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^^***^«»MI, 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Elizabeth Buckingham 
 
{jrjidU'V^JL.cL ^LO, 
 
 
Wonder Book 6 
 
 PEGASUS AND BELLEROPHON 
 
A WONDER BOOK 
 
 FOR GIRLS AND BOYS 
 
 M 
 
 BY 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY 
 
EDUC- 
 
 PSYCH. 
 
 URPAPV 
 
 GIFT 
 
EDUC- 
 
 PSYCH. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The author has been of opinion that many of the 
 classical myths were capable of being rendered into 
 very capital reading for children. In the little volume 
 here offered to the public he has worked up half a 
 dozen of them with this end in view. A great free- 
 dom of treatment was necessary to his plan, but it 
 will be observed by every one who attempts to render 
 these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace 
 that they are marvellously independent of all tempo- 
 rary modes and circumstances. They remain essen- 
 tially the same after changes that would aSect the- 
 identity of almost anything else. 
 
 He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege 
 in having sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dic- 
 tated, the forms that have been hallowed by an an- 
 tiquity of two or three thousand years. No epoch of 
 time can claim a copyright in these immortal fables. 
 They seem never to have been made, and certainly, 
 so long as man exists, they can never perish, but by 
 their indestructibility itself they are legitimate sub- 
 
 \ 046 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 jects for every age to clothe with its own garniture of 
 manners and sentiment and to imbue with its own 
 morality. In the present version they may have lost 
 much of their classical aspect (or, at all events, the 
 author has not been careful to preserve it), and have, 
 perhaps, assumed a Gothic or romantic guise. 
 
 In performing this pleasant task — for it has been 
 really a task fit for hot weather, and one of the most 
 agreeable, of a literary kind, which he ever undertook 
 — the author has not always thought it necessary to 
 write downward in order to meet the comprehension 
 of children. He has generally suffered the theme to 
 soar whenever such was its tendency, and when he 
 himself was buoyant enough to follow without an 
 effort. Children possess an unestimated sensibility 
 to whatever is deep or high in imagination or feeling, 
 so long as it is simple likewise. It is only the arti- 
 ficial and the complex that bewilder them. 
 
 I 
 \ 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface, , , . 5 
 
 Tanglewood Porch. 
 
 Introductory to "The Gorgon's Head,** • • • 9 
 
 The Gorgon's Head ..••••• 16 
 
 Tanglewood Porch. 
 
 After the Story 61 
 
 Shadow Brook. 
 
 Introductory to "The Golden Touch,** . , . 55 
 
 The Golden Touch 59 
 
 Shadow Brook. 
 
 After the Story, 84 
 
 The Play-room. 
 
 Introductory to " The Paradise of Children, ** . ,89 
 
 The Paradise of Chhj^ren 94 
 
 The Play-room. 
 
 After the Story, ....••. 118 
 
8 » CONTENTS. 
 
 The Fireside. page 
 
 Introductory to "The Three Golden Apples," . 121 
 
 The Three Golden Apples 128 
 
 The Fireside. 
 
 After the Story, 157 
 
 The Hill-side. 
 
 Introductory to "The Miraculous Pitcher,* « . 161 
 
 The Miraculous Pitcheb ..,,.. 165 
 
 The Hill- side. 
 
 After the Story, > 193 
 
 Bald Summit. 
 
 Introductory to "The ChimaBra,** « p • .195 
 
 The ChD(Lsra, . • • • o • • . 199 
 
 Bald Summit. 
 
 After the Story, 232 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 INTEODUCTOEY TO " THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 »• 
 
 Beneath the porch of the country-seat called 
 Tanglewood one fine autumnal morning was assem- 
 bled a merry party of little folks, with a tall youth in 
 the midst of them. They had planned a nutting ex- 
 pedition, and were impatiently waiting for the mists 
 to roll up the hill-slopes and for the sun to pour the 
 warmth of the Indian summer over the fields and 
 pastures and into the nooks of the many-colored 
 woods. There was the prospect of as fine a day as 
 ever gladdened the aspect of this beautiful and com 
 fortable world. As yet, however, the morning mist 
 filled up the whole length and breadth of the valley 
 above which, on a gently sloping eminence, the man- 
 sion stood. 
 
 This body of white vapor extended to within less 
 than a hundred yards of the house. It completely 
 hid everything beyond that distance, except a few 
 Tuddy or yellow tree-tops which here and there 
 
10 TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 emerged and were glorified by the early sunshine, as 
 was likewise the broad surface of the mist. Four or 
 five miles off to the southward rose the summit Oi 
 3Ionument Mountain, and seemed to be floating on a 
 cloud. Some fifteen miles farther away, in the same 
 direction, appeared the loftier Dome of Taconic, 
 looiiing blue and indistinct, and hardly so substantial 
 as the vapory sea that almost rolled over it. The 
 nearer hills which bordered the valley were half-sub- 
 merged, and were specked with little cloud-wreaths 
 all the way to their tops. On the whole, there was so 
 much cloud and so little solid earth that it had the 
 €fiect of a vision. 
 
 The children above mentioned, being as full of life 
 as they could hold, kept overflowing from the porch 
 of Tanglewood and scampering along the gravel walk 
 or rushing across the dewy herbage of the lawn. I 
 can hardly tell how many of these small people there 
 were — not less than nine or ten, however, nor more 
 than a dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether 
 girls or boys. They were brothers, sisters, and cous- 
 ins, together with a few of their young acquaintances, 
 who had been invited by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle to 
 spend some of this delightful weather with their own 
 children at Tanglewood. I am afraid to tell you 
 their names, or even to give them any names which 
 other children have ever been called by, because, to 
 my certain knowledge, authors sometimes get thdm- 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 11 
 
 selves into great trouble by accidentally giving tht 
 names of real persons to the characters in their books. 
 For this reason I mean to call them Primrose, Peri*- 
 winkle, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover^ 
 Huckleberry, Cowslip, Squash- blossom. Milk-weed^ 
 Plantain, and Buttercup, although, to be sure, such 
 titles might better suit a group of fairies than a com- 
 pany of earthly children. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that these little folks Avere 
 to be permitted by their careful fathers and mothers, 
 uncles, aunts, and grandparents to stray abroad into 
 the woods and fields without the guardianship of some 
 particularly grave and elderly person. Oh, no, in- 
 deed ! In the first sentence of my book you will 
 recollect that I spoke of a tall youth standing in the 
 midst of the children. His name — and I shall let 
 you know his real name, because he considers it a 
 great honor to have told the stories that are here to 
 be printed — his name was Eustace Bright. He wa^ 
 a student at Williams College, and had reached, . 
 think, at this period the venerable age of eighteen 
 years, so that he felt quite like a grandfather toward 
 Periwinkle, Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash-blos- 
 som, Milk-weed, and the rest, who were only half or 
 a third as venerable as he. A trouble in his eyesight 
 (such as many students think it necessary to have, 
 nowadays, in order to prove their diligence at their 
 books) had kept him from college a week or two after 
 
12 TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 the beginning of the term. But, for my part, I have 
 seldom met with a pair of eyes that looked as if they 
 could see farther or better than those of Eustace 
 Bright. 
 
 This learned student was slender and rather pale, 
 as all Yankee students are, bat yet of a healthy as- 
 pect, and as light and active as if he had wings to 
 his shoes. By the bye, being much addicted to wad- 
 ing through streamlets and across meadows, he had 
 put on cowhide boots for the expedition. He wore a 
 linen blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of green specta- 
 cles, which he had assumed, probably, less for the 
 preservation of his eyes than for the dignity that they 
 imparted to his countenance. In either case, how- 
 ever, he might as well have let them alone, for 
 Huckleberry, a mischievous little elf, crept behind 
 Eustace as he sat on the steps of the porch, snatched 
 the spectacles from his nose, and clapped them on her 
 own ; and as the student forgot to take them back, 
 they fell off into the grass and lay there till the next 
 spring. 
 
 Kow, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won 
 great fam.e among the children as a narrator of won- 
 derful stories; and though he sometimes pretended to 
 be annoyed when they teased him for more and more, 
 and always for more, j^et I really doubt whether he 
 liked anything quite so well as to tell them. You 
 might have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 13 
 
 Clover, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of 
 their playmates besought him to relate one of his 
 stories while they were waiting for the mist to clear 
 up. 
 
 "Yes, Cousin Eustace," said Primrose, who was a 
 bright girl of twelve, with laughing eyes and a nose 
 that turned up a little, " the morning is certainly the 
 best time for the stories with which you so often tire 
 out our patience. We shall be in less danger of 
 hurting your feelings by falling asleep at the most 
 interesting points — as little Cowslip and I did last 
 night." 
 
 " Naughty Primrose!" cried Cowslip, a cliild of six 
 years old ; " I did not fall asleep, and I only shut my 
 eyes so as to see a picture of what Cousin Eustace 
 was telling about. His stories are good to he*"^' at 
 night, because we can dream about them asleep; and 
 good in the morning too, because then we can dream 
 about them awake. So I hope he will tell us one this 
 very minute." 
 
 "Thank you, my little Cowslip," said Eustace; 
 " certainly you shall have the best story I can think 
 of, if it were only for defending me so well from that 
 naughty Primrose. But, children, I have already 
 told you so many fairy tales that I doubt whether 
 there is a single one which you have not heard at 
 least twice over. I am afraid you will fall asleep in 
 reality if I repeat any of them again." 
 
14 TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 "No, no, no!" cried Bine Eye, Periwinkle, Plan- 
 tain, and half a dozen others. " We like a story all 
 the better for having heard it two or three times 
 before." 
 
 And it is a truth as regards children that a story 
 seems often to deepen its mark in their interest, not 
 merely by two or three, but by numberless, repeti- 
 tions. But Eustace Bright, in the exuberance of his 
 resources, scorned to avail himself of an advantage 
 which an older story-teller would have been glad to 
 grasp at. 
 
 "It would be a great pity," said he, "if a man of 
 my learning, to say nothing of original fancy, could 
 not find a new story every day, year in and year out, 
 for children such as you. I will tell you one of the. 
 nursery tales that were made for the amusement of 
 our great old grandmother, the Earth, when she was 
 a child in frock and pinafore. There are a hundred 
 such, and it is a wonder to me that they have not 
 long ago been put into picture-books for little girls 
 and boys. But, instead of that, old gray-bearded 
 grandsires pore over them in musty volumes of Greek 
 and puzzle themselves w4th trying to find out when 
 and how and for w^hat they were made." 
 
 "Well, well, well, well. Cousin Eustace!" cried all 
 the children at once; "talk no more about your 
 etories, but begin." 
 
 *'Sit down, then, every soul of you,'' scid Eustace 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 15 
 
 Bright, " and be all as still as so many mice. At the 
 slightest interruption, whether from great, naughty 
 Primrose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite 
 the story short off between my teeth and swallow the 
 untold part. But, in the first place, do any of you 
 know what a Gorgon is?" 
 
 " I do," said Primrose. 
 
 "Then hold your tongue," rejoined Eustace, who 
 had rather she would have known nothing about the 
 matter. "Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell you 
 a sweet pretty story of a Gorgon's head." 
 
 And so he did, as you may begin to read on the 
 next page. Working up his sophomorical erudition 
 with a good deal of tact, and incurring great obliga- 
 tions to Professor Anthon, he nevertheless disregarded 
 all classical authorities whenever the vagrant audacity 
 o£ his imagination impelled him to do so. 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 Perseus was the son of Danae, who was the daugh- 
 ter of a king, and when Perseus was a very little boy 
 some wicked people put his mother and himself into 
 a chest and set them afloat upon the sea. The wind 
 blew freshly and drove the chest away from the shore, 
 and the uneasy billows tossed it up and down, while 
 Danae clasped her child closely to her bosom, and 
 dreaded that some big wave would dash its foamy 
 crest over them both. The chest sailed on, however, 
 and neither sank nor was upset, until, when night 
 was coming, it floated so near an island that it got 
 entangled in a fisherman's nets and was drawn out 
 high and dry upon the sand. The island was called 
 Seriphus, and it was reigned over by King Polydec- 
 tes, who happened to be the fisherman's brother. 
 
 This fisherman was an exceedingly humane and 
 upright man. He showed great kindness to Danae 
 and her little boy, and continued to befriend them 
 until Perseus had grown to be a handsome youth, 
 very strong and active and skilful in the use of arms. 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 17 
 
 Long before this time King Polydectes had seen the 
 two strangers — the mother and her child — who had 
 come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he 
 was not good and kind like his brother the fisherman, 
 but extremely wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on 
 a dangerous enterprise, in which he would probably 
 be killed, and then to do sojne great mischief to 
 Danae herself. So this bad-hearted king spent a long 
 while in considering what was the most dangerous 
 thing that a young man could possibly undertake to 
 perform. At last, having hit upon an enterprise that 
 promised to turn out as fatally as he desired, he sent 
 for the youthful Perseus. 
 
 The young man came to the palace and found the 
 king sitting upon his throne. 
 
 "Perseus," said King Polydectes, smiling craftily 
 upon him, "you are grown up a fine young man. 
 You and your good mother have received a great deal 
 of kindness from myself, as well as from my worthy 
 brother the fisherman, and I suppose you would not 
 be sorry to repay some of it." 
 
 "Please, your majesty," answered Perseus, '"I 
 would willingly risk my life to do so." 
 
 "Well, then," continued the king, still with a cun- 
 ning smile on his lips, " I have a little adventure to 
 propose to you; and, as you are a brave and enter- 
 prising youth, you will doubtless look upon it as a 
 
 great piece of orood luck to have so rare an oppor- 
 2 
 
18 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 tunity of distinguishing yourself. Yon must know, 
 my good Perseus, I think of getting married to the 
 beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and it is customary 
 on these occasions to make the bride a present of 
 some far-fetched and elegant curiosity. I have been 
 a little perplexed, I must honestly confess, where to 
 obtain anything likely to please a princess of her ex- 
 quisite taste. But this morning, I flatter myself, I 
 have thought of precisely the article." 
 
 "And can I assist your majesty in obtaining it?" 
 cried Perseus, eagerly. 
 
 " You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe 
 you to be," replied King Polydectes, with the utmost 
 graciousness of manner. "The bridal gift which I 
 have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful 
 Hippodamia is the head of the Gorgon Medusa with 
 the snaky locks, and I depend on you, my dear Per- 
 seus, to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle 
 affairs with the princess, the sooner you go in quest 
 of the Gorgon the better I shall be pleased." 
 
 "I will set out to-morrow morning," answered 
 Perseus. 
 
 " Pray do so, my gallant youth," rejoined the king. 
 "And, Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon's head be 
 careful to make a clean stroke, so as not to injure its 
 appearance. You must bring it home in the very 
 best condition in order to suit the exquisite taste of 
 the beautiful Princess Hippodamia." 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 19 
 
 Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hear- 
 ing before Poljdectes burst into a laugh, being greatly 
 amused, wicked king that he was, to find how readily 
 the young man fell into the snare. The news quickly 
 spread abroad that Perseus had undertaken to cut off 
 the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. Every- 
 body was rejoiced, for most of the inhabitants of the 
 island were as wicked as the king himself, and would 
 have liked nothing better than to see some enormous 
 mischief happen to Danae and her son. The only 
 good man in this unfortunate island of Seriphus ap- 
 pears to have been the fisherman. As Perseus walked 
 along, therefore, the people pointed after him, and 
 made mouths, and winked to one another, and ridi- 
 culed him as loudly as they dared. 
 
 "Ho, ho!" cried they; "Medusa's snakes will 
 sting him soundly!" 
 
 Now, there were three Gorgons alive at that pe- 
 riod, and they were the most strange and terrible 
 monsters that had ever been seen since the world was 
 made, or that have been seen in after days, or that 
 are likely to be seen in all time to come. I hardly 
 know what sort of creature or hobgoblin to call them. 
 They were three sisters, and seem to have borne some 
 distant resemblance to women, but were really a very 
 frightful and mischievous species of dragon. It is 
 indeed difficult to imagine what hideous beings these 
 three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of hair. 
 
20 THE aORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 if you can "believe me, they had each of them a hun- 
 dred enormous snakes growing on their heads, all 
 alive, twisting, wriggling, curling, and thrusting out 
 their venomous tongues with forked stings at the end. 
 The teeth of the Gorgons were terribly long tusks; 
 their hands were made of brass; and their bodies were 
 all over scales, which, if not iron, were something as 
 hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too, and 
 exceedingly splendid ones, I can assure you, for every 
 feather in them was pure, bright, glittering, bur- 
 nished gold, and they looked very dazzling, no 
 doubt, when the Gorgons were flying about in the 
 sunshine. 
 
 But when people happened to catch a glimpse of 
 their glittering brightness aloft in the air, they seldom 
 stopped to gaze, but ran and hid themselves as speed- 
 ily as they could. You will think, perhaps, that 
 they were afraid of being stung by the serpents that 
 served the Gorgons instead of hair, or of having their 
 heads bitten off by their ugly tusks, or of being torn 
 all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to be sure, 
 these were some of the dangers, but by no means the 
 greatest nor the most difficult to avoid. For the 
 worst thing about these abominable Gorgons was that, 
 if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full upon one of 
 their faces, he was certain that very instant to be 
 changed from warm flesh and blood into cold and 
 lifeless stone. 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 31 
 
 Thus, as you ■will easily perceive, it was a very dan- 
 gerous adventure that the wicked Kiug Polydectes 
 had contrived for this innocent young man. Perseus 
 himself, when he had thought over the matter, could 
 not help seeing that he had very little chance of com- 
 ing safely through it, and that he was far more likely 
 to become a stone image than to bring back the head 
 of Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak 
 of other difficulties, there was one which it would 
 have puzzled an older man than Perseus to get over. 
 Not only must he fight with and slay this golden- 
 winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, 
 snaky-haired monster, but he must do it with his 
 eyes shut, or at least without so much as a glance at 
 the enemy with whom he was contending. Else, 
 while his arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen 
 into stone, and stand with that uplifted arm for cen- 
 turies, until time and the wind and weather should 
 crumble him quite away. This would be a very sad 
 thing to befall a young man who wanted to perform 
 a great many brave deeds and to enjoy a great deal of 
 happiness in this bright and beautiful world. 
 
 So disconsolate did these thoughts make him that 
 Perseus could not bear to tell his mother what he had 
 undertaken to do. He therefore took his shield, 
 girded on his sword, and crossed over from the island 
 to the mainland, where he sat down in a solitary 
 place and hardly refrained from shedding tears. 
 
22 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 But while he was in this sorrowful mood he heard 
 a voice close behind him. 
 
 "Perseus," said the voice, "why are you sad?" 
 
 He lifted his head from his hands, in which he 
 had hidden it, and, behold! all alone as Perseus had 
 supposed himself to be, there was a stranger in the 
 solitary place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and re- 
 markably shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak 
 over his shoulders, an odd sort of cap on his head, a 
 strangely twisted staff in his hand, and a short and 
 very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was ex- 
 ceeding light and active in his figure, like a person 
 much accustomed to gymnastic exercises and well able 
 to leap or run. Above all, the stranger had such a 
 cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect (though it was 
 certainly a little mischievous into the bargain) that 
 Perseus could not help feeling his spirits grow livelier 
 as he gazed at him. Besides, being really a coura- 
 geous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that anybody 
 should have found him with tears in his eyes, like a 
 timid little schoolboy, when, after all, there might 
 be no occasion for despair. So Perseus wiped his 
 eyes and answered the stranger pretty briskly, put- 
 ting on as brave a look as he could. 
 
 " I am not so very sad," said he, *' only thoughtful 
 about an adventure that I have undertaken." 
 
