There he used to stand, a perfect mountain of a man, with\nhis great countenance smiling down upon his little brothers, and his\none vast eye (which was as big as a cart wheel, and placed right in the\ncenter of his forehead) giving a friendly wink to the whole nation at\nonce.\n\n[Illustration: This giant and these pygmies were all brethren.]\n\nThe Pygmies loved to talk with Ant\u00e6us; and fifty times a day, one or\nanother of them would turn up his head, and shout through the hollow\nof his fists, \"Halloo, brother Ant\u00e6us! How are you, my good fellow?\"\nAnd when the small, distant squeak of their voices reached his ear, the\nGiant would make answer, \"Pretty well, brother Pygmy, I thank you,\"\nin a thunderous roar that would have shaken down the walls of their\nstrongest temple, only that it came from so far aloft.\n\nIt was a happy circumstance that Ant\u00e6us was the Pygmy people's friend;\nfor there was more strength in his little finger than in ten million\nof such bodies as theirs. If he had been as ill-natured to them as he\nwas to everybody else, he might have beaten down their biggest city at\none kick, and hardly have known that he did it. With the tornado of\nhis breath, he could have stripped the roofs from a hundred dwellings,\nand sent thousands of the inhabitants whirling through the air. He\nmight have set his immense foot upon a multitude; and when he took\nit up again, there would have been a pitiful sight, to be sure. But,\nbeing the son of Mother Earth, as they likewise were, the Giant gave\nthem his brotherly kindness, and loved them with as big a love as it\nwas possible to feel for creatures so very small. And, on their parts,\nthe Pygmies loved Ant\u00e6us with as much affection as their tiny hearts\ncould hold. He was always ready to do them any good offices that lay\nin his power; as for example, when they wanted a breeze to turn their\nwind mills, the Giant would set all the sails a-going with the mere\nnatural respiration of his lungs. When the sun was too hot, he often\nsat himself down, and let his shadow fall over the kingdom, from one\nfrontier to the other; and as for matters in general, he was wise\nenough to let them alone, and leave the Pygmies to manage their own\naffairs--which, after all, is about the best thing that great people\ncan do for little ones.\n\nIn short, as I said before, Ant\u00e6us loved the Pygmies, and the Pygmies\nloved Ant\u00e6us. The Giant's life being as long as his body was large,\nwhile the lifetime of a Pygmy was but a span, this friendly intercourse\nhad been going on for innumerable generations and ages. It was written\nabout in the Pygmy histories, and talked about in their ancient\ntraditions. The most venerable and white-bearded Pygmy had never heard\nof a time even, in his greatest of grandfather's days, when the Giant\nwas not their enormous friend. Once, to be sure, (as was recorded on\nan obelisk, three feet high, erected on the place of the catastrophe,)\nAnt\u00e6us sat down upon about five thousand Pygmies who were assembled\nat a military review. But this was one of those unlucky accidents for\nwhich nobody is to blame; so that the small folks never took it to\nheart and only requested the Giant to be careful forever afterwards to\nexamine the acre of ground where he intended to squat himself.\n\n[Illustration: THE GIANT GAVE THEM HIS BROTHERLY KINDNESS]\n\nIt is a very pleasant picture to imagine Ant\u00e6us standing among the\nPygmies, like the spire of the tallest cathedral that ever was built,\nwhile they ran about like pismires at his feet, and to think that, in\nspite of their difference in size, there were affection and sympathy\nbetween them and him! Indeed, it has always seemed to me that the Giant\nneeded the little people more than the Pygmies needed the Giant. For,\nunless they had been his neighbors and well wishers, and, as we may\nsay, his playfellows, Ant\u00e6us would not have had a single friend in the\nworld. No other being like himself had ever been created. No creature\nof his own size had ever talked with him, in thunder-like accents,\nface to face. When he stood with his head among the clouds, he was\nquite alone, and had been so for hundreds of years, and would be so\nforever. Even if he had met another Giant, Ant\u00e6us would have fancied\nthe world not big enough for two such vast personages, and, instead of\nbeing friends with him, would have fought him till one of the two was\nkilled. But with the Pygmies he was the most sportive, and humorous,\nand merry-hearted, and sweet-tempered old Giant that ever washed his\nface in a wet cloud.\n\nHis little friends, like all other small people, had a great opinion\nof their own importance, and used to assume quite a patronizing air\ntowards the giant.\n\n\"Poor creature!\" they said one to another. \"He has a very dull time of\nit, all by himself; and we ought not to grudge wasting a little of our\nprecious time to amuse him. He is not half so bright as we are, to be\nsure; and, for that reason, he needs us to look after his comfort and\nhappiness. Let us be kind to the old fellow. Why, if Mother Earth had\nnot been very kind to ourselves, we might all have been Giants too.\"\n\nOn all their holidays, the Pygmies had excellent sport with Ant\u00e6us.\nHe often stretched himself out at full length on the ground, where he\nlooked like the long ridge of a hill; and it was a good hour's walk,\nno doubt, for a short-legged Pygmy to journey from head to foot of\nthe Giant. He would lay down his great hand flat on the grass, and\nchallenge the tallest of them to clamber upon it, and straddle from\nfinger to finger. So fearless were they, that they made nothing of\ncreeping in among the folds of his garments. When his head lay sidewise\non the earth, they would march boldly up, and peep into the great\ncavern of his mouth, and take it all as a joke (as indeed it was meant)\nwhen Ant\u00e6us gave a sudden snap with his jaws, as if he were going\nto swallow fifty of them at once. You would have laughed to see the\nchildren dodging in and out among his hair, or swinging from his beard.\nIt is impossible to tell half of the funny tricks that they played with\ntheir huge comrade; but I do not know that anything was more curious\nthan when a party of boys were seen running races on his forehead, to\ntry which of them could get first round the circle of his one great\neye. It was another favorite feat with them to march along the bridge\nof his nose, and jump down upon his upper lip.\n\nIf the truth must be told, they were sometimes as troublesome to the\nGiant as a swarm of ants or mosquitoes, especially as they had a\nfondness for mischief, and liked to prick his skin with their little\nswords and lances, to see how thick and tough it was. But Ant\u00e6us took\nit all kindly enough; although, once in a while, when he happened to be\nsleepy, he would grumble out a peevish word or two, like the muttering\nof a tempest, and ask them to have done with their nonsense. A great\ndeal oftener, however, he watched their merriment and gambols until his\nhuge, heavy, clumsy wits were completely stirred up by them; and then\nwould he roar out such a tremendous volume of immeasurable laughter,\nthat the whole nation of Pygmies had to put their hands to their ears,\nelse it would certainly have deafened them.\n\n\"Ho! ho! ho!\" quoth the Giant, shaking his mountainous sides. \"What a\nfunny thing it is to be little! If I were not Ant\u00e6us, I should like to\nbe a Pygmy, just for the joke's sake.\"\n\nThe Pygmies had but one thing to trouble them in the world. They were\nconstantly at war with the cranes, and had always been so, ever since\nthe long-lived Giant could remember. From time to time, very terrible\nbattles had been fought, in which sometimes the little men won the\nvictory, and sometimes the cranes. According to some historians, the\nPygmies used to go to the battle, mounted on the backs of goats and\nrams; but such animals as these must have been far too big for Pygmies\nto ride upon; so that, I rather suppose, they rode on squirrelback, or\nrabbitback, or ratback, or perhaps got upon hedge-hogs, whose prickly\nquills would be very terrible to the enemy. However this might be, and\nwhatever creatures the Pygmies rode upon, I do not doubt that they made\na formidable appearance, armed with sword and spear, and bow and arrow,\nblowing their tiny trumpet, and shouting their little war cry. They\nnever failed to exhort one another to fight bravely, and recollect that\nthe world had its eyes upon them; although, in simple truth, the only\nspectator was the Giant Ant\u00e6us, with his one, great, stupid eye, in the\nmiddle of his forehead.\n\nWhen the two armies joined battle, the cranes would rush forward,\nflapping their wings and stretching out their necks, and would perhaps\nsnatch up some of the Pygmies crosswise in their beaks. Whenever this\nhappened, it was truly an awful spectacle to see those little men\nof might kicking and sprawling in the air, and at last disappearing\ndown the crane's long, crooked throat, swallowed up alive. A hero,\nyou know, must hold himself in readiness for any kind of fate; and\ndoubtless the glory of the thing was a consolation to him, even in the\ncrane's gizzard. If Ant\u00e6us observed that the battle was going hard\nagainst his little allies, he generally stopped laughing, and ran with\nmile-long strides to their assistance, flourishing his club aloft and\nshouting at the cranes, who quacked and croaked, and retreated as fast\nas they could. Then the Pygmy army would march homeward in triumph,\nattributing the victory entirely to their own valor, and to the warlike\nskill and strategy of whomsoever happened to be captain general; and\nfor a tedious while afterwards, nothing would be heard of but grand\nprocessions, and public banquets, and brilliant illuminations, and\nshows of waxwork, with likenesses of the distinguished officers, as\nsmall as life.\n\n[Illustration: They were constantly at war with the cranes.]\n\nIn the above-described warfare, if a Pygmy chanced to pluck out a\ncrane's tail feather, it proved a very great feather in his cap. Once\nor twice, if you will believe me, a little man was made chief ruler of\nthe nation for no other merit in the world than bringing home such a\nfeather.\n\nBut I have now said enough to let you see what a gallant little people\nthese were, and how happily they and their forefathers, for nobody\nknows how many generations, had lived with the immeasurable Giant\nAnt\u00e6us. In the remaining part of the story, I shall tell you of a far\nmore astonishing battle than any that was fought between the Pygmies\nand the cranes.\n\nOne day the mighty Ant\u00e6us was lolling at full length among his little\nfriends. His pine tree walking stick lay on the ground, close by his\nside. His head was in one part of the kingdom, and his feet extended\nacross the boundaries of another part; and he was taking whatever\ncomfort he could get, while the Pygmies scrambled over him, and peeped\ninto his cavernous mouth, and played among his hair. Sometimes, for a\nminute or two, the Giant dropped asleep, and snored like the rush of a\nwhirlwind. During one of these little bits of slumber, a Pygmy chanced\nto climb upon his shoulder, and took a view around the horizon, as\nfrom the summit of a hill; and he beheld something, a long way off,\nwhich made him rub the bright specks of his eyes, and look sharper than\nbefore. At first he mistook it for a mountain, and wondered how it had\ngrown up so suddenly out of the earth. But soon he saw the mountain\nmove. As it came nearer and nearer, what should it turn out to be but a\nhuman shape, not so big as Ant\u00e6us, it is true, although a very enormous\nfigure, in comparison with the Pygmies, and a vast deal bigger than the\nmen whom we see nowadays.\n\nWhen the Pygmy was quite satisfied that his eyes had not deceived him,\nhe scampered, as fast as his legs would carry him, to the Giant's ear,\nand stooping over its cavity, shouted lustily into it,--\n\n\"Halloo, brother Ant\u00e6us! Get up this minute, and take your pine tree\nwalking stick in your hand. Here comes another Giant to have a tussle\nwith you.\"\n\n\"Poh, poh!\" grumbled Ant\u00e6us, only half awake. \"None of your nonsense,\nmy little fellow! Don't you see I'm sleepy. There is not a Giant on\nearth for whom I would take the trouble to get up.\"\n\nBut the Pygmy looked again, and now perceived that the stranger was\ncoming directly towards the prostrate form of Ant\u00e6us. With every step,\nhe looked less like a blue mountain, and more like an immensely large\nman. He was soon so nigh, that there could be no possible mistake about\nthe matter. There he was, with the sun flaming on his golden helmet,\nand flashing from his polished breastplate; he had a sword by his side,\nand a lion's skin over his back, and on his right shoulder he carried a\nclub, which looked bulkier and heavier than the pine-tree walking stick\nof Ant\u00e6us.\n\nBy this time, the whole nation of Pygmies had seen the new wonder, and\na million of them set up a shout, all together; so that it really made\nquite an audible squeak.\n\n\"Get up, Ant\u00e6us! Bestir yourself, you lazy old Giant! Here comes\nanother Giant, as strong as you are, to fight with you.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, nonsense!\" growled the sleepy Giant. \"I'll have my nap out,\ncome who may.\"\n\nStill the stranger drew nearer; and now the Pygmies could plainly\ndiscern that, if his stature were less lofty than the Giant's, yet his\nshoulders were even broader. And, in truth, what a pair of shoulders\nthey must have been! As I told you, a long while ago, they once upheld\nthe sky. The Pygmies, being ten times as vivacious as their great\nnumskull of a brother, could not abide the Giant's slow movements, and\nwere determined to have him on his feet. So they kept shouting to him,\nand even went so far as to prick him with their swords.\n\n\"Get up, get up, get up!\" they cried. \"Up with you, lazy bones! The\nstrange Giant's club is bigger than your own, his shoulders are the\nbroadest, and we think him the stronger of the two.\"\n\nAnt\u00e6us could not endure to have it said that any mortal was half so\nmighty as himself. This latter remark of the Pygmies pricked him deeper\nthan their swords, and, sitting up, in rather a sulky humor, he gave\na gape of several yards wide, rubbed his eye, and finally turned his\nstupid head in the direction whither his little friends were eagerly\npointing.\n\nNo sooner did he set his eye on the stranger, than, leaping on his\nfeet, and seizing his walking stick, he strode a mile or two to meet\nhim; all the while brandishing the sturdy pine tree, so that it\nwhistled through the air.\n\n\"Who are you?\" thundered the Giant. \"And what do you want in my\ndominions?\"\n\nThere was one strange thing about Ant\u00e6us, of which I have not yet\ntold you, lest, hearing of so many wonders all in a lump, you might\nnot believe much more than half of them. You are to know, then, that\nwhenever this redoubtable Giant touched the ground, either with his\nhand, his foot, or any other part of his body, he grew stronger than\never he had been before. The Earth, you remember, was his mother, and\nwas very fond of him, as being almost the biggest of her children;\nand so she took this method of keeping him always in full vigor. Some\npersons affirm that he grew ten times stronger at every touch; others\nsay that it was only twice as strong. But only think of it! Whenever\nAnt\u00e6us took a walk, supposing it were but ten miles, and that he\nstepped a hundred yards at a stride, you may try to cipher out how much\nmightier he was, on sitting down again, than when he first started. And\nwhenever he flung himself on the earth to take a little repose, even\nif he got up the very next instant, he would be as strong as exactly\nten just such Giants as his former self. It was well for the world\nthat Ant\u00e6us happened to be of a sluggish disposition, and liked ease\nbetter than exercise; for, if he had frisked about like the Pygmies,\nand touched the earth as often as they did, he would long ago have been\nstrong enough to pull down the sky about people's ears. But these great\nlubberly fellows resemble mountains, not only in bulk, but in their\ndisinclination to move.\n\nAny other mortal man, except the very one whom Ant\u00e6us had now\nencountered, would have been half frightened to death by the Giant's\nferocious aspect and terrible voice. But the stranger did not seem\nat all disturbed. He carelessly lifted his club, and balanced it in\nhis hand measuring Ant\u00e6us with his eye, from head to foot, not as if\nwonder-smitten at his stature, but as if he had seen a great many\nGiants before, and this was by no means the biggest of them. In fact,\nif the Giant had been no bigger than the Pygmies, (who stood pricking\nup their ears, and looking and listening to what was going forward,)\nthe stranger could not have been less afraid of him.\n\n\"Who are you, I say?\" roared Ant\u00e6us again. \"What's your name? Why do\nyou come hither? Speak, you vagabond, or I'll try the thickness of your\nskull with my walking stick.\"\n\n\"You are a very discourteous Giant,\" answered the stranger, quietly,\n\"and I shall probably have to teach you a little civility, before we\npart. As for my name, it is Hercules. I have come hither because this\nis my most convenient road to the garden of the Hesperides, whither I\nam going to get three of the golden apples for King Eurystheus.\"\n\n\"Caitiff, you shall go no farther!\" bellowed Ant\u00e6us, putting on a\ngrimmer look than before; for he had heard of the mighty Hercules, and\nhated him because he was said to be so strong. \"Neither shall you go\nback whence you came!\"\n\n\"How will you prevent me,\" asked Hercules, \"from going whither I\nplease?\"\n\n\"By hitting you a rap with this pine tree here,\" shouted Ant\u00e6us,\nscowling so that he made himself the ugliest monster in Africa. \"I am\nfifty times stronger than you; and, now that I stamp my foot upon the\nground, I am five hundred times stronger! I am ashamed to kill such a\npuny little dwarf as you seem to be. I will make a slave of you, and\nyou shall likewise be the slave of my brethren, here, the Pygmies. So\nthrow down your club and your other weapons; and as for that lion's\nskin, I intend to have a pair of gloves made of it.\"\n\n\"Come and take it off my shoulders, then,\" answered Hercules, lifting\nhis club.\n\nThen the Giant, grinning with rage, strode tower-like towards the\nstranger, (ten times strengthened at every step,) and fetched a\nmonstrous blow at him with his pine tree, which Hercules caught\nupon his club; and being more skilful than Ant\u00e6us, he paid him back\nsuch a rap upon the sconce, that down tumbled the great lumbering\nman-mountain, flat upon the ground. The poor little Pygmies (who really\nnever dreamed that anybody in the world was half so strong as their\nbrother Ant\u00e6us) were a good deal dismayed at this. But no sooner was\nthe Giant down, than up he bounced again, with tenfold might, and such\na furious visage as was horrible to behold. He aimed another blow at\nHercules, but struck awry, being blinded with wrath, and only hit his\npoor innocent Mother Earth, who groaned and trembled at the stroke. His\npine tree went so deep into the ground, and stuck there so fast, that,\nbefore Ant\u00e6us could get it out, Hercules brought down his club across\nhis shoulders with a mighty thwack, which made the Giant roar as if all\nsorts of intolerable noises had come screeching and rumbling out of\nhis immeasurable lungs in that one cry. Away it went, over mountains\nand valleys, and, for aught I know, was heard on the other side of the\nAfrican deserts.\n\nAs for the Pygmies, their capital city was laid in ruins by the\nconcussion and vibration of the air; and, though there was uproar\nenough without their help, they all set up a shriek out of three\nmillions of little throats, fancying, no doubt, that they swelled the\nGiant's bellow by at least ten times as much. Meanwhile, Ant\u00e6us had\nscrambled upon his feet again, and pulled his pine tree out of the\nearth; and, all aflame with fury, and more outrageously strong than\never, he ran at Hercules, and brought down another blow.\n\n\"This time, rascal, shouted he, you shall not escape me.\"\n\nBut once more Hercules warded off the stroke with his club, and the\nGiant's pine tree was shattered into a thousand splinters, most of\nwhich flew among the Pygmies, and did them more mischief than I like to\nthink about. Before Ant\u00e6us could get out of the way, Hercules let drive\nagain, and gave him another knock-down blow, which sent him heels over\nhead, but served only to increase his already enormous and insufferable\nstrength. As for his rage, there is no telling what a fiery furnace it\nhad now got to be. His one eye was nothing but a circle of red flame.\nHaving now no weapons but his fists, he doubled them up, (each bigger\nthan a hogshead,) smote one against the other, and danced up and down\nwith absolute frenzy, flourishing his immense arms about, as if he\nmeant not merely to kill Hercules, but to smash the whole world to\npieces.\n\n\"Come on!\" roared this thundering Giant. \"Let me hit you but one box on\nthe ear, and you'll never have the headache again.\"\n\nNow Hercules (though strong enough, as you already know, to hold the\nsky up) began to be sensible that he should never win the victory, if\nhe kept on knocking Ant\u00e6us down; for, by and by, if he hit him such\nhard blows, the Giant would inevitably, by the help of his Mother\nEarth, become stronger than the mighty Hercules himself. So, throwing\ndown his club, with which he had fought so many dreadful battles, the\nhero stood ready to receive his antagonist with naked arms.\n\n\"Step forward,\" cried he. \"Since I've broken your pine tree, we'll try\nwhich is the better man at a wrestling match.\"\n\n\"Aha! then I'll soon satisfy you,\" shouted the Giant; for, if there\nwas one thing on which he prided himself more than another, it was his\nskill in wrestling. \"Villain, I'll fling you where you can never pick\nyourself up again.\"\n\nOn came Ant\u00e6us, hopping and capering with the scorching heat of his\nrage, and getting new vigor wherewith to wreak his passion, every time\nhe hopped. But Hercules, you must understand, was wiser than this\nnumskull of a Giant, and had thought of a way to fight him,--huge,\nearth-born monster that he was,--and to conquer him too, in spite of\nall that his Mother Earth could do for him. Watching his opportunity,\nas the mad Giant made a rush at him, Hercules caught him round the\nmiddle with both hands, lifted him high into the air, and held him\naloft overhead.\n\nJust imagine it, my dear little friends! What a spectacle it must have\nbeen, to see this monstrous fellow sprawling in the air, face downward,\nkicking out his long legs and wriggling his whole vast body, like a\nbaby when its father holds it at arm's length towards the ceiling.\n\nBut the most wonderful thing was, that, as soon as Ant\u00e6us was fairly\noff the earth, he began to lose the vigor which he had gained by\ntouching it. Hercules very soon perceived that his troublesome enemy\nwas growing weaker, both because he struggled and kicked with less\nviolence, and because the thunder of his big voice subsided into a\ngrumble. The truth was, that, unless the Giant touched Mother Earth as\noften as once in five minutes, not only his overgrown strength, but the\nvery breath of his life, would depart from him. Hercules had guessed\nthis secret; and it may be well for us all to remember it, in case we\nshould ever have to fight a battle with a fellow like Ant\u00e6us. For these\nearth-born creatures are only difficult to conquer on their own ground,\nbut may be managed if we can contrive to lift them into a loftier and\npurer region. So it proved with the poor Giant, whom I am really a\nlittle sorry for, notwithstanding his uncivil way of treating strangers\nwho came to visit him.\n\nWhen his strength and breath were quite gone, Hercules gave his huge\nbody a toss, and flung it about a mile off, where it fell heavily,\nand lay with no more motion than a sand hill. It was too late for the\nGiant's Mother Earth to help him now; and I should not wonder if his\nponderous bones were lying on the same spot to this very day, and were\nmistaken for those of an uncommonly large elephant.\n\nBut, alas me! What a wailing did the poor little Pygmies set up when\nthey saw their enormous brother treated in this terrible manner. If\nHercules heard their shrieks, however, he took no notice, and perhaps\nfancied them only the shrill, plaintive twittering of small birds\nthat had been frightened from their nests by the uproar of the battle\nbetween himself and Ant\u00e6us. Indeed, his thoughts had been so much taken\nup with the Giant, that he had never once looked at the Pygmies, nor\neven knew that there was such a funny little nation in the world. And\nnow, as he had travelled a good way, and was also rather weary with his\nexertions in the fight, he spread out his lion's skin on the ground,\nand reclining himself upon it, fell fast asleep.\n\nAs soon as the Pygmies saw Hercules preparing for a nap, they nodded\ntheir little heads at one another, and winked with their little eyes.\nAnd when his deep, regular breathing gave them notice that he was\nasleep, they assembled together in an immense crowd, spreading over a\nspace of about twenty-seven feet square. One of their most eloquent\norators (and a valiant warrior enough, besides, though hardly so\ngood at any other weapon as he was with his tongue) climbed upon a\ntoadstool, and, from that elevated position, addressed the multitude.\nHis sentiments were pretty much as follows; or, at all events,\nsomething like this was probably the upshot of his speech:--\n\n\"Tall Pygmies and mighty little men! You and all of us have seen what a\npublic calamity has been brought to pass, and what an insult has here\nbeen offered to the majesty of our nation. Yonder lies Ant\u00e6us, our\ngreat friend and brother, slain, within our territory, by a miscreant\nwho took him at disadvantage, and fought him (if fighting it can be\ncalled) in a way that neither man, nor Giant, nor Pygmy ever dreamed\nof fighting, until this hour. And, adding a grievous contumely to the\nwrong already done us, the miscreant has now fallen asleep as quietly\nas if nothing were to be dreaded from our wrath! It behooves you,\nfellow-countrymen, to consider in what aspect we shall stand before the\nworld, and what will be the verdict of impartial history, should we\nsuffer these accumulated outrages to go unavenged.\n\n\"Ant\u00e6us was our brother, born of that same beloved parent to whom we\nowe the thews and sinews, as well as the courageous hearts, which made\nhim proud of our relationship. He was our faithful ally, and fell\nfighting as much for our national rights and immunities as for his\nown personal ones. We and our forefathers have dwelt in friendship\nwith him, and held affectionate intercourse, as man to man, through\nimmemorial generations. You remember how often our entire people have\nreposed in his great shadow, and how our little ones have played at\nhide and seek in the tangles of his hair, and how his mighty footsteps\nhave familiarly gone to and fro among us, and never trodden upon any\nof our toes. And there lies this dear brother--this sweet and amiable\nfriend--this brave and faithful ally--this virtuous Giant--this\nblameless and excellent Ant\u00e6us--dead! Dead. Silent! Powerless! A mere\nmountain of clay! Forgive my tears! Nay, I behold your own. Were we to\ndrown the world with them, could the world blame us?\n\n\"But to resume: Shall we, my countrymen, suffer this wicked stranger to\ndepart unharmed, and triumph in his treacherous victory, among distant\ncommunities of the earth? Shall we not rather compel him to leave his\nbones here on our soil, by the side of our slain brother's bones? So\nthat, while one skeleton shall remain as the everlasting monument of\nour sorrow, the other shall endure as long, exhibiting to the whole\nhuman race a terrible example of Pygmy vengeance! Such is the question.\nI put it to you in full confidence of a response that shall be worthy\nof our national character, and calculated to increase, rather than\ndiminish, the glory which our ancestors have transmitted to us, and\nwhich we ourselves have proudly vindicated in our warfare with the\ncranes.\"\n\nThe orator was here interrupted by a burst of irrepressible enthusiasm;\nevery individual Pygmy crying out that the national honor must be\npreserved at all hazards. He bowed, and making a gesture for silence,\nwound up his harangue in the following admirable manner:--\n\n\"It only remains for us, then, to decide whether we shall carry on\nthe war in our national capacity,--one united people against a common\nenemy,--or whether some champion, famous in former fights, shall be\nselected to defy the slayer of our brother Ant\u00e6us to single combat. In\nthe latter case, though not unconscious that there may be taller men\namong you, I hereby offer myself for that enviable duty. And, believe\nme, dear countrymen, whether I live or die, the honor of this great\ncountry, and the fame bequeathed us by our heroic progenitors, shall\nsuffer no diminution in my hands. Never, while I can wield this sword,\nof which I now fling away the scabbard--never, never, never, even if\nthe crimson hand that slew the great Ant\u00e6us shall lay me prostrate,\nlike him, on the soil which I give my life to defend.\"\n\nSo saying, this valiant Pygmy drew out his weapon, (which was terrible\nto behold, being as long as the blade of a penknife,) and sent the\nscabbard whirling over the heads of the multitude. His speech was\nfollowed by an uproar of applause, as its patriotism and self-devotion\nunquestionably deserved; and the shouts and clapping of hands would\nhave been greatly prolonged, had they not been rendered quite inaudible\nby a deep respiration, vulgarly called a snore, from the sleeping\nHercules.\n\nIt was finally decided that the whole nation of Pygmies should set\nto work to destroy Hercules; not, be it understood, from any doubt\nthat a single champion would be capable of putting him to the sword,\nbut because he was a public enemy, and all were desirous of sharing\nin the glory of his defeat. There was a debate whether the national\nhonor did not demand that a herald should be sent with a trumpet,\nto stand over the ear of Hercules, and, after blowing a blast right\ninto it, to defy him to the combat by formal proclamation. But two or\nthree venerable and sagacious Pygmies, well versed in state affairs,\ngave it as their opinion that war already existed, and that it was\ntheir rightful privilege to take the enemy by surprise. Moreover if\nawakened, and allowed to get upon his feet, Hercules might happen to\ndo them a mischief before he could be beaten down again. For, as these\nsage counsellers remarked, the stranger's club was really very big,\nand had rattled like a thunderbolt against the skull of Ant\u00e6us. So the\nPygmies resolved to set aside all foolish punctilios, and assail their\nantagonist at once.\n\nAccordingly, all the fighting men of the nation took their weapons, and\nwent boldly up to Hercules, who still lay fast asleep, little dreaming\nof the harm which the Pygmies meant to do him. A body of twenty\nthousand archers marched in front, with their little bows all ready,\nand the arrows on the string. The same number were ordered to clamber\nupon Hercules, some with spades, to dig his eyes out, and others with\nbundles of hay, and all manner of rubbish, with which they intended to\nplug up his mouth and nostrils, so that he might perish for lack of\nbreath. These last, however, could by no means perform their appointed\nduty; inasmuch as the enemy's breath rushed out of his nose in an\nobstreperous hurricane and whirlwind, which blew the Pygmies away as\nfast as they came nigh. It was found necessary, therefore, to hit upon\nsome other method of carrying on the war.\n\nAfter holding a council, the captains ordered their troops to collect\nsticks, straws, dry weeds, and whatever combustible stuff they could\nfind and make a pile of it, heaping it high around the head of\nHercules. As a great many thousand Pygmies were employed in this task,\nthey soon brought together several bushels of inflammatory matter,\nand raised so tall a heap, that, mounting on its summit, they were\nquite upon a level with the sleeper's face. The archers, meanwhile,\nwere stationed within bow shot, with orders to let fly at Hercules the\ninstant that he stirred. Everything being in readiness, a torch was\napplied to the pile, which immediately burst into flames, and soon\nwaxed hot enough to roast the enemy, had he but chosen to lie still.\nA Pygmy, you know, though so very small, might set the world on fire,\njust as easily as a Giant could; so that this was certainly the very\nbest way of dealing with their foe, provided they could have kept him\nquiet while the conflagration was going forward.\n\nBut no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched, than up he started,\nwith his hair in a red blaze.\n\n\"What's all this?\" he cried, bewildered with sleep, and staring about\nhim as if he expected to see another Giant.\n\nAt that moment the twenty thousand archers twanged their bowstrings,\nand the arrows came whizzing, like so many winged mosquitoes, right\ninto the face of Hercules. But I doubt whether more than half a dozen\nof them punctured the skin, which was remarkably tough, as you know the\nskin of a hero has good need to be.\n\n\"Villain!\" shouted all the Pygmies at once. \"You have killed the Giant\nAnt\u00e6us, our great brother, and the ally of our nation. We declare\nbloody war against you, and will slay you on the spot.\"\n\nSurprised at the shrill piping of so many little voices, Hercules,\nafter putting out the conflagration of his hair, gazed all round about,\nbut could see nothing. At last, however, looking narrowly on the\nground, he espied the innumerable assemblage of Pygmies at his feet.\nHe stooped down, and taking up the nearest one between his thumb and\nfinger, set him on the palm of his left hand, and held him at a proper\ndistance for examination. It chanced to be the very identical Pygmy who\nhad spoken from the top of the toadstool, and had offered himself as a\nchampion to meet Hercules in single combat.\n\n\"What in the world, my little fellow,\" ejaculated Hercules, \"may you\nbe?\"\n\n\"I am your enemy,\" answered the valiant Pygmy, in his mightiest squeak.\n\"You have slain the enormous Ant\u00e6us, our brother by the mother's side,\nand for ages the faithful ally of our illustrious nation. We are\ndetermined to put you to death; and for my own part, I challenge you to\ninstant battle, on equal ground.\"\n\nHercules was so tickled with the Pygmy's big words and warlike\ngestures, that he burst into a great explosion of laughter, and almost\ndropped the poor little mite of a creature off the palm of his hand,\nthrough the ecstasy and convulsion of his merriment.\n\n\"Upon my word,\" cried he, \"I thought I had seen wonders before\nto-day--hydras with nine heads, stags with golden horns, six-legged\nmen, three-headed dogs, giants with furnaces in their stomachs, and\nnobody knows what besides. But here, on the palm of my hand, stands a\nwonder that outdoes them all! Your body, my little friend, is about the\nsize of an ordinary man's finger. Pray, how big may your soul be?\"\n\n\"As big as your own!\" said the Pygmy.\n\nHercules was touched with the little man's dauntless courage, and could\nnot help acknowledging such a brotherhood with him as one hero feels\nfor another.\n\n\"My good little people,\" said he, making a low obeisance to the grand\nnation, \"not for all the world would I do an intentional injury to such\nbrave fellows as you! Your hearts seem to me so exceedingly great,\nthat, upon my honor, I marvel how your small bodies can contain them. I\nsue for peace, and, as a condition of it, will take five strides, and\nbe out of your kingdom at the sixth. Good-by. I shall pick my steps\ncarefully, for fear of treading upon some fifty of you, without knowing\nit. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! For once, Hercules acknowledges himself\nvanquished.\"\n\nSome writers say, that Hercules gathered up the whole race of Pygmies\nin his lion's skin, and carried them home to Greece, for the children\nof King Eurystheus to play with. But this is a mistake. He left them,\none and all, within their own territory, where, for aught I can\ntell, their descendants are alive to the present day, building their\nlittle houses, cultivating their little fields, spanking their little\nchildren, waging their little warfare with the cranes, doing their\nlittle business, whatever it may be, and reading their little histories\nof ancient times. In those histories, perhaps, it stands recorded,\nthat, a great many centuries ago, the valiant Pygmies avenged the death\nof the Giant Ant\u00e6us by scaring away the mighty Hercules.