 " Oho!" answered the stranger. " Well, tell me all 
 about it, and possibly I may be of service to you. I 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 33 
 
 have helped a good many young men through adven- 
 tures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Per- 
 haps you may have heard of me. I have more names 
 than one, but the name of Quicksilver * suits me as 
 •well as any other. Tell me what your trouble is, and 
 we will talk the matter over and see what can be 
 done." 
 
 The stranger's words and manner put Perseus into 
 quite a different mood from his former one. He 
 resolved to tell Quicksilver all his difficulties, since 
 he could not easily be worse off than he already was, 
 and very possibly his new friend might give him 
 some advice that would turn out well in the end. So 
 he let the stranger know, in few words, precisely 
 what the case was — how that King Polydectes wanted 
 the head of Medusa with the snaky locks as a bridal 
 gift for the beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and how 
 that he had undertaken to get it for him, but was 
 afraid of being turned into stone. 
 
 " And that would be a great pity," said Quicksilver, 
 with his mischievous smile. " You would make a 
 very handsome marble statue, it is true, and it would 
 be a considerable number of centuries before you 
 crumbled away, but, on the whole, one would rather 
 be a young man for a few years than a stone image 
 for a great many." 
 
 "Oh, far rather!" exclaimed Perseus, with the 
 
 *Mercury. 
 
24 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 tears again standing in his eyes. "And, besides, 
 what would my dear mother do if her beloved son 
 were turned into a stone?" 
 
 "Well, well! let us hope that the affair will not 
 turn out so very badly," replied Quicksilver in an 
 encouraging tone. " I am the very person to help 
 you, if anybody can. My sister and myself will do 
 our utmost to bring you safe through the adventure, 
 ugly as it now looks." 
 
 "Your sister?" repeated Perseus. 
 
 " Yes, my sister," said the stranger. "She is very 
 wise, I promise you ; and as for myself, I generally 
 have all my wits about me, such as they are. If you 
 show yourself bold and cautious and follow our ad- 
 vice, you need not fear being a stone image yet a 
 while. But, first of all, you must polish your shield 
 till you can see your face, in it as distinctly as in a 
 mirror." 
 
 This seemed to Perseus rather an odd beginning of 
 the adventure, for he thought it of far more conse- 
 j^uence that the shield should be strong enough to 
 defend him from the Gorgon's brazen claws than that 
 it should be bright enough to show him the reflection 
 of his face. However, concluding that Quicksilver 
 knew better than himself, he immediately set to work 
 and scrubbed the shield with so much diligence and 
 good-will that it very quickly shone like the moon at 
 harvest-time. Quicksilver looked at it with a smilo 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 25 
 
 and nodded his approbation. Then, taking off his 
 o^'n short and crooked sword, he girded it about 
 Perseus, instead of the one which he had before 
 worn. 
 
 "No sword but mine will answer your j)nrpose," 
 observed he; " the blade has a most excellent temper, 
 and will cut through iron and brass as easily as 
 through the slenderest twig. And now we will set 
 out. The next thing is to find the Three Gray Wo- 
 men, who will tell us where to find the Nymphs." 
 
 "The Three Gray Women!" cried Perseus, to 
 whom this seemed only a new difficulty in the path 
 of his adventure; "pray, who may the Three Gray 
 Women be? I never heard of them before." 
 
 "They are three very strange old ladies," said 
 Quicksilver, laughing. "They have but one eye 
 among them, and only one tooth. Moreover, you 
 must find them out by starlight or in the dusk of the 
 evening, for they never show themselves by the light 
 either of the sun or moon." 
 
 " But," said Perseus, "why should I waste my time 
 with these Three Gray Women? Would it not be 
 better to set out at once in search of the terrible 
 Gorgons?" 
 
 " No, no," answered his friend. " There are other 
 things to be done before you can find your way to the 
 Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to hunt up 
 these old ladies, and when we meet with them yori 
 
26 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 may be sare that the Gorgons are not a great way off. 
 Come, let us be stirring." 
 
 Perseus by this time felt so much confidence in his 
 companion's sagacity that he made no more objec- 
 tions, and professed himself ready to begin the ad- 
 venture immediately. They accordingly set out and 
 walked at a pretty brisk pace — so brisk, indeed, that 
 Perseus found it rather difficult to keep up with his 
 nimble friend Quicksilver. To say the truth, he had 
 a singular idea that Quicksilver was furnished with a 
 pair of winged shoes, which of course helped him 
 along marvellously. And then, too, when Perseus 
 looked sideways at him out of the corner of his eye, 
 he seemed to see wings on the side of his head, 
 although if he turned a full gaze there were no such 
 things to be perceived, but only an odd kind of 
 cap. But, at all events, the twisted staff was evi- 
 dently a great convenience to Quicksilver, and 
 enabled him to proceed so fast that Perseus, though 
 a remarkably active young man, began to be out 
 of breath. 
 
 "Here!" cried Quicksilver at last — for he knew 
 well enough, rogue that he was, how hard Perseus 
 found it to keep pace with him — "take you the staff, 
 for you need it a great deal more than I. Are there 
 no better walkers than yourself in the island of Seri- 
 phus?" 
 
 "I could walk pretty well," said Perseus, glancing 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 27 
 
 slyly at his companion's feet, " if I had only a pair of 
 winged shoes." 
 
 " We must see about getting you a pair," answered 
 Quicksilver. 
 
 But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely that 
 he no longer felt the slightest weariness. In fact, 
 the stick seemed to be alive in his hand, and to lend 
 some of its life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now 
 walked onward at their ease, talking very sociably 
 together, and Quicksilver told so many pleasant sto- 
 ries about his former adventures, and how well his 
 wits had served him on various occasions, that Per- 
 seus began to think him a very wonderful person. 
 He evidently knew the world, and nobody is so 
 charming to a young man as a friend who has that 
 kind of knowledge. Perseus listened the more eagerly 
 in the hope of brightening his own wits by what he 
 heard. 
 
 At last he happened to recollect that Quicksilver 
 had spoken of a sister who was to lend her assistance 
 in the adventure which they were now bound upon. 
 
 " Where is she?" he inquired. " Shall we not 
 meet her soon?" 
 
 "All at the proper time," said his companion. 
 " But this sister of mine, you must understand, is 
 quite a different sort of character from myself. She 
 is very grave and prudent, seldom smiles, never 
 laughs, and makes it a rule not to utter a word unless 
 
28 
 
 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 she has something particularly profound to say. 
 Neither will she listen to any but the wisest conver- 
 sation." 
 
 " Dear me!" ejaculated Perseus; " I shall be afraid 
 to say a syllable." 
 
 "She is a very accomplished person, I assure you," 
 continued Quicksilver, "and has all the arts and 
 sciences at her fingers' ends. In short, she is so im- 
 moderately wise that many people call her wisdom 
 personified. But, to tell you the truth, she has 
 hardly vivacity enough for my taste, and I think you 
 would scarcely find her so pleasant a travelling com- 
 panion as myself. She has her good points, never- 
 theless, and you will find the benefit of them in your 
 encounter with the Gorgons." 
 
 By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were 
 now come to a very wild and desert place, overgrown 
 with shaggy bushes, and so silent and solitary that 
 nobody seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. 
 All was waste and desolate in the gray twilight, 
 which grew every moment more obscure. Perseus 
 looked about him rather disconsolately, and asked 
 Quicksilver whether they had a great deal farther 
 to go. 
 
 "Hist! hist!" whispered his companion, "Make 
 no noise. This is just the time and place to meet 
 the Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do 
 not see you before you see them, for, though they 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 29 
 
 have but a single eye among the three, it is as sharp- 
 sighted as half a dozen common eyes." 
 
 "But what must I do," asked Perseus, "when we 
 meet them?" 
 
 Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three 
 Gray Women managed with their one eye. They 
 were in the habit, it seems, of changing it from one 
 to another, as if it had been a pair of spectacles or — 
 which would have suited them better — a quizzing 
 glass. When one of the three had kept the eye a 
 certain time, she took it out of the socket and passed 
 it to one of her sisters whose turn it might happen to 
 be, and who immediately clapped it into her own 
 head and enjoyed a peep at the visible world. Thus 
 it will easily be understood that only one of the Three 
 Gray Women could see, while the other two were in 
 utter darkness; and, moreover, at the instant when 
 the eye was passing from hand to hand neither of the 
 poor old ladies was able to see a wink. I have heard 
 of a great many strange things in my day, and have 
 witnessed not a few, but none, it seems to me, that 
 can compare with the oddity of these Three Gray 
 Women all peeping through a single eye. 
 
 So thought Perseus likewise, and was so astonished 
 that he almost fancied his companion was joking with 
 him, and that there were no such old women in the 
 world. 
 
 " You will soon find whether I tell the truth or 
 
30 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 no," observed Quicksilver. "Hark! hnsli! hist! 
 hist! There thev come, now." 
 
 Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the 
 evening, and there, sure enough, at no great dis- 
 tance oil, he descried the Three Graj' Women. The 
 light being so faint, he could not well make out what 
 sort of figures they were, only he discovered that they 
 had long gray hair, and as they came nearer he saw that 
 two of them had but the empty socket of an eye in 
 the middle of their foreheads. But in the middle of 
 the third sister's forehead there was a very large, 
 bright, and piercing eye, which sparkled like a great 
 diamond in a ring; and so penetrating did it seem to 
 be that Perseus could not help thinking it must possess 
 the gift of seeing in the darkest midnight just as 
 perfectly as at noonday. The sight of three persons' 
 eyes was melted and collected into that single one. 
 
 Thus the three old dames got along about as com- 
 fortably, upon the whole, as if they could all see at 
 once. She who chanced to have the eye in her fore- 
 head led the other two by the hands, peeping sharply 
 about her all the while, insomuch that Perseus dreaded 
 lest she should see right through the thick clump of 
 bushes behind which he and Quicksilver had hidden 
 themselves. My stars! it was positively terrible to 
 be within reach of so very sharp an eye. 
 
 But before they reached the clump of bushes one 
 ©f the Three Gray Women spoke. 
 
THE GORGON" S HEAD. 31 
 
 *' Sister! Sister Scarecrow!" cried she, "yon have 
 had the eye long enough. It is my turn now!" 
 
 " Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Night- 
 mare," answered Scarecrow. "I thought I had a 
 glimpse of something behind that thick bush." 
 
 "Well, and what of that?" retorted Nightmare, 
 peevishly. "Can't I see into a thick bush as easily 
 as yourself? The eye is mine as well as yours, and I 
 know the use of it as well as you, or maybe a little 
 better. I insist upon taking a peep immediately." 
 
 But here the third sister, whose name was Shake- 
 joint, began to complain, and said that it was her 
 turn to have the eye, and that Scarecrow and Night- 
 mare wanted to keep it all to themselves. To end 
 the dispute, old Dame Scarecrow took the eye out of 
 her forehead and held it forth in her hand. 
 
 "Take it, one of you," cried she, "and quit this 
 foolish quarrelling. For my part, I shall be glad of 
 a little thick darkness. Take it quickly, however, or 
 I must clap it into my own head again." 
 
 Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint 
 stretched out their hands, groping eagerly to snatch 
 the eye out of the hand of Scarecrow. But, being 
 both alike blind, they could not easily find where 
 Scarecrow's hand was; and Scarecrow, being now 
 just as much in the dark as Shakejoint and Night- 
 mare, could not at once meet either of their hands in 
 order to put the eye into it. Thus (as you will sea 
 
32 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 with half an eye, my wise little auditors) these good 
 old dames had fallen into a strange perplexity. For, 
 though the eye shone and glistened like a star as 
 Scarecrow held it out, yet the Gray Women caught 
 not the least glimpse of its light, and were all three 
 in utter darkness from too impatient a desire to see. 
 
 Quicksilver was so much tickled at beholding 
 Shakejoint and Nightmare both groping for the eye, 
 and each finding fault with Scarecrow and with one 
 another, that he could scarcely help laughing aloud. 
 
 "Now is your time!" he whispered to Perseus. 
 "Quick, quick! before they can clap the eye into 
 either of their heads. Eush out upon the old ladies 
 and snatch it from Scarecrow's hand." 
 
 In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were 
 still scolding each other, Perseus leaped from behind 
 the clump of bushes and made himself master of the 
 prize. The marvellous eye, as he held it in his hand, 
 shone very brightly, and seemed to look up into his 
 face with a knowing air, and an expression as if it 
 would have winked had it been provided with a pair 
 of eyelids for that purpose. But the Gray Women 
 knew nothing of what had happened, and, each sup- 
 posing that one of her sisters was in possession of the 
 eye, they began their quarrel anew. At last, as Per- 
 seus did not wish to put these respectable dames to 
 greater inconvenience than was really necessary, he 
 thought it right to explain the matter. 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 33 
 
 ^My good ladies," said he, " pray do not be angry 
 with one another. If anybody is in fault, it is my- 
 self, for I have the honor to hold your very brilliant 
 and excellent eye in my own hand." 
 
 "You! you have our eye? And who are you?" 
 screamed the Three Gray Women all in a breath, for 
 they were terribly frightened, of course, at hearing a 
 strange voice and discovering that their eyesight had 
 got into the hands of they could not guess whom. 
 
 "Oh, what shall we do, sisters? what shall we do? 
 We are all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us 
 our one precious, solitary eye ! You have two of your 
 own! Give us our eye!" 
 
 "Tell them," whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, 
 " that they shall have back the eye as soon as they 
 direct you where to find the Nymphs who have the 
 flying slippers, the magic wallet, and the helmet of 
 darkness." 
 
 "My dear, good, admirable old ladies," said Per- 
 seus, addressing the Gray Women, " there is no oc- 
 casion for putting yourselves into such a fright. I 
 am by no means a bad young man. You shall have 
 back your eye, safe and sound and as bright as ever, 
 the moment you tell me where to find the Nymphs." 
 
 " The Nymphs ! Goodness me ! sisters, what 
 
 Nymphs does he mean?" screamed Scarecrow. 
 
 " There are a great many Nymphs, people say — some 
 
 that go a-hunting in the woods, and some that live 
 3 
 
ij4 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 inside of trees, and some that have a comfortable 
 home in fountains of water. We know nothing at 
 all about them. We are three unfortunate old souls 
 that go wandering about in the dusk, and never had 
 but one eye among us, and that one you have stolen 
 away. Oh, give it back, good stranger! whoever you 
 are, give it back!" 
 
 All this while the Three Gray Women were gro}>- 
 ing with their outstretched hands and trying their 
 utmost to get hold of Perseus, but he took good ca,e 
 to keep out of their reach. 
 
 "My respectable dames," said he — for his moth^i 
 had taught him always to use the greatest civility — 
 *'I hold your eye fast in m.y hand, and shall keep it 
 safely for you until you please to tell me where to £rnd 
 these Nymphs — the Nym.phs, I mean, who keep the 
 enchanted wallet, the flying slippers, and the — what 
 is it? — the helmet of invisibility." 
 
 "Mercy on us, sisters! what is the younc^ man 
 talking about?" exclaimed Scarecrow, Nightmare, 
 and Sliakejoint one to another, with great appearance 
 of astonishment. " A pair of ^ymg slippers, quoth he J 
 His heels would quickly fly higher than his head if 
 he were silly enough to put them on. And a 
 helmet of invisibility! How could a helmet make 
 him invisible unless it were big enough for him to 
 hide under it? And an enchanted wallet! What 
 •ort of a contrivance may that be, I wonder? No, 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 36 
 
 no, good stranger, we can tell you nothing of these 
 marvellous things. You have two eyes of your own, 
 and we but a single one among us three. You can 
 find out such wonders better than three blind old 
 creatures like us." 
 
 Perseus, hearing them talk this way, began really 
 to think that the Gray Women knew nothing of the 
 matter, and, as it grieved him to have put them to 
 so much trouble, he was just on the point of restoring 
 their eye and asking pardon for his rudeness in 
 snatching it away, but Quicksilver caught his hand. 
 
 "Don't let them make a fool of you," said he. 
 " These Three Gray Women are the only j^ersons in 
 the world that can tell you where to find the Nymphs, 
 and unless you get that information you will never 
 succeed in cutting off the head of Medusa with the 
 snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye and all will 
 go well." 
 
 As it turned out. Quicksilver was in the right. 
 There are but few things that people prize so much 
 as they do their eyesight, and the Gray Women valued 
 their single eye as highly as if it had been half a 
 dozen, which was the number they ought to have 
 had. Finding that there was no other way of re- 
 covering it, they at last told Perseus what he wanted 
 to know. No sooner, had they done so than he im- 
 mediately and with the utmost respect clapped the 
 eye into the vacant socket in one of their foreheads. 
 
36 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 thanked them for their kindness, and bade them fare 
 well. Before the young man was out of hearing, 
 however, they had got into a new dispute because he 
 happened to have given the eye to Scarecrow, who 
 had already taken her turn of it when their trouble 
 with Perseus commenced. 
 
 It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray 
 Women were very much in the habit of disturbing 
 their mutual harmony by bickerings of this sort, 
 which was the more pity as they could not conven- 
 iently do without one another, and were evidently in- 
 tended to be inseparable companions. As a general 
 rule, I would advise all people, whether sisters or 
 brothers, old or young, who chance to have but one 
 eye among them, to cultivate forbearance, and not all 
 insist upon peeping through it at once. 
 
 Quicksilver and Perseus in the mean time were 
 making the best of their way in quest of the Nymphs. 
 The old dames had given them such particular direc- 
 tions that they were not long in finding them out. 
 They proved to be very different persons from Night- 
 mare, Shakejoint, and Scarecrow, for instead of being 
 old they were young and beautiful, and instead of 
 one eye among the sisterhood each Nymph had two 
 exceedingly bright eyes of her own, with which she 
 looked very kindly at Perseus. They seemed to be 
 acquainted with Quicksilver, and when he told them 
 the adventure which Perseus had undertaken they 
 
THE GORGON'S HE An. 37 
 
 made no difficulty about giving him the valuable arti- 
 cles that were in their custody. In the first place, 
 they brought out what appeared to be a small purse 
 made of deerskin and curiously embroidered, and 
 bade him be sure and keep it safe. This was the 
 magic wallet. The Nymphs next produced a pair of 
 shoes or slippers or sandals with a nice little pair of 
 wings at the heel of each. 
 
 "Put them on, Perseus," said Quicksilver. "You 
 will find yourself as light-heeled as you can desire for 
 the remainder of our journey." 
 
 So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on, 
 while he laid the other on the ground by his side. 
 Unexpectedly, however, this other slipper spread its 
 wings, fluttered up off the ground, and would prob- 
 ably have flown away if Quicksilver had not made a 
 leap and luckily caught it in the air. < 
 
 "Be more careful," said he as he gave it back to 
 Perseus. " It would frighten the birds up aloft if 
 they should see a flying slipper among them." 
 
 When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful 
 slippers he was altogether too buoyant to tread on 
 earth. Making a step or two, lo and behold ! upward 
 he popped into the air, high above the heads of 
 Quicksilver and the Nymphs, and found it very 
 difficult to clamber down again. Winged slippers 
 wid allsnch high-flying contrivances are seldom quite 
 >isy to manage until one grows a little accustomed to 
 
58 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 them. Quicksilver laughed at his companion's in- 
 voluntary activity, and told him that he must not be 
 in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for the invisi- 
 ble helmet. 
 
 The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet with 
 its dark tuft of w'aving plumes all in readiness to put 
 upon his head. And now there happened about as 
 wonderful an incident as anything that I have yet 
 told you. The instant before the helmet was put on 
 ^here stood Perseus, a beautiful young man with 
 golden ringlet and rosy cheeks, the crooked sword by 
 his side, and the brightly polished shield upon his 
 arm — a figure that seemed all made up of courage, 
 sprightliness, and glorious light. But when the hel- 
 met had descended over his white brow there was no 
 longer any Perseus to be seen ! Nothing but empty 
 air! Even the helmet that covered him with its in- 
 visibility had vanished! 
 
 " Where are you, Perseus?" asked Quicksilver. 
 
 "Why, here, to be sure!" answered Perseus very 
 •quietly, although his voice seemed to come out of the 
 transparent atmosphere. "Just where I was a mo- 
 ment ago. Don't you see me? 
 
 "No, indeed!" answered his friend. "You are 
 hidden under the helmet. But if I cannot see you, 
 neither can the Gorgons. Follow me, therefore, and 
 we will try your dexterity in using the winged slip- 
 pers " 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 39 
 
 With these words Qnicksilver's cap spread its 
 wings, as if his head were about to iiy away from his 
 shoulders; but his whole figure rose lightly into the 
 air, and Perseus followed. By the time they had as- 
 cended a few hundred feet the young man began to 
 feel what a delightful thing it was to leave the dull 
 earth so far beneath him and to be able to flit about 
 like a bird. 
 
 It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward 
 and saw the round, bright, silvery moon, and thought 
 that he should desire nothing better than to soar up 
 thither and spend his life ihere. Then he looked 
 downward again and saw the earth, with its sea and 
 lakes, and the silver courses of its rivers, and its snowy 
 mountain-peaks, and the breadth of its fields, and 
 the dark cluster of its woods, and its cities of white 
 marble; and, with the moonshine sleeping over the 
 whole scene, it was as beautiful as the moon or any 
 star could be. And, among other objects, he saw the 
 island of Seriphus, where his dear mother was. 
 Sometimes he and Quicksilver approached a cloud 
 that at a distance looked as if it were made of fleecy 
 silver, although when they plunged into it they found 
 themselves chilled and moistened with gray mist. Sg 
 swift was their flight, however, that in an instant 
 they emerged from the cloud into the moonlight 
 again. Once a high-soaring eagle flew right against 
 the invisible Perseus. The bravest sights were the 
 
40 TEE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 meteors that gleamed suddenl}^ ont as if a bonfire had 
 been kindled in the skv, and made the moonshine 
 pale for as much as a hundred miles around them. 
 
 As the two companions flew onward Perseus fancied 
 that he could hear the rustle of a garment close by 
 his side; and it was on the side opposite to the one 
 where he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver was 
 visible. 
 
 "Whose garment is this," inquired Perseus, "that 
 keeps rustling close beside me in the breeze?" 
 
 "Oh, it is my sister's," answered Quicksilver. 
 *' She is coming along with us, as I told you she 
 would. We could do nothing without the help of my 
 sister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has 
 such eyes, too ! Why, she can see you at this moment 
 just as distinctly as if you were not invisible, and I'll 
 venture to say she will be the first to discover the 
 Gorgons." 
 
 By this time, in their swift voyage through the air, 
 they had come within sight of the great ocean, and 
 were soon flying over it. Far beneath them the 
 waves tossed themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or 
 rolled a white surf-line upon the long beaches, or 
 foamed against the rocky cliffs with a roar that was 
 thunderous in the lower world, although it became a 
 gentle murmur, like the voice of a baby half asleep, 
 before it reached the ears of Perseus. Just then a 
 voice spoke in the air close by him. It seemed to be 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 41 
 
 a woman's voice, and was melodions, though not 
 exactly what might be called sweet, but grave and 
 mild. 
 
 " Perseus," said the voice, "there are the Gorgons." 
 
 *' Where ?" exclaimed Perseus. " I cannot see them. " 
 
 "On the shore of that island beneath you," replied 
 
 the voice. " A pebble dropped from your hand would 
 
 strike in the midst of them." 
 
 " I told you she would be tlie first to discover them," 
 said Quicksilver to Perseus. "And there they are!" 
 Straight downward, two or three thousand feet 
 below him, Perseus perceived a small island with the 
 sea breaking into white foam all around its rocky 
 shore except on one side, where there was a beach of 
 snowy sand. He descended toward it, and, looking 
 earnestly at a cluster or heap of brightness at the foot 
 of a precipice of black rocks, behold, there were the 
 terrible Gorgons! They lay fast asleep, soothed by 
 the thunder of the sea, for it required a tumult that 
 would have deafened everybody else to lull such fierce 
 creatures into slumber. The moonlight glistened on 
 their steely scales and on their golden wings, which 
 drooped idly over the sand. Their brazen claws, 
 horrible to look at, were thrust out and clutched the 
 wave-beaten fragments of rock, while the sleeping 
 Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor mortal all to 
 pieces. The snakes that served them instead of hair 
 seemed likewise to be asleep, although now and then 
 
42 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 one would writhe and lift its head and thrust out its 
 forked tongue, emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let 
 itself subside among its sister snakes. 
 
 The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic 
 kind of insect — immense golden-winged beetles or 
 dragon-flies or things of that sort, at once ugly and 
 beautiful — than like anything else, only that they 
 were a thousand and a million times as big. And, 
 with all this, there was something partly human 
 aboui them too. Luckily for Perseus, their faces 
 were completely hidden from him by the posture in 
 wblch they lay, for had he but looked one instant at 
 them he would have fallen heavily out of the air, an 
 image of senseless stone. 
 
 *'Now," whispered Quicksilver as he hovered by 
 the side of Perseus, "now is your time to do the 
 deed I Be quick, for if one of the Gorgons should 
 awake, you are too late." 
 
 "Which shall I strike at?" asked Perseus, drawing 
 his sword and descending a little lower. " They all 
 three look alike. All three have snaky locks. Which 
 of the three is Medusa?" 
 
 It must be understood that Medusa was the only 
 one of these dragon -monsters whose head Perseus 
 could possibly cut off. As for the other two, let him 
 have the sharpest sword that ever was forged, aud he 
 might have hacked away by the hour together with- 
 out doing them the least harm. 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 43 
 
 "Be cautious," said the calm voice which had be- 
 fore spoken to him. " One of the Gorgons is stirring 
 in her sleep, and is just about to turn over. That is 
 Medusa. Do not look at her. The sight would 
 turn you to stone. Look at the reflection of her face 
 and figure in the bright mirror of your shield." 
 
 Perseus now understood Quicksilver's motive for 
 so earnestly exhorting him to polish his shield. In 
 its surface he could safely look at the reflection of 
 the Gorgon's face. And there it was, that terrible 
 countenance, mirrored in the brightness of the shield, 
 with the moonlight falling over it and displaying all 
 its horror. The snakes, whose venomous natures 
 could not altogether sleep, kept twisting themselves 
 over the forehead. It was the fiercest and most hor- 
 rible face that ever was seen or imagined, and yet 
 with a strange, fearful, and savage kind of beauty in 
 it. The eyes were closed and the Gorgon was still 
 in a deep slumber, but there was an unquiet expres- 
 sion disturbing her features, as if the monster was 
 troubled with an ugly dream. She gnashed her 
 white tusks and dug into the sand with brazen 
 claws. 
 
 The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa's dream 
 and to be made more restless by it. They twined 
 themselves into tumultuous knots, writhed fiercely, 
 and uplifted a hundred hissing heads without opening 
 their eyes. 
 
44 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 *^Now, now!" whispered Quicksilver, who was 
 growing impatient. " Make a dash at the monster!" 
 
 "But be cahn," said the grave, melodious voice at 
 the young man's side. " Look in your shield as you 
 fly downward, and take care that you do not miss 
 your first stroke." 
 
 Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his 
 eyes on Medusa's face, as reflected in his shield. The 
 nearer he came the more terrible did the snaky visage 
 and metallic body of the monster grow. At last, when 
 he found himself hovering over her within arm's 
 length, Perseus uplifted his sword, while at the same 
 instant each separate snake upon the Gorgon's head 
 stretched threateningly upward and Medusa unclosed 
 her eyes. But she awoke too late. The sword was 
 sharp, the stroke fell like a lightning flash, and the 
 head of the wicked Medusa tumbled from her body ! 
 
 "Admirably done!" cried Quicksilver. "Make 
 haste and clap the head into your magic wallet." 
 
 To the astonishment of Perseus, the small embroid- 
 ered wallet which he had hung about his neck, and 
 which had hitherto been no bigger than a purse, grew 
 all at once large enough to contain Medusa's head. 
 As quick as thought he snatched it up, with the 
 snakes still writhing upon it, and thrust it in. 
 
 "Your task is done," said the calm voice. "Now 
 fly, for the other Gorgons will do their utmost to take 
 vengeance for Medusa's death." 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 45 
 
 It was indeed necessary to take flight, for Persen3 
 had not done the deed so quietly but that the clash 
 of his sword and the hissing of the snakes and the 
 thump of Medusa's head as it tumbled upon the sea- 
 beaten sand awoke the other two monsters. There 
 they sat for an instant, sleepily rubbing their eyes 
 with their brazen fingers, while all the snakes on 
 their heads reared themselves on end with surprise 
 and with venomous malice against they knew not 
 ■what. But when the Gorgons saw the scaly car- 
 cass of Medusa headless, and her golden wings all 
 ruffled and half-spread out on the sand, it was really 
 awful to hear what yells and screeches they set up. 
 And then the snakes! They sent forth a hundred- 
 fold hiss with one consent, and Medusa's snakes an- 
 swered them out of the magic wallet. 
 
 No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake than they 
 hurtled upward into the air, brandishing their brass 
 talons, gnashing their horrible tusks, and flapping 
 their huge wings so wildly that some of the golden 
 feathers were shaken out and floated down upon the 
 shore. And there, perhaps, those very feathers lie 
 scattered till this day. Up rose the Gorgons, as I 
 tell you, staring horribly about in hopes of turning 
 somebody to stone. Had Perseus looked them in the 
 face, or had he fallen into their clutches, his poor 
 mother would never have kissed her boy again. But 
 he took good care to turn his eyes another way, and aa 
 
46 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 he wore the helmet of invisibility, the Gorgons knew 
 not in what direction to follow him; nor did he fail 
 to make the best nse of the winged slippers by soaring 
 upward a perpendicular mile or so. At that height, 
 when the screams of those abominable creatures 
 sounded faintly beneath him, he made a straight 
 course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry 
 Medusa's head to King Polydectes. 
 
 I hafe no time to tell you of several marvellous 
 things that befell Perseus on his way homeward, such 
 as his killing a hideous sea-monster just as it was on 
 the point of devouring a beautiful maiden, nor how 
 he changed an enormous giant into a mountain of stone 
 merely by showing him the head of the Gorgon. If 
 you doubt this latter story, you may make a voyage to 
 Africa some day or other and see the very mountain, 
 which is still known by the ancient giant's name. 
 
 Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, 
 where he expected to see his dear mother. But dur- 
 ing his absence the wicked king had treated Danae so 
 very ill that she was compelled to make her escape, 
 and had taken refuge in a temple, where some^good 
 old priests ^vere extremely kind to her. These 
 praiseworthy priests, and the kind-hearted fisherman 
 who had first shown hospitality to Danae and little 
 Perseus when he found them afloat in the chest, seemed 
 to have been the only persons on the island who cared 
 about doing right. All the rest of the people, as well 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 47 
 
 as /S^ing Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill- 
 befiaved, and deserved no better destiny than that 
 which was now to happen. Not finding his mother 
 at home, Perseus went straight to the palace, and was 
 immediately ushered into the presence of the king. 
 Polydectes was by no means rejoiced to see him, for 
 he had felt almost certain in his own evil mind that 
 the Gorgons would have torn the poor young man to 
 pieces and have eaten him up out of the way. How- 
 ever, seeing him safely returned, ho put the best face 
 he could upon the matter and asked Perseus how he 
 had succeeded. 
 
 " Have you performed your promise?" inquired he. 
 *' Have you brought me the head of Medusa with the 
 snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you 
 dear, for I must have a bridal present for the beauti- 
 ful Princess Hippodamia, and there is nothing else 
 that she would admire so much." 
 
 . "Yes, please your majesty," answered Perseus in 
 a quiet way, as if it were no very wonderful deed for 
 such a young man as he to perform. " I have brought 
 you the Gorgon's head, snaky locks, and all." 
 
 "Indeed! Pray let me see it," quoth King Poly- 
 dectes. " It must be a very curious spectacle, if all 
 that travellers tell about it be true." 
 
 "Your majesty is in the right," replied Perseus. 
 " It is really an object that will be pretty certain to 
 fiz the regards of all who look at it. And, if your 
 
48 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be 
 proclaimed, and that all your majesty's subjects be 
 summoned to behold this wonderful curiosity. Few 
 of them, I imagine, have seen a Gorgon's head be- 
 fore, and perhaps never may again." 
 
 The king well knew that his subjects were an idle 
 set of reprobates, and very fond of sightseeing, as 
 idle persons usually are. So he took the young man's 
 advice, and sent out heralds and messengers in all 
 directions to blow the trumpet at the street-corners 
 and in the market-places and wherever two roads met, 
 and summon everybody to court. Thither, accord- 
 ingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing 
 vagabonds, all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, 
 would have been glad if Perseus had met with some 
 ill-hap in his encounter with the Gorgons. If there 
 were any better people in the island (as I really hope 
 there may have been, although the story tells nothing 
 about any such), they stayed quietly at home, mind- 
 ing their own business and taking care of their little 
 children. Most of the inhabitants, at all events, ran 
 as fast as they could to the palace, and shoved and 
 pushed and elbowed one another in their eagerness to 
 get near a balcony on which Perseus showed himself, 
 holding the embroidered wallet in his hand. 
 
 On a platform within full view of the balcony sat 
 the mighty King Polydectes, amid his evil counsel- 
 lors and with his flattering courtiers in a semicircle 
 
THE GORGON'S HEAD. 4» 
 
 round about him. Monarch, connsellors, courtiers, 
 and subjects all gazed eagerly toward Perseus. 
 
 "Show us the head! Show us the head!" shouted 
 the people ; and there was a fierceness in their cry, as 
 if they would tear Perseus to pieces unless he should 
 satisfy them with what he had to show. " Show us 
 the head of Medusa with the snaky locks!" 
 
 A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youth- 
 ful Perseus. 
 
 "0 King Polydectes," cried he, "and ye many 
 people, I am very loth to show you the Gorgon's 
 head." 
 
 "Ah, the villain and coward!" yelled the people, 
 more fiercely than before. " He is making game of 
 tis! He has no Gorgon's head ! Show us the head if 
 you have it, or we will take your own head for a 
 foatball!" 
 
 The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the 
 king's ear; the courtiers murmured, with one con- 
 sent, that Perseus had shown disrespect to their royal 
 lord and master; and the great King Polydectes him° 
 self waved his hand and ordered him, with the stern, 
 deep voice of authority, on his peril to produce the 
 head. 
 
 " Show me the Gorgon's head or I will cut off your 
 own!" 
 
 And Perseus sighed. 
 
 " This instant," repeated Polydectes, "or you die!*' 
 4 
 
50 THE GORGON'S HEAD. 
 
 '* Behold it, then !" cried Perseus, in a voice like 
 the blast of a trumpet. 
 
 And, suddenly, holding up the head, not an eyelid 
 had time to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, 
 his evil counsellors, and all his fierce subjects were no 
 longer anything but the mere images of a monarch 
 and his people. They were all fixed forever in the 
 look and attitude of that moment. At the first 
 glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa they whitened 
 into marble. And Perseus thrust the head back into 
 his wallet, and went to tell his dear mother that she 
 need no longer be afraid of the wicked King Poly- 
 dectes. 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 AFTER THE STORY. 
 
 "Was not that a very fine story?" asked Eustace. 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes!" cried Cowslip, clapping her hands. 
 " And those funny old women with only one eye 
 among them ! I never heard of anything so strange. ** 
 
 "As to their one tooth, which they shifted about," 
 observed Primrose, " there was nothing so very won- 
 derful in that. I suppose it was a false tooth. But 
 think of your turning Mercury into Quicksilver, and 
 talking about his sister! You are too ridiculous!" 
 
 "And was she not his sister?" asked Eustace 
 Bright. " If I had thought of it sooner, I would 
 have described her as a maiden lady who kept a pet 
 owl." 
 
 "Well, at any rate," said Primrose, "your storj 
 seems to have driven away the mist." 
 
 And, indeed, while the tale was going forward the 
 vapors had been quite exhaled from the landscape, 
 A scene was now disclosed which the spectators might 
 
m TAKGLEWOOD PORCH. 
 
 almost fancy as having been created since they had 
 last looked in the direction where it lay. About half 
 a mile distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared 
 a beautiful lake which reflected a perfect image of its 
 own wooded banks and of the summits of the more, 
 distant hills. It gleamed in glassy tranquillity, 
 without the trace of a winged breeze on any part of 
 its bosom. Beyond its farther shore was Monument 
 Mountain in a recumbent position, stretching almost 
 across the valley. Eustace Bright compared it to a 
 huge headless sphinx wrapped in a Persian shawl; 
 and, indeed, so rich and diversified was the autumnal 
 foliage of its woods that the simile of the shawl was 
 by no means too high-colored for the reality. In the 
 lower ground, between Tangle wood and the lake, the 
 clumps of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly 
 golden-leaved or dusky brown, as having suffered 
 more from frost than the foliage on the hillsides. 
 
 Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, 
 intermingled with a slight haze which made it un- 
 speakably soft and tender. Oh, what a day of Indian 
 Bummer was it going to be! The children snatched 
 their baskets, and set forthwith hop, skip, and jump, 
 and all sorts of frisks and gambols, while Cousin 
 Eustace proved his fitness to preside over the party 
 by outdoing all their antics and performing several 
 new capers which none of them could ever hope to 
 imitate. Behind went a good old dog whose name 
 
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 53 
 
 was Ben. He was one of the most respectable and 
 kind-hearted of quadrupeds, and probably felt it to 
 be his duty not to trust the children away from their 
 parents without some better guardian than thig 
 feather-brained Eustace Bright. 
 
SHADOW BROOK. 
 
 INTKODUCTORY TO "THE GOLDEN TOUCH." 
 
 At noon our juvenile party assembled in a dell 
 through the depths of which ran a little brook. The 
 dell was narrow, and its steep sides, from the margin 
 of the stream upward, were thickly set with trees, 
 chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, among which grew a 
 few oaks and maples. In the summer-time the shade 
 of so many clustering branches meeting and inter- 
 mingling across the rivulet was deep enough to pro- 
 duce a noontide twilight. Hence came the name of 
 Shadow Brook. But now, ever, since autumn had 
 crept into this secluded place, all the dark verdure 
 •was changed to gold, so that it really kindled up the 
 dell, instead of shading it. The bright yellow leaves, 
 even had it been a cloudy day, would have seemed to 
 keep the sunlight among them ; and enough of them 
 had fallen to strew all the bed and margin of the 
 brook with sunlight too. Thus the shady nook where 
 summer had cooled herself was now the sunniest spot 
 anywhere to be found. 
 
56 SHADOW BROOK. 
 
 The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold, 
 here pausing to form a pool in which minnows were 
 darting to and fro, and then it hurried onward at a 
 swifter pace, as if in haste to reach the lake, and, 
 forgetting to look whither it went, it tumbled over 
 the root of a tree which stretched quite across its 
 current. You would have laughed to hear how 
 noisily it babbled about this accident. And even 
 after it had run onward the brook still kept talking 
 to itself, as if it were in a maze. It was wonder- 
 smitten, I suppose, at finding its dark dells so illumi- 
 nated and at hearing the prattle and merriment of so 
 many children. So it stole away as quickly as it 
 could and hid itself in the lake. 
 