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE DRAGON'S TEETH\n\nCadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix, the three sons of King Agenor, and their\nlittle sister Europa, (who was a very beautiful child,) were at play\ntogether, near the sea shore, in their father's kingdom of Ph\u0153nicia.\nThey had rambled to some distance from the palace where their parents\ndwelt, and were now in a verdant meadow, on one side of which lay the\nsea, all sparkling and dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently\nagainst the beach. The three boys were very happy, gathering flowers,\nand twining them into garlands, with which they adorned the little\nEuropa. Seated on the grass, the child was almost hidden under an\nabundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy face peeped merrily\nout, and, as Cadmus said, was the prettiest of all the flowers.\n\nJust then, there came a splendid butterfly, fluttering along the\nmeadow; and Cadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix set off in pursuit of it crying\nout that it was a flower with wings. Europa, who was a little wearied\nwith playing all day long, did not chase the butterfly with her\nbrothers, but sat still where they had left her, and closed her eyes.\nFor a while, she listened to the pleasant murmur of the sea, which was\nlike a voice saying \"Hush!\" and bidding her go to sleep. But the pretty\nchild, if she slept at all, could not have slept more than a moment,\nwhen she heard something trample on the grass, not far from her, and\npeeping out from the heap of flowers, beheld a snow-white bull.\n\nAnd whence could this bull have come? Europa and her brothers had been\na long time playing in the meadow, and had seen no cattle, nor other\nliving thing, either there or on the neighboring hills.\n\n\"Brother Cadmus!\" cried Europa, starting up out of the midst of the\nroses and lilies. \"Ph\u0153nix! Cilix! Where are you all? Help! Help! Come\nand drive away this bull!\"\n\nBut her brothers were too far off to hear; especially as the fright\ntook away Europa's voice, and hindered her from calling very loudly. So\nthere she stood, with her pretty mouth wide open, as pale as the white\nlilies that were twisted among the other flowers in her garlands.\n\nNevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she had perceived the\nbull, rather than anything frightful in his appearance, that caused\nEuropa so much alarm. On looking at him more attentively, she began to\nsee that he was a beautiful animal, and even fancied a particularly\namiable expression in his face. As for his breath,--the breath of\ncattle, you know, is always sweet,--it was as fragrant as if he had\nbeen grazing on no other food than rosebuds, or, at least, the most\ndelicate of clover blossoms. Never before did a bull have such bright\nand tender eyes, and such smooth horns of ivory, as this one. And the\nbull ran little races, and capered sportively around the child; so that\nshe quite forgot how big and strong he was, and, from the gentleness\nand playfulness of his actions, soon came to consider him as innocent a\ncreature as a pet lamb.\n\nThus, frightened as she at first was, you might by and by have seen\nEuropa stroking the bull's forehead with her small white hand, and\ntaking the garlands off her own head to hang them on his neck and ivory\nhorns. Then she pulled up some blades of grass, and he ate them out of\nher hand, not as if he were hungry, but because he wanted to be friends\nwith the child, and took pleasure in eating what she had touched. Well,\nmy stars! was there ever such a gentle, sweet, pretty, and amiable\ncreature as this bull, and ever such a nice playmate for a little girl?\n\nWhen the animal saw, (for the bull had so much intelligence that it is\nreally wonderful to think of,) when he saw that Europa was no longer\nafraid of him, he grew overjoyed, and could hardly contain himself\nfor delight. He frisked about the meadow, now here, now there, making\nsprightly leaps, with as little effort as a bird expends in hopping\nfrom twig to twig. Indeed, his motion was as light as if he were flying\nthrough the air, and his hoofs seemed hardly to leave their print in\nthe grassy soil over which he trod. With his spotless hue he resembled\na snow drift, wafted along by the wind. Once he galloped so far away\nthat Europa feared lest she might never see him again; so, setting up\nher childish voice, she called him back.\n\n\"Come back, pretty creature!\" she cried. \"Here is a nice clover\nblossom.\"\n\nAnd then it was delightful to witness the gratitude of this amiable\nbull, and how he was so full of joy and thankfulness that he capered\nhigher than ever. He came running, and bowed his head before Europa,\nas if he knew her to be a king's daughter, or else recognized the\nimportant truth that a little girl is everybody's queen. And not only\ndid the bull bend his neck, he absolutely knelt down at her feet, and\nmade such intelligent nods, and other inviting gestures, that Europa\nunderstood what he meant just as well as if he had put it in so many\nwords.\n\n\"Come, dear child,\" was what he wanted to say, \"let me give you a ride\non my back.\"\n\nAt the first thought of such a thing, Europa drew back. But then she\nconsidered in her wise little head that there could be no possible\nharm in taking just one gallop on the back of this docile and friendly\nanimal, who would certainly set her down the very instant she desired\nit. And how it would surprise her brothers to see her riding across the\ngreen meadow! And what merry times they might have, either taking turns\nfor a gallop, or clambering on the gentle creature, all four children\ntogether, and careering round the field with shouts of laughter that\nwould be heard as far off as King Agenor's palace!\n\n\"I think I will do it,\" said the child to herself.\n\nAnd, indeed, why not? She cast a glance around, and caught a glimpse of\nCadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix, who were still in pursuit of the butterfly,\nalmost at the other end of the meadow. It would be the quickest way\nof rejoining them, to get upon the white bull's back. She came a step\nnearer to him therefore; and--sociable creature that he was--he showed\nso much joy at this mark of her confidence, that the child could not\nfind in her heart to hesitate any longer. Making one bound, (for this\nlittle princess was as active as a squirrel,) there sat Europa on the\nbeautiful bull, holding an ivory horn in each hand, lest she should\nfall off.\n\n\"Softly, pretty bull, softly!\" she said, rather frightened at what she\nhad done. \"Do not gallop too fast.\"\n\nHaving got the child on his back, the animal gave a leap into the air,\nand came down so like a feather that Europa did not know when his hoofs\ntouched the ground. He then began a race to that part of the flowery\nplain where her three brothers were, and where they had just caught\ntheir splendid butterfly. Europa screamed with delight; and Ph\u0153nix,\nCilix, and Cadmus stood gaping at the spectacle of their sister mounted\non a white bull, not knowing whether to be frightened or to wish\nthe same good luck for themselves. The gentle and innocent creature\n(for who could possibly doubt that he was so?) pranced round among\nthe children as sportively as a kitten. Europa all the while looked\ndown upon her brothers, nodding and laughing, but yet with a sort of\nstateliness in her rosy little face. As the bull wheeled about to take\nanother gallop across the meadow, the child waved her hand, and said,\n\"Good by,\" playfully pretending that she was now bound on a distant\njourney, and might not see her brothers again for nobody could tell how\nlong.\n\n\"Good by,\" shouted Cadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix, all in one breath.\n\nBut, together with her enjoyment of the sport, there was still a little\nremnant of fear in the child's heart; so that her last look at the\nthree boys was a troubled one, and made them feel as if their dear\nsister were really leaving them forever. And what do you think the\nsnowy bull did next? Why, he set off, as swift as the wind, straight\ndown to the sea shore, scampered across the sand, took an airy leap,\nand plunged right in among the foaming billows. The white spray rose in\na shower over him and little Europa, and fell spattering down upon the\nwater.\n\nThen what a scream of terror did the poor child send forth! The three\nbrothers screamed manfully likewise, and ran to the shore as fast as\ntheir legs would carry them, with Cadmus at their head. But it was too\nlate. When they reached the margin of the sand, the treacherous animal\nwas already far away in the wide blue sea, with only his snowy head\nand tail emerging, and poor little Europa between them, stretching out\none hand towards her dear brothers, while she grasped the bull's ivory\nhorn with the other. And there stood Cadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix, gazing\nat this sad spectacle, through their tears, until they could no longer\ndistinguish the bull's snowy head from the white-capped billows that\nseemed to boil up out of the sea's depths around him. Nothing more was\never seen of the white bull--nothing more of the beautiful child.\n\nThis was a mournful story, as you may well think, for the three boys to\ncarry home to their parents. King Agenor, their father, was the ruler\nof the whole country; but he loved his little daughter Europa better\nthan his kingdom, or than all his other children, or than anything else\nin the world. Therefore, when Cadmus and his two brothers came crying\nhome, and told him how that a white bull had carried off their sister,\nand swam with her over the sea, the king was quite beside himself with\ngrief and rage. Although it was now twilight, and fast growing dark, he\nbade them set out instantly in search of her.\n\n\"Never shall you see my face again,\" he cried, \"unless you bring me\nback my little Europa, to gladden me with her smiles and her pretty\nways. Begone, and enter my presence no more, till you come leading her\nby the hand.\"\n\nAs King Agenor said this, his eyes flashed fire, (for he was a very\npassionate king,) and he looked so terribly angry that the poor boys\ndid not even venture to ask for their suppers, but slunk away out of\nthe palace, and only paused on the steps a moment to consult whither\nthey should go first. While they were standing there, all in dismay,\ntheir mother, Queen Telephassa, (who happened not to be by when they\ntold the story to the king,) came hurrying after them, and said that\nshe too would go in quest of her daughter.\n\n\"O, no, mother!\" cried the boys. \"The night is dark, and there is no\nknowing what troubles and perils we may meet with.\"\n\n\"Alas! my dear children,\" answered poor Queen Telephassa, weeping\nbitterly, \"that is only another reason why I should go with you. If I\nshould lose you, too, as well as my little Europa, what would become of\nme!\"\n\n\"And let me go likewise!\" said their playfellow Thasus, who came\nrunning to join them.\n\nThasus was the son of a seafaring person in the neighborhood; he had\nbeen brought up with the young princes, and was their intimate friend,\nand loved Europa very much; so they consented that he should accompany\nthem. The whole party, therefore, set forth together. Cadmus, Ph\u0153nix,\nCilix, and Thasus clustered round Queen Telephassa, grasping her\nskirts, and begging her to lean upon their shoulders, whenever she felt\nweary. In this manner they went down the palace steps, and began a\njourney, which turned out to be a great deal longer than they dreamed\nof. The last that they saw of King Agenor, he came to the door, with\na servant holding a torch beside him, and called after them into the\ngathering darkness:--\n\n[Illustration: \"Alas! My dear children,\" answered poor Queen\nTelephassa.]\n\n\"Remember! Never ascend these steps again without the child!\"\n\n\"Never!\" sobbed Queen Telephassa; and the three brothers and Thasus\nanswered, \"Never! Never! Never! Never!\"\n\nAnd they kept their word. Year after year King Agenor sat in the\nsolitude of his beautiful palace, listening in vain for their returning\nfootsteps, hoping to hear the familiar voice of the queen, and the\ncheerful talk of his sons and their playfellow Thasus, entering the\ndoor together, and the sweet, childish accents of little Europa in the\nmidst of them. But so long a time went by, that, at last, if they had\nreally come, the king would not have known that this was the voice of\nTelephassa, and these the younger voices that used to make such joyful\nechoes, when the children were playing about the palace. We must now\nleave King Agenor to sit on his throne, and must go along with Queen\nTelephassa and her four youthful companions.\n\nThey went on and on, and travelled a long way, and passed over\nmountains and rivers, and sailed over seas. Here, and there, and\neverywhere, they made continual inquiry if any person could tell them\nwhat had become of Europa: The rustic people, of whom they asked this\nquestion, paused a little while from their labors in the field, and\nlooked very much surprised. They thought it strange to behold a woman\nin the garb of a queen, (for Telephassa, in her haste, had forgotten\nto take off her crown and her royal robes,) roaming about the country,\nwith four lads around her, on such an errand as this seemed to be. But\nnobody could give them any tidings of Europa; nobody had seen a little\ngirl dressed like a princess, and mounted on a snow-white bull, which\ngalloped as swiftly as the wind.\n\nI cannot tell you how long Queen Telephassa, and Cadmus, Ph\u0153nix, and\nCilix, her three sons, and Thasus, their playfellow, went wandering\nalong the highways and bypaths, or through the pathless wildernesses\nof the earth, in this manner. But certain it is, that, before they\nreached any place of rest, their splendid garments were quite worn out.\nThey all looked very much travel-stained, and would have had the dust\nof many countries on their shoes, if the streams, through which they\nwaded, had not washed it all away. When they had been gone a year,\nTelephassa threw away her crown, because it chafed her forehead.\n\n\"It has given me many a headache,\" said the poor queen, \"and it cannot\ncure my heartache.\"\n\nAs fast as their princely robes got torn and tattered, they exchanged\nthem for such mean attire as ordinary people wore. By and by, they came\nto have a wild and homeless aspect; so that you would much sooner have\ntaken them for a gypsy family than a queen and three princes, and a\nyoung nobleman, who had once a palace for their home, and a train of\nservants to do their bidding. The four boys grew up to be tall young\nmen, with sunburnt faces. Each of them girded on a sword, to defend\nthemselves against the perils of the way. When the husbandmen, at whose\nfarm houses they sought hospitality, needed their assistance in the\nharvest field, they gave it willingly; and Queen Telephassa (who had\ndone no work in her palace, save to braid silk threads with golden\nones) came behind them to bind the sheaves. If payment was offered,\nthey shook their heads, and only asked for tidings of Europa.\n\n\"There are bulls enough in my pasture,\" the old farmers would reply;\n\"but I never heard of one like this you tell me of. A snow-white bull\nwith a little princess on his back! Ho! ho! I ask your pardon, good\nfolks; but there never was such a sight seen hereabouts.\"\n\nAt last, when his upper lip began to have the down on it, Ph\u0153nix grew\nweary of rambling hither and thither to no purpose. So, one day, when\nthey happened to be passing through a pleasant and solitary tract of\ncountry, he sat himself down on a heap of moss.\n\n\"I can go no farther,\" said Ph\u0153nix. \"It is a mere foolish waste of\nlife, to spend it, as we do, in always wandering up and down, and never\ncoming to any home at nightfall. Our sister is lost, and never will\nbe found. She probably perished in the sea; or, to whatever shore the\nwhite bull may have carried her, it is now so many years ago, that\nthere would be neither love nor acquaintance between us, should we meet\nagain. My father has forbidden us to return to his palace; so I shall\nbuild me a hut of branches, and dwell here.\"\n\n\"Well, son Ph\u0153nix,\" said Telephassa, sorrowfully, \"you have grown to be\na man, and must do as you judge best. But, for my part, I will still go\nin quest of my poor child.\"\n\n\"And we three will go along with you!\" cried Cadmus and Cilix, and\ntheir faithful friend Thasus.\n\nBut, before setting out, they all helped Ph\u0153nix to build a habitation.\nWhen completed, it was a sweet rural bower, roofed overhead with an\narch of living boughs. Inside there were two pleasant rooms, one of\nwhich had a soft heap of moss for a bed, while the other was furnished\nwith a rustic seat or two, curiously fashioned out of the crooked roots\nof trees. So comfortable and home-like did it seem, that Telephassa and\nher three companions could not help sighing, to think that they must\nstill roam about the world, instead of spending the remainder of their\nlives in some such cheerful abode as they had here built for Ph\u0153nix.\nBut, when they bade him farewell, Ph\u0153nix shed tears, and probably\nregretted that he was no longer to keep them company.\n\nHowever, he had fixed upon an admirable place to dwell in. And by\nand by there came other people, who chanced to have no homes; and,\nseeing how pleasant a spot it was, they built themselves huts in the\nneighborhood of Ph\u0153nix's habitation. Thus, before many years went by,\na city had grown up there, in the center of which was seen a stately\npalace of marble, wherein dwelt Ph\u0153nix, clothed in a purple robe, and\nwearing a golden crown upon his head. For the inhabitants of the new\ncity, finding that he had royal blood in his veins, had chosen him to\nbe their king. The very first decree of state which King Ph\u0153nix issued\nwas, that, if a maiden happened to arrive in the kingdom, mounted on\na snow-white bull, and calling herself Europa, his subjects should\ntreat her with the greatest kindness and respect, and immediately\nbring her to the palace. You may see by this, that Ph\u0153nix's conscience\nnever quite ceased to trouble him, for giving up the quest of his dear\nsister, and sitting himself down to be comfortable, while his mother\nand her companions went onward.\n\nBut often and often, at the close of a weary day's journey, did\nTelephassa and Cadmus, Cilix and Thasus, remember the pleasant spot\nin which they had left Ph\u0153nix. It was a sorrowful prospect for these\nwanderers, that on the morrow they must again set forth, and that,\nafter many nightfalls, they would perhaps be no nearer the close of\ntheir toilsome pilgrimage than now. These thoughts made them all\nmelancholy at times, but appeared to torment Cilix more than the rest\nof the party. At length, one morning, when they were taking their\nstaffs in hand to set out, he thus addressed them:--\n\n\"My dear mother, and you good brother Cadmus, and my friend Thasus,\nmethinks we are like people in a dream. There is no substance in the\nlife which we are leading. It is such a dreary length of time since the\nwhite bull carried off my sister Europa, that I have quite forgotten\nhow she looked, and the tones of her voice, and, indeed, almost doubt\nwhether such a little girl ever lived in the world. And whether she\nonce lived or no, I am convinced that she no longer survives, and that\ntherefore it is the merest folly to waste our own lives and happiness\nin seeking her. Were we to find her, she would now be a woman grown,\nand would look upon us all as strangers. So, to tell you the truth,\nI have resolved to take up my abode here; and I entreat you, mother,\nbrother, and friend, to follow my example.\"\n\n\"Not I, for one,\" said Telephassa; although the poor queen, firmly as\nshe spoke, was so travel-worn that she could hardly put her foot to\nthe ground. \"Not I for one! In the depths of my heart, little Europa\nis still the rosy child who ran to gather flowers so many years ago.\nShe has not grown to womanhood, nor forgotten me. At noon, at night,\njourneying onward, sitting down to rest, her childish voice is always\nin my ears, calling 'Mother! mother!' Stop here who may, there is no\nrepose for me.\"\n\n\"Nor for me,\" said Cadmus, \"while my dear mother pleases to go onward.\"\n\nAnd the faithful Thasus, too, was resolved to bear them company. They\nremained with Cilix a few days, however, and helped him to build a\nrustic bower, resembling the one which they had formerly built for\nPh\u0153nix.\n\nWhen they were bidding him farewell, Cilix burst into tears, and told\nhis mother that it seemed just as melancholy a dream to stay there, in\nsolitude, as to go onward. If she really believed that they would ever\nfind Europa, he was willing to continue the search with them, even now.\nBut Telephassa bade him remain there, and be happy, if his own heart\nwould let him. So the pilgrims took their leave of him, and departed,\nand were hardly out of sight before some other wandering people came\nalong that way, and saw Cilix's habitation, and were greatly delighted\nwith the appearance of the place. There being abundance of unoccupied\nground in the neighborhood, these strangers built huts for themselves,\nand were soon joined by a multitude of new settlers, who quickly\nformed a city. In the middle of it was seen a magnificent palace of\ncolored marble, on the balcony of which, every noontide, appeared\nCilix, in a long purple robe, and with a jeweled crown upon his head;\nfor the inhabitants, when they found out that he was a king's son, had\nconsidered him the fittest of all men to be a king himself.\n\nOne of the first acts of King Cilix's government was to send out an\nexpedition, consisting of a grave ambassador and an escort of bold and\nhardy young men, with orders to visit the principal kingdoms of the\nearth, and inquire whether a young maiden had passed through those\nregions, galloping swiftly on a white bull. It is, therefore, plain to\nmy mind, that Cilix secretly blamed himself for giving up the search\nfor Europa, as long as he was able to put one foot before the other.\n\nAs for Telephassa, and Cadmus, and the good Thasus, it grieves me to\nthink of them, still keeping up that weary pilgrimage. The two young\nmen did their best for the poor queen, helping her over the rough\nplaces, often carrying her across rivulets in their faithful arms, and\nseeking to shelter her at nightfall, even when they themselves lay on\nthe ground. Sad, sad it was to hear them asking of every passer-by if\nhe had seen Europa, so long after the white bull had carried her away.\nBut, though the gray years thrust themselves between, and made the\nchild's figure dim in their remembrance, neither of these true-hearted\nthree ever dreamed of giving up the search.\n\nOne morning, however, poor Thasus found that he had sprained his ankle,\nand could not possibly go a step farther.\n\n\"After a few days, to be sure,\" said he, mournfully, \"I might make a\nshift to hobble along with a stick. But that would only delay you, and\nperhaps hinder you from finding dear little Europa, after all your\npains and trouble. Do you go forward, therefore, my beloved companions,\nand leave me to follow as I may.\"\n\n\"Thou hast been a true friend, dear Thasus,\" said Queen Telephassa,\nkissing his forehead. \"Being neither my son, nor the brother of our\nlost Europa, thou hast shown thyself truer to me and her than Ph\u0153nix\nand Cilix did, whom we have left behind us. Without thy loving help,\nand that of my son Cadmus, my limbs could not have borne me half so far\nas this. Now, take thy rest, and be at peace. For--and it is the first\ntime I have owned it to myself--I begin to question whether we shall\never find my beloved daughter in this world.\"\n\nSaying this, the poor queen shed tears, because it was a grievous trial\nto the mother's heart to confess that her hopes were growing faint.\nFrom that day forward, Cadmus noticed that she never travelled with the\nsame alacrity of spirit that had heretofore supported her. Her weight\nwas heavier upon his arm.\n\nBefore setting out, Cadmus helped Thasus build a bower; while\nTelephassa, being too infirm to give any great assistance, advised them\nhow to fit it up and furnish it, so that it might be as comfortable as\na hut of branches could. Thasus, however, did not spend all his days\nin this green bower. For it happened to him, as to Ph\u0153nix and Cilix,\nthat other homeless people visited the spot and liked it, and built\nthemselves habitations in the neighborhood. So here, in the course of\na few years, was another thriving city, with a red freestone palace in\nthe center of it, where Thasus sat upon a throne, doing justice to the\npeople, with a purple robe over his shoulders, a scepter in his hand,\nand a crown upon his head. The inhabitants had made him king, not for\nthe sake of any royal blood, (for none was in his veins,) but because\nThasus was an upright, true-hearted, and courageous man, and therefore\nfit to rule.\n\nBut, when the affairs of his kingdom were all settled, King Thasus laid\naside his purple robe, and crown, and scepter, and bade his worthiest\nsubject distribute justice to the people in his stead. Then, grasping\nthe pilgrim's staff that had supported him so long, he set forth again,\nhoping still to discover some hoof mark of the snow-white bull, some\ntrace of the vanished child. He returned, after a lengthened absence,\nand sat down wearily upon his throne. To his latest hour, nevertheless,\nKing Thasus showed his true-hearted remembrance of Europa, by ordering\nthat a fire should always be kept burning in his palace, and a bath\nsteaming hot, and food ready to be served up, and a bed with snow\nwhite sheets, in case the maiden should arrive, and require immediate\nrefreshment. And though Europa never came, the good Thasus had the\nblessings of many a poor traveller, who profited by the food and\nlodging which were meant for the little playmate of the king's boyhood.\n\nTelephassa and Cadmus were now pursuing their weary way, with no\ncompanion but each other. The queen leaned heavily upon her son's\narm, and could walk only a few miles a day. But for all her weakness\nand weariness, she would not be persuaded to give up the search. It\nwas enough to bring tears into the eyes of bearded men to hear the\nmelancholy tone with which she inquired of every stranger whether he\ncould tell her any news of the lost child.\n\n\"Have you seen a little girl--no, no, I mean a young maiden of full\ngrowth--passing by this way, mounted on a snow-white bull, which\ngallops as swiftly as the wind?\"\n\n\"We have seen no such wonderous sight,\" the people would reply; and\nvery often, taking Cadmus aside, they whispered to him, \"Is this\nstately and sad-looking woman your mother? Surely she is not in her\nright mind; and you ought to take her home, and make her comfortable,\nand do your best to get this dream out of her fancy.\"\n\n\"It is no dream,\" said Cadmus. \"Everything else is a dream, save that.\"\n\nBut, one day, Telephassa seemed feebler than usual, and leaned almost\nher whole weight on the arm of Cadmus, and walked more slowly than ever\nbefore. At last they reached a solitary spot, where she told her son\nthat she must needs lie down, and take a good, long rest.\n\n\"A good, long rest!\" she repeated, looking Cadmus tenderly in the face.\n\"A good, long rest, thou dearest one!\"\n\n\"As long as you please, dear mother,\" answered Cadmus.\n\nTelephassa bade him sit down on the turf beside her, and then she took\nhis hand.\n\n\"My son,\" said she, fixing her dim eyes most lovingly upon him, \"this\nrest that I speak of will be very long indeed! You must not wait till\nit is finished. Dear Cadmus, you do not comprehend me. You must make a\ngrave here, and lay your mother's weary frame into it. My pilgrimage is\nover.\"\n\nCadmus burst into tears, and, for a long time, refused to believe that\nhis dear mother was now to be taken from him. But Telephassa reasoned\nwith him, and kissed him, and at length made him discern that it was\nbetter for her spirit to pass away out of the toil, the weariness, the\ngrief, and disappointment which had burdened her on earth, ever since\nthe child was lost. He therefore repressed his sorrow, and listened to\nher last words.\n\n\"Dearest Cadmus,\" said she, \"thou hast been the truest son that ever\nmother had, and faithful to the very last. Who else would have borne\nwith my infirmities as thou hast! It is owing to thy care, thou\ntenderest child, that my grave was not dug long years ago, in some\nvalley or on some hillside that lies far, far behind us. It is enough.\nThou shalt wander no more on this hopeless search. But, when thou hast\nlaid thy mother in the earth, then go, my son, to Delphi, and inquire\nof the oracle what thou shalt do next.\"\n\n\"O mother, mother,\" cried Cadmus, \"couldst thou but have seen my sister\nbefore this hour!\"\n\n\"It matters little now,\" answered Telephassa, and there was a smile\nupon her face. \"I go now to the better world, and, sooner or later,\nshall find my daughter there.\"\n\nI will not sadden you, my little hearers, with telling how Telephassa\ndied and was buried, but will only say, that her dying smile grew\nbrighter, instead of vanishing from her dead face; so that Cadmus felt\nconvinced that, at her very first step into the better world, she had\ncaught Europa in her arms. He planted some flowers on his mother's\ngrave, and left them to grow there, and make the place beautiful, when\nhe should be far away.\n\nAfter performing this last sorrowful duty, he set forth alone, and took\nthe road towards the famous oracle of Delphi, as Telephassa had advised\nhim. On his way thither, he still inquired of most people whom he met\nwhether they had seen Europa; for, to say the truth, Cadmus had grown\nso accustomed to ask the question, that it came to his lips as readily\nas a remark about the weather. He received various answers. Some told\nhim one thing and some another. Among the rest, a mariner affirmed,\nthat, many years before, in a distant country, he had heard a rumor\nabout a white bull, which came swimming across the sea with a child on\nhis back, dressed up in flowers that were blighted by the sea water.\nHe did not know what had become of the child or the bull; and Cadmus\nsuspected indeed, by a queer twinkle in the mariner's eyes, that he was\nputting a joke upon him, and had never really heard anything about the\nmatter.\n\nPoor Cadmus found it more wearisome to travel alone than to bear all\nhis dear mother's weight, while she had kept him company. His heart,\nyou will understand, was now so heavy that it seemed impossible,\nsometimes, to carry it any farther. But his limbs were strong and\nactive and well accustomed to exercise. He walked swiftly along,\nthinking of King Agenor and Queen Telephassa, and his brothers, and\nthe friendly Thasus, all of whom he had left behind him, at one point\nof his pilgrimage or another, and never expected to see them any more.\nFull of these remembrances, he came within sight of a lofty mountain,\nwhich the people thereabouts told him was called Parnassus. On the\nslope of Mount Parnassus was the famous Delphi, whither Cadmus was\ngoing.\n\nThis Delphi was supposed, to be the very mid-most spot of the whole\nworld. The place of the oracle was a certain cavity in the mountain\nside, over which, when Cadmus came thither, he found a rude bower of\nbranches. It reminded him of those which he had helped to build for\nPh\u0153nix and Cilix, and afterwards for Thasus. In later times, when\nmultitudes of people came from great distances to put questions to the\noracle, a spacious temple of marble was erected over the spot. But in\nthe days of Cadmus, as I have told you, there was only this rustic\nbower, with its abundance of green foliage, and a tuft of shrubbery,\nthat ran wild over the mysterious hole in the hillside.\n\nWhen Cadmus had thrust a passage through the tangled boughs, and made\nhis way into the bower, he did not at first discern the half-hidden\ncavity. But soon he felt a cold stream of air rushing out of it, with\nso much force that it shook the ringlets on his cheek. Pulling away the\nshrubbery which clustered over the hole, he bent forward, and spoke in\na distinct but reverential tone, as if addressing some unseen personage\ninside of the mountain.\n\n\"Sacred oracle of Delphi,\" said he, \"whither shall I go next in quest\nof my dear sister Europa?\"\n\nThere was at first a deep silence, and then a rushing sound, or a\nnoise like a long sigh proceeding out of the interior of the earth.\nThis cavity, you must know, was looked upon as a sort of fountain of\ntruth, which sometimes gushed out in audible words; although, for the\nmost part, these words were such a riddle that they might just as well\nhave staid at the bottom of the hole. But Cadmus was more fortunate\nthan many others who went to Delphi in search of truth. By and by the\nrushing noise began to sound like articulate language. It repeated,\nover and over again, the following sentence, which, after all, was so\nlike the vague whistle of a blast of air, that Cadmus really did not\nquite know whether it meant anything or not:--\n\n\"Seek her no more! Seek her no more! Seek her no more!\"\n\n\"What, then, shall I do?\" asked Cadmus.\n\n[Illustration: \"Sacred oracle of Delphi, whither shall I go?\"]\n\nFor, ever since he was a child, you know, it had been the great object\nof his life to find his sister. From the very hour that he left\nfollowing the butterfly in the meadow, near his father's palace, he had\ndone his best to follow Europa, over land and sea. And now, if he must\ngive up the search, he seemed to have no more business in the world.\n\nBut again the sighing gust of air grew into something like a hoarse\nvoice.\n\n\"Follow the cow!\" it said. \"Follow the cow! Follow the cow!\"\n\nAnd when these words had been repeated until Cadmus was tired of\nhearing them, (especially as he could not imagine what cow it was, or\nwhy he was to follow her,) the gusty hole gave vent to another sentence.\n\n\"Where the stray cow lies down, there is your home.\"\n\nThese words were pronounced but a single time, and died away into\na whisper before Cadmus was fully satisfied that he had caught the\nmeaning. He put other questions, but received no answer; only the gust\nof wind sighed continually out of the cavity, and blew the withered\nleaves rustling along the ground before it.\n\n\"Did there really come any words out of the hole?\" thought Cadmus; \"or\nhave I been dreaming all this while?\"\n\nHe turned away from the oracle, and thought himself no wiser than when\nhe came thither. Caring little what might happen to him, he took the\nfirst path that offered itself, and went along at a sluggish pace;\nfor, having no object in view, nor any reason to go one way more than\nanother, it would certainly have been foolish to make haste. Whenever\nhe met anybody, the old question was at his tongue's end:--\n\n\"Have you seen a beautiful maiden, dressed like a king's daughter, and\nmounted on a snow-white bull, that gallops as swiftly as the wind?\"\n\nBut, remembering what the oracle had said, he only half uttered the\nwords, and then mumbled the rest indistinctly; and from his confusion,\npeople must have imagined that this handsome young man had lost his\nwits.\n\nI know not how far Cadmus had gone, nor could he himself have told you,\nwhen, at no great distance before him, he beheld a brindled cow. She\nwas lying down by the wayside, and quietly chewing her cud; nor did\nshe take any notice of the young man until he had approached pretty\nnigh. Then, getting leisurely upon her feet, and giving her head a\ngentle toss, she began to move along at a moderate pace, often pausing\njust long enough to crop a mouthful of grass. Cadmus loitered behind,\nwhistling idly to himself, and scarcely noticing the cow; until the\nthought occurred to him, whether this could possibly be the animal\nwhich, according to the oracle's response, was to serve him for a\nguide. But he smiled at himself for fancying such a thing. He could\nnot seriously think that this was the cow, because she went along so\nquietly, behaving just like any other cow. Evidently she neither knew\nnor cared so much as a wisp of hay about Cadmus, and was only thinking\nhow to get her living along the wayside, where the herbage was green\nand fresh. Perhaps she was going home to be milked.