 In the dell of Shadow Brook Eustace Bright and 
 his little friends had eaten their dinner. They had 
 brought plenty of good things from Tanglewood in 
 their baskets, and had spread them out on the stumps 
 of trees and on mossy trunks, and had feasted merrily 
 and made a very nice dinner indeed. After it was 
 over nobody felt like stirring. 
 
 "We will rest ourselves here," said several of the 
 children, " while Cousin Eustace tells us another of 
 his pretty stories." 
 
 Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired as well 
 as the children, for he had performed great feats on 
 that memorable forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cow- 
 slip, and Buttercup were almost persuaded that he 
 
SHADOV^^ BROOK. 57 
 
 had winged slippers like those which the Xymphs 
 gave Perseus, so often had the student shown himself 
 at the tip-top of a nut tree, when only a moment be- 
 fore he had been standing on the ground. And then 
 what showers of walnuts had he sent rattling down 
 upon their heads for their busy little hands to gather 
 into the baskets! In short, he had been as active as 
 a squirrel or a monkey, and now, flinging himself 
 down on the yellow leaves, seemed inclined to take a 
 little rest. 
 
 But children have no mercy nor consideration for 
 anybody's weariness; and if you had but a single 
 breath left they would ask you to spend it in telling 
 them a story. 
 
 "Cousin Eustace," said Cowslip, "that was a very 
 nice story of the Gorgon's Head. Do you think you 
 could tell us another as good?" 
 
 "Yes, child," said Eustace, pulling the brim of 
 his cap over his eyes, as if preparing for a nap. " I 
 can tell you a dozen as good or better, if I choose." 
 
 " Oh, Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what 
 he says?" cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. 
 " Cousin Eustace is going to tell us a dozen better 
 stories than that about the Gorgon's Head!" 
 
 " I did not promise you even one, you foolish little 
 Cowslip!" said Eustace, half -pettishly. "However, 
 I suppose you m.ust have it. This is the consequence 
 of having earned a reputation. I wish I were a great 
 
58 SHADOW BROOK. 
 
 deal duller than I am, or that I had never shown half 
 the bright qualities with which Nature has endowed 
 me, and then I might have my nap out in peace and 
 comfort." 
 
 But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted be- 
 fore, was as fond of telling his stories as the children 
 of hearing them. His mind was in a free and happy 
 state, and took delight in its ow^n activity, and 
 scarcely required any external impulse to set it at 
 work. 
 
 How different is this spontaneous play of the in- 
 tellect from the trained diligence of maturer years, 
 when toil has perhaps grown easy by long habit, and 
 the day's work may have become essential to the day's 
 comfort, although the rest of the matter has bubbled 
 away ! This remark, however, is not meant for the 
 children to hear. 
 
 Without further solicitation, Eustace Bright pro- 
 ceeded to tell the following really splendid story. It 
 had come into his mind as he lay looking upward 
 into the depths of a tree and observing how the touch 
 of autumn had transmuted every one of its green 
 leaves into what resembled the purest gold. And 
 this change, which we have all of us witnessed, is as 
 wonderful as anything that Eustace told about in the 
 story of Midas. 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived a very rich man, and 
 a king besides, whose name was Midas ; and he had 
 a little daughter whom nobody but myself ever heard 
 of, and whose name I either never knew or have en- 
 tirely forgotten. So, because, I love odd names for 
 little girls, I choose to call her Marigold. 
 
 This King Midas was fonder of gold than of any- 
 thing eke in the world. He valued his royal crown 
 chiefly because it was composed of that precious 
 metal. If he loved anything better or half so well, it 
 was the one little maiden who played so merrily 
 around her father's footstool. But the more Midas 
 loved his daughter, the more did he desire and seek 
 for wealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best 
 thing he could possibly do for this dear child would 
 be to bequeath her the immensest pile of yellow glis- 
 tening coin that had ever been heaped together since 
 the world was made. Thus he gave all his thoughts 
 and all his time to this one purpose. If he ever hap- 
 pened to gaze for an instant at the gold-tinted clouds 
 
60 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 of sunset, he wished that they were real gold and that 
 they could be squeezed safely into his strong box. 
 When little Marygold ran to meet him with a bunch 
 of buttercups and dandelions he used to say, " Poh, 
 poh, child! If these flowers were as golden as they 
 look, they would be worth the plucking!" 
 
 And yet in his earlier days, before he was so en- 
 tirely possessed with the insane desire for riches, 
 King Midas had shown a great taste for flowers. He 
 had planted a garden in which grew the biggest and 
 beautifulest and sweetest roses that any mortal ever 
 saw or smelt. These roses were still growing in the 
 garden, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant as when 
 Midas nsed to pass whole hours in gazing at them and 
 inhaling their perfume. But now, if he looked at 
 them at all, it was only to calculate how much the 
 garden would be worth if each of the innumerable 
 rose-petals were a thin plate of gold. And though he 
 once was fond of music (in spite of an idle story about 
 his ears, which were said to resemble those of an ass), 
 the only music for poor Midas now was the chink of 
 one coin against another. 
 
 At length (as people always grow more and more 
 foolish unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser) 
 Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable that 
 he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that 
 was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to 
 pass a large portion of every day in a dark and dreary 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCB. 61 
 
 apartment underground, at the basement of hu pal- 
 ace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this 
 dismal hole — for it was little better than a dungeon 
 — Midas betook himself whenever he wanted to be 
 particularly happy. Here, after carefully locking 
 the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold 
 cup as big as a wash-bowl, or a heavy golden bar, or* 
 a peck-measure of gold-dust, and bring it from the 
 obscure corners of the room into the one bright and 
 narrow sunbeam that fell from the dungeon-like win- 
 dow. He valued the sunbeam for no other reason 
 but that his treasure would not shine without its 
 help. And then would he reckon over the coins in 
 the bag, toss up the bar and catch it as it came down, 
 sift the gold-dust through his fingers, look at the 
 funny image of his own face as reflected in the bur- 
 nished circumference of the cup, and whisper to him- 
 self, " Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man 
 art thou !" But it was laughable to see how the image 
 of his face kept grinning at him out of the polished 
 surface of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his 
 foolish behavior, and to have a naughty inclination 
 to make fun of him. 
 
 Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he 
 was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very 
 tip-top of enjoyment would never be reached unless 
 the whole world were to become his treasure-room and 
 be filled with yellow metal which should be all his own. 
 
62 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 Now, I need hardly remind snch wise little people 
 as you are that in the old, old times, when King 
 Midas was alive, a great many things came to pass 
 which we should consider wonderful if they were to 
 happen in our own day and country. And, on the 
 other hand, a great many things take place nowa- 
 days which seem not only wonderful to us, but at 
 which the people of old times would have stared their 
 eyes out. On the whole, I regard our own times as 
 the strangest of the two; but, however that may be, 
 I must go on with my story. 
 
 Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room 
 one day as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall 
 over the heaps of gold, and, looking suddenly up, 
 what should he behold but the figure of a stranger 
 standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam ! It was 
 a young man with a cheerful and ruddy face. 
 Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas 
 threw a yellow tinge over everything, or whatever the 
 cause might be, he could not help fancying that the 
 smile with which the stranger regarded him had a 
 kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although 
 his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now a 
 brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures than 
 before. Even the remotest corners had their share ef 
 it, and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as 
 with tips of flame and sparkles of fire. 
 
 As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 63 
 
 key Id the lock, and that no mortal strength could 
 possibly break into his treasure-room, he of course 
 concluded that his visitor must be something more 
 than mortal. It is no matter about telling you who 
 he was. In those days, when the earth was compara- 
 tively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the 
 resort of beings endowed with supernatural powers, 
 and who used to interest themselves in the joys and 
 sorrows of men, women, and children, half playfully 
 and half seriously. Midas had met such beings be- 
 fore now, and was not sorry to meet one of them 
 again. The stranger's aspect, indeed, was so good- 
 humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would 
 have been unreasonable to suspect him of intending 
 any mischief. It was far more probable that he came 
 to do Midas a favor. And what could that favor be 
 unless to multiply his heaps of treasure? 
 
 The stranger gazed about the room, and when his 
 lustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden ob- 
 jects that were there, he turned again to Midas. 
 
 "Yon are a wealthy man, friend Midas," he ob- 
 served. " I doubt whether anv other four walls on 
 earth contain so much gold as you have contrived to 
 pile up in this room." 
 
 "I have done pretty well — pretty well," answered 
 Midas in a discontented tone. *' But, after all, it 
 is but a trifle when you consider that it has taken 
 me my whole life to get it together. If one could 
 
64 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 live a thonsand years, he might have time to grow 
 rich." 
 
 " What!" exclaimed the straDger. " Then you are 
 not satisfied?" 
 
 Midas shook his head. 
 
 "And pray what would satisfy you?" asked the 
 stranger. " Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I 
 should be glad to know." 
 
 Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presenti- 
 ment that this stranger, with such a golden lustre in 
 his good-liumored smile, had come hither with both 
 the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost 
 wishes. Now, therefore, was the fortunate moment 
 when he had but to speak and obtain whatever possi- 
 ble or seemingly impossible thing it might come into 
 his head to ask. So he thought, and thought, and 
 thought, and heaped up one golden mountain upon 
 another in his imagination, without being able to 
 imagine them big enough. At last a bright idea oc- 
 curred to King Midas. It seemed really as bright as 
 the glisteiiing metal which he loved so much. 
 
 Eaising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger, 
 in the face. 
 
 "Well, Midas," observed his visitor, "I see that 
 you have at length hit upon something that will sat- 
 isfy you. Tell me your wish." 
 
 "It is only this," replied Midas: "I am weary of 
 collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and be- 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 65 
 
 holding the heap so diminutive after I have done my 
 best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed 
 to gold." 
 
 The stranger's smile grew so very broad that it 
 seemed to fill the room like an outburst of the sun 
 gleaming into a shadowy dell where the yellow au- 
 tumnal leaves — for so looked the lumps and particles 
 of gold — lie strewn in the glov/ of light. 
 
 "The Golden Touch!" exclaimed he. "You cer- 
 tainly deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking out 
 so brilliant a conception. But are you quite sure 
 that this will satisfy you?" 
 
 "How could it fail?" said Midas. 
 
 "And will you never regret the possession of it?" 
 
 " What could induce me?" asked Midas. "I ask 
 nothing else to render me perfectly happy." 
 
 "Be it as you wish, then," replied the stranger, 
 waving his hand in token of farewell. " To-morrow 
 at sunrise you will find yourself gifted with the 
 Golden Touch." 
 
 The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly 
 bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On 
 opening them again he beheld only one yellow sun- 
 beam in the room, and all around him the glistening 
 of the precious metal which he had spent his life in 
 hoarding up. 
 
 Whether Midas slept as usual that night the story 
 does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind 
 3 
 
66 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 was probably in the state cf a child's to whom a beau- 
 tiful new plaything has been promised in the morn- 
 ing. At any rate, day had hardly peeped over the 
 bills when King Midas was broad awake, and, stretch- 
 ing his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects 
 that were within reach. He was anxious to prove 
 whether the Golden Touch had really come, accord- 
 iDg to the stranger's promise. So he laid his finger 
 on a chair by the bedside and on various other things, 
 but was grievously disappointed to perceive that they 
 remained of exactly the same substance as before. 
 Indeed, he felt very much afraid that he had only 
 dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else that the 
 latter had been making game of him. And what a 
 miserable affair would it be if, after all his hopes, 
 Midas must content himself with what little gold he 
 could scrape together by ordinary means instead of 
 creating it by a touch ! 
 
 All this while it was only the gray of the morning, 
 with but a streak of brightness along the edge of the 
 sky, where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very 
 disconsolate mood, regretting the downfall of his 
 hopes, and kept growing sadder and sadder until the 
 earliest sunbeam shone through the window and 
 gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas 
 that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in 
 rather a singular way on the white covering of the 
 bed. Looking more closely, what was his astonish- 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 67 
 
 merit and delight when he found that this linen fab- 
 ric had been transmuted to what seemed a woven 
 texture of the purest and brightest gold ! The Golden 
 Touch had come to him with the first sunbeam ! 
 
 Midas started up in a kind of joyful frenzy, and 
 ran about the room grasping at everything that hap- 
 pened to be in his way. He seized one of the bed- 
 posts, and it became immediately a fluted golden 
 pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain in order 
 to admit a clear spectacle of the wonders which he 
 was performing, and the tassel grew heavy in his 
 hand — a mass of gold. He took up a book from the 
 table. At his first touch it assumed the appearance 
 of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume as 
 one often meets with nowadays, but, on running his 
 fingers through the leaves, behold ! it was a bundle 
 of thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the 
 book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his 
 clothes, and was enraptured to see himself in a mag- 
 nificent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexi- 
 bility and softness, although it burdened him a little 
 with its weight. He drew out his handkerchief, 
 which little Marygold had hemmed for him. That 
 was likewise gold, with the dear child's neat and 
 pretty stitches running all along the border in gold 
 thread ! 
 
 Somehow or other, this last transformation did not 
 quite please King Midas. He would rather that his 
 
68 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 little daughter's handiwork should have remained 
 just the same as when she climbed his knee and put 
 it into his hand. 
 
 But it was not worth while to vex himself about a 
 tritle. Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket 
 and put them on his nose in order that he might see 
 more distinctly what he was about. Iti those days 
 spectacles for common people had not been invented, 
 but were already worn by kings, else how oould Midas 
 have had any? To his great perplexity, however, 
 excellent as the glasses were, he discovered that he 
 could not possibly see through them. But this was 
 the most natural thing in the world, for on taking 
 them off the transparent crystals turned out to be 
 plates of yellow metal, and of course were worthless 
 as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It struck 
 Midas as rather inconvenient that, with all his wealth, 
 he could never again be rich enough to own a pair of 
 serviceable spectacles. 
 
 "It is no great matter, nevertheless," said he to 
 himself very philosophically. " We cannot expect 
 any great good without its being accompanied with 
 some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is 
 worth the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles at least, if 
 not of one's very eyesight. My own eyes will serve 
 for ordinary purposes, and little Marygold will soon 
 be old enough to read to miC." 
 
 Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good for- 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
 A 
 
 .^• 
 
 .•-*'' 
 V 
 
 "%•■ 
 
 \. 
 
 A W under Book i 
 
 THE DYING MEDUSA 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 69 
 
 tune that the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious 
 to contain him. He therefore went downstairs, and 
 smiled on observing that the balustrade of the stair-^ 
 case became a bar of burnished gold as his hand? 
 passed over it in his descent. He lifted the door- 
 latch (it was brass only a moment ago, but golden 
 when his fingers quitted it) and emerged into the 
 garden. Here, as it happened, he found a great 
 number of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others 
 in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very 
 delicious was their fragrance in the morning breeze. 
 Their delicate blush was one of the fairest sights in 
 the world, so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet 
 tranquillity did these roses seem to be. 
 
 But Midas knew a way to make them far more 
 precious, according to his way of thinking, than 
 roses had ever been before. So he took great pains 
 in going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic 
 touch moet indefatigably, until every individual 
 flower and bud, and even the worms at the heart of 
 some of them, were changed to gold. By the tim^ 
 this good work was completed King Midas was sum- 
 moned to breakfast, and, as the morning air had 
 given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back 
 to the palace. 
 
 What was usually a king's breakfast in the days of 
 Midas I really do not know, and cannot stop now to 
 investigate. To the best of my belief, however, on 
 
70 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 this particular morning the breakfast consisted of hot 
 cakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, 
 fresh boiled eggs, and coffee for King Midas himself, 
 and a bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Mary- 
 2old. At all events, this is a breakfast fit to set 
 before a king, and, whether he had it or not, King 
 Midas could not have had a better. 
 
 Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. 
 Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating 
 himself at table, awaited the child's coming in order 
 to begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he 
 really loved his daughter, and loved her so much the 
 more this morning on account of the good fortune 
 which had befallen him. It was not a great while 
 before he heard her coming along the passageway 
 crying bitterly. This circumstance surprised him, 
 because Marygold was one of the cheerfulest little 
 people whom you would see in a summer's day, and 
 hardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a twelvemonth. 
 "When Midas heard her sobs, he determined to put 
 little Marygold into better spirits by an agreeable 
 surprise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his 
 daughter's bowl (which was a china one, with pretty 
 figures all around it) and transmuted it to gleaming 
 gold. 
 
 Meanwhile Marygold slowly and disconsolately 
 opened the door, and showed herself with her apron 
 at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 71 
 
 "How now, my little lady!" cried Midas. "Pray 
 what is the matter with you this bright morning?" 
 
 Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, 
 held out her hand, in which was one of the roses 
 which Midas had so recently transmuted. 
 
 *' Beautiful!" exclaimed her father. "And what 
 is there in this magnificent golden rose to make ; ou 
 cry?" 
 
 "Ah, dear father!" answered the child, as well as 
 her sobs would let her, " it is not beautiful, but the 
 ugliest flower that ever grew. As soon as I was 
 dressed I ran into the garden to gather some roses for 
 you, because I know you like them, and like tlicm 
 the better when gathered by your little daughter. 
 But — oh dear! dear me! — what do you think has 
 happened? Such a misfortune! All the beautiful 
 roses, that smelled so sweetly and had so many lovely 
 blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They are grown 
 quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no longer 
 any fragrance. What can be the matter with them?" 
 
 " Poh, my dear little girl ! pray don't cry about it !" 
 said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he him- 
 self had wrought the change which so greatly afflicted 
 her. " Sit down and eat your bread and milk. You 
 will find it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like 
 that, which will last hundreds of years, for an ordi- 
 nary one, which would wither in a day." 
 
 "I don't care for such roses as this!" cried Mary- , 
 
73 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 gold, tossing it contemptuously away. "It has no 
 smell and the hard petals prick my nose." 
 
 The child now sat down to table, but was so oc- 
 cupied with her grief for the blighted roses that she 
 did not even notice the wonderful transmutation of 
 iier china-bowl. Perhaps this was all the better, for 
 Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking 
 at the queer figures and strange trees and houses that 
 were painted on the circumference of the bowl, and 
 these ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow 
 hue of the metal. 
 
 Midas meanwhile had poured out a cup of coffee; 
 and as a matter of course the coffee-pot, whatever 
 metal it may have been when he took it up, was gold 
 when he set it down. He thought to himself that it 
 was rather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king 
 of his simple habits, to breakfast oS a service of gold, 
 and began to be puzzled with the difficulty of keep- 
 ing his treasures safe. The cupboard and the kitchen 
 would no longer be a secure place of deposit for 
 articles so valuable as golden bowls and coffee-pots. 
 
 Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee 
 to his lips, and, sipping it, was astonished to per- 
 ceive that the instant his lips touched the liquid it 
 became molten gold, and the next moment hardened 
 into a lump. 
 
 "Ha!" exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. 
 
 "What is the m*j'-^'^r, fa^^^er?" asked little Mary- 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 7» 
 
 gold, gazing at him with the tears still standing in 
 her eyes. 
 
 *•' Nothing, child, nothing," said Midas. "Eat 
 your milk before it gets quite cold." 
 
 He took one of the nice little trout on his plate, 
 and, by way of experiment, touched its tail with his 
 finger. To his horror, it v^'as immediately trans- 
 muted from an admirably fried brook trout into a 
 gold fish, though not one of those gold fishes which 
 people often keep in glass globes as ornaments for the 
 parlor. No; but it was really a metal]ic fish, and 
 looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the 
 nicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones were 
 now golden wires, its fins and tail were thin plates of 
 gold, and there were the marks of the fork in it, and 
 all the delicate, frothy appearance of a nicely fried 
 fish exactly imitated in metal. A very pretty piece 
 of work, as you may suppose, only King Midas, just 
 at that moment, would much rather have had a real 
 trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable 
 imitation of one. 
 
 "I don't quite see," thought he to himself, "how 
 I am to get any breakfast." 
 
 He took one of the smoking hot cakes, and had 
 scarcely broken it when, to his cruel mortification, 
 though a moment before it had been of the whitest 
 wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. 
 To say the truth, if it had really been a hot Indiai* 
 
f4 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 cake Mid-^ would have prized it a good deal more 
 than he now did, when its solidity and increased 
 weight made him too bitterly sensible that it was 
 gold. Almost in despair, he helped himself to a 
 boiled ^g;:, which immediately underwent a change 
 similar to those of the trout and the cake. The Qgg, 
 indeed, might have been mistaken for one of those 
 which the famous goose in the story-book was in the 
 habit of laving; but King Midas was the only goose 
 that had had anything to do with the matter. 
 
 •* Yf ell, this is a quandary!" thought he, leaning 
 back in his chair and lookinor enviously at little 
 Marygold, who was now eating her bread and milk 
 wiib great satisfaction. " Such a costly breakfast be- 
 fcie me, and nothing that can be eaten!" 
 
 Hoping: that, by dint of great dispatch, he might 
 avoid wha^ he now felt to be a considerable incon- 
 venience, King Midas next snatched a hot potato, 
 and attempted to cram it into his mouth and swallow 
 it in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble 
 for him. He found his mouth full, not of mealy 
 potato, but of solid metal, which so burnt his tongue 
 that he roared aloud, and, jumping up from the 
 table, be^an to dance and stamp about the room both 
 with pain and affright. 
 
 "Father, dear father!" cried little Marygold, who 
 was a very affectionate child, " pray, what is the mat- 
 ter? Have you burnt your mouth?" 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 75 
 
 "Ah, dear child," groaned Midas, dolefully, "I 
 don't know what is to become of your poor 
 father." 
 
 And truly, my dear little folks, did you e^er hear 
 of such a pitiable case in all your lives? Here was 
 literally the richest breakfast that could be set betore 
 a king, and its very richness made it absolutely good 
 for nothing. The poorest laborer sitting down to his 
 crust of bread and cup of water was far better oS 
 than King Midas, whose delicate food was really 
 worth its weight in gold. And what was to be done? 
 Already, at breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. 
 Would he be less so by dinner-time? And how 
 ravenous would be his appetite for supper, which 
 must undoubtedly consist of the same sort of indi- 
 gestible dishes as those now before him ! How many 
 days, think you, would he survive a continuance of 
 this rich fare? 
 
 These reflections so troubled wise King Midas thf 
 he began to doubt whether, after all, riches are th 
 one desirable thing in the world, or even the m.ost 
 desirable. But this was only a passing thought. So 
 fascinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow 
 metal that he would still have refused to give up the 
 Golden Touch for so paltry a consideration as a 
 breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal's 
 victuals! It would have been the same as paying 
 millions and millions of money (and as many millions 
 
76 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 more as would take forever to reckon np) for som« 
 fried trout, an Qgg^ a potato, a hot cake, and a cup 
 of coffee. 
 
 "It would be quite too dear," thought Midas. 
 
 Nevertheless, so great was his hunger and the per- 
 plexity of his situation that he again groaned aloud, 
 and very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could 
 endure it no longer. She sat a moment gazing at 
 her father, and trying with all the might of her little 
 wits to find out what was the matter with him. 
 Then, with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort 
 him, she started from her chair and, running ta 
 Midas, threw her arms affectionately about his knees. 
 He bent down and kissed her. He felt that his little 
 daughter's love was worth a thousand times more 
 than he had gained by the Golden Touch. 
 
 "My precious, precious Marygold!" cried he. 
 
 Bat Marygold made no answer. 
 
 Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift 
 which the stranger bestowed! The moment the lips 
 of Midas touched Marygold's forehead a change had 
 taken place. Her sweet rosy face, so full of affection 
 as it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with 
 yellow teardrops congealing on her cheeks. Her 
 beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her 
 soft and tender little form grew hard and inflexible 
 within her father's encircling arms. Oh, terrible 
 jaaisfortune! The victim of his insatiable desire for 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 71 
 
 wealth, little Marygold, was a human child no longer, 
 but a golden statue! 
 
 Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of 
 love, grief, and pity hardened into her face. It was 
 the prettiest and most woeful sight that ever mortal 
 saw. All the features and tokens of Marygold were 
 there; even the beloved little dimple remained in her 
 golden chin. But the more perfect was this re- 
 semblance the greater was the father's agony at be- 
 holding this golden image, which was all that was 
 left him of a daughter. It had been a favorite phrase 
 of Midas, whenever he felt particularly fond of the 
 child, to say that she was worth her weight in gold. 
 And now the phrase had become literally true. And 
 now at last, when it was too late, he felt how infinitely 
 a warm and tender heart that loved him exceeded in 
 value all the wealth that could be piled up betwixt 
 the earth and sky. 
 
 It would be too sad a story if I were to tell you 
 how Midas, in the fulness of all his gratified desires, 
 began to wring his hands and bemoan himself, and 
 how he could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor 
 yet to look away from her. Except when his eyes 
 were fixed on the image he could not possibly believe 
 that she was changed to gold. But, stealing another 
 glance, there was the precious little figure, with a 
 yellow tear-drop on its yellow cheek, and a look so 
 piteous and tender that it seemed as if that very ex- 
 
78 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 pression must needs soften the gold and make it rles 
 again. This, however, could not be. So Midas had 
 only to wring his hands and to wish that he were the 
 poorest man in the wide world if the loss of all his 
 wealth might bring back the faintest rose-color to 
 his dear child's face. 
 
 While he was in this tumult of despair he suddenly 
 beheld a stranger standing near the door. Midas 
 bent down his head without speaking, for he recog- 
 nized the same figure which had appeared to him the 
 day before in the treasure-room and had bestowed on 
 him this disastrous faculty of the Golden Touch. 
 The stranger's countenance still wore a smile which 
 seemed to shed a yellow lustre all about the room, and 
 gleamed on little Marygold's image and on the other 
 objects that had been transmuted by the touch of 
 Midas. 
 
 "Well, friend Midas," said the stranger, "pray 
 how do you succeed with the Golden Touch?" 
 
 Midas shook his head. 
 
 " I am very miserable," said he. 
 
 " Very miserable, indeed !" exclaimed the stranger. 
 "And how happens that? Have I not faithfully 
 kept my promise with you ? Have you not everything 
 that your heart desired?" 
 
 "Gold is not everything," answered Midas, "and 
 I have lost all that my heart really cared for." 
 
 " Ah ! So yon have made a discovery since yester- 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 79 
 
 day?" observed the stranger. "Let us ses, then. 
 Which of these two things do you think is really 
 worth the most — the gift of the Golden Touch or one 
 cup of clear cold water?" 
 
 "Oh, blessed water!" exclaimed Midas. "It will 
 never moisten my parched throat again." 
 
 "The Golden Touch," continued the stranger, "or^ 
 a crust of bread?" 
 
 "A piece of bread," answered Midas, "is worth all 
 the gold on earth." 
 
 "The Golden Touch," asked the stranger, "or 
 your own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving, as 
 she was an hour ago?" 
 
 "Oh, my child, my dear child!" cried poor Midas, 
 wringing his hands. " I would not have given that 
 one small dimple in her chin for the power of chang- 
 ing this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold !" 
 
 "You are wiser than you were, King Midas," said 
 the stranger, looking seriously at him. "Your own 
 heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from 
 fiesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed b» 
 desperate. But you appear to be still capable of un- 
 derstanding that the commonest things, such as lie 
 within everybody's grasp, are more valuable than the 
 riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. 
 Tell me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself 
 of this Golden Touch?" 
 
 "It is hateful to me!" replied Midas. 
 
fiO THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to 
 the floor, for it too had become gold. Midas shud- 
 dered. 
 
 "Go, then," said the stranger, "and plunge into 
 the river that glides past the bottom of your garden. 
 Take likewise a vase of the same water, and sprin- 
 kle it over any object that you may desire to change 
 back again from gold into its former substance. If 
 you do this in earnestness and sincerity, it may pos- 
 sibly repair the mischief which your avarice has occa- 
 sioned." 
 
 King Midas bowed low, and when he lifted his head 
 the lustrous stranger had vanished. 
 
 You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in 
 snatching up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it 
 was no longer earthen after he touched it) and hasten- 
 ing to the river-side. As he scampered along and 
 forced his way through the shrubbery, it was possibly 
 marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow be- 
 hind him, as if the autumn had been there and no- 
 where else. On reaching the river's brink he plunged 
 headlong in, without waiting so much as to pull off 
 his shoes. 
 
 "Poof! poof! poof!" snorted King Midas as his 
 head emerged out of the water. " Well, this is really 
 a refreshing bath, and I think it must have quite 
 washed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling 
 my pitcher." 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 81 
 
 As he dipped the pitcher into the water it gladdened 
 his very heart to see it change from gold into the 
 same good, honest earthen vessel which it had been 
 jefore he touched it. He was conscious also of a 
 change within himself. A cold, hard, and heavy- 
 weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No 
 doubt his heart had been gradually losing its human 
 substance and transmuting itself into insensible metal, 
 but had now softened back again into flesh. Perceiv- 
 ing a violet that grew on the bank of the river, Midas 
 touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed to find 
 that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, in- 
 stead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of 
 the Golden Touch had therefore really been removed 
 from him. 
 
 King Midas hastened back to the palace, and I 
 suppose the servants knew not what to make of it 
 when they saw their royal master so carefully bring- 
 ing home an earthen pitcher of water. But that 
 water, which was to undo all the mischief that his 
 folly had wrought, was more precious to Midas than 
 an ocean of molten gold could have been. The first 
 thing he did, as you need hardly be told, was to 
 sprinkle it by handfuls over the golden figure of little 
 Marygold. 
 
 No sooner did it fall on her than you would have 
 laughed to see how the rosy color came back to the 
 dear child's cheek, and how she began to sneeze and 
 6 
 
82 THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 
 
 sputter, and how astonished she was to find herself 
 dripping wet and her father still throwing more 
 water over her. 
 
 " Prav do not, dear father!" cried she. " See how 
 you have wet my nice frock, which I put on only 
 this morning." 
 
 For Marvgold did not know that she had been a 
 little golden statue, nor could she remember anything 
 that had happened since the moment when she ran 
 with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas. 
 
 Her father did not think it necessary to tell his 
 beloved child how very foolish he had been, but con- 
 tented himself with showing how much wiser he had 
 now grown. For this purpose he led little Marygold 
 into the garden, where he sprinkled all the remainder 
 of the water over the rosebushes, and with such good 
 effect that above five thousand roses recovered their 
 beautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, 
 however, which, as long as he lived, used to put 
 Kiug Midas in mind of the Golden Touch. One was 
 that the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the 
 other, that little Marygold's hair had now a golden 
 tinge which he had never observed in it before she 
 had been transmuted bv the effect of his kiss. The 
 change of hue was really an improvement, and made 
 Marvsfold's hair richer than in her babvhood. 
 
 When King Midas had grow quite an old man, and 
 Bsed to trot Marygold's children on his knee, he was 
 
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 8a 
 
 fond of telling them this marvellous story, pretty 
 much as I have now told it to you. And then would 
 he stroke their glossy ringlets and tell them that their 
 hair likewise had a rich shade of gold, which they 
 had inherited from their mother. 
 
 "And, to tell you the truth, my precious little 
 folks," quoth King Midas, diligently trotting the 
 children all the while, " ever since that morning I 
 have hated the very sight of all other gold save this." 
 
SHADOW BROOK. 
 
 AFTER THE STOEY. 
 
 "Well, children," inquired Eustace, who was very 
 fond of eliciting a definite opinion from his auditors, 
 ** did yon ever, in all your lives, listen to a better 
 story than this of 'The Golden Touch'?" 
 
 "Why, as to the story of King Midas," said saucy 
 Primrose, " it was a famous one thousands of years 
 before Mr. Eustace Bright came into the world, and 
 will continue to be so long after he quits it. But 
 some people have what we may call 'The Leaden 
 Touch,' and make everything dull and heavy that 
 they lay their fingers upon." 
 
 " You are a smart child, Primrose, to be not yet in 
 your teens," said Eustace, taken rather aback by the 
 piquancy of her criticism. " But you well know in 
 your naughty little heart that I have burnished the 
 old gold of Midas all over anew, and have made it 
 shine as it never shone before. And then that figure 
 of Marygold ! Do you perceive no nice workmanship 
 
A Wonder Book 2 
 
 JUPITER 
 
SHADOW BROOK. 85 
 
 in that? And how finely I have brought out and 
 deepened the moral! What say you, Sweet Fern, 
 Dandelion, Clover, Periwinkle? Would any of you, 
 after hearing this story, be so foolish as to desire the 
 faculty of changing things to gold?" 
 
 "I should like," said Periwinkle, a girl of ten, "to 
 have the power of turning everything to gold with 
 my right forefinger, but with my left forefinger I 
 should want the power of changing it back again if 
 the first change did not j^lease me. And I know 
 what I would do this very afternoon." 
 
 " Pray tell me," said Eustace. 
 
 "Why," answered Periwinkle, "I would touch 
 every one of those golden leaves on the trees with my 
 left forefinger and make them all green again, so that 
 we might have the summer back at once, with no 
 ugly winter in the mean time." 
 
 "Oh, Periwinkle!" cried Eustace Bright, "there 
 you are wrong, and would do a great deal of mischief. 
 Were I Midas, I would make nothing else but just 
 such golden days as these, over and over again, all 
 the year throughout. My best thoughts always come 
 a little too late. Why did I not tell you how old 
 King Midas came to America and changed the dusky 
 autumn, such as it is in other countries, into the 
 burnished beauty which it here puts on? He gilded 
 the leaves of the great volume of Nature." 
 
 "Cousin Eustace," said Sweet Fern, a good little 
 
86 SHADOW BROOK. 
 
 boy, who was always making particular inquiries about 
 the precise height of giants and the littleness of fair- 
 ies, " how big was Marygold, and how much did she 
 weigh when she was turned to gold?" 
 ' "She was about as tall as you are," replied Eus- 
 tace, "and, as gold is very heavy, she weighed at 
 least two thousand pounds, and might have been 
 coined into thirty or forty thousand gold dollars. I 
 wish Primrose were worth half as much. Come, little 
 people, let us clamber out of the dell and look about 
 us." 
 
 They did so. The sun was now an hour or two 
 beyond its noontide mark, and filled the great hollow 
 of the valley with its western radiance, so that it 
 seemed to be brimming with mellow light, and to 
 spill it over the surrounding hillsides like golden 
 wine out of a bowl. It was such a day that, you 
 could not help saying of it, " There never was such 
 a day before," although yesterday was just such a 
 day, and to-morrow will be just such another. Ah, 
 but there are very few of them in a twelvemonth's 
 circle! It is a remarkable peculiarity of these Octo- 
 ber days that each of them seems to occupy a great 
 deal of space, although the sun rises rather tardily 
 at that season of the year, and goes to bed, as little 
 children ought, at sober six o'clock, or even earlier. 
 We cannot therefore call the days long, but they ap' 
 pear, somehow or other, to make up for their short" 
 
SHADOW BROOK. 87 
 
 Dess by their breadth, and when the cool night comes 
 we are conscious of having enjoyed a big armful of 
 life since morning. 
 
 "Come, children, come!" cried Enstace Bright. 
 "More nuts, more nuts, more nuts! Fill all your 
 baskets, and at Christmas-time I will crack them for 
 you and tell you beautiful stories." 
 
 So away they went, all of them in excellent spir- 
 its, except little Dandelion, who, I am sorry to tell 
 you, had been sitting on a chestnut-burr, and was 
 stuck as full as a pincushion of its prickles. Dear me, 
 how uncomfortable he must have felt! 
 
TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. 
 
 INTEODUCTORY TO "THE PAEADISE OP 
 
 CHILDEEN." 
 
 The golden days of October passed away, as so 
 many other Octobers have, and brown November like- 
 wise, and the greater part of chill December too. At 
 last came merry Christmas, and Eustace Bright along 
 with it, making it all the merrier by his presence, 
 and the day after his arrival from college there came 
 a mighty snowstorm. Up to this time the winter 
 had held back, and had given us a good many mild 
 days which were like smiles upon its wrinkled visage. , 
 The grass had kept itself green in sheltered places, 
 such as the nooks of southern hill-slopes and along 
 the lee of the stone fences. It was but a week or two 
 ago, and since the beginning of the month, that the 
 children had found a dandelion in bloom on the mar- 
 gin of Shadow Brook where it glides out of the dell. 
 
 But no more green grass and dandelions now. 
 This was such a snowstorm! Twenty miles of it 
 
90 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. 
 
 might have been visible at once, between the windows 
 of Tanglewood and the Dome of Taconic, had it been 
 possible to see so far among the eddying drifts that 
 whitened all the atmosphere. It seemed as if the 
 hills were giants, and were flinging monstrous hand- 
 fuls of snow at one another in their enormous sport. 
 So thick were the fluttering snowflakes that even the 
 trees midway down the valley were hidden by them 
 the greater part of the time. Sometimes, it is true, 
 the little prisoners of Tanglewood could discern a 
 dim outline of Monument Mountain, and the smooth 
 whiteness of the frozen lake at its base, and the black 
 or gray tracts of woodland in the nearer landscape. 
 But these were merely peeps through the tempest. 
 
 Nevertheless, the children rejoiced greatly in the 
 snowstorm. They had already made acquaintance 
 with it by tumbling heels over head into its highest 
 drifts, and flinging snow at one another, as we have 
 just fancied the Berkshire mountains to be doing. 
 And now they had come back to their spacious play- 
 room, which was as big as the great drawing-room, 
 and was lumbered with all sorts of playthings, large 
 and small. The biggest was a rocking-horse that 
 looked like a real pony; and there was a whole family 
 of wooden, waxen, plaster, and china dolls, besides 
 rag-babies; and blocks enough to build Bunker Hill 
 Monument, and ninepins, and balls, and humming- 
 tops and battledoors, and grace-sticks, and skipping- 
 
TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. 91 
 
 ropes, and more of such valuable property than I 
 could tell of Id a printed page. But the children 
 liked the snowstorm better than them all. It sug- 
 gested so many brisk enjoyments for to-morrow and 
 all the remainder of the winter — the sleigh-ride, the 
 slides down hill into the valley, the snow images that 
 were to be shaped out, the snow fortresses that were 
 to be built, and the snowballing to be carried on! 
 
 So the little folks blessed the snowstorm, and were 
 glad to see it come thicker and thicker, and watched 
 hopefully the long drift that was piling itself up in 
 the avenue, and was already higher than any of their 
 heads. 
 
 "Why, we shall be blocked up till spring!" cried 
 they with the hugest delight. " What a pity that the 
 house is too high to be quite covered up! The little 
 red house down yonder will be buried up to its eaves." 
 
 " You silly children, what do you want of more 
 snow?" asked Eustace, who, tired of some novel that 
 he was skimming through, had strolled into the play- 
 room. "It has done mischief enough already by 
 spoiling the only skating that I could hope for 
 through the winter. We shall see nothing more of 
 the lake till April, and this was to have been my first 
 day upon it! Don't you pity me, Primrose?" 
 
 "Oh, to be sure!" answered Primrose, laughing. 
 " But for your comfort we will listen to another of 
 your old stories, such as you told us under the porch 
 
92 TANGLEWOOD PLAY- ROOM. 
 
 and down in the hollow by Shadow Brook. Perhaps 
 I shall like them better now, when there is nothing 
 to do, than while there were nuts to be gathered and 
 beautiful weather to enjoy." 
 