\n\n\"Cow, cow, cow!\" cried Cadmus. \"Hey brindle, hey! Stop, my good cow.\"\n\nHe wanted to come up with the cow, so as to examine her, and see if she\nwould appear to know him, or whether there were any peculiarities to\ndistinguish her from a thousand other cows, whose only business is to\nfill the milk pail, and sometimes kick it over. But still the brindle\ncow trudged on, whisking her tail to keep the flies away, and taking as\nlittle notice of Cadmus as she well could. If he walked slowly, so did\nthe cow, and seized the opportunity to graze. If he quickened his pace,\nthe cow went just so much the faster; and once, when Cadmus tried to\ncatch her by running, she threw out her heels, stuck her tail straight\non end, and set off at a gallop, looking as queerly as cows generally\ndo, while putting themselves to their speed.\n\nWhen Cadmus saw that it was impossible to come up with her, he walked\non moderately, as before. The cow, too, went leisurely on, without\nlooking behind. Wherever the grass was greenest, there she nibbled a\nmouthful or two. Where a brook glistened brightly across the path,\nthere the cow drank, and breathed a comfortable sigh, and drank again,\nand trudged onward at the pace that best suited herself and Cadmus.\n\n\"I do believe,\" thought Cadmus, \"that this may be the cow that was\nforetold me. If it be the one, I suppose she will lie down somewhere\nhereabouts.\"\n\nWhether it were the oracular cow or some other one, it did not seem\nreasonable that she should travel a great way farther. So, whenever\nthey reached a particularly pleasant spot on a breezy hillside, or\nin a sheltered vale, or flowery meadow, on the shore of a calm lake,\nor along the bank of a clear stream, Cadmus looked eagerly around to\nsee if the situation would suit him for a home. But still, whether he\nliked the place or no, the brindled cow never offered to lie down. On\nshe went at the quiet pace of a cow going homeward to the barn yard;\nand, every moment, Cadmus expected to see a milkmaid approaching with a\npail, or a herdsman running to head the stray animal, and turn her back\ntowards the pasture. But no milkmaid came; no herdsman drove her back;\nand Cadmus followed the stray Brindle till he was almost ready to drop\ndown with fatigue.\n\n\"O, brindled cow,\" cried he, in a tone of despair, \"do you never mean\nto stop?\"\n\nHe had now grown too intent on following her to think of lagging\nbehind, however long the way, and whatever might be his fatigue.\nIndeed, it seemed as if there were something about the animal that\nbewitched people. Several persons who happened to see the brindled cow\nand Cadmus following behind, began to trudge after her, precisely as he\ndid. Cadmus was glad of somebody to converse with, and therefore talked\nvery freely to these good people. He told them all his adventures, and\nhow he had left King Agenor in his palace, and Ph\u0153nix at one place,\nand Cilix at another and Thasus at a third, and his dear mother, Queen\nTelephassa, under a flowery sod; so that now he was quite alone, both\nfriendless and homeless. He mentioned, likewise, that the oracle had\nbidden him be guided by a cow, and inquired of the strangers whether\nthey supposed that this brindled animal could be the one.\n\n\"Why, 'tis a very wonderful affair,\" answered one of his new\ncompanions. \"I am pretty well acquainted with the ways of cattle, and I\nnever knew a cow, of her own accord, to go so far without stopping. If\nmy legs will let me, I'll never leave following the beast till she lies\ndown.\"\n\n\"Nor I!\" said a second.\n\n\"Nor I!\" cried a third. \"If she goes a hundred miles farther, I'm\ndetermined to see the end of it.\"\n\nThe secret of it was, you must know, that the cow was an enchanted\ncow, and that, without their being conscious of it, she threw some of\nher enchantment over everybody that took so much as half a dozen steps\nbehind her. They could not possibly help following her, though, all the\ntime, they fancied themselves doing it of their own accord. The cow was\nby no means very nice in choosing her path; so that sometimes they had\nto scramble over rocks, or wade through mud and mire, and were all in\na terribly bedraggled condition, and tired to death, and very hungry,\ninto the bargain. What a weary business it was!\n\nBut still they kept trudging stoutly forward, and talking as they went.\nThe strangers grew very fond of Cadmus, and resolved never to leave\nhim, but to help him build a city wherever the cow might lie down. In\nthe center of it there should be a noble palace, in which Cadmus might\ndwell, and be their king, with a throne, a crown, and scepter, a purple\nrobe, and everything else that a king ought to have; for in him there\nwas the royal blood, and the royal heart, and the head that knew how to\nrule.\n\nWhile they were talking of these schemes and beguiling the tediousness\nof the way with laying out the plan of the new city, one of the company\nhappened to look at the cow.\n\n\"Joy! joy!\" cried he, clapping his hands. \"Brindle is going to lie\ndown.\"\n\nThey all looked; and, sure enough, the cow had stopped and was staring\nleisurely about her, as other cows do when on the point of lying down.\nAnd slowly, slowly did she recline herself on the soft grass, first\nbending her fore legs, and then crouching her hind ones. When Cadmus\nand his companions came up with her, there was the brindled cow taking\nher ease, chewing her cud, and looking them quietly in the face; as if\nthis was just the spot she had been seeking for, and as if it were all\na matter of course.\n\n\"This, then,\" said Cadmus, gazing around him, \"this is to be my home.\"\n\nIt was a fertile and lovely plain, with great trees flinging their\nsun-speckled shadows over it, and hills fencing it in from the rough\nweather. At no great distance, they beheld a river gleaming in the\nsunshine. A home feeling stole into the heart of poor Cadmus. He was\nvery glad to know that here he might awake in the morning, without\nthe necessity of putting on his dusty sandals to travel farther and\nfarther. The days and the years would pass over him, and find him\nstill in this pleasant spot. If he could have had his brothers with\nhim, and his friend Thasus, and could have seen his dear mother under\na roof of his own, he might here have been happy, after all their\ndisappointments. Some day or other, too, his sister Europa might\nhave come quietly to the door of his home, and smiled round upon the\nfamiliar faces. But, indeed, since there was no hope of regaining the\nfriends of his boyhood, or ever seeing his dear sister again, Cadmus\nresolved to make himself happy with these new companions, who had grown\nso fond of him while following the cow.\n\n\"Yes, my friends,\" said he to them, \"this is to be our home. Here we\nwill build our habitations. The brindled cow, which has led us hither,\nwill supply us with milk. We will cultivate the neighboring soil, and\nlead an innocent and happy life.\"\n\n[Illustration: THIS PITILESS REPTILE HAD KILLED HIS POOR COMPANIONS]\n\nHis companions joyfully assented to this plan; and, in the first place,\nbeing very hungry and thirsty, they looked about them for the means of\nproviding a comfortable meal. Not far off, they saw a tuft of trees,\nwhich appeared as if there might be a spring of water beneath them.\nThey went thither to fetch some, leaving Cadmus stretched on the ground\nalong with the brindled cow; for, now that he had found a place of\nrest, it seemed as if all the weariness of his pilgrimage, ever since\nhe left King Agenor's palace, had fallen upon him at once. But his new\nfriends had not long been gone, when he was suddenly startled by cries,\nshouts, and screams, and the noise of a terrible struggle, and in the\nmidst of it all, a most awful hissing, which went right through his\nears like a rough saw.\n\nRunning towards the tuft of trees, he beheld the head and fiery eyes of\nan immense serpent or dragon, with the widest jaws that ever a dragon\nhad, and a vast many rows of horribly sharp teeth. Before Cadmus could\nreach the spot, this pitiless reptile had killed his poor companions,\nand was busily devouring them, making but a mouthful of each man.\n\nIt appears that the fountain of water was enchanted, and that the\ndragon had been set to guard it, so that no mortal might ever quench\nhis thirst there. As the neighboring inhabitants carefully avoided\nthe spot, it was now a long time (not less than a hundred years,\nor thereabouts) since the monster had broken his fast; and, as was\nnatural enough, his appetite had grown to be enormous, and was not\nhalf satisfied by the poor people whom he had just eaten up. When he\ncaught sight of Cadmus, therefore, he set up another abominable hiss,\nand flung back his immense jaws, until his mouth looked like a great\nred cavern, at the farther end of which were seen the legs of his last\nvictim, whom he had hardly had time to swallow.\n\nBut Cadmus was so enraged at the destruction of his friends, that he\ncared neither for the size of the dragon's jaws nor for his hundreds\nof sharp teeth. Drawing his sword, he rushed at the monster, and flung\nhimself right into his cavernous mouth. This bold method of attacking\nhim took the dragon by surprise; for, in fact, Cadmus had leaped so\nfar down into his throat, that the rows of terrible teeth could not\nclose upon him, nor do him the least harm in the world. Thus, though\nthe struggle was a tremendous one, and though the dragon shattered the\ntuft of trees into small splinters by the lashing of his tail, yet,\nas Cadmus was all the while slashing and stabbing at his very vitals,\nit was not long before the scaly wretch bethought himself of slipping\naway. He had not gone his length, however, when the brave Cadmus gave\nhim a sword thrust that finished the battle; and, creeping out of the\ngateway of the creature's jaws, there he beheld him still wriggling his\nvast bulk, although there was no longer life enough in him to harm a\nlittle child.\n\nBut do not you suppose that it made Cadmus sorrowful to think of the\nmelancholy fate which had befallen those poor, friendly people, who had\nfollowed the cow along with him? It seemed as if he were doomed to lose\nevery body whom he loved, or to see them perish in one way or another.\nAnd here he was, after all his toils and troubles, in a solitary place,\nwith not a single human being to help him build a hut.\n\n\"What shall I do?\" cried he aloud. \"It were better for me to have been\ndevoured by the dragon, as my poor companions were.\"\n\n\"Cadmus,\" said a voice--but whether it came from above or below him,\nor whether it spoke within his own breast, the young man could not\ntell--\"Cadmus, pluck out the dragon's teeth, and plant them in the\nearth.\"\n\nThis was a strange thing to do; nor was it very easy, I should imagine,\nto dig out all those deep-rooted fangs from the dead dragon's jaws. But\nCadmus toiled and tugged, and after pounding the monstrous head almost\nto pieces with a great stone, he at last collected as many teeth as\nmight have filled a bushel or two. The next thing was to plant them.\nThis, likewise, was a tedious piece of work, especially as Cadmus was\nalready exhausted with killing the dragon and knocking his head to\npieces, and had nothing to dig the earth with, that I know of, unless\nit were his sword blade. Finally, however, a sufficiently large tract\nof ground was turned up, and sown with this new kind of seed; although\nhalf of the dragon's teeth still remained to be planted some other day.\n\nCadmus, quite out of breath, stood leaning upon his sword, and\nwondering what was to happen next. He had waited but a few moments,\nwhen he began to see a sight, which was as great a marvel as the most\nmarvellous thing I ever told you about.\n\nThe sun was shining slantwise over the field, and showed all the moist,\ndark soil, just like any other newly-planted piece of ground. All at\nonce, Cadmus fancied he saw something glisten very brightly, first at\none spot, then another, and then at a hundred and a thousand spots\ntogether. Soon he perceived them to be the steel heads of spears,\nsprouting up everywhere like so many stalks of grain, and continually\ngrowing taller and taller. Next appeared a vast number of bright sword\nblades, thrusting themselves up in the same way. A moment afterwards,\nthe whole surface of the ground was broken by a multitude of polished\nbrass helmets, coming up like a crop of enormous beans. So rapidly\ndid they grow that Cadmus now discerned the fierce countenance of a\nman beneath every one. In short, before he had time to think what a\nwonderful affair it was, he beheld an abundant harvest of what looked\nlike human beings, armed with helmets and breastplates, shields,\nswords, and spears; and before they were well out of the earth, they\nbrandished their weapons, and clashed them one against another, seeming\nto think, little while as they had yet lived, that they had wasted too\nmuch of life without a battle. Every tooth of the dragon had produced\none of these sons of deadly mischief.\n\nUp sprouted, also, a great many trumpeters, and with the first breath\nthat they drew, they put their brazen trumpets to their lips, and\nsounded a tremendous and ear-shattering blast; so that the whole space,\njust now so quiet and solitary, reverberated with the clash and clang\nof arms, the bray of warlike music, and the shouts of angry men. So\nenraged did they all look, that Cadmus fully expected them to put\nthe whole world to the sword. How fortunate would it be for a great\nconqueror, if he could get a bushel of the dragon's teeth to sow!\n\n\"Cadmus,\" said the same voice which he had before heard, \"throw a stone\ninto the midst of the armed men.\"\n\nSo Cadmus seized a large stone, and, flinging it into the middle\nof the earth army, saw it strike the breastplate of a gigantic and\nfierce-looking warrior. Immediately on feeling the blow, he seemed\nto take it for granted that somebody had struck him; and, uplifting\nhis weapon, he smote his next neighbor a blow that cleft his helmet\nasunder, and stretched him on the ground. In an instant, those nearest\nthe fallen warrior began to strike at one another with their swords\nand stab with their spears. The confusion spread wider and wider. Each\nman smote down his brother, and was himself smitten down before he\nhad time to exult in his victory. The trumpeters, all the while, blew\ntheir blasts shriller and shriller; each soldier shouted a battle cry,\nand often fell with it on his lips. It was the strangest spectacle of\ncauseless wrath, and of mischief for no good end, that had ever been\nwitnessed; but, after all, it was neither more foolish nor more wicked\nthan a thousand battles that have since been fought, in which men have\nslain their brothers with just as little reason as these children of\nthe dragon's teeth. It ought to be considered, too, that the dragon\npeople were made for nothing else; whereas other mortals were born to\nlove and help one another.\n\nWell, this memorable battle continued to rage until the ground was\nstrewn with helmeted heads that had been cut off. Of all the thousands\nthat began the fight, there were only five left standing. These now\nrushed from different parts of the field, and, meeting in the middle of\nit clashed their swords, and struck at each other's hearts as fiercely\nas ever.\n\n\"Cadmus,\" said the voice again, \"bid those five warriors sheathe their\nswords. They will help you to build the city.\"\n\nWithout hesitating an instant, Cadmus stepped forward, with the aspect\nof a king and a leader and extending his drawn sword amongst them,\nspoke to the warriors in a stern and commanding voice.\n\n\"Sheathe your weapons!\" said he.\n\nAnd forthwith, feeling themselves bound to obey him, the five remaining\nsons of the dragon's teeth made him a military salute with their\nswords, returned them to the scabbards, and stood before Cadmus in a\nrank, eyeing him as soldiers eye their captain, while awaiting the word\nof command.\n\nThese five men had probably sprung from the biggest of the dragon's\nteeth, and were the boldest and strongest of the whole army. They were\nalmost giants indeed, and had good need to be so, else they never\ncould have lived through so terrible a fight. They still had a very\nfurious look, and, if Cadmus happened to glance aside, would glare at\none another, with fire flashing out of their eyes. It was strange,\ntoo, to observe how the earth, out of which they had so lately grown,\nwas incrusted, here and there, on their bright breastplates, and even\nbegrimed their faces; just as you may have seen it clinging to beets\nand carrots, when pulled out of their native soil. Cadmus hardly\nknew whether to consider them as men, or some odd kind of vegetable,\nalthough, on the whole, he concluded that there was human nature in\nthem, because they were so fond of trumpets and weapons, and so ready\nto shed blood.\n\nThey looked him earnestly in the face, waiting for his next order, and\nevidently desiring no other employment than to follow him from one\nbattle field to another, all over the wide world. But Cadmus was wiser\nthan these earth-born creatures, with their dragon's fierceness in\nthem, and knew better how to use their strength and hardihood.\n\n\"Come!\" said he. \"You are sturdy fellows. Make yourselves useful!\nQuarry some stones with those great swords of yours, and help me to\nbuild a city.\"\n\nThe five soldiers grumbled a little, and muttered that it was their\nbusiness to overthrow cities, not to build them up. But Cadmus looked\nat them with a stern eye, and spoke to them in a tone of authority,\nso that they knew him for their master, and never again thought of\ndisobeying his commands. They set to work in good earnest, and toiled\nso diligently, that, in a very short time, a city began to make its\nappearance. At first, to be sure, the workmen showed a quarrelsome\ndisposition. Like savage beasts, they would doubtless have done one\nanother a mischief, if Cadmus had not kept watch over them, and quelled\nthe fierce old serpent that lurked in their hearts, when he saw it\ngleaming out of their wild eyes. But, in course of time, they got\naccustomed to honest labor, and had sense enough to feel that there\nwas more true enjoyment in living at peace, and doing good to one's\nneighbor, than in striking at him with a two-edged sword. It may not be\ntoo much to hope that the rest of mankind will by and by grow as wise\nand peaceable as these five earth begrimed warriors, who sprang from\nthe dragon's teeth.\n\nAnd now the city was built, and there was a home in it for each of the\nworkmen. But the palace of Cadmus was not yet erected, because they had\nleft it till the last, meaning to introduce all the new improvements\nof architecture, and make it very commodious, as well as stately and\nbeautiful. After finishing the rest of their labors, they all went to\nbed betimes, in order to rise in the gray of the morning, and get at\nleast the foundation of the edifice laid out before nightfall. But,\nwhen Cadmus arose, and took his way towards the site where the palace\nwas to be built, followed by his five sturdy workmen marching all in a\nrow, what do you think he saw?\n\nWhat should it be but the most magnificent palace that had ever been\nseen in the world. It was built of marble and other kinds of stone,\nand rose high into the air, with a splendid dome and a portico along\nthe front, and carved pillars, and everything else that befitted the\nhabitation of a mighty king. It had grown up out of the earth in almost\nas short a time as it had taken the armed host to spring from the\ndragon's teeth; and what made the matter more strange, no seed of this\nstately edifice had ever been planted.\n\nWhen the five workmen beheld the dome, with the morning sunshine making\nit look golden and glorious, they gave a great shout.\n\n\"Long live King Cadmus,\" they cried, \"in his beautiful palace.\"\n\nAnd the new king, with his five faithful followers at his heels,\nshouldering their pickaxes and marching in a rank, (for they still\nhad a soldierlike sort of behavior, as their nature was,) ascended\nthe palace steps. Halting at the entrance, they gazed through a long\nvista of lofty pillars, that were ranged from end to end of a great\nhall. At the farther extremity of this hall, approaching slowly towards\nhim, Cadmus beheld a female figure, wonderfully beautiful, and adorned\nwith a royal robe, and a crown of diamonds over her golden ringlets,\nand the richest necklace that ever a queen wore. His heart thrilled\nwith delight. He fancied it his long-lost sister Europa, now grown to\nwomanhood, coming to make him happy, and to repay him with her sweet\nsisterly affection, for all those weary wanderings in quest of her\nsince he left King Agenor's palace--for the tears that he had shed, on\nparting with Ph\u0153nix, and Cilix, and Thasus--for the heart-breakings\nthat had made the whole world seem dismal to him over his dear mother's\ngrave.\n\nBut, as Cadmus advanced to meet the beautiful stranger, he saw that\nher features were unknown to him, although, in the little time that\nit required to tread along the hall, he had already felt a sympathy\nbetwixt himself and her.\n\n\"No, Cadmus,\" said the same voice that had spoken to him in the field\nof the armed men, \"this is not that dear sister Europa whom you have\nsought so faithfully all over the wide world. This is Harmonia, a\ndaughter of the sky, who is given you instead of sister, and brothers,\nand friend, and mother. You will find all those dear ones in her alone.\"\n\nSo King Cadmus dwelt in the palace, with his new friend Harmonia, and\nfound a great deal of comfort in his magnificent abode, but would\ndoubtless have found as much, if not more, in the humblest cottage\nby the wayside. Before many years went by, there was a group of rosy\nlittle children (but how they came thither has always been a mystery to\nme) sporting in the great hall, and on the marble steps of the palace,\nand running joyfully to meet King Cadmus when affairs of state left\nhim at leisure to play with them. They called him father, and Queen\nHarmonia mother. The five old soldiers of the dragon's teeth grew very\nfond of these small urchins, and were never weary of showing them how\nto shoulder sticks, flourish wooden swords, and march in military\norder, blowing a penny trumpet, or beating an abominable rub-a-dub upon\na little drum.\n\nBut King Cadmus, lest there should be too much of the dragon's tooth in\nhis children's disposition, used to find time from his kingly duties to\nteach them their A B C--which he invented for their benefit, and for\nwhich many little people, I am afraid, are not half so grateful to him\nas they ought to be.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nCIRCE'S PALACE\n\nSome of you have heard no doubt, of the wise King Ulysses, and how he\nwent to the siege of Troy, and how, after that famous city was taken\nand burned, he spent ten long years in trying to get back again to his\nown little kingdom of Ithaca. At one time in the course of this weary\nvoyage, he arrived at an island that looked very green and pleasant,\nbut the name of which was unknown to him. For, only a little while\nbefore he came thither, he had met with a terrible hurricane, or rather\na great many hurricanes at once, which drove his fleet of vessels\ninto a strange part of the sea, where neither himself nor any of his\nmariners had ever sailed. This misfortune was entirely owing to the\nfoolish curiosity of his ship-mates, who, while Ulysses lay asleep, had\nuntied some very bulky leathern bags, in which they supposed a valuable\ntreasure to be concealed. But in each of these stout bags, King \u00c6olus,\nthe ruler of the winds, had tied up a tempest, and had given it to\nUlysses to keep, in order that he might be sure of a favorable passage\nhomeward to Ithaca; and when the strings were loosened, forth rushed\nthe whistling blasts, like air out of a blown bladder, whitening the\nsea with foam, and scattering the vessels nobody could tell whither.\n\nImmediately after escaping from this peril, a still greater one had\nbefallen him. Scudding before the hurricane, he reached a place, which,\nas he afterwards found, was called L\u00e6strygonia, where some monstrous\ngiants had eaten up many of his companions, and had sunk every one of\nhis vessels, except that in which he himself sailed, by flinging great\nmasses of rock at them, from the cliffs along the shore. After going\nthrough such troubles as these, you cannot wonder that King Ulysses\nwas glad to moor his tempest-beaten bark in a quiet cove of the green\nisland, which I began with telling you about. But he had encountered\nso many dangers from giants, and one-eyed Cyclopes, and monsters of\nthe sea and land, that he could not help dreading some mischief, even\nin this pleasant and seemingly solitary spot. For two days, therefore,\nthe poor weatherworn voyagers kept quiet, and either staid on board\nof their vessel, or merely crept along under the cliffs that bordered\nthe shore; and to keep themselves alive, they dug shellfish out of\nthe sand, and sought for any little rill of fresh water that might be\nrunning towards the sea.\n\nBefore the two days were spent, they grew very weary of this kind of\nlife; for the followers of King Ulysses, as you will find it important\nto remember, were terrible gormandizers, and pretty sure to grumble\nif they missed their regular meals, and their irregular ones besides.\nTheir stock of provisions was quite exhausted, and even the shellfish\nbegan to get scarce, so that they had now to choose between starving to\ndeath or venturing into the interior of the island, where perhaps some\nhuge three-headed dragon, or other horrible monster, had his den. Such\nmisshapen creatures were very numerous in those days; and nobody ever\nexpected to make a voyage, or take a journey, without running more or\nless risk of being devoured by them.\n\nBut King Ulysses was a bold man as well as a prudent one; and on the\nthird morning he determined to discover what sort of a place the island\nwas, and whether it were possible to obtain a supply of food for the\nhungry mouths of his companions. So, taking a spear in his hand, he\nclambered to the summit of a cliff and gazed round about him. At a\ndistance, towards the center of the island, he beheld the stately\ntowers of what seemed to be a palace, built of snow-white marble, and\nrising in the midst of a grove of lofty trees. The thick branches of\nthese trees stretched across the front of the edifice, and more than\nhalf concealed it, although, from the portion which he saw, Ulysses\njudged it to be spacious and exceedingly beautiful, and probably the\nresidence of some great nobleman or prince. A blue smoke went curling\nup from the chimney, and was almost the pleasantest part of the\nspectacle to Ulysses. For, from the abundance of this smoke, it was\nreasonable to conclude that there was a good fire in the kitchen, and\nthat, at dinner time, a plentiful banquet would be served up to the\ninhabitants of the palace, and to whatever guests might happen to drop\nin.\n\n[Illustration: At a distance he beheld stately towers.]\n\nWith so agreeable a prospect before him, Ulysses fancied that he could\nnot do better than to go straight to the palace gate, and tell the\nmaster of it that there was a crew of poor ship-wrecked mariners not\nfar off, who had eaten nothing for a day or two, save a few clams and\noysters, and would therefore be thankful for a little food. And the\nprince or nobleman must be a very stingy curmudgeon, to be sure, if, at\nleast, when his own dinner was over, he would not bid them welcome to\nthe broken victuals from the table.\n\nPleasing himself with this idea, King Ulysses had made a few steps in\nthe direction of the palace, when there was a great twittering and\nchirping from the branch of a neighboring tree. A moment afterwards, a\nbird came flying towards him, and hovered in the air, so as almost to\nbrush his face with its wings. It was a very pretty little bird, with\npurple wings and body, and yellow legs, and a circle of golden feathers\nround its neck, and on its head a golden tuft, which looked like a\nking's crown in miniature. Ulysses tried to catch the bird. But it\nfluttered nimbly out of his reach, still chirping in a piteous tone, as\nif it could have told a lamentable story, had it only been gifted with\nhuman language. And when he attempted to drive it away, the bird flew\nno farther than the bough of the next tree, and again came fluttering\nabout his head, with its doleful chirp, as soon as he showed a purpose\nof going forward.\n\n\"Have you anything to tell me, little bird?\" asked Ulysses.\n\nAnd he was ready to listen attentively to whatever the bird might\ncommunicate; for, at the siege of Troy, and elsewhere, he had known\nsuch odd things to happen, that he would not have considered it much\nout of the common run had this little feathered creature talked as\nplainly as himself.\n\n\"Peep!\" said the bird, \"peep, peep, pe--weep!\" And nothing else would\nit say, but only, \"Peep, peep, pe--weep!\" in a melancholy cadence,\nand over and over and over again. As often as Ulysses moved forward,\nhowever, the bird showed the greatest alarm, and did its best to\ndrive him back, with the anxious flutter of its purple wings. Its\nunaccountable behavior made him conclude, at last, that the bird\nknew of some danger that awaited him, and which must needs be very\nterrible, beyond all question, since it moved even a little fowl to\nfeel compassion for a human being. So he resolved, for the present, to\nreturn to the vessel, and tell his companions what he had seen. This\nappeared to satisfy the bird. As soon as Ulysses turned back, it ran\nup the trunk of a tree, and began to pick insects out of the bark with\nits long, sharp bill; for it was a kind of woodpecker, you must know,\nand had to get its living in the same manner as other birds of that\nspecies. But every little while, as it pecked at the bark of the tree,\nthe purple bird bethought itself of some secret sorrow, and repeated\nits plaintive note of \"Peep, peep, pe--weep!\"\n\nOn his way to the shore, Ulysses had the good luck to kill a large stag\nby thrusting his spear into its back. Taking it on his shoulders, (for\nhe was a remarkably strong man) he lugged it along with him, and flung\nit down before his hungry companions. I have already hinted to you what\ngormandizers some of the comrades of King Ulysses were. From what is\nrelated of them, I reckon that their favorite diet was pork and that\nthey had lived upon it until a good part of their physical substance\nwas swine's flesh, and their tempers and dispositions were very much\nakin to the hog. A dish of venison, however, was no unacceptable meal\nto them, especially after feeding so long on oysters and clams. So,\nbeholding the dead stag, they felt of its ribs, in a knowing way, and\nlost no time in kindling a fire, of driftwood, to cook it. The rest\nof the day was spent in feasting; and if these enormous eaters got up\nfrom table at sunset, it was only because they could not scrape another\nmorsel off the poor animal's bones.\n\nThe next morning, their appetites were as sharp as ever. They looked\nat Ulysses, as if they expected him to clamber up the cliff again, and\ncome back with another fat deer upon his shoulders. Instead of setting\nout, however, he summoned the whole crew together, and told them it\nwas in vain to hope that he could kill a stag every day for their\ndinner, and therefore it was advisable to think of some other mode of\nsatisfying their hunger.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"when I was on the cliff yesterday, I discovered that\nthis island is inhabited. At a considerable distance from the shore\nstood a marble palace, which appeared to be very spacious, and had a\ngreat deal of smoke curling out of one of its chimneys.\"\n\n\"Aha!\" muttered some of his companions, smacking their lips. \"That\nsmoke must have come from the kitchen fire. There was a good dinner on\nthe spit; and no doubt there will be as good a one to-day.\"\n\n\"But,\" continued the wise Ulysses, \"you must remember, my good friends,\nour misadventure in the cavern of one-eyed Polyphemus, the Cyclops!\nInstead of his ordinary milk diet, did he not eat up two of our\ncomrades for his supper, and a couple more for breakfast, and two at\nhis supper again? Methinks I see him yet, the hideous monster, scanning\nus with that great red eye, in the middle of his forehead, to single\nout the fattest. And then, again, only a few days ago, did we not fall\ninto the hands of the king of the L\u00e6strygons, and those other horrible\ngiants, his subjects, who devoured a great many more of us than are\nnow left? To tell you the truth, if we go to yonder palace, there can\nbe no question that we shall make our appearance at the dinner table;\nbut whether seated as guests, or served up as food, is a point to be\nseriously considered.\"\n\n\"Either way,\" murmured some of the hungriest of the crew, \"it will be\nbetter than starvation; particularly if one could be sure of being well\nfattened beforehand, and daintily cooked afterwards.\"\n\n\"That is a matter of taste,\" said King Ulysses, \"and, for my own part,\nneither the most careful fattening nor the daintiest of cookery would\nreconcile me to being dished at last. My proposal is, therefore, that\nwe divide ourselves into two equal parties, and ascertain, by drawing\nlots, which of the two shall go to the palace, and beg for food and\nassistance. If these can be obtained, all is well. If not, and if the\ninhabitants prove as inhospitable as Polyphemus, or the L\u00e6strygons,\nthen there will but half of us perish, and the remainder may set sail\nand escape.\"\n\nAs nobody objected to this scheme, Ulysses proceeded to count the whole\nband, and found that there were forty-six men, including himself. He\nthen numbered off twenty-two of them, and put Eurylochus (who was one\nof his chief officers, and second only to himself in sagacity) at their\nhead. Ulysses took command of the remaining twenty-two men, in person.\nThen, taking off his helmet, he put two shells into it, on one of which\nwas written, \"Go,\" and on the other, \"Stay.\" Another person now held\nthe helmet, while Ulysses and Eurylochus drew out each a shell; and\nthe word \"Go\" was found written on that which Eurylochus had drawn. In\nthis manner, it was decided that Ulysses and his twenty-two men were to\nremain at the sea-side until the other party should have found out what\nsort of treatment they might expect at the mysterious palace. As there\nwas no help for it, Eurylochus immediately set forth at the head of his\ntwenty-two followers, who went off in a very melancholy state of mind,\nleaving their friends in hardly better spirits than themselves.\n\nNo sooner had they clambered up the cliff, than they discerned the tall\nmarble towers of the palace, ascending, as white as snow, out of the\nlovely green shadow of the trees which surrounded it. A gush of smoke\ncame from a chimney in the rear of the edifice. This vapor rose high in\nthe air, and, meeting with a breeze, was wafted seaward, and made to\npass over the heads of the hungry mariners. When people's appetites are\nkeen, they have a very quick scent for anything savory in the wind.\n\n\"That smoke comes from the kitchen!\" cried one of them, turning up his\nnose as high as he could, and snuffing eagerly. \"And, as sure as I'm a\nhalf-starved vagabond, I smell roast meat in it.\"\n\n\"Pig, roast pig!\" said another. \"Ah, the dainty little porker! My mouth\nwaters for him.\"\n\n\"Let us make haste,\" cried the others, \"or we shall be too late for the\ngood cheer!\"\n\nBut scarcely had they made half a dozen steps from the edge of the\ncliff, when a bird came fluttering to meet them. It was the same\npretty little bird, with the purple wings and body, the yellow legs,\nthe golden collar round its neck, and the crown-like tuft upon its\nhead, whose behavior had so much surprised Ulysses. It hovered about\nEurylochus, and almost brushed his face with its wings.\n\n\"Peep, peep, pe--weep!\" chirped the bird.\n\nSo plaintively intelligent was the sound, that it seemed as if the\nlittle creature were going to break its heart with some mighty secret\nthat it had to tell, and only this one poor note to tell it with.\n\n\"My pretty bird,\" said Eurylochus,--for he was a wary person, and let\nno token of harm escape his notice,--\"my pretty bird, who sent you\nhither? And what is the message which you bring?\"\n\n\"Peep, peep, pe--weep!\" replied the bird, very sorrowfully.\n\nThen it flew towards the edge of the cliff, and looked round at\nthem, as if exceedingly anxious that they should return whence they\ncame. Eurylochus and a few of the others were inclined to turn back.