 Hereupon, Periwinkle, Clover, Sweet Fern, and 
 as many others of the little fraternity and cousinhood 
 as were still at Tangle wood gathered about Eustace 
 and earnestly besought him for a story. The student 
 yawned, stretched himself, and then, to the vast ad- 
 miration of the small people, skipped three times back 
 and forth over the top of a chair, in order, as he ex- 
 plained to them, to set his wits in motion. 
 
 "Well, well, children," said he after these prelimi- 
 naries, " since you insist, and Primrose has set her 
 heart upon it, I will see what can be done for you. 
 And, that you may know what happy days there were 
 before snowstorms came into fashion, I will tell vou 
 a story of the oldest of all old times, when the world 
 was as new as Sweet Fern's bran-new humming-top. 
 There was then but one season in the year, and that 
 was the delightful summer; and but one age for mor- 
 tals, and that was childhood." 
 
 " I never heard of that before," said Primrose. 
 
 " Of couse you never did," answered Eustace. " It 
 shall be a story of what nobody but myself ever 
 dreamed of — a Paradise of Children, and how, by the 
 naughtiness of just such a little imp as Primrose 
 "^ere, it all came to nothing." 
 
TANGLEWOOD PLAY- ROOM. 93 
 
 So Eustace Bright sat down in the chair which he 
 had just been skipping over, took Cowslip upon his 
 knee, ordered silence throughout the auditory, and 
 began a story about a sad, naughty child whose name 
 was Pandora, and about her playfellow Epimetheus. 
 You may read it, word for word, in the pages that 
 come next. - 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 Long, long ago, when this old world was in its 
 tender infancy, there was a child named Epimethens, 
 who never had either father or mother; and, that he 
 might not be lonely, another child, fatherless and 
 motherless like himself, and was sent from a far 
 country to live with him and be his pla3'fellow and 
 helpmate. Her name was Pandora. 
 
 The first thing that Pandora saw when she entered 
 the cottage where Epimetheus dwelt was a great 
 box, and almost the first question which she put to 
 him after crossing the threshold was this: 
 
 " Epimetheus, what have you in that box?" 
 
 "My dear little Pandora," answered Epimetheus, 
 " that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not 
 to ask any questions about it. The box was left here 
 to be kept safely, and I do not myself know what it 
 contains." 
 
 "But who gave it to you?" asked Pandora, "and 
 where did it come from?" 
 
 That is a secret too," replied Epimetheus. 
 
 u n 
 
THE PAKADISE OF CHILDREN. 95 
 
 " How provoking .'" exclaimed Pcindora, pouting 
 her lip. " I wish the great ugly box were out of the 
 way!" 
 
 "Oh, come, don't think of it any more," cried Ep- 
 imetheus. "Let us run out of doors and have some 
 nice play with the other children." 
 
 It is thousands of years since EpimetheUs and Pan- 
 dora were alive, and the world nowadays is a very 
 different sort of thing from what it was in their time. 
 Then everybody was a child. They needed no fathers 
 and mothers to take care of the children, because there 
 was no danger nor trouble of any kind, and no clothes 
 to be mended, and there was always plenty to eat and 
 drink. Whenever a child wanted his dinner, he 
 found it growing on a tree ; and if he looked at the 
 tree in the morning, he could see the expanding 
 blossom of that night's supper, or at eventide he saw 
 the tender bud of to-morrow's breakfast. It was a 
 very pleasant life indeed. No labor to be done, no 
 tasks to be studied — nothing but sports and dances, 
 and sweet voices of children talking or carolling like 
 birds or gushing out in merry laughter throughout 
 the livelong day. 
 
 What was most wonderful of all, the children never 
 quarrelled among themselves, neither had they any 
 crying fits, nor, since time first began, had a single 
 one of these little mortals ever gone apart into a 
 corner and sulked. Oh, what a good time was that 
 
96 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 to be alive in ! The truth is, those ugly little winged 
 monsters called Troubles, which are now almost as 
 numerous as mosquitoes, had never yet been seen on 
 the earth. It is probable that the very greatest dis- 
 quietude which a child had ever experienced was 
 Pandora's vexation at not being able to discover the 
 sceret of the mysterious box. 
 
 This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble, 
 but every day it grew more and more substantial, 
 until, before a great while, the cottage of Epimetheus 
 and Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the other 
 children. 
 
 *' Whence can the box have come?" Pandora contin- 
 ually kept saying to herself and to Epimetheus, " and 
 what in the world can be inside of it?" 
 
 " Always talking about this box!" said Epimetheus 
 at last, for he had grown extremely tired of the sub- 
 ject. " I wish, dear Pandora, you would try to talk 
 of something else. Come, let us go and gather some 
 ripe figs and eat them under the trees for our supper. 
 And I know a vine that has the sweetest and juiciest 
 grapes you ever tasted." 
 
 "Always talking about grapes and figs!" cried 
 Pandora, pettishly. 
 
 "Well, then," said Epimethens, who was a very 
 good-tempered child, like a multitude of children in 
 those days, "let us run out and have a merry time 
 with our playmates." 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 97 
 
 *' I am tired of merry times, and don't care if I 
 never have any more. This ugly box ! I am so taken 
 up with thinking about it all the time! I insist 
 upon your telling me what is inside of it." 
 
 " As I have already said fifty times over, I do not 
 know," replied Epimetheus, getting a little vexed. 
 "How, then, can I tell you what is inside?" 
 
 "You might open it," said Pandora, looking side- 
 ways at EpimetheuSj " and then we could see for our- 
 selves." 
 
 "Pandora, what are you thinking of ?" exclaimed 
 Epimetheus. 
 
 And his face expressed so much horror at the idea 
 of looking into a box which had been confided to him 
 on the condition of his never opening it that Pandora 
 thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, 
 however, she could not help thinking and talking 
 about the box. 
 
 " At least," she said, "you can tell me how it came 
 here." 
 
 "It was left at the door," replied Epimetheus, 
 
 " just before you came, by a person who looked very 
 
 smiling and intelligent, and who could hardly forbear 
 
 laughing as he put it down. He was dressed in an 
 
 odd kind of a cloak, and had on a cap that seemed to 
 
 be made partly of feathers, so that it looked almost 
 
 as if it had wings." 
 
 "What sort of a staff had he?" asked Pandora. 
 7 
 
98 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 "Oh, the most curious staff you ever saw!" cried 
 Epimetheus. " It was like two serpents twisting 
 around a stick, and was carved so naturally that I at 
 first thought the serpents were alive." 
 
 "I know him," said Pandora, thoughtfully. "No- 
 body else has such a staff. It was Quicksilver, and he 
 brought me hither as well as the box. No doubt he 
 intended it for me, and most probably it contains 
 pretty dresses for me to wear, or toys for you and me 
 to play with, or something very nice for us both to 
 eat." 
 
 "Perhaps so," answered Epimetheus, turning 
 away. " But until Q,uicksilver comes back and tells 
 us so, we have either of us any right to lift the lid of 
 the box." 
 
 "What a dull boy he is!" muttered Pandora as 
 Epimetheus left the cottage. " I do wish he had a 
 little more enterprise!" 
 
 For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus 
 had gone out without asking Pandora to accompany 
 him. He went to gather figs and grapes by himself, 
 or to seek whatever amusement he could find in other 
 society than his little playfellow's. He was tired to 
 death of hearing about the box, and heartily wished 
 that Quicksilver, or whatever was the messenger's 
 name, had left it at some other child's door, where 
 Pandora would never have set eyes on it. So perse- 
 Teringly as she did babble doout this one thing! The 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 99 
 
 box, the box, and nothing bat the box! It seemed 
 as if the box were bewitched, and as if the cottage 
 were not big enough to hold it without Pandora's 
 continually stumbling over it, and making -Epime- 
 theus stumble over it likewise, and bruising all four 
 of their shins. 
 
 Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus 
 should have a box in his ears from morning till night, 
 especially as the little, people of the earth were so un- 
 accustomed to vexations in those happy days that 
 they knew not how to deal with them. Thus a small 
 vexation made as much disturbance then as a far 
 bigger one would in our own times. 
 
 After Epimetheus was gone Pandora stood gazing at 
 the box. She had called it ugly above a hundred 
 times, but, in spite of all that she had said against it, 
 it was positively a very handsome article of furniture, 
 and would have been quite an ornament to any room 
 in which it should be placed. It was made of a beau- 
 tiful kind of wood, with dark and rich veins spread- 
 ing over its surface, which was so highly polished 
 that little Pandora could see her face in it. As the 
 child had no other looking-glass, it is odd that she 
 did not value the box merely on this account. 
 
 The edges and corners of the box were carved with 
 most wonderful skill. Around the margin there were 
 figures of graceful men and women and the prettiest 
 children ever seen, reclining or sporting amid a pro- 
 
100 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 fusion of flowers and foliage ; and these various ob- 
 jects were so exquisitely represented and were wrought 
 together in such harmony that flowers, foliage, and 
 human beings seemed to combine into a wreath of 
 mingled beauty. But here and there, peeping forth 
 from behind the carved foliage. Pandora once or twice 
 fancied that she saw a face not so lovely, or some- 
 thing or other that was disagreeable, and which 
 stole the beauty out of all the rest. Nevertheless, on 
 looking more closely and touching the spot with her 
 finger, she could discover nothing of the kind. Some 
 face that was really beautiful had been made to look 
 ugly by her catching a sideway glimpse at it. 
 
 The most beautiful face of all was done in what is 
 called high relief in the centre of the lid. There 
 was nothing else save the dark, smooth richness of 
 the polished wood, and this one face in the centre 
 with a garland of flowers about his brow. Pandora 
 had looked at this face a great many times, and im- 
 agined that the mouth could smile if it liked, or be 
 grave when it chose, the same as any living mouth. 
 The features, indeed, all wore a very lively and rather 
 mischievous expression, which looked almost as if 
 it needs must burst out of the carved lips and utter 
 itself in words. 
 
 Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have 
 been something like this: 
 
 "Po not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 101 
 
 there be in opening the box? Never mind that poor, 
 simple Epimetheus. You are wiser than he, and have 
 ten times as much spirit. Open the box and see if 
 you do not find something very pretty." 
 
 The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fast- 
 ened, not by a lock nor by any other such contrivance, 
 but by a very intricate knot of gold cord. There 
 appeared to be no end to this knot, and no beginning. 
 Never was a knot so cunningly twisted nor with so 
 many ins and outs, which roguishly defied the skil- 
 fulest fingers to disentangle them. And yet, by the 
 very difficulty that there was in it. Pandora was the 
 more tempted to examine the knot and just see how 
 it was made. Two or three times already she had 
 stooped over the box and taken the knot between 
 her thumb and forefinger, but without positively 
 trying to undo it. 
 
 *' I really believe," said she to herself, " that I begin 
 to see how it was done. Nay, perhaps I could tie it 
 ap again after undoing it. There would be no harm 
 in that, surely. Even Epimetheus would not blame 
 me for that. I need not open the box, and should 
 not, of course, without the foolish boy's consent, even 
 if the knot were untied." 
 
 It might have been better for Pandora if she had 
 had a little work to do, or anything to employ her 
 mind upon, so as not to be so constantly thinking of 
 this one subiect. But children led so easy a life be- 
 
102 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 fore any Troubles came into the world that they Ij^^d 
 really a great deal too much leisure. They could not 
 be forever playing at hide-and-seek among the flower- 
 shrubs, or at blindman's buff with garlands over 
 their eyes, or at whatever other games had been found 
 out while Mother Earth was in her babyhood. When 
 life is all sport, toil is the real play. There was ab- 
 solutely nothing to do. A little sweeping and dust- 
 ing about the cottage, I suppose, and the gathering 
 of fresh flowers (which were only too abundant 
 everywhere) and arranging them in vases — and poor 
 little Pandora's day's v/ork was over. And then, 
 for the rest of the day, there was the box! 
 
 After all, I am not quite sure that the box was not 
 a blessing to her iu its way. It supplied her with 
 such a variety of ideas to think of and to talk about 
 whenever she had anybody to listen! AVhen she was 
 in good humor she could admire the bright polish of 
 its sides and the rich border of beautiful faces and 
 foliage that ran all around it. Or, if she chanced to 
 be ill-tempered, she could give it a push or kick it 
 with her naughty little foot. And many a kick 
 did the box (but it was a mischievous box, as we shall 
 see, and deserved all it got) — many a kick did it re- 
 ceive. But certain it is, if it had not been for the 
 box our active-minded little Pandora would not have 
 known half so well how to spend her time as she now 
 did. 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 103 
 
 For it was really an endless employment to guess 
 what was inside. What could it be, indeed? Just 
 imagine, my little hearers, how busy your wits would 
 be if there were a great box in the house which, as 
 you might have reason to suppose, contained some- 
 thing new and pretty for your Christmas or New- 
 Year's gifts. Do you think that you should be less 
 curious than Pandora? If you were left alone with 
 the box, might you not feel a little tempted to lift 
 the lid? But you would not do it. Oli, fie! No, 
 no! Only, if you thought there were toys in it, it 
 would be so very hard to let slip an opportunity of 
 taking just one peep ! I know not whether Pandora 
 expected any toys, for none had yet begun to be made, 
 probably, in those days, when the world itself was 
 one great plaything for the children that dwelt upon 
 it. But Pandora was convinced that there was some- 
 thing very beautiful and valuable in the box, and 
 therefore she felt just as anxious to take a peep as 
 any of these little girls here around me would have 
 felt, and possibly a little more so; but of that I am 
 not quite so certain. 
 
 On this particular day, however, which we have so 
 long been talking about, her curiosity grew so much 
 greater than it usually was that at last she approached 
 the box. She was more than half-determined to open 
 it if she could. Ah, naughty Pandora! 
 
 First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy -^ 
 
104 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 quite too heavy for the slender strength of a child 
 like Pandora. She raised one end of the box a few 
 inches from the floor, and let it fall again with a 
 pretty loud thump. A moment afterward she almost 
 fancied that she heard something stir inside of the 
 box. She applied her ear as closely as possible and 
 listened. Positively, there did seem to be a kind of 
 stifled murmur within! Or was it merely the sing- 
 ing in Pandora's ears? Or could it be the beating of 
 her heart? The child could not quite satisfy herself 
 whether she had heard anything or no. But, at all 
 events, her curiosity was stronger than ever. 
 
 As she drew back her head her eyes fell upon the 
 knot of gold cord. 
 
 " It must have been a very ingenious person who 
 tied this knot," said Pandora to herself. "But I 
 think I could untie it, nevertheless. I am resolved, 
 at least, to find the two ends of the cord." 
 
 So she took the golden knot in her fingers and pried 
 into its intricacies as sharply as she could. Almost 
 without intending it or quite knowing what she 
 was about, she was soon busily engaged in attempting 
 to undo it. Meanwhile the bright sunshine came 
 through the open window, as did likewise the merry 
 voices of the children playing at a distance, and per- 
 haps the voice of Epimetheus among them. Pandora 
 stopped to listen. What a beautiful day it was! 
 Would it not be wiser if she were to let the trouble- 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 105 
 
 Bome knot alone and think no more about the box, t 
 but run and join her little playfellows and be happy? 
 
 All this time, however, her fingers were half un- 
 consciously busy with the knot; and, happening to 
 glance at the flower-wreathed face on the lid of the 
 enchanted box, she seemed to perceive it slyly grin- 
 ning at her. 
 
 "That face looks very mischievous," thought Pan- 
 dora. " I wonder whether it smiles because I am 
 doing wrong? I have the greatest mind in the world 
 to run away." 
 
 But just then, by the merest accident, she gave 
 the knot a kind of a twist, which produced a wonder- 
 ful result. The gold cord untwined itself ^s if by 
 magic, and left the box without a fastening. 
 
 "This is the strangest thing I ever knew \" said 
 Pandora. "What will Epimetheus say? And how 
 can I possibly tie it up again?" 
 
 She made one or two attempts to restore the knot, 
 but soon found it quite beyond her skill. It had 
 disentangled itself so suddenly that she could not in 
 the least remember how the strings had been doubled 
 into one another, and when she tried to recollect the 
 shape and appearance of the knot it seemed to have 
 gone entirely out of her mind. Nothing was to be 
 done, therefore, but to let the box remain as it was 
 until Epimetheus should come in. 
 
 " But," said Pandora, " when he finds th3 knot un- 
 
106 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 tied he will know that I have done it. How shall I 
 make him believe that I have not looked into the box?" 
 
 And then the thought came into her naughty little 
 heart that, since she would be suspected of having 
 looked into the box, she might just as well do so at 
 once. Oh, very naughty and very foolish Pandora! 
 You should have thought only of doing what was 
 right and of leaving undone what was wrong, and 
 not of what your playfellow Epimetheus would have 
 said or believed. And so, perhaps, she might if the 
 enchanted face on the lid of the box had not looked 
 so bewitchingly persuasive at her, and if she had not 
 seemed to hear, more distinctly than before, the 
 murmur of small voices within. She could not tell 
 whether it was fancy or no, but there was quite a lit- 
 tle tumult of whispers in her ear, or else it was her 
 curiosity that whispered: 
 
 " Let us out, dear Pandora — pray let us out! We 
 will be such nice, pretty playfellows for you ! Only 
 let us out!" 
 
 "What can it be?" thought Pandora. " Is there 
 something alive in the box? Well! — yes! — I am re- 
 solved to take just one peep! Only one peep, and 
 then the lid shall be shut down as safely as ever. 
 There cannot possibly be any harm in just one little 
 peep." 
 
 But it is now time for us to see what Epimetheus 
 was doing. 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 107 
 
 This was the first time since iiis little plaj^mate had 
 come to dwell witti him that he had attempted to 
 enjoy any pleasure in which she did not partake. 
 But nothing went right, nor was he nearly so happy 
 as on other days. He could not find a sweet grape 
 or a ripe fig (if Epimetheus had a fault, it was a little 
 too much fondness for figs), or, if ripe at all, they 
 were over-ripe and so sweet as to be cloying. There 
 was no mirth in his heart, such as usually made his 
 voice gush out of its own accord and swell the merri- 
 ment of his companions. In short, he grew so uneasy 
 and discontented that the other children could not 
 imagine what was the matter with Epimetheus. 
 Neither did he himself know what ailed him any 
 better than they did. For yon must recollect that at 
 the time we are speaking "of it was everybody's nature 
 and constant habit to be happy. The world had not 
 yet learned to be otherwise. Not a single soul or 
 body, since these children were first sent to enjoy 
 themselves on the beautiful earth, had ever been sick 
 or out of sorts. 
 
 At length, discovering that somehow or other he 
 put a stop to all the play, Epimetheus judged it best 
 to go back to Pandora, who was in a humor better 
 suited to his own. But, with a hope of giving her 
 pleasure, he gathered some flowers and made them 
 into a wreath which he meant to put upon her head. 
 The flowers were very lovely — roses and lilies and 
 
108 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 orange-blossoms and a great many more, which left a 
 trail of fragrance behind as Epimetheus carried them 
 along ; and the wreath was put together with as much 
 skill as could reasonably be exj^ected of a boy. The 
 fingers of little girls, it has always appeared to me, 
 are the fittest to twine flower-wreaths; but boys could 
 do it in those days rather better than they can now. 
 
 And here I must mention that a great black cloud 
 had been gathering in the sky for some time past, 
 although it had not yet overspread the sun. But 
 just as Epimetheus reached the cottage door this cloud 
 began to intercept the sunshine and thus to make a 
 sudden and sad obscurity. 
 
 He entered softly, for he meant, if possible, to 
 steal behind Pandora and fling the wreath of flowers 
 over her head before she should be aware of his ap- 
 proach. But, as it happened, there was no need of 
 his treading so very lightly. He might have trod as 
 heavily as he pleased — as heavily as a grown man — as 
 heavily, I was going to say, as an elephant — without 
 much probability of Pandora hearing his footsteps. 
 She was too intent upon her purpose. At the mo- 
 ment of his entering the cottage the naughty child 
 had put her hand to the lid and was on the point of 
 opening the mysterious box. Epimetheus beheld her. 
 If he had cried out. Pandora would probably have 
 withdrawn her hand, and the fatal mystery of the bo:J 
 might never have been known. 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. . 109 
 
 But Epimethens himself, although he said very 
 little about it, had his own share of curiosity to know 
 what was inside. Perceiving that Pandora was re- 
 solved to find out the secret, he determined that his 
 playfellow should not be the only wise person in the 
 cottage. And if there were anything pretty or valu- 
 able in the box, he meant to take half of it to himself. 
 Thus, after all his sage speeches to Pandora about re- 
 straining her curiosity, Epimetheus turned out to be 
 quite as foolish, and nearly as much in fault, as she. 
 So, whenever we blame Pandora for what happened, 
 we must not forget to shake our heads at Epimetheus 
 likewise. 
 
 As Pandora raised the lid the cottage grew very 
 dark and dismal, for the black cloud had now swept 
 quite over the sun and seemed to have buried it alive. 
 There had, for a little while past, been a low growling 
 and muttering, which all at once broke into a heavy 
 peal of thunder. But Pandora, heeding nothing of 
 all this, lifted the lid nearly upright and looked in- 
 side. It seemed as if a sudden swarm of winged 
 creatures brushed past her, taking flight out of the 
 box, while at the same instant she heard the voice of 
 Epimetheus with a lamentable tone, as if he were in 
 pain. 
 
 "Oh, I am stung!" cried he. "I am stung! 
 Naughty Pandora, why have you opeoed this wicker 
 box?" 
 
no THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked 
 about her to see what had befallen Epimetheus. The 
 thunder-cloud had so darkened the room that she 
 could not very clearly discern what was in it. But 
 she heard a disagreeable buzzing, as if a great many 
 huge flies or gigantic mosquitoes, or those insects 
 which we call dor-bugs and pinching-dogs,were dart- 
 ing about. And as her eyes grew more accustomed to 
 the imperfect light she saw a crowd of ugly little 
 shapes with bats' wings, looking abominably spiteful, 
 and armed with terribly long stings in their tails. It 
 was one of these that had stung Epimetheus. Xor 
 was it a great while before Pandora herself began to 
 scream in no less pain and affright than her playfel- 
 low, and making a vast deal more hubbub about it. 
 An odious little monster had settled on her forehead, 
 and would have stung her I know not how deeply if 
 Epimetheus had not run and brushed it away. 
 
 Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things 
 might be which had made their escape out of the 
 box, I must tell you that they were the whole family 
 of earthlv Troubles. There were evil Passions; there 
 were a great many species of Cares; there were more 
 than a hundred and fifty Sorrows; there were Diseases 
 in a vast number of miserable and painful shapes; 
 there were more kinds of Naughtiness than it would 
 be of any use to talk about. In short, everything 
 tiiat has since afflicted the souls and bodies of mankind 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. Ill 
 
 had been shut np in the mysterious box and given to 
 Epimetheus and Pandora to be kept safely, in order 
 that the happy children of the world might never be 
 molested by them. Had they been faithful to their 
 trust, all would have gone well. No grown person 
 would ever have been sad, nor any child have hsid 
 cause to shed a single tear from that hour until this 
 moment. 
 
 But — and you may see by this how a wrong act of 
 any one mortal is a calamity to the whole world — by 
 Pandora's lifting the lid of that miserable box, and 
 by the fault of Epimetheus, too, in not preventing 
 her, these Troubles have obtained a foothold among 
 us, and do not seem very likely to be driven away in 
 a hurry. For it was impossible, as you will easily 
 guess, that the two children should keep the ugly 
 swarm in their own little cottage. On the contrary, 
 the first thing that they did was to fling open the 
 doors and windows in hopes of getting rid of them ; 
 and, sure enough, away flew the winged Troubles all 
 abroad, and so pestered and tormented the small 
 people everywhere about that none of them so much 
 as smiled for many days afterward. And, what was 
 very singular, all the flowers and dewy blossoms on 
 earth, not one of which had hitherto faded, now 
 began to droop and shed their leaves after a day or 
 two. The ch^^dren, moreover, who before seemed 
 immortal in th®^^ childhood, now grew older day bj 
 
112 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 > 
 
 day, and came soon to be youths and maidens, and 
 men and women by and by, and aged people before 
 they dreamed of such a thing. 
 
 Meanwhile the naughty Pandora and hardly less 
 naughty Epimetheus remained in their cottage. 
 Both of them had been grievously stung, and were in 
 a good deal of pain, which seemed the more intoler- 
 able to them because it was the very first pain that 
 had ever been felt since the world began. Of course 
 they were entirely unaccustomed to it, and could have 
 no idea what it meant. Besides all this, they were 
 in exceedingly bad humor both with themselves and 
 with one another. In order to indulge it to the ut- 
 most, Epimetheus sat down sullenly in a corner with 
 his back toward Pandora, while Pandora flung her- 
 self upon the floor and rested her head on the fatal 
 and abominable box. She was crying bitterly and 
 sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 
 Suddenly there was a gentle little tap on the inside 
 of the lid. 
 
 "What can that be?" cried Pandora, lifting her 
 head. 
 
 But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap or 
 was too much out of humor to notice it. At any 
 rate, he made no answer. 
 
 "You are very unkind," said Pandora, sobbing 
 anew, "not to speak to me." 
 
 Again the tap ! It sounded like ^^^'^ tiny knuckles 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN:. 113 
 
 of a fairy's hand knocking lightly and playfully on 
 the inside of the box. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Pandora, with a little of 
 her former curiosity. " Who are you, inside of this 
 naughty box?" 
 
 A sweet little voice spoke from within : 
 
 " Only lift the lid and you shall see." 
 
 " No, no !" answered Pandora, again beginning to 
 sob ; '* I have had enough of lifting the lid ! You 
 are inside of the box, naughty creature, and there 
 you shall stay! There are plenty of your ugly 
 brothers and sisters already flying about the world. 
 You need never think that I shall be so foolish as to 
 Jet you out." 
 
 She looked toward Epimetheus as she spoke, per- 
 haps expecting that he would commend her for her 
 wisdom. But the sullen boy only muttered that she 
 Was wise a little too late. 
 
 "Ah," said the sweet little voice again, "you had 
 much better let me out. I am not like those naughty 
 creatures that have stino^s in their tails. Thev are 
 no brothers and sisters of mine, as you would see at 
 once if you were only to get a glimpse of me. Come, 
 come, my pretty Pandora! I am sure you will let me 
 out!" 
 
 And, indeed, there was a kind of cheerful witcherj 
 in the tone that made it almost impossible to refuse 
 anytliing which this little voice asked. Pandora's 
 8 
 
114 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 
 
 heart had insensibly grown lighter at every woru that 
 came from within the box. Epimetheus too, though 
 still in a corner, had turned half round, and seemed 
 to be in rather better spirits than before. 
 
 "My dear Epimetheus," cried Pandora, "have you 
 heard this little voice?" 
 
 "Yes, to be sure I have," answered he, but in no 
 very good humor as yet, "And what of it?" 
 
 ^ Shall I lift the lid again?" asked Pandora. 
 
 "Just as you please," said Epimetheus. " You have 
 done so much mischief already that perhaps you may 
 as well do a little more. One other Trouble, in such 
 a swarm as you have set adrift about the world, can 
 make no very great difference." 
 
 "You might speak a little more kindly," mur- 
 mured Pandora, wiping her eyes. 
 
 "Ah, naughty boy!" cried the little voice within 
 the box in an arch and laughing tone. " He knowis 
 he is longing to see me. Come, my dear Pandora, 
 lift up the lid. I am in a great hurry to comfort 
 yon. Only let me have some fresh air, and you shall 
 soon see that matters are not quite so dismal as you 
 think them." 
 
 "Epimetheus," exclaimed Pandora, "come what 
 may, I am resolved to open the box." 
 
 "And, as the lid seems very heavy," cried Epime- 
 theus, running across the room, "I will help you." 
 
 So, with one consent, the two children again lifted 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 115 
 
 fciie lid. Out flew a sunny and smiling little person- 
 age, and hovered about the room, throwing a light 
 wherever she went. Have you never made the sun- 
 shine dance into dark corners by reflecting it from a 
 bit of looking-glass? Well, so looked the winged 
 cheerfulness of thisfairy-likestranger amid the gloom 
 of the cottage. She flew to Epimetheus and laid the 
 least touch of her finger on the inflamed spot where 
 the Trouble had stung him, and immediately the 
 anguish of it was gone. Then she kissed Pandora on 
 the forehead, and her hurt was cured likewise. 
 
 After performing these good offices the bright 
 stranger fluttered sportively over the children's heads, 
 and looked so sweetly at them that they both began 
 to think it not so very much amiss to have opened 
 their box, since otherwise their cheery guest must 
 have been kept a prisoner among those naughty imps 
 with stings in their tails. 
 
 "Pray who are you, beautiful creature?" inquired 
 Pandora. 
 
 "I am to be called Hope," answered the sunshiny 
 figure. *' And because I am such a cheery little body 
 I was packed into the box to make amends to the 
 human race for that swarm of ugly Troubles which 
 was destined to be let loose among them. Never 
 fear, we shall do pretty well in spite of them all." 
 
 "Your wings are colored like the rainbow!" ex« 
 claimed Pandora. "How very beautiful!" 
 
116 TEE PARADISE OF CHILDREJW 
 
 *' Yes, they are like the rainbow," aaid Hope, " be- 
 cause, glad as my nature is, I am partly made of 
 tears as well as smiles." 
 
 "And will you stay with us," asked Epiraetheus, 
 "for ever and ever?" 
 
 "As long as you need me," said Hope, with her 
 pleasant smile, "and that will be as long as you live 
 in the world. I promise never to desert you. There 
 may come times and seasons, now and then, when you 
 think that I have utterly vanished. But again and 
 again and again, when perhaps you least dream of it, 
 you shall see the glimmer of my wings on the ceiling 
 of your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and I know 
 something very good and beautiful that is to be 
 given to you hereafter." 
 
 " Oh, tell us!" they exclaimed; "tell us what it is!" 
 
 " Do not ask me," replied Hope, putting her finger 
 on her rosy mouth. " But do not despair, even if it 
 should never happen while you live on this earth. 
 Trust in my promise, for it is true." 
 
 " We do trust you !" cried Epimetheus and Pan- 
 dora, both in one breath. 
 
 And so they did; and not only they, but so has 
 everybody trusted Hope that has since been alive. 
 And, to tell you the truth, I cannot help being glad 
 (though, to be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty 
 thing for her to do), — but I cannot help being glad 
 th£kt our foolish Pandora peeped into the box. No 
 
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 117 
 
 doubt — no doubt — the Troubles are still flying about 
 the world, and have increased in multitude ratbet 
 than lessened, and are a very ugly set of imps, and 
 carry most venomous stings in their tails. I have 
 felt them already, and expect to feel them more as I 
 grow older. But then that lovely and lightsome 
 little figure of Hope ! What in the world could we 
 do without her? Hope spiritualizes the earth; Hope 
 makes it always new; and even in the earth's best 
 and brightest aspect Hope shows it to be only the 
 shadow of an infinite bliss hereafter I 
 
TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM, 
 
 AFTER THE STORY. 
 
 ** Primrose," asked Eustace, pinching her ear, 
 ""how do you like my little Pandora? Don't you 
 think her the exact picture of yourself? But you 
 would not have hesitated half so long about opening 
 the box." 
 
 " Then I should have been well punished for my 
 naughtiness," retorted Primrose, smartly, "for the 
 first thing to pop out after the lid was lifted would 
 have been Mr. Eustace Bright in the shape of a 
 Trouble." 
 
 "Cousin Eustace," said Sweet Fern, "did the box 
 hold all the trouble that has ever come into the 
 world?" 
 
 "Every mite of it!" answered Eustace. "This 
 very snowstorm which has spoiled my skating, was 
 packed up there." 
 
 "And how big was the box?" asked Sweet Fern. 
 
 " Why, perhaps three feet long," said Eustace, 
 **two feet wide, and two feet and a half high." 
 
TANGLEWOQD PLAY- ROOM. 119 
 
 ** Ah," said the child, "you are making fun of me, 
 Cousin Eustace ! I know there is not trouble enough 
 ivi the world to fill such a great box as that. As for 
 the snowstorm, it is no trouble at all, but a pleas- 
 ure, so it could not have been in the box." 
 
 " Hear the child !" cried Primrose, with an a^.r of 
 superiority. " How little he knows about the trou- 
 bles of this world ! Poor fellow I He will be wiser 
 when he has seen as much of life as I have." 
 
 So saying, she began to skip the rope. 
 
 Meantime the day was drawing toward its close. 
 Out of doors the scene certainly looked dreary. 
 There was a gray drift far and wide through the gath- 
 ering twilight, the earth was as pathless as the air, 
 and the bank of snow over the steps of the porch 
 proved that nobody had entered or gone out for a 
 good many hours past. Had there been only one 
 child at the window of Tanglewood gazing at this 
 wintry prospect, it would perhaps have made him 
 sad. But half a dozen children together, though 
 they cannot quite turn the world into a paradise, 
 may defy old Winter and all his storms to put them 
 cat of spirits. Eustace Bright, moreover, on th€ 
 spur of the moment invented several new kinds oi 
 play, which kept them all in a roar of merriment 
 till bedtime, and served for the next stormy daj 
 besides. 
 
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 INTEODUCTOEY TO " THE THEEE GOLDEN 
 
 APPLES." 
 
 The snowstorm lasted another day, but what be- 
 came of it afterward I cannot possibly imagine. At 
 any rate, it entirely cleared away during the night, 
 and when the sun arose the next morning it shone 
 brightly down on as bleak a tract of hill-coiintry here 
 in Berkshire as could be seen anywhere in the world. 
 The frostwork had so covered the window-panes 
 that it was hardly possible to get a glimpse at the 
 scenery outside. But while waiting for breakfast the 
 small populace of Tanglewood had scratched peep- 
 holes with their finger-nails, and saw with vast de- 
 light that — unless it were one or two bare patches on 
 a precipitous hillside or the gray effect of the snow 
 intermingled with the black pine forest — all nature 
 ■f^s as white as a sheet. How exceedingly pleasant! 
 And, to make it all the better, it was cold enough to 
 nip one's nose short off! If people have but life 
 
122 TAXGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 enough in them to bear it, there is nothing that SJO 
 raises the spirits and makes the blood ripple and 
 dance so nimbly, like a brook down the slope of a 
 hill, as a bright, hard frost. 
 
 No sooner was breakfast over than the whole party, 
 well muffled in furs and woollens, floundered forth into 
 the midst of the snow. Well, what a day of frosty 
 sport was this! They slid down hill into the valley a 
 hundred times, nobody knows how far; and, to make 
 it all the merrier, upsetting their sledges and tum- 
 bling head over heels quite as often as they came safely 
 to the bottom. And once Eustace Bright took Peri- 
 winkle, Sweet Fern, and Squash-blossom on the sledge 
 with him, by way of insuring a safe passage, and 
 down they went at full speed But, behold! half-way 
 down, the sledge hit against a hidden stump and 
 flung all four of its passengers into a heap, and on 
 gathering themselves up there was no little Squaslii- 
 blossom to be found! Why, what could have become 
 of the child? And while they were wondering and 
 staring about, up started Squash-blossom out of a 
 snow-bank with the reddest face you ever saw, and 
 looking as if a large scarlet flower had suddenly 
 sprouted up in midwinter. Then there was a gre^tt 
 langh. 
 
 A\'hen they had grown tired of sliding down hill, 
 Eustace set the children to digging a cave in the bijf- 
 gest snow-drift that they could find. Unluckily, 
 
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 12S 
 
 just as it was completed and the party had squeezed 
 themselves into the hollow, down came the roof upon 
 their heads and buried every soul of them alive! 
 The next moment up popped all their little heads out 
 of the ruins, and the tall student's head in the midst 
 of them, looking hoary and venerable with the snow- 
 dust that had got among his brown curls. And 
 then, to punish Cousin Eustace for advising them to 
 dig such a tumble-down cavern, the children at- 
 tacked him in a body, and so bepelted him with 
 snowballs that he was fain to take to his heels. 
 
 So he ran away and went into the woods, and 
 thence to the margin of Shadow Brook, where he 
 could hear the streamlet grumbling along under 
 great overhanging banks of snow and ice which would 
 scarcely let it see the light of day. There were 
 adamantine icicles glittering around all its light cas- 
 cades. Thence he strolled to the shore of the lake, 
 and beheld a white untrodden plain before him, 
 etretching from his own feet to the foot of Monu- 
 ment Mountain. And it being now almost sunset, 
 Eustace thought that he had never beheld any- 
 thing so fresh and beautiful as the scene. He was 
 glad that the children were not with him, for their 
 li/ely spirits and tumble-about activity would quite 
 have chased away his higher and graver mood, so 
 that he would merely have been merry (as he had 
 already ^3en the who3'^ '^*'.y long), and would not 
 
124 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 have known ihv "*trveliness of the winter sunset among 
 the hills. 
 
 When the sun was ^'^Ivlj down, our friend Eustace 
 went home to eat his supper. After the meal was 
 over he betook himself to the stud}^ with a purpose, 
 I rather imagine, to write an ode, or two or three 
 sonnets or verses of some kind or other, in praise of 
 the purple and golden clouds which he had seen 
 around the setting sun. But before he had ham- 
 mered out the very first rhyme, the door opened and 
 Primrose and Periwinkle made their appearance. 
 
 '* Go away, children, I can't be troubled with you 
 now!" cried the student, looking over his shoulder, 
 witn the pen between his fingers. " What in the world 
 do you want here? I thought you were all in bed." 
 
 *' Hear him. Periwinkle, trying to talk like a grown 
 man!" said Primrose. "And he seems to forget that 
 I am now thirteen years old, and may sit up almost 
 as late as I please. But, Cousin Eustace, you must 
 put off your airs and come with us to the drawing- 
 room. The children have talked so much about your 
 stories that my father wishes to hear one of them, in 
 order to judge whether they are likely to do any mis 
 chief." 
 
 " Poh, poh. Primrose!" exclaimed the student, 
 rather vexed. "I don't believe I can tell one of my 
 stories in the presence of grown people. Besides, 
 your father is a classical scholar; not that I am much 
 
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 125 
 
 afraid of his scholarship, either, for I doubt not it 
 is as rusty as an old caseknife by this time. But 
 then he will be sure to quarrel with the admirable 
 nonsense that I put in these stories out of my own 
 head, and which makes the great cliarm of the mat- 
 ter for children like yourself. No man of fifty who 
 has read the classical myths in his youth can possibly ^ 
 understand my merits as a reinventor and improvei' 
 of them." 
 
 "All this may be very true," said Primrose, " but 
 come you must. My father will not open his book 
 nor will mamma open the piano until you have given 
 us some of your nonsense, as you very correctly call 
 it. So be a good boy and come along." 
 
 Whatever he might pretend, the student was rather 
 glad than otherwise, on second thought, to catch at 
 the opportunity of proving to Mr. Pringle what an 
 excellent faculty he had in modernizing the myths of 
 ancient times. Until twenty years of age a young 
 man may, indeed, be rather bashful about showing 
 his poetry and his prose, but, for all that, he is pretty 
 apt to think that these very productions would place 
 him at the tip-top of literature, if once they could 
 ^ known. Accordingly, without much more resist- 
 ance, Eustace suffered Primrose and Periwinkle to 
 drag him into the drawing-room. 
 