\nThey could not help suspecting that the purple bird must be aware of\nsomething mischievous that would befall them at the palace, and the\nknowledge of which affected its airy spirit with a human sympathy and\nsorrow. But the rest of the voyagers, snuffing up the smoke from the\npalace kitchen, ridiculed the idea of returning to the vessel. One of\nthem (more brutal than his fellows, and the most notorious gormandizer\nin the whole crew) said such a cruel and wicked thing, that I wonder\nthe mere thought did not turn him into a wild beast in shape, as he\nalready was in his nature.\n\n\"This troublesome and impertinent little fowl,\" said he, \"would make a\ndelicate titbit to begin dinner with. Just one plump morsel, melting\naway between the teeth. If he comes within my reach, I'll catch him,\nand give him to the palace cook to be roasted on a skewer.\"\n\nThe words were hardly out of his mouth, before the purple bird flew\naway, crying, \"Peep, peep, pe--weep,\" more dolorously than ever.\n\n\"That bird,\" remarked Eurylochus, \"knows more than we do about what\nawaits us at the palace.\"\n\n\"Come on, then,\" cried his comrades, \"and we'll soon know as much as he\ndoes.\"\n\nThe party, accordingly, went onward through the green and pleasant\nwood. Every little while they caught new glimpses of the marble palace,\nwhich looked more and more beautiful the nearer they approached it.\nThey soon entered a broad pathway, which seemed to be very neatly\nkept, and which went winding along, with streaks of sunshine falling\nacross it, and specks of light quivering among the deepest shadows that\nfell from the lofty trees. It was bordered, too, with a great many\nsweet-smelling flowers, such as the mariners had never seen before. So\nrich and beautiful they were, that, if the shrubs grew wild here, and\nwere native in the soil, then this island was surely the flower garden\nof the whole earth; or, if transplanted from some other clime, it must\nhave been from the Happy Islands that lay towards the golden sunset.\n\n\"There has been a great deal of pains foolishly wasted on these\nflowers,\" observed one of the company; and I tell you what he said,\nthat you may keep in mind what gormandizers they were. \"For my part,\nif I were the owner of the palace, I would bid my gardener cultivate\nnothing but savory pot herbs to make a stuffing for roast meat, or to\nflavor a stew with.\"\n\n\"Well said!\" cried the others. \"But I'll warrant you there's a kitchen\ngarden in the rear of the palace.\"\n\nAt one place they came to a crystal spring, and paused to drink at it\nfor want of liquor, which they liked better. Looking into its bosom,\nthey beheld their own faces dimly reflected, but so extravagantly\ndistorted by the gush and motion of the water, that each of them\nappeared to be laughing at himself and all his companions. So\nridiculous were these images of themselves, indeed, that they did\nreally laugh aloud, and could hardly be grave again as soon as they\nwished. And after they had drank, they grew still merrier than before.\n\n\"It has the twang of the wine cask in it,\" said one, smacking his lips.\n\n\"Make haste!\" cried his fellews; \"we'll find the wine cask itself at\nthe palace; and that will be better than a hundred crystal fountains.\"\n\nThen they quickened their pace, and capered for joy at the thought of\nthe savory banquet at which they hoped to be guests. But Eurylochus\ntold them that he felt as if he were walking in a dream.\n\n\"If I am really awake,\" continued he, \"then, in my opinion, we are\non the point of meeting with some stranger adventure than any that\nbefell us in the cave of Polyphemus, or among the gigantic man-eating\nL\u00e6strygons, or in the windy palace of King \u00c6olus, which stands on a\nbrazen-walled island. This kind of dreamy feeling always comes over me\nbefore any wonderful occurrence. If you take my advice, you will turn\nback.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" answered his comrades, snuffing the air, in which the scent\nfrom the palace kitchen was now very perceptible. \"We would not turn\nback, though we were certain that the king of the L\u00e6strygons, as big as\na mountain, would sit at the head of the table, and huge Polyphemus,\nthe one-eyed Cyclops, at its foot.\"\n\nAt length they came within full sight of the palace, which proved to\nbe very large and lofty, with a great number of airy pinnacles upon\nits roof. Though it was now midday, and the sun shone brightly over\nthe marble front, yet its snowy whiteness, and its fantastic style\nof architecture, made it look unreal, like the frostwork on a window\npane, or like the shapes of castles which one sees among the clouds by\nmoonlight. But, just then, a puff of wind brought down the smoke of the\nkitchen among them, and caused each man to smell the odor of the dish\nthat he liked best; and, after scenting it, they thought everything\nelse moonshine, and nothing real save this palace, and save the banquet\nthat was evidently ready to be served up in it.\n\nSo they hastened their steps towards the portal, but had not got half\nway across the wide lawn, when a pack of lions, tigers, and wolves\ncame bounding to meet them. The terrified mariners started back,\nexpecting no better fate than to be torn to pieces and devoured. To\ntheir surprise and joy, however, these wild beasts merely capered\naround them, wagging their tails, offering their heads to be stroked\nand patted, and behaving just like so many well-bred house dogs, when\nthey wish to express their delight at meeting their master, or their\nmaster's friends. The biggest lion licked the feet of Eurylochus; and\nevery other lion, and every wolf and tiger, singled out one of his two\nand twenty followers, whom the beast fondled as if he loved him better\nthan a beef bone.\n\nBut, for all that, Eurylochus imagined that he saw something fierce and\nsavage in their eyes; nor would he have been surprised, at any moment,\nto feel the big lion's terrible claws, or to see each of the tigers\nmake a deadly spring, or each wolf leap at the throat of the man whom\nhe had fondled. Their mildness seemed unreal, and a mere freak; but\ntheir savage nature was as true as their teeth and claws.\n\nNevertheless, the men went safely across the lawn with the wild beasts\nfrisking about them, and doing no manner of harm; although, as they\nmounted the steps of the palace, you might possibly have heard a low\ngrowl, particularly from the wolves; as if they thought it a pity,\nafter all, to let the strangers pass without so much as tasting what\nthey were made of.\n\nEurylochus and his followers now passed under a lofty portal and looked\nthrough the open doorway into the interior of the palace. The first\nthing that they saw was a spacious hall and a fountain in the middle of\nit, gushing up towards the ceiling out of a marble basin, and falling\nback into it with a continual splash. The water of this fountain, as it\nspouted upward, was constantly taking new shapes, not very distinctly,\nbut plainly enough for a nimble fancy to recognize what they were. Now\nit was the shape of a man in a long robe, the fleecy whiteness of which\nwas made out of the fountain's spray; now it was a lion, or a tiger,\nor a wolf, or an ass, or, as often as anything else, a hog wallowing\nin the marble basin as if it were his sty. It was either magic or some\nvery curious machinery that caused the gushing waterspout to assume\nall these forms. But, before the strangers had time to look closely at\nthis wonderful sight, their attention was drawn off by a very sweet and\nagreeable sound. A woman's voice was singing melodiously in another\nroom of the palace, and with her voice was mingled the noise of a loom,\nat which she was probably seated, weaving a rich texture of cloth, and\nintertwining the high and low sweetness of her voice into a rich tissue\nof harmony.\n\nBy and by, the song came to an end; and then, all at once, there were\nseveral feminine voices, talking airily and cheerfully, with now and\nthen a merry burst of laughter, such as you may always hear when three\nor four young women sit at work together.\n\n\"What a sweet song that was!\" exclaimed one of the voyagers.\n\n\"Too sweet, indeed,\" answered Eurylochus, shaking his head. \"Yet it was\nnot so sweet as the song of the Sirens, those bird-like damsels who\nwanted to tempt us on the rocks, so that our vessels might be wrecked,\nand our bones left whitening along the shore.\"\n\n\"But just listen to the pleasant voices of those maidens, and that buzz\nof the loom, as the shuttle passes to and fro,\" said another comrade.\n\"What a domestic, household, home-like sound it is! Ah, before that\nweary siege of Troy, I used to hear the buzzing loom and the women's\nvoices under my own roof. Shall I never hear them again? nor taste\nthose nice little savory dishes which my dearest wife knew how to serve\nup?\"\n\n\"Tush! we shall fare better here,\" said another. \"But how innocently\nthose women are babbling together, without guessing that we overhear\nthem! And mark that richest voice of all, so pleasant and familiar, but\nwhich yet seems to have the authority of a mistress among them. Let us\nshow ourselves at once. What harm can the lady of the palace and her\nmaidens do to mariners and warriors like us?\"\n\n\"Remember,\" said Eurylochus, \"that it was a young maiden who beguiled\nthree of our friends into the palace of the king of the L\u00e6strygons, who\nate up one of them in the twinkling of an eye.\"\n\nNo warning or persuasion, however, had any effect on his companions.\nThey went up to a pair of folding doors at the farther end of the hall,\nand throwing them wide open, passed into the next room. Eurylochus,\nmeanwhile, had stepped behind a pillar. In the short moment while\nthe folding doors opened and closed again, he caught a glimpse of a\nvery beautiful woman rising from the loom, and coming to meet the\npoor weather-beaten wanderers, with a hospitable smile, and her hand\nstretched out in welcome. There were four other young women, who joined\ntheir hands and danced merrily forward, making gestures of obeisance to\nthe strangers. They were only less beautiful than the lady who seemed\nto be their mistress. Yet Eurylochus fancied that one of them had\nsea-green hair, and that the close-fitting bodice of a second looked\nlike the bark of a tree, and that both the others had something odd in\ntheir aspect, although he could not quite determine what it was, in the\nlittle while that he had to examine them.\n\n[Illustration: THE VOYAGERS EXAMINED THE WEB OF CLOTH]\n\nThe folding doors swung quickly back, and left him standing behind\nthe pillar, in the solitude of the outer hall. There Eurylochus\nwaited until he was quite weary, and listened eagerly to every sound,\nbut without hearing anything that could help him to guess what had\nbecome of his friends. Footsteps, it is true, seemed to be passing\nand repassing, in other parts of the palace. Then there was a clatter\nof silver dishes, or golden ones, which made him imagine a rich feast\nin a splendid banqueting hall. But by and by he heard a tremendous\ngrunting and squealing, and then a sudden scampering, like that of\nsmall, hard hoofs over a marble floor, while the voices of the mistress\nand her four handmaidens were screaming all together, in tones of\nanger and derision. Eurylochus could not conceive what had happened,\nunless a drove of swine had broken into the palace, attracted by the\nsmell of the feast. Chancing to cast his eyes at the fountain, he saw\nthat it did not shift its shape, as formerly, nor looked either like a\nlong-robed man, or a lion, a tiger, a wolf, or an ass. It looked like\nnothing but a hog, which lay wallowing in the marble basin, and filled\nit from brim to brim.\n\nBut we must leave the prudent Eurylochus waiting in the outer hall, and\nfollow his friends into the inner secrecy of the palace. As soon as\nthe beautiful woman saw them, she arose from the loom, as I have told\nyou, and came forward, smiling, and stretching out her hand. She took\nthe hand of the foremost among them, and bade him and the whole party\nwelcome.\n\n\"You have been long expected, my good friends,\" said she. \"I and my\nmaidens are well acquainted with you, although you do not appear to\nrecognize us. Look at this piece of tapestry, and judge if your faces\nmust not have been familiar to us.\"\n\nSo the voyagers examined the web of cloth which the beautiful woman\nhad been weaving in her loom; and, to their vast astonishment they saw\ntheir own figures perfectly represented in different colored threads.\nIt was a lifelike picture of their recent adventures, showing them\nin the cave of Polyphemus, and how they had put out his one great\nmoony eye; while in another part of the tapestry they were untying\nthe leathern bags, puffed out with contrary winds; and farther on,\nthey beheld themselves scampering away from the gigantic king of the\nL\u00e6strygons, who had caught one of them by the leg. Lastly, there they\nwere, sitting on the desolate shore of this very island, hungry and\ndowncast, and looking ruefully at the bare bones of the stag which they\ndevoured yesterday. This was as far as the work had yet proceeded; but\nwhen the beautiful woman should again sit down at her loom, she would\nprobably make a picture of what had since happened to the strangers,\nand of what was now going to happen.\n\n\"You see,\" she said, \"that I know all about your troubles; and you\ncannot doubt that I desire to make you happy for as long a time as you\nmay remain with me. For this purpose, my honored guests, I have ordered\na banquet prepared. Fish, fowl, and flesh, roasted, and in luscious\nstews, and seasoned, I trust, to all your tastes, are ready to be\nserved up. If your appetites tell you it is dinner time, then come with\nme to the festal saloon.\"\n\nAt this kind invitation, the hungry mariners were quite overjoyed;\nand one of them, taking upon himself to be spokesman, assured their\nhospitable hostess that any hour of the day was dinner time with them,\nwhenever they could get flesh to put in the pot, and fire to boil\nit with. So the beautiful woman led the way; and the four maidens,\n(one of them had sea-green hair, another a bodice of oak bark, a\nthird sprinkled a shower of water drops from her fingers' ends, and\nthe fourth had some other oddity, which I have forgotten,) all these\nfollowed behind, and hurried the guests along, until they entered a\nmagnificent saloon. It was built in a perfect oval, and lighted from\na crystal dome above. Around the walls were ranged two and twenty\nthrones, overhung by canopies of crimson and gold, and provided with\nthe softest of cushions, which were tasselled and fringed with gold\ncord. Each of the strangers was invited to sit down; and there they\nwere, two and twenty storm-beaten mariners, in worn and tattered garb,\nsitting on two and twenty cushioned and canopied thrones, so rich and\ngorgeous that the proudest monarch had nothing more splendid in his\nstateliest hall.\n\nThen you might have seen the guests nodding, winking with one eye, and\nleaning from one throne to another, to communicate their satisfaction\nin hoarse whispers.\n\n\"Our good hostess has made kings of us all,\" said one. \"Ha! do you\nsmell the feast? I'll engage it will be fit to set before two and\ntwenty kings.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said another, \"it will be, mainly, good substantial joints,\nsurloins, spareribs, and hinder quarters, without too many kickshaws.\nIf I thought the good lady would not take it amiss, I should call for a\nfat slice of fried bacon to begin with.\"\n\nAh, the gluttons and gormandizers! You see how it was with them. In\nthe loftiest seats of dignity, on royal thrones, they could think of\nnothing but their greedy appetite, which was the portion of their\nnature that they shared with wolves and swine; so that they resembled\nthose vilest of animals far more than they did kings--if, indeed, kings\nwere what they ought to be.\n\nBut the beautiful woman now clapped her hands; and immediately there\nentered a train of two and twenty serving men bringing dishes of the\nrichest food, all hot from the kitchen fire, and sending up such a\nsteam that it hung like a cloud below the crystal dome of the saloon.\nAn equal number of attendants brought great flagons of wine, of\nvarious kinds, some of which sparkled as it was poured out, and went\nbubbling down the throat; while, of other sorts, the purple liquor\nwas so clear that you could see the wrought figures at the bottom of\nthe goblet. While the servants supplied the two and twenty guests\nwith food and drink, the hostess and her four maidens went from one\nthrone to another, exhorting them to eat their fill, and to quaff wine\nabundantly, and thus to recompense themselves, at this one banquet, for\nthe many days when they had gone without a dinner. But, whenever the\nmariners were not looking at them, (which was pretty often, as they\nlooked chiefly into the basins and platters,) the beautiful woman and\nher damsels turned aside, and laughed. Even the servants, as they knelt\ndown to present the dishes, might be seen to grin and sneer, while the\nguests were helping themselves to the offered dainties.\n\nAnd, once in a while, the strangers seemed to taste something that they\ndid not like.\n\n\"Here is an odd kind of a spice in this dish,\" said one. \"I can't say\nit quite suits my palate. Down it goes, however.\"\n\n\"Send a good draught of wine down your throat,\" said his comrade on the\nnext throne. \"That is the stuff to make this sort of cookery relish\nwell. Though I must needs say, the wine has a queer taste too. But the\nmore I drink of it, the better I like the flavor.\"\n\nWhatever little fault they might find with the dishes, they sat at\ndinner a prodigiously long while; and it would really have made you\nashamed to see how they swilled down the liquor and gobbled up the\nfood. They sat on golden thrones, to be sure; but they behaved like\npigs in a sty; and, if they had their wits about them, they might have\nguessed that this was the opinion of their beautiful hostess and her\nmaidens. It brings a blush into my face to reckon up, in my own mind,\nwhat mountains of meat and pudding, and what gallons of wine, these two\nand twenty guzzlers and gormandizers ate and drank. They forgot all\nabout their homes, and their wives and children, and all about Ulysses,\nand everything else, except this banquet, at which they wanted to keep\nfeasting forever. But at length they began to give over, from mere\nincapacity to hold any more.\n\n\"That last bit of fat is too much for me,\" said one.\n\n\"And I have not room for another morsel,\" said his next neighbor,\nheaving a sigh. \"What a pity! My appetite is as sharp as ever.\"\n\nIn short, they all left off eating, and leaned back on their thrones,\nwith such a stupid and helpless aspect as made them ridiculous to\nbehold. When their hostess saw this, she laughed aloud; so did her four\ndamsels; so did the two and twenty serving men that bore the dishes,\nand their two and twenty fellows that poured out the wine. And the\nlouder they all laughed, the more stupid and helpless did the two and\ntwenty gormandizers look. Then the beautiful woman took her stand in\nthe middle of the saloon, and stretching out a slender rod, (it had\nbeen all the while in her hand, although they never noticed it till\nthis moment,) she turned it from one guest to another, until each had\nfelt it pointed at himself. Beautiful as her face was, and though there\nwas a smile on it, it looked just as wicked and mischievous as the\nugliest serpent that ever was seen; and fat-witted as the voyagers had\nmade themselves, they began to suspect that they had fallen into the\npower of an evil-minded enchantress.\n\n\"Wretches,\" cried she, \"you have abused a lady's hospitality; and in\nthis princely saloon your behavior has been suited to a hogpen. You are\nalready swine in everything but the human form, which you disgrace,\nand which I myself should be ashamed to keep a moment longer, were you\nto share it with me. But it will require only the slighest exercise of\nmagic to make the exterior conform to the hoggish disposition. Assume\nyour proper shapes, gormandizers, and begone to the sty!\"\n\nUttering these last words, she waved her wand; and stamping her foot\nimperiously, each of the guests was struck aghast at beholding, instead\nof his comrades in human shape, one and twenty hogs sitting on the same\nnumber of golden thrones. Each man (as he still supposed himself to\nbe) essayed to give a cry of surprise, but found that he could merely\ngrunt, and that, in a word, he was just such another beast as his\ncompanions. It looked so intolerably absurd to see hogs on cushioned\nthrones, that they made haste to wallow down upon all fours, like other\nswine. They tried to groan and beg for mercy, but forthwith emitted\nthe most awful grunting and squealing that ever came out of swinish\nthroats. They would have wrung their hands in despair, but, attempting\nto do so, grew all the more desperate for seeing themselves squatted on\ntheir hams, and pawing the air with their fore trotters. Dear me! what\npendulous ears they had! what little red eyes, half buried in fat! and\nwhat long snouts, instead of Grecian noses!\n\nBut brutes as they certainly were, they yet had enough of human nature\nin them to be shocked at their own hideousness; and, still intending to\ngroan, they uttered a viler grunt and squeal than before. So harsh and\near-piercing it was, that you would have fancied a butcher was sticking\nhis knife into each of their throats, or, at the very least, that\nsomebody was pulling every hog by his funny little twist of a tail.\n\n\"Begone to your sty!\" cried the enchantress, giving them some smart\nstrokes with her wand; and then she turned to the serving men--\"Drive\nout these swine, and throw down some acorns for them to eat.\"\n\nThe door of the saloon being flung open, the drove of hogs ran in\nall directions save the right one, in accordance with their hoggish\nperversity but were finally driven into the back yard of the palace.\nIt was a sight to bring tears into one's eyes, (and I hope none of you\nwill be cruel enough to laugh at it,) to see the poor creatures go\nsnuffing along, picking up here a cabbage leaf and there a turnip top,\nand rooting their noses in the earth for whatever they could find. In\ntheir sty, moreover, they behaved more piggishly than the pigs that had\nbeen born so; for they bit and snorted at one another, put their feet\nin the trough, and gobbled up their victuals in a ridiculous hurry;\nand, when there was nothing more to be had, they made a great pile of\nthemselves among some unclean straw, and fell fast asleep. If they had\nany human reason left, it was just enough to keep them wondering when\nthey should be slaughtered, and what quality of bacon they should make.\n\nMeantime, as I told you before, Eurylochus had waited, and waited,\nand waited, in the entrance hall of the palace, without being able to\ncomprehend what had befallen his friends. At last, when the swinish\nuproar resounded through the palace, and when he saw the image of a hog\nin the marble basin, he thought it best to hasten back to the vessel,\nand inform the wise Ulysses of these marvellous occurrences. So he ran\nas fast as he could down the steps, and never stopped to draw breath\ntill he reached the shore.\n\n\"Why do you come alone?\" asked King Ulysses, as soon as he saw him.\n\"Where are your two and twenty comrades?\"\n\nAt these questions, Eurylochus burst into tears.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried he, \"I greatly fear that we shall never see one of their\nfaces again.\"\n\nThen he told Ulysses all that had happened, as far as he knew it, and\nadded that he suspected the beautiful woman to be a vile enchantress,\nand the marble palace, magnificent as it looked, to be only a dismal\ncavern in reality. As for his companions, he could not imagine what had\nbecome of them, unless they had been given to the swine to be devoured\nalive. At this intelligence, all the voyagers were greatly affrighted.\nBut Ulysses lost no time in girding on his sword, and hanging his bow\nand quiver over his shoulders, and taking a spear in his right hand.\nWhen his followers saw their wise leader making these preparations,\nthey inquired whither he was going, and earnestly besought him not to\nleave them.\n\n\"You are our king,\" cried they; \"and what is more, you are the wisest\nman in the whole world, and nothing but your wisdom and courage can\nget us out of this danger. If you desert us, and go to the enchanted\npalace, you will suffer the same fate as our poor companions, and not a\nsoul of us will ever see our dear Ithaca again.\"\n\n\"As I am your king,\" answered Ulysses, \"and wiser than any of you, it\nis therefore the more my duty to see what has befallen our comrades,\nand whether anything can yet be done to rescue them. Wait for me\nhere until to-morrow. If I do not then return, you must hoist sail,\nand endeavor to find your way to our native land. For my part, I am\nanswerable for the fate of these poor mariners, who have stood by my\nside in battle, and been so often drenched to the skin, along with me,\nby the same tempestuous surges. I will either bring them back with me,\nor perish.\"\n\nHad his followers dared, they would have detained him by force. But\nKing Ulysses frowned sternly on them, and shook his spear, and bade\nthem stop him at their peril. Seeing him so determined, they let him\ngo, and sat down on the sand, as disconsolate a set of people as could\nbe, waiting and praying for his return.\n\nIt happened to Ulysses, just as before, that, when he had gone a few\nsteps from the edge of the cliff, the purple bird came fluttering\ntowards him, crying, \"Peep, peep, pe--weep!\" and using all the art it\ncould to persuade him to go no farther.\n\n\"What mean you, little bird?\" cried Ulysses. \"You are arrayed like a\nking in purple and gold, and wear a golden crown upon your head. Is it\nbecause I too am a king, that you desire so earnestly to speak with me?\nIf you can talk in human language, say what you would have me do.\"\n\n\"Peep!\" answered the purple bird, very dolorously. \"Peep, peep,\npe--we--ep!\"\n\nCertainly there lay some heavy anguish at the little bird's heart; and\nit was a sorrowful predicament that he could not, at least, have the\nconsolation of telling what it was. But Ulysses had no time to waste\nin trying to get at the mystery. He therefore quickened his pace, and\nhad gone a good way along the pleasant wood path when there met him a\nyoung man of very brisk and intelligent aspect, and clad in a rather\nsingular garb. He wore a short cloak, and a sort of cap that seemed to\nbe furnished with a pair of wings; and from the lightness of his step,\nyou would have supposed that there might likewise be wings on his feet.\nTo enable him to walk still better, (for he was always on one journey\nor another,) he carried a winged staff, around which two serpents were\nwriggling and twisting. In short, I have said enough to make you guess\nthat it was Quicksilver; and Ulysses (who knew him of old, and had\nlearned a great deal of his wisdom from him) recognized him in a moment.\n\n\"Whither are you going in such a hurry, wise Ulysses?\" asked\nQuicksilver. \"Do you not know that this island is enchanted? The wicked\nenchantress (whose name is Circe, the sister of King \u00c6etes) dwells in\nthe marble palace which you see yonder among the trees. By her magic\narts, she changes every human being into the brute beast or fowl whom\nhe happens most to resemble.\"\n\n\"That little bird, which met me at the edge of the cliff,\" exclaimed\nUlysses; \"was he a human being once?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Quicksilver. \"He was once a king, named Picus, and a\npretty good sort of a king too, only rather too proud of his purple\nrobe, and his crown, and the golden chain about his neck; so he was\nforced to take the shape of a gaudy-feathered bird. The lions, and\nwolves, and tigers, who will come running to meet you, in front of\nthe palace, were formerly fierce and cruel men, resembling in their\ndispositions the wild beasts whose forms they now rightfully wear.\"\n\n\"And my poor companions,\" said Ulysses. \"Have they undergone a similar\nchange, through the arts of this wicked Circe?\"\n\n\"You well know what gormandizers they were,\" replied Quicksilver; and\nrogue that he was, he could not help laughing at the joke. \"So you will\nnot be surprised to hear that they have all taken the shapes of swine!\nIf Circe had never done anything worse, I really should not think her\nso very much to blame.\"\n\n\"But can I do nothing to help them?\" inquired Ulysses.\n\n\"It will require all your wisdom,\" said Quicksilver, \"and a little of\nmy own into the bargain, to keep your royal and sagacious self from\nbeing transformed into a fox. But do as I bid you, and the matter may\nend better than it has begun.\"\n\nWhile he was speaking, Quicksilver seemed to be in search of something;\nhe went stooping along the ground, and soon laid his hand on a little\nplant with a snow-white flower, which he plucked and smelt of. Ulysses\nhad been looking at that very spot only just before; and it appeared\nto him that the plant had burst into full flower the instant when\nQuicksilver touched it with his fingers.\n\n\"Take this flower, King Ulysses,\" said he. \"Guard it as you do your\neyesight; for I can assure you it is exceedingly rare and precious, and\nyou might seek the whole earth over without ever finding another like\nit. Keep it in your hand, and smell of it frequently after you enter\nthe palace, and while you are talking with the enchantress. Especially\nwhen she offers you food, or a draught of wine out of her goblet, be\ncareful to fill your nostrils with the flower's fragrance. Follow these\ndirections, and you may defy her magic arts to change you into a fox.\"\n\nQuicksilver then gave him some further advice how to behave, and\nbidding him to be bold and prudent, again assured him that, powerful as\nCirce was, he would have a fair prospect of coming safely out of her\nenchanted palace. After listening attentively, Ulysses thanked his good\nfriend, and resumed his way. But he had taken only a few steps, when,\nrecollecting some other questions which he wished to ask, he turned\nround again, and beheld nobody on the spot where Quicksilver had stood;\nfor that winged cap of his, and those winged shoes, with the help of\nthe winged staff, had carried him quickly out of sight.\n\nWhen Ulysses reached the lawn, in front of the palace, the lions and\nother savage animals came bounding to meet him, and would have fawned\nupon him and licked his feet. But the wise king struck at them with\nhis long spear, and sternly bade them begone out of his path; for he\nknew that they had once been bloodthirsty men, and would now tear him\nlimb from limb, instead of fawning upon him, could they do the mischief\nthat was in their hearts. The wild beasts yelped and glared at him, and\nstood at a distance, while he ascended the palace steps.\n\nOn entering the hall, Ulysses saw the magic fountain in the center\nof it. The up-gushing water had now again taken the shape of a man\nin a long, white, fleecy robe, who appeared to be making gestures\nof welcome. The king likewise heard the noise of the shuttle in the\nloom, and the sweet melody of the beautiful woman's song, and then the\npleasant voices of herself and the four maidens talking together, with\npeals of merry laughter intermixed. But Ulysses did not waste much time\nin listening to the laughter or the song. He leaned his spear against\none of the pillars of the hall, and then, after loosening his sword in\nthe scabbard, stepped boldly forward, and threw the folding doors wide\nopen. The moment she beheld his stately figure standing in the doorway,\nthe beautiful woman rose from the loom, and ran to meet him with a glad\nsmile throwing its sunshine over her face, and both her hands extended.\n\n\"Welcome, brave stranger!\" cried she. \"We were expecting you.\"\n\nAnd the nymph with the sea-green hair made a courtesy down to the\nground, and likewise bade him welcome; so did her sister with the\nbodice of oaken bark, and she that sprinkled dewdrops from her fingers'\nends, and the fourth one with some oddity which I cannot remember. And\nCirce, as the beautiful enchantress was called, (who had deluded so\nmany persons that she did not doubt of being able to delude Ulysses,\nnot imagining how wise he was,) again addressed him:--\n\n\"Your companions,\" said she, \"have already been received into my\npalace, and have enjoyed the hospitable treatment to which the\npropriety of their behavior so well entitles them. If such be your\npleasure, you shall first take some refreshment, and then join them in\nthe elegant apartment which they now occupy. See, I and my maidens have\nbeen weaving their figures into this piece of tapestry.\"\n\nShe pointed to the web of beautifully-woven cloth in the loom. Circe\nand the four nymphs must have been very diligently at work since the\narrival of the mariners; for a great many yards of tapestry had now\nbeen wrought, in addition to what I before described. In this new\npart, Ulysses saw his two and twenty friends represented as sitting\non cushioned and canopied thrones, greedily devouring dainties, and\nquaffing deep draughts of wine. The work had not yet gone any further.\nO, no, indeed. The enchantress was far too cunning to let Ulysses\nsee the mischief which her magic arts had since brought upon the\ngormandizers.\n\n\"As for yourself, valiant sir,\" said Circe, \"judging by the dignity of\nyour aspect, I take you to be nothing less than a king. Deign to follow\nme, and you shall be treated as befits your rank.\"\n\nSo Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where his two and twenty\ncomrades had devoured the banquet, which ended so disastrously for\nthemselves. But, all this while, he had held the snow-white flower in\nhis hand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe was speaking;\nand as he crossed the threshold of the saloon, he took good care to\ninhale several long and deep snuffs of its fragrance. Instead of two\nand twenty thrones, which had before been ranged around the wall, there\nwas now only a single throne, in the center of the apartment. But this\nwas surely the most magnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor\nreposed himself upon, all made of chased gold, studded with precious\nstones, with a cushion that looked like a soft heap of living roses,\nand overhung by a canopy of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into\ndrapery. The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand, and made him sit\ndown upon this dazzling throne. Then, clapping her hands, she summoned\nthe chief butler.\n\n\"Bring hither,\" said she, \"the goblet that is set apart for kings to\ndrink out of. And fill it with the same delicious wine which my royal\nbrother King \u00c6etes praised so highly, when he last visited me with my\nfair daughter Medea. That good and amiable child! Were she now here, it\nwould delight her to see me offering this wine to my honored guest.\"\n\nBut Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, held the\nsnow-white flower to his nose.\n\n\"Is it a wholesome wine?\" he asked.\n\nAt this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the enchantress looked\naround at them, with an aspect of severity.\n\n\"It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed out of the grape,\"\nsaid she; \"for, instead of disguising a man, as other liquor is apt to\ndo, it brings him to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be.\"\n\nThe chief butler liked nothing better than to see people turned into\nswine, or making any kind of a beast of themselves; so he made haste\nto bring the royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and\nwhich kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny spray over the brim.\nBut, delightfully as the wine looked, it was mingled with the most\npotent enchantments that Circe knew how to concoct. For every drop of\nthe pure grape juice there were two drops of the pure mischief; and\nthe danger of the thing was, that the mischief made it taste all the\nbetter. The mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim,\nwas enough to turn a man's beard into pig's bristles, or make a lion's\nclaws grow out of his fingers, or a fox's brush behind him.\n\n\"Drink, my noble guest,\" said Circe, smiling as she presented him\nwith the goblet. \"You will find in this draught a solace for all your\ntroubles.\"\n\nKing Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with his left\nhe held the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so long\na breath that his lungs were quite filled with its pure and simple\nfragrance. Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchantress\ncalmly in the face.\n\n\"Wretch,\" cried Circe, giving him a smart stroke with her wand, \"how\ndare you keep your human shape a moment longer? Take the form of the\nbrute whom you most resemble. If a hog, go join your fellow-swine in\nthe sty; if a lion, a wolf, a tiger, go howl with the wild beasts on\nthe lawn; if a fox, go exercise your craft in stealing poultry. Thou\nhast quaffed off my wine, and canst be man no longer.\"\n\nBut, such was the virtue of the snow-white flower, instead of wallowing\ndown from his throne in swinish shape, or taking any other brutal form,\nUlysses looked even more manly and king-like than before. He gave the\nmagic goblet a toss, and sent it clashing over the marble floor, to\nthe farthest end of the saloon. Then drawing his sword, he seized the\nenchantress by her beautiful ringlets, and made a gesture as if he\nmeant to strike off her head at one blow.\n\n[Illustration: \"Wretch!\" cried Circe.]\n\n\"Wicked Circe,\" cried he in a terrible voice, \"this sword shall put an\nend to thy enchantments. Thou shalt die, vile witch, and do no more\nmischief in the world, by tempting human beings into the vices which\nmake beasts of them.\"\n\nThe tone and countenance of Ulysses were so awful, and his sword\ngleamed so brightly, and seemed to have so intolerably keen an edge,\nthat Circe was almost killed by the mere fright, without waiting for\nthe blow. The chief butler scrambled out of the saloon, picking up the\ngolden goblet as he went; and the enchantress and the four maidens fell\non their knees, wringing their hands, and screaming for mercy.\n\n\"Spare me!\" cried Circe. \"Spare me, royal and wise Ulysses. For now\nI know that thou art he of whom Quicksilver forewarned me, the most\nprudent of mortals, against whom no enchantments can prevail. Thou only\ncouldst have conquered Circe. Spare me, wisest of men. I will show\nthee true hospitality, and even give myself to be thy slave, and this\nmagnificent palace to be henceforth thy home.\"\n\nThe four nymphs, meanwhile, were making a most piteous ado; and\nespecially the ocean nymph, with the sea-green hair, wept a great deal\nof salt water, and the fountain nymph, besides scattering dewdrops from\nher fingers' ends, nearly melted away into tears. But Ulysses would\nnot be pacified until Circe had taken a solemn oath to change back his\ncompanions, and as many others as he should direct, from their present\nforms of beast or bird into their former shapes of men.\n\n\"On these conditions\" said he, \"I consent to spare your life. Otherwise\nyou must die on the spot.\"\n\nWith a drawn sword hanging over her, the enchantress would readily have\nconsented to do as much good as she had hitherto done mischief, however\nlittle she might like such employment. She therefore led Ulysses out\nof the back entrance of the palace, and showed him the swine in their\nsty. There were about fifty of these unclean beasts in the whole herd;\nand though the greater part were hogs by birth and education, there was\nwonderfully little difference to be seen betwixt them and their new\nbrethren who had so recently worn the human shape. To speak critically,\nindeed, the latter rather carried the thing to excess, and seemed to\nmake it a point to wallow in the miriest part of the sty, and otherwise\nto outdo the original swine in their own natural vocation. When men\nonce turn to brutes, the trifle of man's wit that remains in them adds\ntenfold to their brutality.\n\nThe comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the remembrance\nof having formerly stood erect. When he approached the sty, two and\ntwenty enormous swine separated themselves from the herd, and scampered\ntowards him, with such a chorus of horrible squealing as made him clap\nboth hands to his ears. And yet they did not seem to know what they\nwanted, nor whether they were merely hungry, or miserable from some\nother cause. It was curious, in the midst of their distress, to observe\nthem thrusting their noses into the mire, in quest of something to eat.\nThe nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the hamadryad of an\noak) threw a handful of acorns among them; and the two and twenty hogs\nscrambled and fought for the prize, as if they had tasted not so much\nas a noggin of sour milk for a twelvemonth.\n\n\"These must certainly be my comrades,\" said Ulysses. \"I recognize their\ndispositions. They are hardly worth the trouble of changing them into\nthe human form again. Nevertheless, we will have it done, lest their\nbad example should corrupt the other hogs. Let them take their original\nshapes, therefore, Dame Circe, if your skill is equal to the task. It\nwill require greater magic, I trow, than it did to make swine of them.\"\n\nSo Circe waved her wand again, and repeated a few magic words, at the\nsound of which the two and twenty hogs pricked up their pendulous ears.\nIt was a wonder to behold how their snouts grew shorter and shorter,\nand their mouths (which they seemed to be sorry for, because they could\nnot gobble so expeditiously) smaller and smaller, and how one and\nanother began to stand upon his hind legs, and scratch his nose with\nhis fore trotters. At first the spectators hardly knew whether to call\nthem hogs or men, but by and by came to the conclusion that they rather\nresembled the latter. Finally, there stood the twenty-two comrades of\nUlysses, looking pretty much the same as when they left the vessel.\n\nYou must not imagine, however, that the swinish quality had entirely\ngone out of them. When once it fastens itself into a person's\ncharacter, it is very difficult getting rid of it. This was proved\nby the hamadryad, who, being exceedingly fond of mischief, threw\nanother handful of acorns before the twenty-two newly restored people;\nwhereupon down they wallowed, in a moment, and gobbled them up in a\nvery shameful way. Then, recollecting themselves, they scrambled to\ntheir feet, and looked more than commonly foolish.\n\n\"Thanks, noble Ulysses!\" they cried. \"From brute beasts you have\nrestored us to the condition of men again.\"\n\n\"Do not put yourselves to the trouble of thanking me,\" said the wise\nking. \"I fear I have done but little for you.\"\n\nTo say the truth, there was a suspicious kind of a grunt in their\nvoices, and, for a long time afterwards, they spoke gruffly, and were\napt to set up a squeal.\n\n\"It must depend on your own future behavior,\" added Ulysses, \"whether\nyou do not find your way back to the sty.\"\n\nAt this moment, the note of a bird sounded from the branch of a\nneighboring tree.\n\n\"Peep, peep, pe--wee--ep!\"\n\nIt was the purple bird, who, all this while, had been sitting over\ntheir heads, watching what was going forward, and hoping that Ulysses\nwould remember how he had done his utmost to keep him and his followers\nout of harm's way. Ulysses ordered Circe instantly to make a king of\nthis good little fowl and leave him exactly as she had found him.\nHardly were the words spoken and before the bird had time to utter\nanother \"pe--weep,\" King Picus leaped down from the bough of the tree,\nas majestic a sovereign as any in the world, dressed in a long purple\nrobe and gorgeous yellow stockings, with a splendidly wrought collar\nabout his neck, and a golden crown upon his head. He and King Ulysses\nexchanged with one another the courtesies which belonged to their\nelevated rank. But from that time forth, King Picus was no longer proud\nof his crown and his trappings of royalty nor of the fact of his being\na king; he felt himself merely the upper servant of his people, and\nthat it must be his lifelong labor to make them better and happier.\n\nAs for the lions, tigers, and wolves, (though Circe would have restored\nthem to their former shapes at his slightest word,) Ulysses thought\nit advisable that they should remain as they now were, and thus give\nwarning of their cruel dispositions, instead of going about under the\nguise of men, and pretending to human sympathies, while their hearts\nhad the bloodthirstiness of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much\nas they liked, but never troubled his head about them. And, when\neverything was settled according to his pleasure, he sent to summon the\nremainder of his comrades, whom he had left at the sea shore. These\nbeing arrived, with the prudent Eurylochus at their head, they all made\nthemselves comfortable in Circe's enchanted palace, until quite rested\nand refreshed from the toils and hardships of their voyage.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE POMEGRANATE SEEDS\n\nMother Ceres was exceedingly fond of her daughter Proserpina, and\nseldom let her go alone into the fields. But, just at the time when my\nstory begins, the good lady was very busy, because she had the care of\nthe wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley, and, in short,\nof the crops of every kind, all over the earth; and as the season had\nthus far been uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the harvest\nripen more speedily than usual. So she put on her turban, made of\npoppies, (a kind of flower which she was always noted for wearing,) and\ngot into her car drawn by a pair of winged dragons, and was just ready\nto set off.\n\n\"Dear mother,\" said Proserpina, \"I shall be very lonely while you are\naway. May I not run down to the shore, and ask some of the sea nymphs\nto come up out of the waves and play with me?\"\n\n\"Yes, child,\" answered Mother Ceres. \"The sea nymphs are good\ncreatures, and will never lead you into any harm. But you must take\ncare not to stray away from them, nor go wandering about the fields by\nyourself. Young girls without their mothers to take care of them, are\nvery apt to get into mischief.\"\n\nThe child promised to be as prudent as if she were a grown-up woman;\nand, by the time the winged dragons had whirled the car out of sight,\nshe was already on the shore, calling to the sea nymphs to come and\nplay with her. They knew Proserpina's voice, and were not long in\nshowing their glistening faces and sea-green hair above the water,\nat the bottom of which was their home. They brought along with them\na great many beautiful shells; and sitting down on the moist sand,\nwhere the surf wave broke over them, they busied themselves in making\na necklace, which they hung round Proserpina's neck. By way of showing\nher gratitude, the child besought them to go with her a little way into\nthe fields, so that they might gather abundance of flowers, with which\nshe would make each of her kind playmates a wreath.\n\n\"O, no, dear Proserpina,\" cried the sea nymphs; \"we dare not go with\nyou upon the dry land. We are apt to grow faint, unless at every breath\nwe can snuff up the salt breeze of the ocean. And don't you see how\ncareful we are to let the surf wave break over us every moment or two,\nso as to keep ourselves comfortably moist? If it were not for that, we\nshould soon look like bunches of uprooted seaweed dried in the sun.\"\n\n[Illustration: THEY BROUGHT ALONG WITH THEM A GREAT MANY BEAUTIFUL\nSHELLS]\n\n\"It is a great pity,\" said Proserpina. \"But do you wait for me here,\nand I will run and gather my apron full of flowers, and be back again\nbefore the surf wave has broken ten times over you. I long to make you\nsome wreaths that shall be as lovely as this necklace of many-colored\nshells.\" \"We shall wait, then,\" answered the sea nymphs. \"But, while\nyou are gone, we may as well lie down on a bank of soft sponge, under\nthe water. The air to-day is a little too dry for our comfort. But we\nwill pop up our heads every few minutes to see if you are coming.\"\n\nThe young Proserpina ran quickly to a spot where, only the day before,\nshe had seen a great many flowers. These, however, were now a little\npast their bloom; and wishing to give her friends the freshest and\nloveliest blossoms, she strayed farther into the fields, and found\nsome that made her scream with delight. Never had she met with such\nexquisite flowers before--violets so large and fragrant--roses, with\nso rich and delicate a blush--such superb hyacinths and such aromatic\npinks--and many others, some of which seemed to be of new shapes and\ncolors. Two or three times, moreover, she could not help thinking\nthat a tuft of most splendid flowers had suddenly sprouted out of\nthe earth before her very eyes, as if on purpose to tempt her a few\nsteps farther. Proserpina's apron was soon filled and brimming over\nwith delightful blossoms. She was on the point of turning back in\norder to rejoin the sea nymphs, and sit with them on the moist sands,\nall twining wreaths together. But, a little farther on, what should\nshe behold? It was a large shrub, completely covered with the most\nmagnificent flowers in the world.\n\n\"The darlings!\" cried Proserpina; and then she thought to herself, \"I\nwas looking at that spot only a moment ago. How strange it is that I\ndid not see the flowers!\"\n\nThe nearer she approached the shrub, the more attractive it looked,\nuntil she came quite close to it; and then, although its beauty was\nricher than words can tell, she hardly knew whether to like it or not.\nIt bore above a hundred flowers of the most brilliant hues, and each\ndifferent from the others, but all having a kind of resemblance among\nthemselves, which showed them to be sister blossoms. But there was\na deep, glossy luster on the leaves of the shrub, and on the petals\nof the flowers, that made Proserpina doubt whether they might not be\npoisonous. To tell you the truth, foolish as it may seem, she was half\ninclined to turn round and run away.\n\n\"What a silly child I am!\" thought she, taking courage. \"It is really\nthe most beautiful shrub that ever sprang out of the earth. I will pull\nit up by the roots, and carry it home, and plant it in my mother's\ngarden.\"\n\nHolding up her apron full of flowers with her left hand, Proserpina\nseized the large shrub with the other, and pulled, and pulled, but was\nhardly able to loosen the soil about its roots. What a deep-rooted\nplant it was! Again the girl pulled with all her might, and observed\nthat the earth began to stir and crack to some distance around the\nstem. She gave another pull, but relaxed her hold, fancying that there\nwas a rumbling sound right beneath her feet. Did the roots extend down\ninto some enchanted cavern? Then, laughing at herself for so childish\na notion, she made another effort: up came the shrub, and Proserpina\nstaggered back, holding the stem triumphantly in her hand, and gazing\nat the deep hole which its roots had left in the soil.\n\nMuch to her astonishment, this hole kept spreading wider and wider, and\ngrowing deeper and deeper, until it really seemed to have no bottom;\nand all the while, there came a rumbling noise out of its depths,\nlouder and louder, and nearer and nearer, and sounding like the tramp\nof horses' hoofs and the rattling of wheels. Too much frightened to\nrun away she stood straining her eyes into this wonderful cavity, and\nsoon saw a team of four sable horses, snorting smoke out of their\nnostrils, and tearing their way out of the earth with a splendid golden\nchariot whirling at their heels. They leaped out of the bottomless\nhole, chariot and all; and there they were, tossing their black manes,\nflourishing their black tails, and curvetting with every one of their\nhoofs off the ground at once, close by the spot where Proserpina stood.\nIn the chariot sat the figure of a man, richly dressed, with a crown\non his head, all flaming with diamonds. He was of a noble aspect,\nand rather handsome, but looked sullen and discontented; and he kept\nrubbing his eyes and shading them with his hand, as if he did not live\nenough in the sunshine to be very fond of its light.\n\nAs soon as this personage saw the affrighted Proserpina, he beckoned\nher to come a little nearer.\n\n\"Do not be afraid,\" said he, with as cheerful a smile as he knew how\nto put on. \"Come. Will not you like to ride a little way with me in my\nbeautiful chariot?\"\n\nBut Proserpina was so alarmed, that she wished for nothing but to get\nout of his reach. And no wonder. The stranger did not look remarkably\ngood natured, in spite of his smile; and as for his voice, its tones\nwere deep and stern, and sounded as much like the rumbling of an\nearthquake under ground as anything else. As is always the case with\nchildren in trouble, Proserpina's first thought was to call for her\nmother.\n\n\"Mother, Mother Ceres!\" cried she, all in a tremble. \"Come quickly and\nsave me.\"\n\nBut her voice was too faint for her mother to hear. Indeed, it is\nmost probable that Ceres was then a thousand miles off, making the\ncorn grow in some far distant country. Nor could it have availed her\npoor daughter, even had she been within hearing; for no sooner did\nProserpina begin to cry out, than the stranger leaped to the ground,\ncaught the child in his arms, and again mounting the chariot, shook\nthe reins, and shouted to the four black horses to set off. They\nimmediately broke into so swift a gallop, that it seemed rather like\nflying through the air than running along the earth. In a moment,\nProserpina lost sight of the pleasant vale of Enna, in which she had\nalways dwelt. Another instant, and even the summit of Mount \u00c6tna had\nbecome so blue in the distance, that she could scarcely distinguish it\nfrom the smoke that gushed out of its crater. But still the poor child\nscreamed, and scattered her apron full of flowers along the way, and\nleft a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many mothers, to whose\nears it came, ran quickly to see if any mischief had befallen their\nchildren. But Mother Ceres was a great way off, and could not hear the\ncry.\n\nAs they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe her.\n\n\"Why should you be so frightened, my pretty child?\" said he, trying\nto soften his rough voice. \"I promise not to do you any harm. What!\nYou have been gathering flowers? Wait till we come to my palace, and I\nwill give you a garden full of prettier flowers than those, all made\nof pearls, and diamonds, and rubies. Can you guess who I am? They call\nmy name Pluto; and I am the king of diamonds and all other precious\nstones. Every atom of the gold and silver that lies under the earth\nbelongs to me, to say nothing of the copper and iron, and of the coal\nmines, which supply me with abundance of fuel. Do you see this splendid\ncrown upon my head? You may have it for a plaything. O, we shall be\nvery good friends, and you will find me more agreeable than you expect,\nwhen once we get out of this troublesome sunshine.\"\n\n\"Let me go home!\" cried Proserpina. \"Let me go home!\"\n\n\"My home is better than your mother's,\" answered King Pluto. \"It is a\npalace, all made of gold, with crystal windows; and because there is\nlittle or no sunshine thereabouts, the apartments are illuminated with\ndiamond lamps. You never saw anything half so magnificent as my throne.\nIf you like, you may sit down on it, and be my little queen, and I will\nsit on the footstool.\"\n\n\"I don't care for golden palaces and thrones,\" sobbed Proserpina. \"O my\nmother, my mother! Carry me back to my mother!\"\n\nBut King Pluto, as he called himself, only shouted to his steeds to go\nfaster.\n\n\"Pray do not be foolish, Proserpina,\" said he, in rather a sullen tone.\n\"I offer you my palace and my crown, and all the riches that are under\nthe earth; and you treat me as if I were doing you an injury. The one\nthing which my palace needs is a merry little maid, to run up stairs\nand down, and cheer up the rooms with her smile. And this is what you\nmust do for King Pluto.\"\n\n\"Never!\" answered Proserpina, looking as miserable as she could. \"I\nshall never smile again till you set me down at my mother's door.\"\n\nBut she might just as well have talked to the wind that whistled\npast them; for Pluto urged on his horses, and went faster than ever.\nProserpina continued to cry out, and screamed so long and so loudly,\nthat her poor little voice was almost screamed away; and when it was\nnothing but a whisper, she happened to cast her eyes over a great,\nbroad field of waving grain--and whom do you think she saw? Who, but\nMother Ceres, making the corn grow, and too busy to notice the golden\nchariot as it went rattling along. The child mustered all her strength,\nand gave one more scream, but was out of sight before Ceres had time to\nturn her head.\n\nKing Pluto had taken a road which now began to grow excessively gloomy.\nIt was bordered on each side with rocks and precipices, between which\nthe rumbling of the chariot wheels was reverberated with a noise like\nrolling thunder. The trees and bushes that grew in the crevices of the\nrocks had very dismal foliage; and by and by, although it was hardly\nnoon, the air became obscured with a gray twilight. The black horses\nhad rushed along so swiftly, that they were already beyond the limits\nof the sunshine. But the duskier it grew, the more did Pluto's visage\nassume an air of satisfaction. After all, he was not an ill-looking\nperson, especially when he left off twisting his features into a smile\nthat did not belong to them. Proserpina peeped at his face through the\ngathering dusk, and hoped that he might not be so very wicked as she at\nfirst thought him.\n\n\"Ah, this twilight is truly refreshing,\" said King Pluto, \"after being\nso tormented with that ugly and impertinent glare of the sun. How much\nmore agreeable is lamplight or torchlight, more particularly when\nreflected from diamonds! It will be a magnificent sight, when we get to\nmy palace.\"\n\n\"Is it much farther?\" asked Proserpina. \"And will you carry me back\nwhen I have seen it?\"\n\n\"We will talk of that by and by,\" answered Pluto. \"We are just entering\nmy dominions. Do you see that tall gateway before us? When we pass\nthose gates, we are at home. And there lies my faithful mastiff at the\nthreshold. Cerberus! Cerberus! Come hither, my good dog!\"\n\nSo saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped the chariot right\nbetween the tall, massive pillars of the gateway. The mastiff of which\nhe had spoken got up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder\nlegs, so as to put his fore paws on the chariot wheel. But, my stars,\nwhat a strange dog it was! Why, he was a big, rough, ugly-looking\nmonster, with three separate heads, and each of them fiercer than the\ntwo others; but fierce as they were, King Pluto patted them all. He\nseemed as fond of his three-headed dog as if it had been a sweet little\nspaniel, with silken ears and curly hair. Cerberus, on the other hand,\nwas evidently rejoiced to see his master, and expressed his attachment,\nas other dogs do, by wagging his tail at a great rate. Proserpina's\neyes being drawn to it by its brisk motion, she saw that this tail was\nneither more nor less than a live dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs\nthat had a very poisonous aspect. And while the three-headed Cerberus\nwas fawning so lovingly on King Pluto, there was the dragon tail\nwagging against its will, and looking as cross and ill natured as you\ncan imagine, on its own separate account.\n\n\"Will the dog bite me?\" asked Proserpina shrinking closer to Pluto.\n\"What an ugly creature he is!\"\n\n\"O, never fear,\" answered her companion. \"He never harms people,\nunless they try to enter my dominions without being sent for, or to\nget away when I wish to keep them here. Down, Cerberus! Now, my pretty\nProserpina, we will drive on.\"\n\nOn went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly pleased to find\nhimself once more in his own kingdom. He drew Proserpina's attention\nto the rich veins of gold that were to be seen among the rocks, and\npointed to several places where one stroke of a pickaxe would loosen a\nbushel of diamonds. All along the road, indeed, there were sparkling\ngems, which would have been of inestimable value above ground, but\nwhich here were reckoned of the meaner sort, and hardly worth a\nbeggar's stooping for.\n\nNot far from the gateway, they came to a bridge, which seemed to be\nbuilt of iron. Pluto stopped the chariot, and bade Proserpina look at\nthe stream which was gliding so lazily beneath it. Never in her life\nhad she beheld so torpid, so black, so muddy-looking a stream: its\nwaters reflected no images of any thing that was on the banks, and it\nmoved as sluggishly as if it had quite forgotten which way it ought to\nflow, and had rather stagnate than flow either one way or the other.\n\n\"This is the River Lethe,\" observed King Pluto. \"Is it not a very\npleasant stream?\"\n\n\"I think it a very dismal one,\" said Proserpina.\n\n\"It suits my taste, however,\" answered Pluto, who was apt to be sullen\nwhen anybody disagreed with him. \"At all events, its water has one very\nexcellent quality; for a single draught of it makes people forget every\ncare and sorrow that has hitherto tormented them. Only sip a little\nof it, my dear Proserpina, and you will instantly cease to grieve for\nyour mother, and will have nothing in your memory that can prevent your\nbeing perfectly happy in my palace. I will send for some, in a golden\ngoblet, the moment we arrive.\"\n\n\"O, no, no, no!\" cried Proserpina, weeping afresh. \"I had a thousand\ntimes rather be miserable with remembering my mother, than be happy in\nforgetting her. That dear, dear mother! I never, never will forget her.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" said King Pluto. \"You do not know what fine times we\nwill have in my palace. Here we are just at the portal. These pillars\nare solid gold, I assure you.\"\n\nHe alighted from the chariot, and taking Proserpina in his arms,\ncarried her up a lofty flight of steps into the great hall of the\npalace. It was splendidly illuminated by means of large precious\nstones, of various hues, which seemed to burn like so many lamps, and\nglowed with a hundred fold radiance all through the vast apartment. And\nyet there was a kind of gloom in the midst of this enchanted light;\nnor was there a single object in the hall that was really agreeable\nto behold, except the little Proserpina herself, a lovely child, with\none earthly flower which she had not let fall from her hand. It is\nmy opinion that even King Pluto had never been happy in his palace\nand that this was the true reason why he had stolen away Proserpina,\nin order that he might have something to love, instead of cheating\nhis heart any longer with this tiresome magnificence. And though he\npretended to dislike the sunshine of the upper world, yet the effect\nof the child's presence, bedimmed as she was by her tears, was as if a\nfaint and watery sunbeam had somehow or other found its way into the\nenchanted hall.\n\nPluto now summoned his domestics, and bade them lose no time in\npreparing a most sumptuous banquet, and above all things, not to fail\nof setting a golden beaker of the water of Lethe by Proserpina's plate.\n\n\"I will neither drink that nor anything else,\" said Proserpina. \"Nor\nwill I taste a morsel of food, even if you keep me forever in your\npalace.\"\n\n\"I should be sorry for that,\" replied King Pluto, patting her cheek;\nfor he really wished to be kind, if he had only known how. \"You are a\nspoiled child, I perceive, my little Proserpina; but when you see the\nnice things which my cook will make for you, your appetite will quickly\ncome again.\"\n\nThen, sending for the head cook, he gave strict orders that all sorts\nof delicacies, such as young people are usually fond of, should be\nset before Proserpina. He had a secret motive in this; for you are to\nunderstand, it is a fixed law, that, when persons are carried off to\nthe land of magic, if they once taste any food there, they can never\nget back to their friends. Now, if King Pluto had been cunning enough\nto offer Proserpina some fruit, or bread and milk, (which was the\nsimple fare to which the child had always been accustomed,) it is very\nprobable that she would soon have been tempted to eat it. But he left\nthe matter entirely to his cook, who, like all other cooks, considered\nnothing fit to eat unless it were rich pastry, or highly-seasoned meat,\nor spiced sweet cakes--things which Proserpina's mother had never given\nher, and the smell of which quite took away her appetite, instead of\nsharpening it.\n\nBut my story must now clamber out of King Pluto's dominions, and see\nwhat Mother Ceres has been about, since she was bereft of her daughter.\nWe had a glimpse of her, while the four black steeds were swiftly\nwhirling along the chariot, in which her beloved Proserpina was so\nunwillingly borne away. You recollect, too, the loud scream which\nProserpina gave, just when the chariot was out of sight.\n\nOf all the child's outcries, this last shriek was the only one that\nreached the ears of Mother Ceres. She had mistaken the rumbling of the\nchariot wheels for a peal of thunder, and imagined that a shower was\ncoming up, and that it would assist her in making the corn grow. But,\nat the sound of Proserpina's shriek, she started, and looked about in\nevery direction, not knowing whence it came, but feeling almost certain\nthat it was her daughter's voice. It seemed so unaccountable, however,\nthat the girl should have strayed over so many lands and seas, (which\nshe herself could not have traversed without the aid of her winged\ndragons,) that the good Ceres tried to believe that it must be the\nchild of some other parent, and not her own darling Proserpina, who\nhad uttered this lamentable cry. Nevertheless, it troubled her with a\nvast many tender fears, such as are ready to bestir themselves in every\nmother's heart, when she finds it necessary to go away from her dear\nchildren without leaving them under the care of some maiden aunt, or\nother such faithful guardian. So she quickly left the field in which\nshe had been so busy; and, as her work was not half done, the grain\nlooked, next day, as if it needed both sun and rain, and as if it were\nblighted in the ear, and had something the matter with its roots.\n\nThe pair of dragons must have had very nimble wings; for, in less than\nan hour, Mother Ceres had alighted at the door of her home, and found\nit empty. Knowing, however, that the child was fond of sporting on\nthe sea shore, she hastened thither as fast as she could, and there\nbeheld the wet faces of the poor sea nymphs peeping over a wave. All\nthis while, the good creatures had been waiting on the bank of sponge,\nand, once every half minute or so, had popped up their four heads above\nwater, to see if their playmate were yet coming back. When they saw\nMother Ceres, they sat down on the crest of the surf wave, and let it\ntoss them ashore at her feet.\n\n\"Where is Proserpina?\" cried Ceres. \"Where is my child? Tell me, you\nnaughty sea nymphs, have you enticed her under the sea?\"\n\n\"O, no, good Mother Ceres,\" said the innocent sea nymphs, tossing back\ntheir green ringlets, and looking her in the face. \"We never should\ndream of such a thing. Proserpina has been at play with us, it is true;\nbut she left us a long while ago, meaning only to run a little way upon\nthe dry land, and gather some flowers for a wreath. This was early in\nthe day, and we have seen nothing of her since.\"\n\nCeres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had to say, before she\nhurried off to make inquiries all through the neighborhood. But nobody\ntold her anything that could enable the poor mother to guess what had\nbecome of Proserpina. A fisherman, it is true, had noticed her little\nfootprints in the sand, as he went homeward along the beach with a\nbasket of fish; a rustic had seen the child stooping to gather flowers;\nseveral persons had heard either the rattling of chariot wheels, or the\nrumble of distant thunder; and one old woman, while plucking vervain\nand catnip, had heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish\nnonsense, and therefore did not take the trouble to look up. The stupid\npeople! It took them such a tedious while to tell the nothing that\nthey knew, that it was dark night before Mother Ceres found out that\nshe must seek her daughter elsewhere. So she lighted a torch, and set\nforth, resolving never to come back until Proserpina was discovered.\n\nIn her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot her car and the\nwinged dragons; or, it may be, she thought that she could follow up\nthe search more thoroughly on foot. At all events, this was the way\nin which she began her sorrowful journey, holding her torch before\nher, and looking carefully at every object along the path. And as it\nhappened, she had not gone far before she found one of the magnificent\nflowers which grew on the shrub that Proserpina had pulled up.\n\n\"Ha!\" thought Mother Ceres, examining it by torchlight. \"Here is\nmischief in this flower! The earth did not produce it by any help of\nmine, nor of its own accord. It is the work of enchantment, and is\ntherefore poisonous; and perhaps it has poisoned my poor child.\"\n\nBut she put the poisonous flower in her bosom, not knowing whether she\nmight ever find any other memorial of Proserpina.\n\nAll night long, at the door of every cottage and farm house, Ceres\nknocked, and called up the weary laborers to inquire if they had seen\nher child; and they stood, gaping and half asleep, at the threshold,\nand answered her pityingly, and besought her to come in and rest.\nAt the portal of every palace, too, she made so loud a summons that\nthe menials hurried to throw open the gate, thinking that it must be\nsome great king or queen, who would demand a banquet for supper and a\nstately chamber to repose in. And when they saw only a sad and anxious\nwoman, with a torch in her hand and a wreath of withered poppies on her\nhead, they spoke rudely, and sometimes threatened to set the dogs upon\nher. But nobody had seen Proserpina, nor could give Mother Ceres the\nleast hint which way to seek her. Thus passed the night; and still she\ncontinued her search without sitting down to rest or stopping to take\nfood, or even remembering to put out the torch; although first the rosy\ndawn and then the glad light of the morning sun made its red flame look\nthin and pale. But I wonder what sort of stuff this torch was made of;\nfor it burned dimly through the day, and, at night was as bright as\never, and never was extinguished by the rain or wind, in all the weary\ndays and nights while Ceres was seeking for Proserpina.\n\nIt was not merely of human beings that she asked tidings of her\ndaughter. In the woods and by the streams, she met creatures of another\nnature, who used, in those old times, to haunt the pleasant and\nsolitary places, and were very sociable with persons who understood\ntheir language and customs, as Mother Ceres did. Sometimes, for\ninstance, she tapped with her finger against the knotted trunk of a\nmajestic oak; and immediately its rude bark would cleave asunder, and\nforth would step a beautiful maiden, who was the hamadryad of the oak,\ndwelling inside of it, and sharing its long life, and rejoicing when\nits green leaves sported with the breeze. But not one of these leafy\ndamsels had seen Proserpina. Then, going a little farther, Ceres would,\nperhaps, come to a fountain, gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the\nearth, and would dabble with her hand in the water. Behold, up through\nits sandy and pebbly bed, along with the fountain's gush, a young woman\nwith dripping hair would arise, and stand gazing at Mother Ceres, half\nout of the water, and undulating up and down with its ever-restless\nmotion. But when the mother asked whether her poor lost child had\nstopped to drink out of the fountain, the naiad, with weeping eyes,\n(for these water nymphs had tears to spare for everybody's grief,)\nwould answer \"No!\" in a murmuring voice, which was just like the murmur\nof the stream.\n\nOften, likewise, she encountered fauns, who looked like sunburnt\ncountry people, except that they had hairy ears, and little horns upon\ntheir foreheads, and the hinder legs of goats, on which they gambolled\nmerrily about the woods and fields. They were a frolicsome kind of\ncreature, but grew as sad as their cheerful dispositions would allow,\nwhen Ceres inquired for her daughter, and they had no good news to\ntell. But sometimes she came suddenly upon a rude gang of satyrs, who\nhad faces like monkeys, and horses' tails behind them, and who were\ngenerally dancing in a very boisterous manner, with shouts of noisy\nlaughter. When she stopped to question them, they would only laugh the\nlouder, and make new merriment out of the lone woman's distress. How\nunkind of those ugly satyrs! And once, while crossing a solitary sheep\npasture, she saw a personage named Pan, seated at the foot of a tall\nrock, and making music on a shepherd's flute. He, too, had horns, and\nhairy ears, and goat's feet; but, being acquainted with Mother Ceres,\nhe answered her question as civilly as he knew how, and invited her to\ntaste some milk and honey out of a wooden bowl. But neither could Pan\ntell her what had become of Proserpina, any better than the rest of\nthese wild people.\n\nAnd thus Mother Ceres went wandering about for nine long days and\nnights, finding no trace of Proserpina, unless it were now and then\na withered flower; and these she picked up and put into her bosom,\nbecause she fancied that they might have fallen from her poor child's\nhand. All day she travelled onward through the hot sun; and at night,\nagain, the flame of the torch would redden and gleam along the pathway,\nand she continued her search by its light, without ever sitting down to\nrest.\n\nOn the tenth day, she chanced to espy the mouth of a cavern, within\nwhich (though it was bright noon everywhere else) there would have been\nonly a dusky twilight; but it so happened that a torch was burning\nthere. It flickered, and struggled with the duskiness, but could not\nhalf light up the gloomy cavern with all its melancholy glimmer. Ceres\nwas resolved to leave no spot without a search; so she peeped into the\nentrance of the cave, and lighted it up a little more, by holding her\nown torch before her. In so doing, she caught a glimpse of what seemed\nto be a woman, sitting on the brown leaves of the last autumn, a great\nheap of which had been swept into the cave by the wind. This woman (if\nwoman it were) was by no means so beautiful as many of her sex; for her\nhead, they tell me, was shaped very much like a dog's, and, by way of\nornament, she wore a wreath of snakes around it. But Mother Ceres, the\nmoment she saw her, knew that this was an odd kind of a person, who put\nall her enjoyment in being miserable, and never would have a word to\nsay to other people, unless they were as melancholy and wretched as she\nherself delighted to be.\n\n[Illustration: So she peeped into the entrance of the cave.]\n\n\"I am wretched enough now,\" thought poor Ceres, \"to talk with this\nmelancholy Hecate, were she ten times sadder than ever she was yet.\"\n\nSo she stepped into the cave, and sat down on the withered leaves by\nthe dog-headed woman's side. In all the world, since her daughter's\nloss, she had found no other companion.\n\n\"O Hecate,\" said she, \"if ever you lose a daughter, you will know\nwhat sorrow is. Tell me, for pity's sake, have you seen my poor child\nProserpina pass by the mouth of your cavern?\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Hecate, in a cracked voice, and sighing betwixt every\nword or two; \"no, Mother Ceres, I have seen nothing of your daughter.\nBut my ears, you must know, are made in such a way, that all cries of\ndistress and affright, all over the world, are pretty sure to find\ntheir way to them; and nine days ago, as I sat in my cave, making\nmyself very miserable, I heard the voice of a young girl, shrieking as\nif in great distress. Something terrible has happened to the child, you\nmay rest assured. As well as I could judge, a dragon, or some other\ncruel monster was carrying her away.\"\n\n\"You kill me by saying so,\" cried Ceres, almost ready to faint. \"Where\nwas the sound, and which way did it seem to go?\"\n\n\"It passed very swiftly along,\" said Hecate, \"and, at the same time,\nthere was a heavy rumbling of wheels towards the eastward. I can tell\nyou nothing more, except that, in my honest opinion, you will never see\nyour daughter again. The best advice I can give you is, to take up your\nabode in this cavern, where we will be the two most wretched women in\nthe world.\"\n\n\"Not yet, dark Hecate,\" replied Ceres. \"But do you first come with your\ntorch, and help me to seek for my lost child. And when there shall be\nno more hope of finding her, (if that black day is ordained to come,)\nthen, if you will give me room to fling myself down, either on these\nwithered leaves or on the naked rock, I will show you what it is to be\nmiserable. But, until I know that she has perished from the face of the\nearth, I will not allow myself space even to grieve.\"\n\nThe dismal Hecate did not much like the idea of going abroad into the\nsunny world. But then she reflected that the sorrow of the disconsolate\nCeres would be like a gloomy twilight round about them both, let the\nsun shine ever so brightly, and that therefore she might enjoy her\nbad spirits quite as well as if she were to stay in the cave. So she\nfinally consented to go, and they set out together, both carrying\ntorches, although it was broad daylight and clear sunshine. The\ntorchlight seemed to make a gloom; so that the people whom they met,\nalong the road, could not very distinctly see their figures; and,\nindeed, if they once caught a glimpse of Hecate, with the wreath of\nsnakes round her forehead, they generally thought it prudent to run\naway, without waiting for a second glance.\n\nAs the pair travelled along in this woe-begone manner, a thought struck\nCeres.\n\n\"There is one person,\" she exclaimed, \"who must have seen my poor\nchild, and can doubtless tell what has become of her. Why did not I\nthink of him before? It is Ph\u0153bus.\"\n\n\"What,\" said Hecate, \"the young man that always sits in the sunshine?\nO, pray do not think of going near him. He is a gay, light, frivolous\nyoung fellow, and will only smile in your face. And besides, there is\nsuch a glare of the sun about him, that he will quite blind my poor\neyes, which I have almost wept away already.\"\n\n\"You have promised to be my companion,\" answered Ceres. \"Come, let us\nmake haste, or the sunshine will be gone, and Ph\u0153bus along with it.\"\n\nAccordingly they went along in quest of Ph\u0153bus, both of them sighing\ngrievously, and Hecate, to say the truth, making a great deal worse\nlamentation than Ceres; for all the pleasure she had, you know, lay in\nbeing miserable and therefore she made the most of it. By and by, after\na pretty long journey, they arrived at the sunniest spot in the whole\nworld. There they beheld a beautiful young man, with long, curling\nringlets, which seemed to be made of golden sunbeams; his garments were\nlike light summer clouds; and the expression of his face so exceedingly\nvivid, that Hecate held her hands before her eyes, muttering that he\nought to wear a black veil. Ph\u0153bus (for this was the very person whom\nthey were seeking) had a lyre in his hands, and was making its chords\ntremble with sweet music; at the same time singing a most exquisite\nsong, which he had recently composed. For, besides a great many other\naccomplishments, this young man was renowned for his admirable poetry.\n\n[Illustration: They arrived at the sunniest spot in the world.]\n\nAs Ceres and her dismal companion approached him, Ph\u0153bus smiled on them\nso cheerfully that Hecate's wreath of snakes gave a spiteful hiss, and\nHecate heartily wished herself back in her cave. But as for Ceres, she\nwas too earnest in her grief either to know or care whether Ph\u0153bus\nsmiled or frowned.\n\n\"Ph\u0153bus!\" exclaimed she, \"I am in great trouble, and have come to\nyou for assistance. Can you tell me what has become of my dear child\nProserpina?\"\n\n\"Proserpina! Proserpina, did you call her name?\" answered Ph\u0153bus,\nendeavoring to recollect, for there was such a continual flow of\npleasant ideas in his mind that he was apt to forget what had happened\nno longer than yesterday. \"Ah, yes, I remember her now. A very lovely\nchild indeed. I am happy to tell you, my dear madam, that I did see the\nlittle Proserpina not many days ago. You may make yourself perfectly\neasy about her. She is safe, and in excellent hands.\"\n\n\"O, where is my dear child?\" cried Ceres, clasping her hands and\nflinging herself at his feet.\n\n\"Why,\" said Ph\u0153bus,--and as he spoke, he kept touching his lyre so\nas to make a thread of music run in and out among his words,--\"as\nthe little damsel was gathering flowers, (and she has really a very\nexquisite taste for flowers,) she was suddenly snatched up by King\nPluto, and carried off to his dominions. I have never been in that\npart of the universe; but the royal palace, I am told, is built in a\nvery noble style of architecture, and of the most splendid and costly\nmaterials. Gold, diamonds, pearls, and all manner of precious stones,\nwill be your daughter's ordinary playthings. I recommend to you, my\ndear lady, to give yourself no uneasiness. Proserpina's sense of beauty\nwill be duly gratified, and, even in spite of the lack of sunshine, she\nwill lead a very enviable life.\"\n\n\"Hush! Say not such a word!\" answered Ceres, indignantly. \"What is\nthere to gratify her heart? What are all the splendors you speak of,\nwithout affection? I must have her back again. Will you go with me,\nPh\u0153bus, to demand my daughter of this wicked Pluto?\"\n\n\"Pray excuse me,\" replied Ph\u0153bus, with an elegant obeisance. \"I\ncertainly wish you success, and regret that my own affairs are so\nimmediately pressing that I cannot have the pleasure of attending you.\nBesides, I am not upon the best of terms with King Pluto. To tell\nyou the truth, his three-headed mastiff would never let me pass the\ngateway; for I should be compelled to take a sheaf of sunbeams along\nwith me, and those, you know, are forbidden things in Pluto's kingdom.\"\n\n\"Ah, Ph\u0153bus,\" said Ceres, with bitter meaning in her words, \"you have a\nharp instead of a heart. Farewell.\"\n\n\"Will not you stay a moment,\" asked Ph\u0153bus, \"and hear me turn the\npretty and touching story of Proserpina into extemporary verses?\"\n\nBut Ceres shook her head, and hastened away, along with Hecate. Ph\u0153bus\n(who, as I have told you, was an exquisite poet) forthwith began to\nmake an ode about the poor mother's grief; and, if we were to judge of\nhis sensibility by this beautiful production, he must have been endowed\nwith a very tender heart. But when a poet gets into the habit of using\nhis heartstrings to make chords for his lyre, he may thrum upon them as\nmuch as he will, without any great pain to himself. Accordingly, though\nPh\u0153bus sang a very sad song, he was as merry all the while as were the\nsunbeams amid which he dwelt.\n\nPoor Mother Ceres had now found out what had become of her daughter,\nbut was not a whit happier than before. Her case, on the contrary,\nlooked more desperate than ever. As long as Proserpina was above\nground, there might have been hopes of regaining her. But now that\nthe poor child was shut up within the iron gates of the king of the\nmines, at the threshold of which lay the three-headed Cerberus, there\nseemed no possibility of her ever making her escape. The dismal Hecate,\nwho loved to take the darkest view of things, told Ceres that she had\nbetter come with her to the cavern, and spend the rest of her life in\nbeing miserable. Ceres answered that Hecate was welcome to go back\nthither herself, but that, for her part, she would wander about the\nearth in quest of the entrance to King Pluto's dominions. And Hecate\ntook her at her word, and hurried back to her beloved cave, frightening\na great many little children with a glimpse of her dog's face, as she\nwent.\n\nPoor Mother Ceres! It is melancholy to think of her, pursuing her\ntoilsome way, all alone, and holding up that never-dying torch, the\nflame of which seemed an emblem of the grief and hope that burned\ntogether in her heart. So much did she suffer, that, though her aspect\nhad been quite youthful when her troubles began, she grew to look\nlike an elderly person in a very brief time. She cared not how she\nwas dressed, nor had she ever thought of flinging away the wreath of\nwithered poppies, which she put on the very morning of Proserpina's\ndisappearance. She roamed about in so wild a way, and with her hair so\ndishevelled, that people took her for some distracted creature, and\nnever dreamed that this was Mother Ceres, who had the oversight of\nevery seed which the husbandman planted. Nowadays, however, she gave\nherself no trouble about seed time nor harvest, but left the farmers\nto take care of their own affairs, and the crops to fade or flourish,\nas the case might be. There was nothing, now, in which Ceres seemed to\nfeel an interest, unless when she saw children at play, or gathering\nflowers along the wayside. Then, indeed, she would stand and gaze\nat them with tears in her eyes. The children, too, appeared to have\na sympathy with her grief, and would cluster themselves in a little\ngroup about her knees, and look up wistfully in her face; and Ceres,\nafter giving them a kiss all round, would lead them to their homes, and\nadvise their mothers never to let them stray out of sight.\n\n\"For if they do,\" said she, \"it may happen to you, as it has to me,\nthat the iron-hearted King Pluto will take a liking to your darlings,\nand snatch them up in his chariot, and carry them away.\"\n\nOne day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the entrance to Pluto's\nkingdom, she came to the palace of King Celeus, who reigned at Eleusis.\nAscending a lofty flight of steps, she entered the portal, and found\nthe royal household in very great alarm about the queen's baby. The\ninfant, it seems, was sickly, (being troubled with its teeth, I\nsuppose,) and would take no food, and was all the time moaning with\npain. The queen--her name was Metanira--was desirous of finding a\nnurse; and when she beheld a woman of matronly aspect coming up the\nsteps, she thought in her own mind, that here was the very person whom\nshe needed. So Queen Metanira ran to the door, with the poor wailing\nbaby in her arms, and besought Ceres to take charge of it, or, at\nleast, to tell her what would do it good.\n\n\"Will you trust the child entirely to me?\" asked Ceres.\n\n\"Yes, and gladly too,\" answered the queen, \"if you will devote all your\ntime to him. For I can see that you have been a mother.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" said Ceres. \"I once had a child of my own. Well, I\nwill be the nurse of this poor, sickly boy. But beware, I warn you,\nthat you do not interfere with any kind of treatment which I may judge\nproper for him. If you do so, the poor infant must suffer for his\nmother's folly.\"\n\nThen she kissed the child, and it seemed to do him good, for he smiled\nand nestled closely into her bosom.\n\nSo Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner, (where it kept burning all\nthe while,) and took up her abode in the palace of King Celeus, as\nnurse to the little Prince Demopho\u00f6n. She treated him as if he were her\nown child, and allowed neither the king nor the queen to say whether\nhe should be bathed in warm or cold water, or what he should eat, or\nhow often he should take the air, or when he should be put to bed.\nYou would hardly believe me, if I were to tell how quickly the baby\nprince got rid of his ailments, and grew fat, and rosy, and strong, and\nhow he had two rows of ivory teeth in less time than any other little\nfellow, before or since. Instead of the palest, and wretchedest, and\npuniest imp in the world, (as his own mother confessed him to be, when\nCeres first took him in charge,) he was now a strapping baby, crowing,\nlaughing, kicking up his heels, and rolling from one end of the room\nto the other. All the good women of the neighborhood crowded to the\npalace, and held up their hands, in unutterable amazement, at the\nbeauty and wholesomeness of this darling little prince. Their wonder\nwas the greater, because he was never seen to taste any food; not even\nso much as a cup of milk.\n\n\"Pray, nurse,\" the queen kept saying, \"how it is that you make the\nchild thrive so?\"\n\n\"I was a mother once,\" Ceres always replied; \"and having nursed my own\nchild, I know what other children need.\"\n\nBut Queen Metanira, as was very natural, had a great curiosity to\nknow precisely what the nurse did to her child. One night, therefore,\nshe hid herself in the chamber where Ceres and the little prince were\naccustomed to sleep. There was a fire in the chimney, and it had now\ncrumbled into great coals and embers, which lay glowing on the hearth,\nwith a blaze flickering up now and then, and flinging a warm and ruddy\nlight upon the walls. Ceres sat before the hearth with the child in\nher lap, and the fire-light making her shadow dance upon the ceiling\noverhead. She undressed the little prince, and bathed him all over with\nsome fragrant liquid out of a vase. The next thing that she did was\nto rake back the red embers, and make a hollow place among them, just\nwhere the backlog had been. At last, while the baby was crowing, and\nclapping its fat little hands, and laughing in the nurse's face, (just\nas you may have seen your little brother or sister do before going into\nits warm bath,) Ceres suddenly laid him, all naked as he was, in the\nhollow among the red-hot embers. She then raked the ashes over him, and\nturned quietly away.\n\nYou may imagine, if you can, how Queen Metanira shrieked, thinking\nnothing less than that her dear child would be burned to a cinder. She\nburst forth from her hiding-place, and running to the hearth, raked\nopen the fire, and snatched up poor little Prince Demopho\u00f6n out of his\nbed of live coals, one of which he was gripping in each of his fists.\nHe immediately set up a grievous cry, as babies are apt to do, when\nrudely startled out of a sound sleep. To the queen's astonishment and\njoy, she could perceive no token of the child's being injured by the\nhot fire in which he had lain. She now turned to Mother Ceres, and\nasked her to explain the mystery.\n\n\"Foolish woman,\" answered Ceres, \"did you not promise to intrust this\npoor infant entirely to me? You little know the mischief you have done\nhim. Had you left him to my care, he would have grown up like a child\nof celestial birth, endowed with superhuman strength and intelligence,\nand would have lived forever. Do you imagine that earthly children are\nto become immortal without being tempered to it in the fiercest heat\nof the fire? But you have ruined your own son. For though he will be\na strong man and a hero in his day, yet, on account of your folly,\nhe will grow old, and finally die, like the sons of other women. The\nweak tenderness of his mother has cost the poor boy an immortality.\nFarewell.\"\n\nSaying these words, she kissed the little Prince Demopho\u00f6n, and sighed\nto think what he had lost, and took her departure without heeding Queen\nMetanira, who entreated her to remain, and cover up the child among the\nhot embers as often as she pleased. Poor baby! He never slept so warmly\nagain.\n\nWhile she dwelt in the king's palace, Mother Ceres had been so\ncontinually occupied with taking care of the young prince, that her\nheart was a little lightened of its grief for Proserpina. But now,\nhaving nothing else to busy herself about, she became just as wretched\nas before. At length, in her despair, she came to the dreadful\nresolution that not a stalk of grain, nor a blade of grass, nor a\npotato, nor a turnip, nor any other vegetable that was good for man\nor beast to eat, should be suffered to grow until her daughter were\nrestored. She even forbade the flowers to bloom, lest somebody's heart\nshould be cheered by their beauty.\n\nNow as not so much as a head of asparagus ever presumed to poke itself\nout of the ground, without the especial permission of Ceres, you may\nconceive what a terrible calamity had here fallen upon the earth. The\nhusbandmen ploughed and planted as usual; but there lay the rich black\nfurrows, all as barren as a desert of sand. The pastures looked as\nbrown in the sweet month of June as ever they did in chill November.\nThe rich man's broad acres and the cottager's small garden patch were\nequally blighted. Every little girl's flower bed showed nothing but dry\nstalks. The old people shook their white heads, and said that the earth\nhad grown aged like themselves, and was no longer capable of wearing\nthe warm smile of summer on its face. It was really piteous to see the\npoor, starving cattle and sheep, how they followed behind Ceres, lowing\nand bleating, as if their instinct taught them to expect help from her;\nand everybody that was acquainted with her power besought her to have\nmercy on the human race, and, at all events, to let the grass grow. But\nMother Ceres, though naturally of an affectionate disposition, was now\ninexorable.\n\n\"Never,\" said she. \"If the earth is ever again to see any verdure it\nmust first grow along the path which my daughter will tread in coming\nback to me.\"\n\nFinally, as there seemed to be no other remedy, our old friend\nQuicksilver was sent post haste to King Pluto, in hopes that he might\nbe persuaded to undo the mischief he had done, and to set everything\nright again, by giving up Proserpina. Quicksilver accordingly made\nthe best of his way to the great gate, took a flying leap right over\nthe three-headed mastiff, and stood at the door of the palace in an\ninconceivably short time. The servants knew him both by his face and\ngarb; for his short cloak, and his winged cap and shoes, and his snaky\nstaff had often been seen thereabouts in times gone by. He requested\nto be shown immediately into the king's presence; and Pluto, who heard\nhis voice from the top of the stairs, and who loved to recreate himself\nwith Quicksilver's merry talk, called out to him to come up. And while\nthey settle their business together, we must inquire what Proserpina\nhas been doing ever since we saw her last.\n\nThe child had declared as you may remember, that she would not taste a\nmouthful of food as long as she should be compelled to remain in King\nPluto's palace. How she contrived to maintain her resolution, and at\nthe same time to keep herself tolerably plump and rosy, is more than I\ncan explain; but some young ladies, I am given to understand, possess\nthe faculty of living on air, and Proserpina seems to have possessed\nit too. At any rate, it was now six months since she left the outside\nearth; and not a morsel, so far as the attendants were able to testify,\nhad yet passed between her teeth. This was the more creditable to\nProserpina inasmuch as King Pluto had caused her to be tempted day\nafter day, with all manner of sweetmeats, and richly-preserved fruits,\nand delicacies of every sort, such as young people are generally most\nfond of. But her good mother had often told her of the hurtfulness of\nthese things; and for that reason alone, if there had been no other,\nshe would have resolutely refused to taste them.\n\nAll this time, being of a cheerful and active disposition, the little\ndamsel was not quite so unhappy as you may have supposed. The immense\npalace had a thousand rooms, and was full of beautiful and wonderful\nobjects. There was a never-ceasing gloom, it is true, which had hid\nitself among the innumerable pillars, gliding before the child as she\nwandered among them, and treading stealthily behind her in the echo of\nher footsteps. Neither was all the dazzle of the precious stones, which\nflamed with their own light, worth one gleam of natural sunshine; nor\ncould the most brilliant of the many-colored gems, which Proserpina had\nfor playthings, vie with the simple beauty of the flowers she used to\ngather. But still, wherever the girl went, among those gilded halls and\nchambers, it seemed as if she carried nature and sunshine along with\nher and as if she scattered dewy blossoms on her right hand and on her\nleft. After Proserpina came, the palace was no longer the same abode of\nstately artifice and dismal magnificence that it had before been. The\ninhabitants all felt this, and King Pluto more than any of them.\n\n\"My own little Proserpina,\" he used to say, \"I wish you could like me a\nlittle better. We gloomy and cloudy-natured persons have often as warm\nhearts, at bottom, as those of a more cheerful character. If you would\nonly stay with me of your own accord, it would make me happier than the\npossession of a hundred such palaces as this.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Proserpina, \"you should have tried to make me like you\nbefore carrying me off. And the best thing you can now do is, to let me\ngo again. Then I might remember you sometimes, and think that you were\nas kind as you knew how to be. Perhaps, too, one day or other, I might\ncome back, and pay you a visit.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" answered Pluto, with his gloomy smile, \"I will not trust\nyou for that. You are too fond of living in the broad daylight, and\ngathering flowers. What an idle and childish taste that is! Are not\nthese gems, which I have ordered to be dug for you, and which are\nricher than any in my crown--are they not prettier than a violet?\"\n\n\"Not half so pretty,\" said Proserpina, snatching the gems from Pluto's\nhand, and flinging them to the other end of the hall. \"O my sweet\nviolets, shall I never see you again?\"\n\nAnd then she burst into tears. But young people's tears have very\nlittle saltness or acidity in them, and do not inflame the eyes so much\nas those of grown persons; so that it is not to be wondered at, if, a\nfew moments afterwards, Proserpina was sporting through the hall almost\nas merrily as she and the four sea nymphs had sported along the edge of\nthe surf wave. King Pluto gazed after her, and wished that he too, was\na child. And little Proserpina, when she turned about, and beheld this\ngreat king standing in his splendid hall, and looking so grand, and so\nmelancholy, and so lonesome, was smitten with a kind of pity. She ran\nback to him, and, for the first time in all her life, put her small,\nsoft hand in his.\n\n\"I love you a little,\" whispered she, looking up in his face.\n\n\"Do you, indeed, my dear child?\" cried Pluto bending his dark face down\nto kiss her; but Proserpina shrank away from the kiss, for though his\nfeatures were noble, they were very dusky and grim. \"Well, I have not\ndeserved it of you, after keeping you a prisoner for so many months,\nand starving you, besides. Are you not terribly hungry? Is there\nnothing which I can get you to eat?\"\n\nIn asking this question, the king of the mines had a very cunning\npurpose; for, you will recollect, if Proserpina tasted a morsel of food\nin his dominions, she would never afterwards be at liberty to quit them.\n\n\"No indeed,\" said Proserpina. \"Your head cook is always baking, and\nstewing, and roasting, and rolling out paste, and contriving one dish\nor another, which he imagines may be to my liking. But he might just as\nwell save himself the trouble, poor, fat little man that he is. I have\nno appetite for anything in the world, unless it were a slice of bread,\nof my mother's own baking, or a little fruit out of her garden.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"I SHALL NOT TOUCH IT I ASSURE YOU\", SAID SHE]\n\nWhen Pluto heard this, he began to see that he had mistaken the best\nmethod of tempting Proserpina to eat. The cook's made dishes and\nartificial dainties were not half so delicious, in the good child's\nopinion, as the simple fare to which Mother Ceres had accustomed her.\nWondering that he had never thought of it before, the king now sent\none of his trusty attendants, with a large basket, to get some of the\nfinest and juiciest pears, peaches, and plums which could anywhere\nbe found in the upper world. Unfortunately, however, this was during\nthe time when Ceres had forbidden any fruits or vegetables to grow;\nand, after seeking all over the earth, King Pluto's servant found\nonly a single pomegranate, and that so dried up as to be not worth\neating. Nevertheless, since there was no better to be had, he brought\nthis dry, old, withered pomegranate home to the palace, put it on a\nmagnificent golden salver, and carried it up to Proserpina. Now, it\nhappened, curiously enough, that, just as the servant was bringing the\npomegranate into the back door of the palace our friend Quicksilver had\ngone up the front steps, on his errand to get Proserpina away from King\nPluto.\n\nAs soon as Proserpina saw the pomegranate on the golden salver, she\ntold the servant he had better take it away again.\n\n\"I shall not touch it, I assure you,\" said she. \"If I were ever\nso hungry, I should never think of eating such a miserable, dry\npomegranate as that.\"\n\n\"It is the only one in the world,\" said the servant.\n\nHe set down the golden salver, with the wizened pomegranate upon\nit, and left the room. When he was gone, Proserpina could not help\ncoming close to the table, and looking at this poor specimen of dried\nfruit with a great deal of eagerness; for, to say the truth, on\nseeing something that suited her taste, she felt all the six months'\nappetite taking possession of her at once. To be sure, it was a very\nwretched-looking pomegranate, and seemed to have no more juice in it\nthan an oyster shell. But there was no choice of such things in King\nPluto's palace. This was the first fruit she had seen there, and the\nlast she was ever likely to see; and unless she ate it up immediately,\nit would grow drier than it already was, and be wholly unfit to eat.\n\n\"At least, I may smell it,\" thought Proserpina.\n\nSo she took up the pomegranate, and applied it to her nose; and somehow\nor other, being in such close neighborhood to her mouth, the fruit\nfound its way into that little red cave. Dear me! what an everlasting\npity! Before Proserpina knew what she was about, her teeth had actually\nbitten it, of their own accord. Just as this fatal deed was done, the\ndoor of the apartment opened, and in came King Pluto, followed by\nQuicksilver, who had been urging him to let his little prisoner go. At\nthe first noise of their entrance, Proserpina withdrew the pomegranate\nfrom her mouth. But Quicksilver (whose eyes were very keen, and his\nwits the sharpest that ever anybody had) perceived that the child was a\nlittle confused; and seeing the empty salver, he suspected that she had\nbeen taking a sly nibble of something or other. As for honest Pluto, he\nnever guessed at the secret.\n\n\"My little Proserpina,\" said the king, sitting down, and affectionately\ndrawing her between his knees, \"here is Quicksilver, who tells me that\na great many misfortunes have befallen innocent people on account of\nmy detaining you in my dominions. To confess the truth, I myself had\nalready reflected that it was an unjustifiable act to take you away\nfrom your good mother. But, then, you must consider, my dear child,\nthat this vast palace is apt to be gloomy, (although the precious\nstones certainly shine very bright,) and that I am not of the most\ncheerful disposition, and that therefore it was a natural thing enough\nto seek for the society of some merrier creature than myself. I hoped\nyou would take my crown for a plaything, and me--ah, you laugh,\nnaughty Proserpina--me, grim as I am, for a playmate. It was a silly\nexpectation.\"\n\n\"Not so extremely silly,\" whispered Proserpina. \"You have really amused\nme very much sometimes.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said King Pluto, rather dryly. \"But I can see, plainly\nenough, that you think my palace a dusky prison, and me the\niron-hearted keeper of it. And an iron heart I should surely have,\nif I could detain you here any longer, my poor child, when it is now\nsix months since you tasted food. I give you your liberty. Go with\nQuicksilver. Hasten home to your dear mother.\"\n\nNow, although you may not have supposed it, Proserpina found it\nimpossible to take leave of poor King Pluto without some regrets, and a\ngood deal of compunction for not telling him about the pomegranate. She\neven shed a tear or two, thinking how lonely and cheerless the great\npalace would seem to him, with all its ugly glare of artificial light,\nafter she herself--his one little ray of natural sunshine, whom he had\nstolen, to be sure, but only because he valued her so much--after she\nshould have departed. I know not how many kind things she might have\nsaid to the disconsolate king of the mines, had not Quicksilver hurried\nher away.\n\n\"Come along quickly,\" whispered he in her ear, \"or his majesty may\nchange his royal mind. And take care, above all things, that you say\nnothing of what was brought you on the golden salver.\"\n\nIn a very short time, they had passed the great gateway, (leaving\nthe three-headed Cerberus, barking, and yelping, and growling, with\nthreefold din, behind them,) and emerged upon the surface of the earth.\nIt was delightful to behold, as Proserpina hastened along, how the\npath grew verdant behind and on either side of her. Wherever she set\nher blessed foot, there was at once a dewy flower. The violets gushed\nup along the wayside. The grass and the grain began to sprout with\ntenfold vigor and luxuriance, to make up for the dreary months that had\nbeen wasted in barrenness. The starved cattle immediately set to work\ngrazing, after their long fast, and ate enormously, all day, and got\nup at midnight to eat more. But I can assure you it was a busy time of\nyear with the farmers, when they found the summer coming upon them with\nsuch a rush. Nor must I forget to say, that all the birds in the whole\nworld hopped about upon the newly-blossoming trees, and sang together,\nin a prodigious ecstasy of joy.\n\nMother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, and was sitting\ndisconsolately on the doorstep, with her torch burning in her hand. She\nhad been idly watching the flame for some moments past, when, all at\nonce, it flickered and went out.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" thought she. \"It was an enchanted torch and\nshould have kept burning till my child came back.\"\n\nLifting her eyes she was surprised to see a sudden verdure flashing\nover the brown and barren fields, exactly as you may have observed a\ngolden hue gleaming far and wide across the landscape, from the just\nrisen sun.\n\n\"Does the earth disobey me?\" exclaimed Mother Ceres, indignantly. \"Does\nit presume to be green, when I have bidden it be barren, until my\ndaughter shall be restored to my arms?\"\n\n\"Then open your arms, dear mother,\" cried a well-known voice, \"and take\nyour little daughter into them.\"\n\nAnd Proserpina came running, and flung herself upon her mother's bosom.\nTheir mutual transport is not to be described. The grief of their\nseparation had caused both of them to shed a great many tears; and\nnow they shed a great many more, because their joy could not so well\nexpress itself in any other way.\n\nWhen their hearts had grown a little more quiet, Mother Ceres looked\nanxiously at Proserpina.\n\n\"My child,\" said she, \"did you taste any food while you were in King\nPluto's palace?\"\n\n\"Dearest mother,\" answered Proserpina, \"I will tell you the whole\ntruth. Until this very morning, not a morsel of food had passed my\nlips. But to-day, they brought me a pomegranate, (a very dry one it\nwas, and all shrivelled up, till there was little left of it but seeds\nand skin,) and having seen no fruit for so long a time, and being faint\nwith hunger, I was tempted just to bite it. The instant I tasted it,\nKing Pluto and Quicksilver came into the room. I had not swallowed\na morsel; but--dear mother, I hope it was no harm--but six of the\npomegranate seeds, I am afraid, remained in my mouth.\"\n\n\"Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me!\" exclaimed Ceres. \"For each\nof those six pomegranate seeds you must spend one month of every year\nin King Pluto's palace. You are but half restored to your mother.\nOnly six months with me, and six with that good-for-nothing King of\nDarkness!\"\n\n\"Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,\" said Proserpina, kissing\nher mother. \"He has some very good qualities; and I really think I can\nbear to spend six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend\nthe other six with you. He certainly did very wrong to carry me off;\nbut then, as he says, it was but a dismal sort of life for him, to live\nin that great gloomy place, all alone; and it has made a wonderful\nchange in his spirits to have a little girl to run up stairs and down.\nThere is some comfort in making him so happy; and so, upon the whole,\ndearest mother, let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole\nyear round.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN FLEECE\n\nWhen Jason, the son of the dethroned King of Iolchos, was a little\nboy, he was sent away from his parents, and placed under the queerest\nschoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of\nthe people, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and\nhad the body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of\na man. His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, he\nwas a very excellent teacher, and had several scholars, who afterwards\ndid him credit by making a great figure in the world. The famous\nHercules was one, and so was Achilles, and Philoctetes, likewise,\nand \u00c6sculapius, who acquired immense repute as a doctor. The good\nChiron taught his pupils how to play upon the harp, and how to cure\ndiseases, and how to use the sword and shield, together with various\nother branches of education, in which the lads of those days used to be\ninstructed, instead of writing and arithmetic.\n\nI have sometimes suspected that Master Chiron was not really very\ndifferent from other people, but that, being a kind-hearted and merry\nold fellow, he was in the habit of making believe that he was a horse,\nand scrambling about the school room on all fours, and letting the\nlittle boys ride upon his back. And so, when his scholars had grown up,\nand grown old, and were trotting their grandchildren on their knees,\nthey told them about the sports of their school days; and these young\nfolks took the idea that their grandfathers had been taught their\nletters by a Centaur, half man and half horse. Little children, not\nquite understanding what is said to them, often get such absurd notions\ninto their heads, you know.\n\nBe that as it may, it has always been told for a fact, (and always will\nbe told, as long as the world lasts,) that Chiron, with the head of a\nschoolmaster, had the body and legs of a horse. Just imagine the grave\nold gentleman clattering and stamping into the school room on his four\nhoofs, perhaps treading on some little fellow's toes, flourishing his\nswitch tail instead of a rod, and, now and then, trotting out of doors\nto eat a mouthful of grass! I wonder what the blacksmith charged him\nfor a set of iron shoes.\n\nSo Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed Chiron, from the time\nthat he was an infant, only a few months old, until he had grown to\nthe full height of a man. He became a very good harper, I suppose, and\nskilful in the use of weapons, and tolerably acquainted with herbs and\nother doctor's stuff, and, above all, an admirable horseman; for, in\nteaching young people to ride, the good Chiron must have been without\na rival among schoolmasters. At length, being now a tall and athletic\nyouth, Jason resolved to seek his fortune in the world, without asking\nChiron's advice, or telling him anything about the matter. This was\nvery unwise, to be sure; and I hope none of you, my little hearers,\nwill ever follow Jason's example. But, you are to understand, he had\nheard how that he himself was a prince royal, and how his father,\nKing \u00c6son, had been deprived of the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain\nPelias, who would also have killed Jason, had he not been hidden in\nthe Centaur's cave. And, being come to the strength of a man, Jason\ndetermined to set all this business to rights, and to punish the wicked\nPelias for wronging his dear father, and to cast him down from the\nthrone, and seat himself there instead.\n\nWith this intention, he took a spear in each hand, and threw a\nleopard's skin over his shoulders, to keep off the rain, and set forth\non his travels, with his long yellow ringlets waving in the wind.\nThe part of his dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of\nsandals, that had been his father's. They were handsomely embroidered,\nand were tied upon his feet with strings of gold. But his whole attire\nwas such as people did not very often see; and as he passed along, the\nwomen and children ran to the doors and windows, wondering whither\nthis beautiful youth was journeying, with his leopard's skin and his\ngolden-tied sandals, and what heroic deeds he meant to perform, with a\nspear in his right hand and another in his left.\n\nI know not how far Jason had travelled when he came to a turbulent\nriver, which rushed right across his pathway, with specks of white\nfoam among its black eddies, hurrying tumultuously onward, and roaring\nangrily as it went. Though not a very broad river in the dry seasons\nof the year, it was now swollen by heavy rains and by the melting of\nthe snow on the sides of Mount Olympus; and it thundered so loudly,\nand looked so wild and dangerous, that Jason, bold as he was, thought\nit prudent to pause upon the brink. The bed of the stream seemed to be\nstrewn with sharp and rugged rocks, some of which thrust themselves\nabove the water. By and by, an uprooted tree, with shattered branches,\ncame drifting along the current, and got entangled among the rocks. Now\nand then, a drowned sheep, and once the carcass of a cow, floated past.\n\nIn short the swollen river had already done a great deal of mischief.\nIt was evidently too deep for Jason to wade, and too boisterous for him\nto swim; he could see no bridge; and as for a boat, had there been any,\nthe rocks would have broken it to pieces in an instant.\n\n\"See the poor lad,\" said a cracked voice close to his side. \"He\nmust have had but a poor education, since he does not know how to\ncross a little stream like this. Or is he afraid of wetting his fine\ngolden-stringed sandals? It is a pity his four-footed schoolmaster is\nnot here to carry him safely across on his back!\"\n\nJason looked round greatly surprised, for he did not know that anybody\nwas near. But beside him stood an old woman, with a ragged mantle over\nher head, leaning on a staff, the top of which was carved into the\nshape of a cuckoo. She looked very aged, and wrinkled, and infirm; and\nyet her eyes, which were as brown as those of an ox, were so extremely\nlarge and beautiful, that, when they were fixed on Jason's eyes, he\ncould see nothing else but them. The old woman had a pomegranate in her\nhand, although the fruit was then quite out of season.\n\n\"Whither are you going, Jason?\" she now asked.\n\nShe seemed to know his name, you will observe; and indeed, those great\nbrown eyes looked as if they had a knowledge of everything, whether\npast or to come. While Jason was gazing at her, a peacock strutted\nforward, and took his stand at the old woman's side.\n\n\"I am going to Iolchos,\" answered the young man, \"to bid the wicked\nKing Pelias come down from my father's throne, and let me reign in his\nstead.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, then,\" said the old woman, still with the same cracked\nvoice, \"if that is all your business, you need not be in a very great\nhurry. Just take me on your back, there's a good youth, and carry me\nacross the river. I and my peacock have something to do on the other\nside, as well as yourself.\"\n\n\"Good mother,\" replied Jason, \"your business can hardly be so important\nas the pulling down a king from his throne. Besides, as you may see\nfor yourself, the river is very boisterous; and if I should chance to\nstumble, it would sweep both of us away more easily than it has carried\noff yonder uprooted tree. I would gladly help you if I could; but I\ndoubt whether I am strong enough to carry you across.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said she, very scornfully, \"neither are you strong enough to\npull King Pelias off his throne. And, Jason, unless you will help an\nold woman at her need, you ought not to be a king. What are kings made\nfor, save to succor the feeble and distressed? But do as you please.\nEither take me on your back, or with my poor old limbs I shall try my\nbest to struggle across the stream.\"\n\nSaying this, the old woman poked with her staff in the river, as if to\nfind the safest place in its rocky bed where she might make the first\nstep. But Jason, by this time, had grown ashamed of his reluctance\nto help her. He felt that he could never forgive himself, if this\npoor feeble creature should come to any harm in attempting to wrestle\nagainst the headlong current. The good Chiron, whether half horse or\nno, had taught him that the noblest use of his strength was to assist\nthe weak; and also that he must treat every young woman as if she were\nhis sister, and every old one like a mother. Remembering these maxims,\nthe vigorous and beautiful young man knelt down, and requested the good\ndame to mount upon his back.\n\n\"The passage seems to me not very safe,\" he remarked. \"But as your\nbusiness is so urgent, I will try to carry you across. If the river\nsweeps you away, it shall take me too.\"\n\n\"That, no doubt, will be a great comfort to both of us,\" quoth the old\nwoman. \"But never fear. We shall get safely across.\"\n\nSo she threw her arms around Jason's neck; and lifting her from the\nground, he stepped boldly into the raging and foamy current, and began\nto stagger away from the shore. As for the peacock, it alighted on the\nold dame's shoulder. Jason's two spears, one in each hand, kept him\nfrom stumbling, and enabled him to feel his way among the hidden rocks;\nalthough, every instant, he expected that his companion and himself\nwould go down the stream, together with the driftwood of shattered\ntrees, and the carcasses of the sheep and cow. Down came the cold,\nsnowy torrent from the steep side of Olympus, raging and thundering\nas if it had a real spite against Jason, or, at all events, were\ndetermined to snatch off his living burden from his shoulders. When he\nwas half way across, the uprooted tree (which I have already told you\nabout) broke loose from among the rocks, and bore down upon him, with\nall its splintered branches sticking out like the hundred arms of the\ngiant Briareus. It rushed past, however, without touching him. But the\nnext moment, his foot was caught in a crevice between two rocks, and\nstuck there so fast, that, in the effort to get free he lost one of his\ngolden-stringed sandals.\n\nAt this accident Jason could not help uttering a cry of vexation.\n\n\"What is the matter, Jason?\" asked the old woman.\n\n\"Matter enough,\" said the young man. \"I have lost a sandal here among\nthe rocks. And what sort of a figure shall I cut, at the court of King\nPelias, with a golden-stringed sandal on one foot, and the other foot\nbare!\"\n\n\"Do not take it to heart,\" answered his companion cheerily. \"You never\nmet with better fortune than in losing that sandal. It satisfies me\nthat you are the very person whom the Speaking Oak has been talking\nabout.\"\n\nThere was no time, just then, to inquire what the Speaking Oak had\nsaid. But the briskness of her tone encouraged the young man; and\nbesides, he had never in his life felt so vigorous and mighty as\nsince taking this old woman on his back. Instead of being exhausted,\nhe gathered strength as he went on; and, struggling up against the\ntorrent, he at last gained the opposite shore, clambered up the bank,\nand set down the old dame and her peacock safely on the grass. As\nsoon as this was done, however, he could not help looking rather\ndespondently at his bare foot, with only a remnant of the golden string\nof the sandal clinging round his ankle.\n\n\"You will get a handsomer pair of sandals by and by,\" said the old\nwoman, with a kindly look out of her beautiful brown eyes. \"Only let\nKing Pelias get a glimpse of that bare foot, and you shall see him turn\nas pale as ashes, I promise you. There is your path. Go along, my good\nJason, and my blessing go with you. And when you sit on your throne,\nremember the old woman whom you helped over the river.\"\n\nWith these words, she hobbled away, giving him a smile over her\nshoulders as she departed. Whether the light of her beautiful brown\neyes threw a glory round about her, or whatever the cause might be,\nJason fancied that there was something very noble and majestic in her\nfigure, after all, and that, though her gait seemed to be a rheumatic\nhobble, yet she moved with as much grace and dignity as any queen on\nearth. Her peacock, which had now fluttered down from her shoulder,\nstrutted behind her in prodigious pomp, and spread out its magnificent\ntail on purpose for Jason to admire it.\n\nWhen the old dame and her peacock were out of sight, Jason set forward\non his journey. After travelling a pretty long distance, he came to\na town situated at the foot of a mountain, and not a great way from\nthe shore of the sea. On the outside of the town there was an immense\ncrowd of people, not only men and women, but children too, all in their\nbest clothes, and evidently enjoying a holiday. The crowd was thickest\ntowards the sea shore; and in that direction, over the people's heads,\nJason saw a wreath of smoke curling upward to the blue sky. He inquired\nof one of the multitude what town it was, near by, and why so many\npersons were here assembled together.\n\n\"This is the kingdom of Iolchos,\" answered the man, \"and we are the\nsubjects of King Pelias. Our monarch has summoned us together, that we\nmay see him sacrifice a black bull to Neptune, who, they say, is his\nmajesty's father. Yonder is the king, where you see the smoke going up\nfrom the altar.\"\n\nWhile the man spoke he eyed Jason with great curiosity; for his garb\nwas quite unlike that of the Iolchians, and it looked very odd to see a\nyouth with a leopard's skin over his shoulders, and each hand grasping\na spear. Jason perceived, too, that the man stared particularly at\nhis feet, one of which, you remember, was bare, while the other was\ndecorated with his father's golden-stringed sandal.\n\n\"Look at him! only look at him!\" said the man to his next neighbor. \"Do\nyou see? He wears but one sandal!\"\n\nUpon this, first one person, and then another, began to stare at Jason,\nand everybody seemed to be greatly struck with something in his aspect;\nthough they turned their eyes much oftener towards his feet than to any\nother part of his figure. Besides, he could hear them whispering to one\nanother.\n\n\"One sandal! One sandal!\" they kept saying. \"The man with one sandal!\nHere he is at last! Whence has he come? What does he mean to do? What\nwill the king say to the one-sandalled man?\"\n\nPoor Jason was greatly abashed, and made up his mind that the people\nof Iolchos were exceedingly ill bred, to take such public notice of an\naccidental deficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, whether it were that\nthey hustled him forward, or that Jason, of his own accord, thrust a\npassage through the crowd, it so happened that he soon found himself\nclose to the smoking altar where King Pelias was sacrificing the\nblack bull. The murmur and hum of the multitude, in their surprise at\nthe spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it\ndisturbed the ceremonies; and the king, holding the great knife with\nwhich he was just going to cut the bull's throat, turned angrily about,\nand fixed his eyes on Jason. The people had now withdrawn from around\nhim, so that the youth stood in an open space, near the smoking altar,\nfront to front with the angry King Pelias.\n\n\"Who are you?\" cried the king, with a terrible frown. \"And how dare you\nmake this disturbance, while I am sacrificing a black bull to my father\nNeptune?\"\n\n\"It is no fault of mine,\" answered Jason. \"Your majesty must blame the\nrudeness of your subjects, who have raised all this tumult because one\nof my feet happens to be bare.\"\n\nWhen Jason said this, the king gave a quick, startled glance down at\nhis feet.\n\n\"Ha!\" muttered he, \"here is the one-sandalled fellow, sure enough! What\ncan I do with him?\"\n\nAnd he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if he were\nhalf a mind to slay Jason, instead of the black bull. The people round\nabout caught up the king's words, indistinctly as they were uttered;\nand first there was a murmur among them, and then a loud shout.\n\n\"The one-sandalled man has come! The prophecy must be fulfilled!\"\n\nFor you are to know, that, many years before, King Pelias had been told\nby the Speaking Oak of Dodona, that a man with one sandal should cast\nhim down from his throne. On this account, he had given strict orders\nthat nobody should ever come into his presence, unless both sandals\nwere securely tied upon his feet; and he kept an officer in his palace,\nwhose sole business it was to examine people's sandals, and to supply\nthem with a new pair, at the expense of the royal treasury, as soon\nas the old ones began to wear out. In the whole course of the king's\nreign, he had never been thrown into such a fright and agitation as by\nthe spectacle of poor Jason's bare foot. But, as he was naturally a\nbold and hard-hearted man, he soon took courage, and began to consider\nin what way he might rid himself of this terrible one-sandalled\nstranger.\n\n\"My good young man,\" said King Pelias, taking the softest tone\nimaginable, in order to throw Jason off his guard, \"you are excessively\nwelcome to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have travelled a\nlong distance; for it is not the fashion to wear leopard skins in this\npart of the world. Pray what may I call your name, and where did you\nreceive your education?\"\n\n\"My name is Jason,\" answered the young stranger. \"Ever since my\ninfancy, I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my\ninstructor, and taught me music, and horsemanship, and how to cure\nwounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons.\"\n\n\"I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster,\" replied King Pelias, \"and\nhow that there is an immense deal of learning and wisdom in his head,\nalthough it happens to be set on a horse's body. It gives me great\ndelight to see one of his scholars at my court. But, to test how much\nyou have profited under so excellent a teacher, will you allow me to\nask you a single question?\"\n\n\"I do not pretend to be very wise,\" said Jason. \"But ask me what you\nplease, and I will answer to the best of my ability.\"\n\nNow King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man, and to make\nhim say something that should be the cause of mischief and destruction\nto himself. So, with a crafty and evil smile upon his face, he spoke as\nfollows:--\n\n\"What would you do, brave Jason,\" asked he, \"if there were a man in the\nworld, by whom, as you had reason to believe, you were doomed to be\nruined and slain--what would you do, I say, if that man stood before\nyou, and in your power?\"\n\nWhen Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias could not\nprevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably guessed that the\nking had discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his\nown words against himself. Still he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like\nan upright and honorable prince, as he was, he determined to speak out\nthe real truth. Since the king had chosen to ask him the question, and\nsince Jason had promised him an answer, there was no right way, save to\ntell him precisely what would be the most prudent thing to do, if he\nhad his worst enemy in his power.\n\nTherefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up, with a firm and\nmanly voice.\n\n\"I would send such a man,\" said he, \"in quest of the Golden Fleece!\"\n\nThis enterprise, you will understand, was, of all others, the most\ndifficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it would be\nnecessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly\na hope, or a possibility, that any young man who should undertake this\nvoyage would either succeed in obtaining the Golden Fleece, or would\nsurvive to return home, and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of\nKing Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.\n\n\"Well said, wise man with the one sandal!\" cried he. \"Go, then, and at\nthe peril of your life, bring me back the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"I go,\" answered Jason, composedly. \"If I fail, you need not fear that\nI will ever come back to trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos\nwith the prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down from your lofty\nthrone, and give me your crown and scepter.\"\n\n\"That I will,\" said the king, with a sneer. \"Meantime, I will keep them\nvery safely for you.\"\n\nThe first thing that Jason thought of doing, after he left the king's\npresence, was to go to Dodona, and inquire of the Talking Oak what\ncourse it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center\nof an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the\nair, and threw a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of\nground. Standing beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches\nand green leaves, and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and\nspoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was hidden in the\ndepths of the foliage.\n\n[Illustration: \"What shall I do?\" said he.]\n\n\"What shall I do,\" said he, \"in order to win the Golden Fleece?\"\n\nAt first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of the\nTalking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment or two,\nhowever, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle, as if a\ngentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other trees\nof the wood were perfectly still. The sound grew louder, and became\nlike the roar of a high wind. By and by, Jason imagined that he could\ndistinguish words, but very confusedly, because each separate leaf of\nthe tree seemed to be a tongue, and the whole myriad of tongues were\nbabbling at once. But the noise waxed broader and deeper, until it\nresembled a tornado sweeping through the oak, and making one great\nutterance out of the thousand and thousand of little murmurs which each\nleafy tongue had caused by its rustling. And now, though it still had\nthe tone of a mighty wind roaring among the branches, it was also like\na deep bass voice, speaking, as distinctly as a tree could be expected\nto speak, the following words:--\n\n\"Go to Argus, the ship builder, and bid him build a galley with fifty\noars.\"\n\nThen the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the rustling\nleaves, and died gradually away. When it was quite gone, Jason felt\ninclined to doubt whether he had actually heard the words, or whether\nhis fancy had not shaped them out of the ordinary sound made by a\nbreeze, while passing through the thick foliage of the tree.\n\nBut on inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that there was\nreally a man in the city, by the name of Argus, who was a very skilful\nbuilder of vessels. This showed some intelligence in the oak; else\nhow should it have known that any such person existed? At Jason's\nrequest, Argus readily consented to build him a galley so big that it\nshould require fifty strong men to row it; although no vessel of such\na size and burden had heretofore been seen in the world. So the head\ncarpenter, and all his journeymen and apprentices, began their work and\nfor a good while afterwards, there they were, busily employed, hewing\nout the timbers, and making a great clatter with their hammers; until\nthe new ship, which was called the _Argo_, seemed to be quite ready\nfor the sea. And, as the Talking Oak had already given him such good\nadvice, Jason thought that it would not be amiss to ask for a little\nmore. He visited it again, therefore, and standing beside its huge,\nrough trunk, inquired what he should do next.\n\nThis time, there was no such universal quivering of the leaves,\nthroughout the whole tree, as there had been before. But after a while,\nJason observed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above\nhis head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that one\nbough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.\n\n\"Cut me off!\" said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly;\n\"cut me off! cut me off! and carve me into a figure head for your\ngalley.\"\n\nAccordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped it off the\ntree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figure head. He\nwas a tolerably good workman, and had already carved several figure\nheads, in what he intended for feminine shapes, and looking pretty much\nlike those which we see nowadays stuck up under a vessel's bowsprit,\nwith great staring eyes, that never wink at the dash of the spray. But\n(what was very strange) the carver found that his hand was guided by\nsome unseen power, and by a skill beyond his own, and that his tools\nshaped out an image which he had never dreamed of. When the work was\nfinished, it turned out to be the figure of a beautiful woman, with\na helmet on her head, from beneath which the long ringlets fell down\nupon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield, and in its center\nappeared a lifelike representation of the head of Medusa with the snaky\nlocks. The right arm was extended, as if pointing onward. The face of\nthis wonderful statue, though not angry or forbidding, was so grave\nand majestic, that perhaps you might call it severe; and as for the\nmouth, it seemed just ready to unclose its lips, and utter words of the\ndeepest wisdom.\n\nJason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver no rest\nuntil it was completed, and set up where a figure head has always\nstood, from that time to this, in the vessel's prow.\n\n\"And now,\" cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of\nthe statue, \"I must go to the Talking Oak, and inquire what next to do.\"\n\n\"There is no need of that, Jason,\" said a voice which, though it was\nfar lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. \"When you\ndesire good advice, you can seek it of me.\"\n\nJason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these\nwords were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his\neyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and,\nto all appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth.\nRecovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the\nimage had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that,\ntherefore, it was really no great wonder, but, on the contrary, the\nmost natural thing in the world, that it should possess the faculty\nof speech. It would have been very odd, indeed, if it had not. But\ncertainly it was a great piece of good fortune that he should be able\nto carry so wise a block of wood along with him in his perilous voyage.\n\n\"Tell me, wonderous image,\" exclaimed Jason,--\"since you inherit the\nwisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daughter you are,--tell me,\nwhere shall I find fifty bold youths, who will take each of them an oar\nof my galley? They must have sturdy arms to row, and brave hearts to\nencounter perils, or we shall never win the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"Go,\" replied the oaken image, \"go, summon all the heroes of Greece.\"\n\nAnd, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done, could any\nadvice be wiser than this which Jason received from the figure head of\nhis vessel? He lost no time in sending messages to all the cities, and\nmaking known to the whole people of Greece, that Prince Jason, the son\nof King \u00c6son, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold, and that he\ndesired the help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest young men\nalive, to row his vessel and share his dangers. And Jason himself would\nbe the fiftieth.\n\nAt this news, the adventurous youths, all over the country, began to\nbestir themselves. Some of them had already fought with giants, and\nslain dragons; and the younger ones, who had not yet met with such\ngood fortune, thought it a shame to have lived so long without getting\nastride of a flying serpent, or sticking their spears into a Chim\u00e6ra,\nor, at least, thrusting their right arms down a monstrous lion's\nthroat. There was a fair prospect that they would meet with plenty of\nsuch adventures before finding the Golden Fleece. As soon as they could\nfurbish up their helmets and shields, therefore, and gird on their\ntrusty swords, they came thronging to Iolchos, and clambered on board\nthe new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that they\ndid not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel to\nthe remotest edge of the world, and as much farther as he might think\nit best to go.\n\nMany of these brave fellows had been educated by Chiron, the\nfour-footed pedagogue, and were therefore old schoolmates of Jason,\nand knew him to be a lad of spirit. The mighty Hercules, whose\nshoulders afterwards held up the sky, was one of them. And there\nwere Castor and Pollux, the twin brothers, who were never accused\nof being chicken-hearted, although they had been hatched out of an\negg; and Theseus, who was so renowned for killing the Minotaur; and\nLynceus, with his wonderfully sharp eyes, which could see through\na millstone, or look right down into the depths of the earth, and\ndiscover the treasures that were there; and Orpheus, the very best of\nharpers, who sang and played upon his lyre so sweetly, that the brute\nbeasts stood upon their hind legs, and capered merrily to the music.\nYes, and at some of his more moving tunes, the rocks bestirred their\nmoss-grown bulk out of the ground, and a grove of forest trees uprooted\nthemselves, and, nodding their tops to one another, performed a country\ndance.\n\nOne of the rowers was a beautiful young woman, named Atalanta, who had\nbeen nursed among the mountains by a bear. So light of foot was this\nfair damsel, that she could step from one foamy crest of a wave to\nthe foamy crest of another, without wetting more than the sole of her\nsandal. She had grown up in a very wild way, and talked much about the\nrights of women, and loved hunting and war far better than her needle.\nBut, in my opinion, the most remarkable of this famous company were two\nsons of the North Wind, (airy youngsters, and of rather a blustering\ndisposition,) who had wings on their shoulders, and, in case of a\ncalm, could puff out their cheeks, and blow almost as fresh a breeze\nas their father. I ought not to forget the prophets and conjurers, of\nwhom there were several in the crew, and who could foretell what would\nhappen to-morrow, or the next day, or a hundred years hence, but were\ngenerally quite unconscious of what was passing at the moment.\n\nJason appointed Tiphys to be helmsman, because he was a star-gazer, and\nknew the points of the compass. Lynceus, on account of his sharp sight,\nwas stationed as a lookout in the prow, where he saw a whole day's\nsail ahead, but was rather apt to overlook things that lay directly\nunder his nose. If the sea only happened to be deep enough, however,\nLynceus could tell you exactly what kind of rocks or sand were at the\nbottom of it; and he often cried out to his companions, that they were\nsailing over heaps of sunken treasure, which he was none the richer for\nbeholding. To confess the truth, few people believed him when he said\nit.\n\nWell! But when the Argonauts, as these fifty brave adventurers\nwere called, had prepared everything for the voyage, an unforeseen\ndifficulty threatened to end it before it was begun. The vessel, you\nmust understand, was so long, and broad, and ponderous, that the united\nforce of all the fifty was insufficient to shove her into the water.\nHercules, I suppose, had not grown to his full strength, else he might\nhave set her afloat as easily as a little boy launches his boat upon\na puddle. But here were these fifty heroes, pushing, and straining,\nand growing red in the face, without making the _Argo_ start an inch.\nAt last, quite wearied out, they sat themselves down on the shore,\nexceedingly disconsolate, and thinking that the vessel must be left to\nrot and fall in pieces, and that they must either swim across the sea\nor lose the Golden Fleece.\n\nAll at once, Jason bethought himself of the galley's miraculous figure\nhead.\n\n\"O, daughter of the Talking Oak,\" cried he, \"how shall we set to work\nto get our vessel into the water?\"\n\n\"Seat yourselves,\" answered the image, (for it had known what had ought\nto be done from the very first, and was only waiting for the question\nto be put,)--\"seat yourselves, and handle your oars, and let Orpheus\nplay upon his harp.\"\n\nImmediately the fifty heroes got on board, and seizing their oars, held\nthem perpendicularly in the air, while Orpheus (who liked such a task\nfar better than rowing) swept his fingers across the harp. At the first\nringing note of the music, they felt the vessel stir. Orpheus thrummed\naway briskly, and the galley slid at once into the sea, dipping her\nprow so deeply that the figure head drank the wave with its marvellous\nlips, and rising again as buoyant as a swan. The rowers plied their\nfifty oars; the white foam boiled up before the prow; the water gurgled\nand bubbled in their wake; while Orpheus continued to play so lively\na strain of music, that the vessel seemed to dance over the billows\nby way of keeping time to it. Thus triumphantly did the Argo sail out\nof the harbor, amidst the huzzahs and good wishes of everybody except\nthe wicked old Pelias, who stood on a promontory, scowling at her, and\nwishing that he could blow out of his lungs the tempest of wrath that\nwas in his heart, and so sink the galley with all on board. When they\nhad sailed above fifty miles over the sea, Lynceus happened to cast his\nsharp eyes behind, and said that there was this bad-hearted king, still\nperched upon the promontory, and scowling so gloomily that it looked\nlike a black thunder cloud in that quarter of the horizon.\n\nIn order to make the time pass away more pleasantly during the voyage,\nthe heroes talked about the Golden Fleece. It originally belonged, it\nappears, to a B\u0153otian ram, who had taken on his back two children, when\nin danger of their lives, and fled with them over land and sea, as far\nas Colchis. One of the children, whose name was Helle, fell into the\nsea and was drowned. But the other, (a little boy, named Phrixus) was\nbrought safe ashore by the faithful ram, who, however, was so exhausted\nthat he immediately lay down and died. In memory of this good deed,\nand as a token of his true heart, the fleece of the poor dead ram was\nmiraculously changed to gold, and became one of the most beautiful\nobjects ever seen on earth. It was hung upon a tree in a sacred grove,\nwhere it had now been kept I know not how many years, and was the envy\nof mighty kings, who had nothing so magnificent in any of their palaces.\n\nIf I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts, it would\ntake me till nightfall, and perhaps a great deal longer. There was\nno lack of wonderful events, as you may judge from what you have\nalready heard. At a certain island they were hospitably received by\nKing Cyzicus, its sovereign, who made a feast for them, and treated\nthem like brothers. But the Argonauts saw that this good king looked\ndowncast and very much troubled, and they therefore inquired of him\nwhat was the matter. King Cyzicus hereupon informed them that he and\nhis subjects were greatly abused and incommoded by the inhabitants of a\nneighboring mountain, who made war upon them, and killed many people,\nand ravaged the country. And while they were talking about it, Cyzicus\npointed to the mountain, and asked Jason and his companions what they\nsaw there.\n\n\"I see some very tall objects,\" answered Jason; \"but they are at such\na distance that I cannot distinctly make out what they are. To tell\nyour majesty the truth, they look so very strangely that I am inclined\nto think them clouds, which have chanced to take something like human\nshapes.\"\n\n\"I see them very plainly,\" remarked Lynceus, whose eyes, you know, were\nas far sighted as a telescope. \"They are a band of enormous giants, all\nof whom have six arms apiece, and a club, a sword, or some other weapon\nin each of their hands.\"\n\n\"You have excellent eyes,\" said King Cyzicus. \"Yes, they are six armed\ngiants, as you say, and these are the enemies whom I and my subjects\nhave to contend with.\"\n\nThe next day, when the Argonauts were about setting sail, down\ncame these terrible giants, stepping a hundred yards at a stride,\nbrandishing their six arms apiece and looking very formidable, so far\naloft in the air. Each of these monsters was able to carry on a whole\nwar by himself, for with one of his arms he could fling immense stones,\nand wield a club with another, and a sword with a third, while the\nfourth was poking a long spear at the enemy, and the fifth and sixth\nwere shooting him with a bow and arrow. But, luckily, though the giants\nwere so huge, and had so many arms, they had each but one heart, and\nthat no bigger nor braver than the heart of an ordinary man. Besides,\nif they had been like the hundred-armed Briareus, the brave Argonauts\nwould have given them their hands full of fight. Jason and his friends\nwent boldly to meet them, slew a great many, and made the rest take to\ntheir heels, so that, if the giants had had six legs apiece instead of\nsix arms, it would have served them better to run away with.\n\nAnother strange adventure happened when the voyagers came to Thrace,\nwhere they found a poor blind king, named Phineus, deserted by\nhis subjects, and living in a very sorrowful way, all by himself.\nOn Jason's inquiring whether they could do him any service, the\nking answered that he was terribly tormented by three great winged\ncreatures, called Harpies, which had the faces of women, and the wings,\nbodies, and claws of vultures. These ugly wretches were in the habit of\nsnatching away his dinner, and allowed him no peace of his life. Upon\nhearing this, the Argonauts spread a plentiful feast on the sea shore,\nwell knowing, from what the blind king said of their greediness, that\nthe Harpies would snuff up the scent of the victuals, and quickly come\nto steal them away. And so it turned out; for, hardly was the table\nset, before the three hideous vulture women came flapping their wings,\nseized the food in their talons, and flew off as fast as they could.\nBut the two sons of the North Wind drew their swords, spread their\npinions, and set off through the air in pursuit of the thieves, whom\nthey at last overtook among some islands, after a chase of hundreds of\nmiles. The two winged youths blustered terribly at the Harpies, (for\nthey had the rough temper of their father,) and so frightened them with\ntheir drawn swords, that they solemnly promised never to trouble King\nPhineus again.\n\nThen the Argonauts sailed onward, and met with many other marvellous\nincidents, any one of which would make a story by itself. At one\ntime, they landed on an island, and were reposing on the grass, when\nthey suddenly found themselves assailed by what seemed a shower of\nsteel-headed arrows. Some of them stuck in the ground, while others\nhit against their shields, and several penetrated their flesh. The\nfifty heroes started up, and looked about them for the hidden enemy,\nbut could find none, nor see any spot, on the whole island, where even\na single archer could lie concealed. Still, however, the steel-headed\narrows came whizzing among them, and, at last, happening to look\nupward, they beheld a large flock of birds, hovering and wheeling\naloft, and shooting their feathers down upon the Argonauts. These\nfeathers were the steel-headed arrows that had so tormented them.\nThere was no possibility of making any resistance; and the fifty\nheroic Argonauts might all have been killed or wounded by a flock of\ntroublesome birds, without ever setting eyes on the Golden Fleece, if\nJason had not thought of asking the advice of the oaken image.\n\nSo he ran to the galley as fast as his legs would carry him.\n\n\"O, daughter of the Speaking Oak,\" cried he, all out of breath, \"we\nneed your wisdom more than ever before! We are in great peril from a\nflock of birds, who are shooting us with their steel-pointed feathers.\nWhat can we do to drive them away?\"\n\n\"Make a clatter on your shields,\" said the image.\n\nOn receiving this excellent counsel, Jason hurried back to his\ncompanions, (who were far more dismayed than when they fought with\nthe six-armed giants,) and bade them strike with their swords upon\ntheir brazen shields. Forthwith the fifty heroes set heartily to work,\nbanging with might and main, and raised such a terrible clatter, that\nthe birds made what haste they could to get away; and though they had\nshot half the feathers out of their wings, they were soon seen skimming\namong the clouds, a long distance off, and looking like a flock of wild\ngeese. Orpheus celebrated this victory by playing a triumphant anthem\non his harp, and sang so melodiously that Jason begged him to desist,\nlest, as the steel-feathered birds had been driven away by an ugly\nsound, they might be enticed back again by a sweet one.\n\nWhile the Argonauts remained on this island, they saw a small vessel\napproaching the shore, in which were two young men of princely\ndemeanor, and exceedingly handsome, as young princes generally were,\nin those days. Now, who do you imagine these two voyagers turned out\nto be? Why, if you will believe me, they were the sons of that very\nPhrixus, who, in his childhood, had been carried to Colchis on the back\nof the golden-fleeced ram. Since that time, Phrixus had married the\nking's daughter; and the two young princes had been born and brought\nup at Colchis, and had spent their play days in the outskirts of the\ngrove, in the center of which the Golden Fleece was hanging upon a\ntree. They were now on their way to Greece, in hopes of getting back a\nkingdom that had been wrongfully taken from their father.\n\nWhen the princes understood whither the Argonauts were going, they\noffered to turn back, and guide them to Colchis. At the same time,\nhowever, they spoke as if it were very doubtful whether Jason would\nsucceed in getting the Golden Fleece. According to their account, the\ntree on which it hung was guarded by a terrible dragon, who never\nfailed to devour, at one mouthful, every person who might venture\nwithin his reach.\n\n\"There are other difficulties in the way,\" continued the young princes.\n\"But is not this enough? Ah, brave Jason, turn back before it is too\nlate. It would grieve us to the heart, if you and your nine and forty\nbrave companions should be eaten up, at fifty mouthfuls, by this\nexecrable dragon.\"\n\n\"My young friends,\" quietly replied Jason, \"I do not wonder that you\nthink the dragon very terrible. You have grown up from infancy in the\nfear of this monster, and therefore still regard him with the awe\nthat children feel for the bugbears and hobgoblins which their nurses\nhave talked to them about. But, in my view of the matter, the dragon\nis merely a pretty large serpent, who is not half so likely to snap\nme up at one mouthful as I am to cut off his ugly head, and strip the\nskin from his body. At all events, turn back who may, I will never see\nGreece again, unless I carry with me the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"We will none of us turn back!\" cried his nine and forty brave\ncomrades. \"Let us get on board the galley this instant; and if the\ndragon is to make a breakfast of us, much good may it do him.\"\n\nAnd Orpheus (whose custom it was to set everything to music) began to\nharp and sing most gloriously, and made every mother's son of them feel\nas if nothing in this world were so delectable as to fight dragons, and\nnothing so truly honorable as to be eaten up at one mouthful, in case\nof the worst.\n\nAfter this, (being now under the guidance of the two princes, who\nwere well acquainted with the way,) they quickly sailed to Colchis.\nWhen the king of the country, whose name was \u00c6etes, heard of their\narrival, he instantly summoned Jason to court. The king was a stern and\ncruel-looking potentate; and though he put on as polite and hospitable\nan expression as he could, Jason did not like his face a whit better\nthan that of the wicked King Pelias, who dethroned his father.\n\n\"You are welcome, brave Jason,\" said King \u00c6etes. \"Pray, are you on\na pleasure voyage?--or do you meditate the discovery of unknown\nislands?--or what other cause has procured me the happiness of seeing\nyou at my court?\"\n\n\"Great sir,\" replied Jason, with an obeisance,--for Chiron had taught\nhim how to behave with propriety, whether to kings or beggars,--\"I have\ncome hither with a purpose which I now beg your majesty's permission to\nexecute. King Pelias, who sits on my father's throne, (to which he has\nno more right than to the one on which your excellent majesty is now\nseated,) has engaged to come down from it, and give me his crown and\nscepter, provided I bring him the Golden Fleece. This, as your majesty\nis aware, is now hanging on a tree here at Colchis; and I humbly\nsolicit your gracious leave to take it away.\"\n\nIn spite of himself, the king's face twisted itself into an angry\nfrown; for, above all things else in the world, he prized the Golden\nFleece and was even suspected of having done a very wicked act, in\norder to get it into his own possession. It put him into the worst\npossible humor, therefore, to hear that the gallant Prince Jason, and\nforty-nine of the bravest young warriors of Greece, had come to Colchis\nwith the sole purpose of taking away his chief treasure.\n\n\"Do you know,\" asked King \u00c6etes, eyeing Jason very sternly, \"what are\nthe conditions which you must fulfil before getting possession of the\nGolden Fleece?\"\n\n\"I have heard,\" rejoined the youth, \"that a dragon lies beneath the\ntree on which the prize hangs, and that whoever approaches him runs the\nrisk of being devoured at a mouthful.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the king, with a smile that did not look particularly\ngood-natured. \"Very true, young man. But there are other things as\nhard, or perhaps a little harder, to be done, before you can even have\nthe privilege of being devoured by the dragon. For example, you must\nfirst tame my two brazen-footed and brazen-lunged bulls, which Vulcan,\nthe wonderful blacksmith, made for me. There is a furnace in each of\ntheir stomachs; and they breathe such hot fire out of their mouths\nand nostrils, that nobody has hitherto gone nigh them without being\ninstantly burned to a small, black cinder. What do you think of this,\nmy brave Jason?\"\n\n\"I must encounter the peril,\" answered Jason, composedly, \"since it\nstands in the way of my purpose.\"\n\n\"After taming the fiery bulls,\" continued King \u00c6etes, who was\ndetermined to scare Jason if possible, \"you must yoke them to a plough,\nand must plough the sacred earth in the grove of Mars, and sow some of\nthe same dragon's teeth from which Cadmus raised a crop of armed men.\nThey are an unruly set of reprobates, those sons of the dragon's teeth;\nand unless you treat them suitably, they will fall upon you sword in\nhand. You and your nine and forty Argonauts, my bold Jason, are hardly\nnumerous or strong enough to fight with such a host as will spring up.\"\n\n\"My master Chiron,\" replied Jason, \"taught me, long ago, the story of\nCadmus. Perhaps I can manage the quarrelsome sons of the dragon's teeth\nas well as Cadmus did.\"\n\n\"I wish the dragon had him,\" muttered King \u00c6etes to himself, \"and\nthe four-footed pedant, his schoolmaster, into the bargain. Why,\nwhat a foolhardy, self-conceited coxcomb he is! We'll see what\nmy fire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, Prince Jason,\" he\ncontinued, aloud, and as complaisantly as he could, \"make yourself\ncomfortable for to-day, and to-morrow morning, since you insist upon\nit, you shall try your skill at the plough.\"\n\nWhile the king talked with Jason, a beautiful young woman was standing\nbehind the throne. She fixed her eyes earnestly upon the youthful\nstranger, and listened attentively to every word that was spoken; and\nwhen Jason withdrew from the king's presence, this young woman followed\nhim out of the room.\n\n\"I am the king's daughter,\" she said to him, \"and my name is Medea. I\nknow a great deal of which other young princesses are ignorant, and can\ndo many things which they would be afraid so much as to dream of. If\nyou will trust to me, I can instruct you how to tame the fiery bulls,\nand sow the dragon's teeth, and get the Golden Fleece.\"\n\n\"Indeed, beautiful princess,\" answered Jason, \"if you will do me this\nservice, I promise to be grateful to you my whole life long.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"I am the king's daughter.\"]\n\nGazing at Medea, he beheld a wonderful intelligence in her face. She\nwas one of those persons whose eyes are full of mystery; so that,\nwhile looking into them, you seem to see a very great way, as into a\ndeep well, yet can never be certain whether you see into the farthest\ndepths, or whether there be not something else hidden at the bottom. If\nJason had been capable of fearing anything, he would have been afraid\nof making this young princess his enemy; for, beautiful as she now\nlooked, she might, the very next instant, become as terrible as the\ndragon that kept watch over the Golden Fleece.\n\n\"Princess,\" he exclaimed, \"you seem indeed very wise and very powerful.\nBut how can you help me to do the things of which you speak? Are you an\nenchantress?\"\n\n\"Yes, Prince Jason,\" answered Medea, with a smile, \"you have hit upon\nthe truth. I am an enchantress. Circe, my father's sister, taught me to\nbe one, and I could tell you, if I pleased, who was the old woman with\nthe peacock, the pomegranate, and the cuckoo staff, whom you carried\nover the river; and, likewise, who it is that speaks through the lips\nof the oaken image, that stands in the prow of your galley. I am\nacquainted with some of your secrets, you perceive. It is well for you\nthat I am favorably inclined; for, otherwise, you would hardly escape\nbeing snapped, up by the dragon.\"\n\n\"I should not so much care for the dragon,\" replied Jason, \"if I only\nknew how to manage the brazen-footed and fiery-lunged bulls.\"\n\n\"If you are as brave as I think you, and as you have need to be,\" said\nMedea, \"your own bold heart will teach you that there is but one way\nof dealing with a mad bull. What it is I leave you to find out in the\nmoment of peril. As for the fiery breath of these animals, I have a\ncharmed ointment here, which will prevent you from being burned up, and\ncure you if you chance to be a little scorched.\"\n\nSo she put a golden box into his hand, and directed him how to apply\nthe perfumed unguent which it contained, and where to meet her at\nmidnight.\n\n\"Only be brave,\" added she, \"and before daybreak the brazen bulls shall\nbe tamed.\"\n\nThe young man assured her that his heart would not fail him. He then\nrejoined his comrades, and told them what had passed between the\nprincess and himself, and warned them to be in readiness in case there\nmight be need of their help.\n\nAt the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea on the marble steps of\nthe king's palace. She gave him a basket, in which were the dragon's\nteeth, just as they had been pulled out of the monster's jaws by\nCadmus, long ago. Medea then led Jason down the palace steps, and\nthrough the silent streets of the city, and into the royal pasture\nground, where the two brazen-footed bulls were kept. It was a starry\nnight, with a bright gleam along the eastern edge of the sky, where the\nmoon was soon going to show herself. After entering the pasture, the\nprincess paused and looked around.\n\n\"There they are,\" said she, \"reposing themselves and chewing their\nfiery cuds in that farthest corner of the field. It will be excellent\nsport, I assure you, when they catch a glimpse of your figure. My\nfather and all his court delight in nothing so much as to see a\nstranger trying to yoke them, in order to come at the Golden Fleece. It\nmakes a holiday in Colchis whenever such a thing happens. For my part,\nI enjoy it immensely. You cannot imagine in what a mere twinkling of an\neye their hot breath shrivels a young man into a black cinder.\"\n\n[Illustration: AT THE APPOINTED HOUR HE MET THE BEAUTIFUL MEDEA]\n\n\"Are you sure, beautiful Medea,\" asked Jason, \"quite sure, that the\nunguent in the gold box will prove a remedy against those terrible\nburns?\"\n\n\"If you doubt, if you are in the least afraid,\" said the princess,\nlooking him in the face by the dim starlight, \"you had better never\nhave been born than go a step nigher to the bulls.\"\n\nBut Jason had set his heart steadfastly on getting the Golden Fleece;\nand I positively doubt whether he would have gone back without it, even\nhad he been certain of finding himself turned into a red-hot cinder,\nor a handful of white ashes, the instant he made a step farther.\nHe therefore let go Medea's hand, and walked boldly forward in the\ndirection whither she had pointed. At some distance before him he\nperceived four streams of fiery vapor, regularly appearing, and again\nvanishing, after dimly lighting up the surrounding obscurity. These,\nyou will understand, were caused by the breath of the brazen bulls,\nwhich was quietly stealing out of their four nostrils, as they lay\nchewing their cuds.\n\nAt the first two or three steps which Jason made, the four fiery\nstreams appeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully; for the two\nbrazen bulls had heard his foot tramp, and were lifting up their hot\nnoses to snuff the air. He went a little farther, and by the way in\nwhich the red vapor now spouted forth, he judged that the creatures had\ngot upon their feet. Now he could see glowing sparks, and vivid jets\nof flame. At the next step, each of the bulls made the pasture echo\nwith a terrible roar, while the burning breath, which they thus belched\nforth, lit up the whole field with a momentary flash. One other stride\ndid bold Jason make, and, suddenly, as a streak of lightning, on came\nthese fiery animals, roaring like thunder, and sending out sheets of\nwhite flame, which so kindled up the scene that the young man could\ndiscern every object more distinctly than by daylight. Most distinctly\nof all he saw the two horrible creatures galloping right down upon him,\ntheir brazen hoofs rattling and ringing over the ground, and their\ntails sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the fashion\nwith angry bulls. Their breath scorched the herbage before them. So\nintensely hot it was, indeed, that it caught a dry tree, under which\nJason was now standing, and set it all in a light blaze. But as for\nJason himself, (thanks to Medea's enchanted ointment,) the white flame\ncurled around his body, without injuring him a jot more than if he had\nbeen made of asbestos.\n\nGreatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a cinder,\nthe young man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the brazen\nbrutes fancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air, he caught\none of them by the horn, and the other by his screwed-up tail, and\nheld them in a gripe like that of an iron vice, one with his right\nhand, the other with his left. Well, he must have been wonderfully\nstrong in his arms, to be sure. But the secret of the matter was,\nthat the brazen bulls were enchanted creatures, and that Jason had\nbroken the spell of their fiery fierceness by his bold way of handling\nthem. And, ever since that time, it has been the favorite method of\nbrave men, when danger assails them, to do what they call \"taking the\nbull by the horns;\" and to gripe him by the tail is pretty much the\nsame thing--that is, to throw aside fear, and overcome the peril by\ndespising it.\n\nIt was now easy to yoke the bulls, and to harness them to the plough,\nwhich had lain rusting on the ground for a great many years gone by;\nso long was it before anybody could be found capable of ploughing that\npiece of land. Jason, I suppose, had been taught how to draw a furrow\nby the good old Chiron, who, perhaps, used to allow himself to be\nharnessed to the plough. At any rate, our hero succeeded perfectly well\nin breaking up the greensward; and, by the time that the moon was a\nquarter of her journey up the sky, the ploughed field lay before him, a\nlarge tract of black earth, ready to be sown with the dragon's teeth.\nSo Jason scattered them broadcast, and harrowed them into the soil with\na brush-harrow, and took his stand on the edge of the field, anxious to\nsee what would happen next.\n\n\"Must we wait long for harvest time?\" he inquired of Medea, who was now\nstanding by his side.\n\n\"Whether sooner or later, it will be sure to come,\" answered the\nprincess. \"A crop of armed men never fails to spring up, when the\ndragon's teeth have been sown.\"\n\nThe moon was now high aloft in the heavens, and threw its bright beams\nover the ploughed field, where as yet there was nothing to be seen.\nAny farmer, on viewing it, would have said that Jason must wait weeks\nbefore the green blades would peep from among the clods, and whole\nmonths before the yellow grain would be ripened for the sickle. But\nby and by, all over the field, there was something that glistened\nin the moonbeams, like sparkling drops of dew. These bright objects\nsprouted higher, and proved to be the steel heads of spears. Then there\nwas a dazzling gleam from a vast number of polished brass helmets,\nbeneath which, as they grew farther out of the soil, appeared the dark\nand bearded visages of warriors, struggling to free themselves from\nthe imprisoning earth. The first look that they gave at the upper\nworld was a glare of wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright\nbreastplates; in every right hand there was a sword or a spear, and on\neach left arm a shield; and when this strange crop of warriors had but\nhalf grown out of the earth, they struggled,--such was their impatience\nof restraint,--and, as it were, tore themselves up by the roots.\nWherever a dragon's tooth had fallen, there stood a man armed for\nbattle. They made a clangor with their swords against their shields and\neyed one another fiercely; for they had come into this beautiful world,\nand into the peaceful moonlight, full of rage and stormy passions, and\nready to take the life of every human brother, in recompense of the\nboon of their own existence.\n\nThere have been many other armies in the world that seemed to possess\nthe same fierce nature with the one which had now sprouted from\nthe dragon's teeth; but these, in the moonlit field, were the more\nexcusable, because they never had women for their mothers. And how it\nwould have rejoiced any great captain, who was bent on conquering the\nworld, like Alexander or Napoleon, to raise a crop of armed soldiers as\neasily as Jason did!\n\nFor a while, the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, clashing\ntheir swords against their shields, and boiling over with the red-hot\nthirst for battle. Then they began to shout--\"Show us the enemy! Lead\nus to the charge! Death or victory! Come on, brave comrades! Conquer or\ndie!\" and a hundred other outcries, such as men always bellow forth on\na battle field, and which these dragon people seemed to have at their\ntongues' ends. At last, the front rank caught sight of Jason, who,\nbeholding the flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it\nbest to draw his sword. In a moment all the sons of the dragon's teeth\nappeared to take Jason for an enemy; and crying with one voice, \"Guard\nthe Golden Fleece!\" they ran at him with uplifted swords and protruded\nspears. Jason knew that it would be impossible to withstand this\nbloodthirsty battalion with his single arm, but determined, since there\nwas nothing better to be done, to die as valiantly as if he himself had\nsprung from a dragon's tooth.\n\nMedea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from the ground.\n\n\"Throw it among them quickly!\" cried she. \"It is the only way to save\nyourself.\"\n\nThe armed men were now so nigh that Jason could discern the fire\nflashing out of their enraged eyes, when he let fly the stone, and saw\nit strike the helmet of a tall warrior, who was rushing upon him with\nhis blade aloft. The stone glanced from this man's helmet to the shield\nof his nearest comrade, and thence flew right into the angry face of\nanother, hitting him smartly between the eyes. Each of the three who\nhad been struck by the stone took it for granted that his next neighbor\nhad given him a blow; and instead of running any farther towards Jason,\nthey began a fight among themselves. The confusion spread through the\nhost, so that it seemed scarcely a moment before they were all hacking,\nhewing, and stabbing at one another, lopping off arms, heads, and legs,\nand doing such memorable deeds that Jason was filled with immense\nadmiration; although, at the same time, he could not help laughing to\nbehold these mighty men punishing each other for an offence which he\nhimself had committed. In an incredibly short space of time, (almost\nas short, indeed, as it had taken them to grow up,) all but one of the\nheroes of the dragon's teeth were stretched lifeless on the field. The\nlast survivor, the bravest and strongest of the whole, had just force\nenough to wave his crimson sword over his head, and give a shout of\nexultation, crying, \"Victory! Victory! Immortal fame!\" when he himself\nfell down, and lay quietly among his slain brethren. And there was the\nend of the army that had sprouted from the dragon's teeth. That fierce\nand feverish fight was the only enjoyment which they had tasted on this\nbeautiful earth.\n\n\"Let them sleep in the bed of honor,\" said the Princess Medea, with a\nsly smile at Jason. \"The world will always have simpletons enough, just\nlike them, fighting and dying for they know not what, and fancying that\nposterity will take the trouble to put laurel wreaths on their rusty\nand battered helmets. Could you help smiling, Prince Jason, to see the\nself-conceit of that last fellow, just as he tumbled down?\"\n\n\"It made me very sad,\" answered Jason gravely. \"And, to tell you the\ntruth, princess, the Golden Fleece does not appear so well worth the\nwinning, after what I have here beheld.\"\n\n\"You will think differently in the morning,\" said Medea. \"True, the\nGolden Fleece may not be so valuable as you have thought it; but then\nthere is nothing better in the world; and one must needs have an\nobject, you know. Come! Your night's work has been well performed;\nand to-morrow you can inform King \u00c6etes that the first part of your\nallotted task is fulfilled.\"\n\nAgreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went betimes in the morning to the\npalace of King \u00c6etes. Entering the presence chamber, he stood at the\nfoot of the throne, and made a low obeisance.\n\n\"Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason,\" observed the king; \"you appear\nto have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have been considering the\nmatter a little more wisely, and have concluded not to get yourself\nscorched to a cinder, in attempting to tame my brazen-lunged bulls.\"\n\n\"That is already accomplished, may it please your majesty,\" replied\nJason. \"The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field has been\nploughed; the dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast, and harrowed\ninto the soil; the crop of armed warriors have sprung up, and they have\nslain one another, to the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's\npermission to encounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden\nFleece from the tree, and depart, with my nine and forty comrades.\"\n\nKing \u00c6etes scowled, and looked very angry and excessively disturbed;\nfor he knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now\nto permit Jason to win the fleece, if his courage and skill should\nenable him to do so. But, since the young man had met with such good\nluck in the matter of the brazen bulls and the dragon's teeth, the\nking feared that he would be equally successful in slaying the dragon.\nAnd therefore, though he would gladly have seen Jason snapped up at a\nmouthful, he was resolved (and it was a very wrong thing of this wicked\npotentate) not to run any further risk of losing his beloved fleece.\n\n\"You never would have succeeded in this business, young man,\" said\nhe, \"if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped you with her\nenchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would have been, at this\ninstant, a black cinder, or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on\npain of death, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To\nspeak my mind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of\nits glistening locks.\"\n\nJason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. He could\nthink of nothing better to be done than to summon together his\nforty-nine brave Argonauts, march at once to the grove of Mars, slay\nthe dragon, take possession of the Golden Fleece, get on board the\n_Argo_, and spread all sail for Iolchos. The success of this scheme\ndepended, it is true, on the doubtful point whether all the fifty\nheroes might not be snapped up, at so many mouthfuls, by the dragon.\nBut, as Jason was hastening down the palace steps, the Princess Medea\ncalled after him, and beckoned him to return. Her black eyes shone\nupon him with such a keen intelligence, that he felt as if there were\na serpent peeping out of them; and, although she had done him so much\nservice only the night before, he was by no means very certain that\nshe would not do him an equally great mischief before sunset. These\nenchantresses, you must know, are never to be depended upon.\n\n\"What says King \u00c6etes, my royal and upright father?\" inquired Medea,\nslightly smiling. \"Will he give you the Golden Fleece, without any\nfurther risk or trouble?\"\n\n\"On the contrary,\" answered Jason, \"he is very angry with me for taming\nthe brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids me to\nmake any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the Golden\nFleece, whether I slay the dragon or no.\"\n\n\"Yes, Jason,\" said the princess, \"and I can tell you more. Unless you\nset sail from Colchis before to-morrow's sunrise, the king means to\nburn your fifty oared galley, and put yourself and your forty-nine\nbrave comrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece\nyou shall have, if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get\nit for you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight.\"\n\nAt the appointed hour, you might again have seen Prince Jason and the\nPrincess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of Colchis,\non their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the Golden\nFleece was suspended to a tree. While they were crossing the pasture\nground, the brazen bulls came towards Jason, lowing, nodding their\nheads, and thrusting forth their snouts, which, as other cattle do,\nthey, loved to have rubbed and caressed by a friendly hand. Their\nfierce nature was thoroughly tamed; and, with their fierceness, the two\nfurnaces in their stomachs had likewise been extinguished, insomuch\nthat they probably enjoyed far more comfort in grazing and chewing\ntheir cuds than ever before. Indeed, it had heretofore been a great\ninconvenience to these poor animals, that, whenever they wished to eat\na mouthful of grass, the fire out of their nostrils had shrivelled\nit up, before they could manage to crop it. How they contrived to\nkeep themselves alive is more than I can imagine. But now, instead of\nemitting jets of flame and streams of sulphurous vapor, they breathed\nthe very sweetest of cow breath.\n\n[Illustration: \"WHAT IS IT\"? ASKED JASON]\n\nAfter kindly patting the bulls, Jason followed Medea's guidance into\nthe Grove of Mars, where the great oak trees, that had been growing\nfor centuries, threw so thick a shade that the moonbeams struggled\nvainly to find their way through it. Only here and there a glimmer\nfell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now and then a breeze stirred the\nboughs aside, and gave Jason a glimpse of the sky, lest, in that deep\nobscurity, he might forget that there was one, overhead. At length,\nwhen they had gone farther and farther into the heart of the duskiness,\nMedea squeezed Jason's hand.\n\n\"Look yonder,\" she whispered. \"Do you see it?\"\n\nGleaming among the venerable oaks, there was a radiance, not like the\nmoonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun.\nIt proceeded from an object, which appeared to be suspended at about a\nman's height from the ground, a little farther within the wood.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Jason.\n\n\"Have you come so far to seek it,\" exclaimed Medea, \"and do you not\nrecognize the meed of all your toils and perils, when it glitters\nbefore your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to gaze. O, how\nbeautiful it looked, shining with a marvellous light of its own, that\ninestimable prize, which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had\nperished in the quest of it, either by the perils of their voyage, or\nby the fiery breath of the brazen-lunged bulls.\n\n\"How gloriously it shines!\" cried Jason, in a rapture. \"It has surely\nbeen dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward, and\ntake it to my bosom.\"\n\n\"Stay,\" said Medea, holding him back. \"Have you forgotten what guards\nit?\"\n\nTo say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his desires,\nthe terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory. Soon,\nhowever, something came to pass, that reminded him what perils were\nstill to be encountered. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow\nradiance for sunrise, came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was\nrushing straight towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was\na frightful hiss, and the immense head and half the scaly body of\nthe dragon was thrust forth, (for he was twisted round the trunk of\nthe tree on which the fleece hung,) and seizing the poor antelope,\nswallowed him with one snap of his jaws.\n\nAfter this feat, the dragon seemed sensible that some other living\ncreature was within reach, on which he felt inclined to finish his\nmeal. In various directions he kept poking his ugly snout among the\ntrees, stretching out his neck a terrible long way, now here, now\nthere, and now close to the spot where Jason and the Princess were\nhiding behind an oak. Upon my word, as the head came waving and\nundulating through the air, and reaching almost within arm's length of\nPrince Jason, it was a very hideous and uncomfortable sight. The gape\nof his enormous jaws was nearly as wide as the gateway of the king's\npalace.\n\n\"Well, Jason,\" whispered Medea, (for she was ill-natured, as all\nenchantresses are, and wanted to make the bold youth tremble,) \"what do\nyou think now of your prospect of winning the Golden Fleece?\"\n\nJason answered only by drawing his sword, and making a step forward.\n\n\"Stay, foolish youth,\" said Medea, grasping his arm. \"Do not you see\nyou are lost, without me as your good angel? In this gold box I have a\nmagic potion, which will do the dragon's business far more effectively\nthan your sword.\"\n\nThe dragon had probably heard the voices; for swift as lightning,\nhis black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again,\ndarting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed\nthe contents of the gold box right down the monster's wide-open\nthroat. Immediately, with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous\nwriggle,--flinging his tail up to the tip-top of the tallest tree, and\nshattering all its branches as it crashed heavily down again,--the\ndragon fell at full length upon the ground, and lay quite motionless.\n\n\"It is only a sleeping potion,\" said the enchantress to Prince Jason.\n\"One always finds a use for these mischievous creatures, sooner or\nlater; so I did not wish to kill him outright. Quick! Snatch the prize,\nand let us begone. You have won the Golden Fleece.\"\n\nJason caught the fleece from the tree, and hurried through the grove,\nthe deep shadows of which were illuminated as he passed by the golden\nglory of the precious object that he bore along. A little way before\nhim, he beheld the old woman whom he had helped over the stream, with\nher peacock beside her. She clapped her hands for joy, and beckoning\nhim to make haste, disappeared among the duskiness of the trees.\nEspying the two winged sons of the North Wind, (who were disporting\nthemselves in the moonlight, a few hundred feet aloft,) Jason bade\nthem tell the rest of the Argonauts to embark as speedily as possible.\nBut Lynceus, with his sharp eyes, had already caught a glimpse of him,\nbringing the Golden Fleece, although several stone walls, a hill, and\nthe black shadows of the grove of Mars, intervened between. By his\nadvice, the heroes had seated themselves on the benches of the galley,\nwith their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.\n\nAs Jason drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more\nthan ordinary eagerness, in its grave, sweet voice:--\n\n\"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!\"\n\nWith one bound, he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious radiance of\nthe Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty shout, and\nOrpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the cadence of\nwhich the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if careering\nalong with wings!\n\n[Illustration]","title":"Tanglewood Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":63654}