 It was a large, handsome apartment with a semi- 
 circular window at one end, in the recess of which 
 
126 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 stood a marble copy of Greenough's Angel and Child. 
 On one side of the fireplace there were many shelves 
 of books gravely but richly bound. The white light 
 of the astral lamp and the red glow of the bright 
 coal-fire made the room brilliant and cheerful, and 
 before the fire, in a deep armchair, sat Mr. Pringle, 
 looking just fit to be seated in such a chair and in 
 such a room. He was a tall and quite a handsome 
 gentleman, with a bald brow, and was always so nicely 
 dressed that eveij Eustace Bright never liked to enter 
 his presence without at least pausing at the thresh- 
 hold to settle his shirt-collar. But now, as Primrose 
 had hold of one of his hands and Periwinkle of the 
 other, he was forced to make his appearance with a 
 rough-and-tumble sort of look, as if he had been roll- 
 ing all day in a snow-bank. And so he had. 
 
 Mr. Pringle turned toward the student benignly 
 enough, but in a way that made him feel how un- 
 combed and unbrushed he was, and how uncombed 
 ttnd unbrushed, likewise, were his mind and thoughts. 
 
 "Eustace," said Mr. Pringle, with a smile, "I find 
 that you are producing a great sensation among the 
 little public of Tanglewood by the exercise of your 
 gifts of narrative. Primrose here, as the little folks 
 choose to call her, and the rest of the children have 
 been so loud in praise of your stories that Mrs. Prin- 
 gle and myself are really curious to hear a specimen. 
 It would be so much more gratifying to myself, as 
 
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 127 
 
 the stories appear to be an attempt to render the 
 fables of classical antiquity into the idiom of mod- 
 ern fancy and feeling. At least, so I jndge from a 
 few of the incidents which have come to me at second- 
 hand." 
 
 " You are not exactly the auditor that I should 
 have chosen, sir," observed the student, " for fantasies 
 of this nature." 
 
 "Possibly not," replied Mr. Pringle. " I suspect, 
 however, that a young author's most useful critic is 
 precisely the one whom he would be least apt to 
 choose. Pray oblige me, therefore." 
 
 " Sympathy, methinks, should have some little 
 share in the critic's qualifications," murmured Eus- 
 tace Bright. " However, sir, if you will find pa- 
 tience I will find stories. But be kind enough to 
 remember that I am addressing myself to the imag- 
 ination and sympathies of the children, not to your 
 own." 
 
 Accordingly, the student snatched hold of the first 
 theme which presented itself. It was suggested by a 
 plate of apples that he happened to spy on the man* 
 telpiece. 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 Did you ever hear of the golden apples that grew 
 in the garden of the Hesperides? Ah, those were 
 such apples as would bring a great price by the bushel 
 if any of them could be found growing in the or- 
 chards of nowadays! But there is not, I suppose, a 
 graft of that wonderful fruit on a single tree in the 
 wide world. Not so much as a seed of these apples 
 exists any longer. , 
 
 And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, be- 
 fore the garden of the Hesperides was overrun with 
 weeds, a great many people doubted whether there 
 could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon 
 their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody 
 remembered to have seen any. Children, neverthe- 
 less, used to listen openmouthed to stories of the 
 golden apple-tree, and resolved to discover it when 
 they should be big enough. Adventurous young men 
 who desired to do a braver thing than any of their 
 fellows set out in quest of this fruit. Many of them 
 returned no more: none of them brought back the 
 
THE THB.ee golden APPLES. 129 
 
 apples. No wonder that they found it impossihls to 
 gather them ! It is said that there was a dragon be- 
 tieath the tree with a hundred terrible heads, fifty of 
 which were always on the watch while the other fifty 
 slent. 
 
 In my opinion, it was hardly worth running st 
 much risk for the sake of a solid golden apple. Had 
 the apples been sweet, mellow, and juicy, indeed, that 
 would be another matter. There might then have 
 been some sense in trying to get at them, in spite of 
 the hundred-headed dragon. 
 
 But, as I have already told you, it was quite a com- 
 mon thing with young persons, when tired of too 
 much peace and rest, to go in search of the garden 
 of the Hesperides. And once the adventure was un- 
 dertaken by a hero who had enjoyed very little peace 
 or rest since he came into the world. At the time 
 of which I am going to speak he was wandering 
 through the pleasant land of Italy, with a mighty 
 club in his hand and a bow and quiver slung across 
 his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the big- 
 gest and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and 
 which he himself had killed; and though, on tlie 
 whole, he was kind and generous and noble, there 
 ^as a good deal of the lion's fierceness in his heart. 
 As he went on his way he continually inquired whether 
 that were the right road to the famous garden. 
 But none of the country people knew anything about 
 9 
 
130 THE THREE (jOi^DEN APPLES. 
 
 the matter, and many looked as if they would have 
 laughed at the question if the stranger had not car- 
 ried so very big a club. 
 
 So he journeyed on and on, still making the same 
 inquiry, until at last he came to the brink of a river, 
 vvhere some beautiful young women sat twining 
 wreaths of flowers. 
 
 " Can you tell me, pretty maidens," asked the stran- 
 ger, " whether this is the right way to the garden o| 
 the Ilesperides?" 
 
 The young women had been having a fine time to- 
 gether, weaving the flowers into wreaths and crowning 
 one another's heads. And there seemed to be a kind 
 of magic in the touch of their fingers that made the 
 flowers more fresh and dewy, and of brighter hues 
 and sweeter fragrance, while they played with them, 
 than even when they had been growing on their native 
 stems. But on hearing the stranger's question they 
 dropped all their flowers on the grass and gazed at 
 him with astonishment. 
 
 " The garden of the Hesperides!" cried one. " We 
 thought mortals had been weary of seeking it after 
 so many disappointments. And pray, adventurous 
 traveller, what do you want there?" 
 
 "A certain king who is my cousin," replied he, 
 ' " has ordered me to get him three of the golden 
 apples." 
 
 " Most of the young men who go in quest of these 
 
THE TiiREE GOLDEN APPLES. 181 
 
 apples," observed another of the damsels, "desire to 
 obtain them for themselves or to present them to some 
 fair maiden whom they love. Do you, then, love this 
 king, your cousin, so very much?" 
 
 "Perhaps not," replied the stranger, sighing. 
 ** He has often been severe and cruel to me. But it 
 is my destiny to obey him." 
 
 "And do you know," asked the damsel who had 
 first spoken, " that a terrible dragon with a hundred 
 heads keeps watch under the golden apple-tree?" 
 
 "I know it well," answered the stranger calmly. 
 " But from my cradle upward it has been my busi- 
 ness, and almost my pastime, to deal with serpents 
 and dragons." 
 
 The young women looked at his massive club and 
 at the shaggy lion's skin which he wore, and likewise 
 at his heroic limbs and figure, and they whispered to 
 each other that the stranger appeared to be one who 
 might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond 
 the might of other men. But then the dragon with 
 a hundred heads! What mortal, even if he possessed 
 a hundred lives, could hope to escape the fangs of 
 such a monster? So kindhearted were the maidens 
 that they could not bear to see this brave and hand- 
 some traveller attempt what was so very dangerous, 
 and devote himself most probably to become a meal 
 for the dragon's hundred ravenous mouths. 
 
 "Go back!" cried they all; "go back to your own 
 
133 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 home! Yonr mother, beholding yon safe and sound, 
 will shed tears of joy; and what can she do more 
 should you win ever so great a victory? No matter 
 for the golden apples! No matter for the king, your 
 cruel cousin! We do not wish the dragon with the 
 hundred heads to eat you up." 
 
 The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these 
 remonstrances. He carelessly lifted his mighty club 
 and let it fall upon a rock that lay half- buried in the 
 earth near by. With the force of that idle blow the 
 great rock was shattered all to pieces. It cost the 
 stranger no more effort to achieve this feat of a giant's 
 strength than for one of the young maidens to touch 
 her sister's rosy cheek with a flower. 
 
 "Do you not believe," said he, looking at the dam- 
 sels with a smile, " that such a blow would have 
 crushed one of the dragon's hundred heads?" 
 
 Then he sat down on the grass and told them the 
 storv of his life, or as much of it as he could remem- 
 ber, from the day when he was first cradled in a war- 
 rior's brazen shield. While he lay there two immense 
 serpents came gliding over the floor and opened their 
 hideous jaws to devour him, and he, a baby of a few 
 months old, had gripped one of the fierce snakes in 
 each of his little fists and strangled them to death. 
 When he was but a stripling he had killed a huge lion, 
 almost as big as the one whose vast and shaggy hide 
 he now wore upon his shoulders. The next thing 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 133 
 
 that he had done was to fight a battle with an ugly 
 sort of monster called a hydra, which had no less than 
 nine heads, and exceedingly sharp teeth in every one 
 of them. 
 
 "But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know," 
 observed one of the damsels, "has a hundred heads!" 
 
 "Nevertheless," replied the stranger. "I would 
 rather fight two such dragons than a single hydra. 
 For as fast as I cut off a head two others grew in its 
 place; and, besides, there was one of the heads that 
 could not possibly be killed, but kept biting as fiercely 
 as ever long after it was cut off. So T was forced to 
 bury it under a stone, where it is doubtless alive to 
 this very day. But the hydra's body and its eight 
 other heads will never do any further mischief." 
 
 The damsels, judging that the story was likely to 
 last a good while, had been preparing a repast of bread 
 and grapes, that the stranger might refresh himself 
 in the intervals of his talk. They took pleasure in 
 helping him to this simple food, and now and then 
 one of them would put a sweet grape between her rosy 
 lips, lest it should make him bashful to eat alone. 
 
 TJie traveller proceeded to tell how he chased a very 
 swift stag for a twelvemonth together without ever 
 stopping to take breath, and had at last caught it by 
 the antlers and carried it home alive. And he had 
 fought with a very odd race of people, half-horses and 
 half-men, and had put them all to death, Kfrom a 
 
134 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 sense of duty, in order that their ugly figures might 
 never be seen any more. Besides all this, he took to 
 himself great credit for having cleaned out a stable 
 
 " Do you call that a wonderful exploit?" asked onc- 
 of the young maidens, with a smile. " Any clown ii^ 
 "the country has done as much." 
 ' " Had it been an ordinary stable," replied the stran • 
 ger, " I should not have mentioned it. But this was* 
 so gigantic a task that it would have taken me all my 
 life to perform it if I had not luckily thought of turn- 
 ing the channel of a river through the stable-door. 
 That did the business in a very short time." 
 
 Seeing how earnestly his fair auditors listened, he 
 next told them how he had shot some monstrous 
 birds, and had caught a wild bull alive and let him go 
 again, and had tamed a number of very wild horses, 
 and had conquered Hippolyta, the warlike queen 
 of the Amazons. He mentioned, likewise, that he 
 had taken off Hippolyta's enchanted girdle and had 
 given it to the daughter of his cousin the king. 
 
 " Was it the girdle of Venus," inquired the pret- 
 tiest of the maidens, " which makes women beautiful?" 
 
 "No," answered the stranger; "it had formerly 
 been the sword-belt of Mars, and it can only maie 
 the wearer valiant and courageous." 
 
 "An old sword-belt!" cried the damsel, tossing hxjt 
 head. "Then I should not care about having it." 
 
 "You are right," said the stranger. 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 135 
 
 Going on with his wonderful narrative, he informed 
 the maidens that as strange an adventure as ever hap- 
 pened was when he fought with Geryon, the six-leg- 
 ged man. This was a very odd and frightful sort of 
 figure, as you may well believe. Any person looking 
 at his tracks in the sand or snow would suppose tlmt 
 three sociable companions had been walking along 
 together. On hearing his footsteps at a little distan ce, 
 it was no more than reasonable to judge that several 
 people must be coming. But it was only the strar.ge 
 man Geryon clattering onward with his six legs. 
 
 Six legs and one gigantic Dody ! Certainly he must 
 have been a very queer monster to look at; and, my 
 stars, what a waste of shoeleather! 
 
 When the stranger had finished the story of his 
 adventures he looked around at the attentive faces 
 of the maidens. 
 
 " Perhaps you m.ay have heard of me before?" said 
 he, modestly. "My name is Hercules." 
 
 "We had already guessed it," replied the maidens, 
 " for your wonderful deeds are known all over the 
 world. We do not think it strange any longer that 
 you should set out in quest of the golden apples of 
 the/fiesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero 
 with flowers!" 
 
 Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately 
 head and mighty shoulders, so that the lion's skin 
 was almost entirely covered with roses. They took 
 
133 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it 
 about with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant 
 blossoms that not a finger's breadth of its oaken sub- 
 tance could be seen. It looked all like a huge bunch 
 of flowers. Lastly, they joined hands and danced 
 around him, chanting words which became poetry 
 of their own accord and grew into a choral song 
 in honor of the illustrious Hercules. 
 
 And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other hero would 
 have been, to know that these fair young girls had 
 heard of the valiant deeds which it had cost him so 
 much toil and danger to achieve. But still he was 
 not satisfied. He could not think that what he had 
 alreadv done was worthv of so much honor while there 
 remained any bold or difficult adventure to be under- 
 taken. 
 
 " Dear maidens," said he, when they paused to take 
 "breath, "now that you know my name, will you not 
 tell me how I am to reach the garden of the Hes- 
 perides?" 
 
 "Ah! must you go so soon?" they exclaimed. 
 "You, that have performed so many wonders and 
 spent such a toilsome life, cannot you content your- 
 self to repose a little while on the margin of this 
 peaceful river?" 
 
 Hercules shook his head. 
 
 "I must depart now," said he. 
 
 " We will then give you the best directions we can," 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 137' 
 
 replied the damsels. " You must go to the seashore^ 
 and find out the Old One, and compel him to inform 
 you where the golden apples are to be found." 
 
 "The Old One I" repeated Hercules, laughing at 
 this odd name. " And, pray, Tvho may the Old One 
 
 "Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to he sure," an- 
 Bwered one of the damsels. " He has fifty daughters, 
 whom some people call very beautiful, but we do not 
 think it proper to be acquainted with them, because 
 they have sea-green hair and taper away like fishes. 
 You must talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is 
 a seafaring person, and knows all about the garden of 
 the Hesperides, for it is situated in an island which 
 he is often in the habit of visiting." 
 
 Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was 
 most likely to be met with. When the damsels had 
 informed him he thanked them for all their kindness 
 — for the bread and grapes with which they had fed 
 him, the lovely flowers with which they had crownec 
 him, and the songs and dances wherewith they had 
 done him honor; and he thanked them most of all for 
 tdlling him the right way — and immediately set forth 
 upon his journey. 
 
 But before he was out of hearing one of the maid- 
 ens called after him. 
 
 " Keep fast hold of the Old One when you catck 
 him!" cried she, smiling and lifting her finger i^> 
 
133 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 make the caution more impressive. " Do not be as- 
 tonished at anything that may happen. Only hold 
 liim fast, and he will tell you what you wish to know." 
 
 Hercules again thanked her and pursued his way, 
 while the maidens resumed their pleasant labor of 
 making flower-wreaths. They talked about the hero 
 long after he was gone. 
 
 " We will crown him with the loveliest of our gar- 
 lands," said they, "when he returns hither with the 
 three golden apples after slaying the dragon with a 
 hundred heads." 
 
 Meanwhile, Hercules travelled constantly onward 
 over hill and dale and through the solitary woods. 
 Sometimes he swung his club aloft and splintered a 
 mighty oak with a downright blow. His mind was 
 so full of the giants and monsters with whom it was 
 the business of his life to fight that perhaps he mistook 
 the great tree for a giant or a monster. And so eager 
 was Hercules to achieve what he had undertaken that 
 he almost regretted to have spent so much time with 
 the damsels, wasting idle breath upon the story of his 
 adventures. But thus it always is with persons who 
 are destined to perform great things. What they have 
 already done seems less than nothing — what they have 
 taken in hand to do seems worth toil, danger, and 
 life itself. 
 
 Persons who happened to be passing through the 
 forest must have been aiLiiohted to see him smite th(? 
 
THJS THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 139 
 
 trees with his great club. With but a siugle blow 
 the trunk was riven as by the stroke of lightning and 
 the broad boughs came rustling and crashing down. 
 
 Hastening forward without ever pausing or look- 
 ing behind, he by and by heard the sea roaring at a 
 distance. At this sound he increased his speed, and 
 soon came to a beach where the great surf-waves tum- 
 bled themselves upon the hard sand in a long line of 
 snowy foam. At one end of the beach, however, there 
 was a pleasant spot where some green shrubbery clam- 
 bered up a cliff, making its rocky face look soft and 
 beautiful. A carpet of verdant grass, largely inter- 
 mixed with sweet-smelling clover, covered the narrow 
 space between the bottom of the cliff and the sea. 
 And what should Hercules espy there but an old man 
 fast asleep. 
 
 But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, 
 at first sight, it looked very like one, but on closer 
 inspection it rather seemed to be some kind of a crcr. 
 ture that lived in the sea. For on his legs and arm 
 there were scales such as fishes have; he was web- 
 footed and web-fingered, after the fashion of a duckj. 
 and his long beard, being of a greenish tinge, had 
 more the appearance of a tuft of seaweed than of an 
 ordinary beard. Have you never seen a stick of tim- 
 ber that has been long tossed about by the waves, and 
 has got all overgrown with barnacles, and, at last 
 drifting ashore, seems to have been thrown up from 
 
140 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 the very deepest bottom of the sea? Well, the old 
 man would have put you in mind of just such a wave- 
 Cossed spar. But Hercules, the instant he set eyes on 
 this strange figure, was convinced that it could be no 
 other than the Old One who was to direct him on his 
 way. 
 
 Yes, it was the selfsame Old Man of the Sea whom 
 "the hospitable maidens had talked to him about. 
 Thanking his stars for the lucky accident of find- 
 ing the old fellow asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe 
 toward him and caught him by the arm and leg. 
 
 "Tell me," cried he, before the Old One was well 
 awake, " which is the way to the garden of the Hes- 
 periJes?" , 
 
 As you may easily imagine, the Old Man of the Sea 
 awoke in a fright. But his astonishment could hardly 
 have been greater than was that of Hercules the next 
 moment. For, all of a sudden, the Old One seemed 
 to disappear out of his grasp, and he found himself 
 holding a stag by the fore and hind leg! But still 
 he kept fast hold. Then the stag disappeared, and 
 in its stead there was a seabird, fluttering and scream* 
 ing while Hercules clutched it by the wing and claw. 
 But the bird could not get away. Immediately after- 
 ward there was an ugly three-headed dog, which 
 grov/led and barked at Hercules and snapped fiercely 
 at the hands by which he held him! But Hercules 
 would not let him go. In another minute, instead 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 141 
 
 of the three -headed dog, what should appear but Ger- 
 yon, the six-legged man-monster, kicking at Hercules 
 with five of his legs in order to get the remaining one 
 at liberty! But Hercules held on. By and by no 
 Geryon was there, but a huge snake like one of those 
 which Hercules had strangled in his babyhood, only 
 a hundred times as big; and it twisted and twined 
 about the hero's neck and body, and threw its tail 
 high into the air, and opened its deadly jaws as if to 
 devour him outright, so that it was really a very ter- 
 rible spectacle. But Hercules was no whit disheart- 
 ened, and squeezed the great snake so tightly that he 
 soon began to hiss with pain. 
 
 You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea, 
 though he generally looked so like the wave-beaten 
 figurehead of a vessel, had the power of assuming any 
 shape he pleased. When he found himself so roughly 
 seized by Hercules, he had been in hopes of putting 
 him into such surprise and terror by these magical 
 transformations that the hero would be glad to let 
 him go. If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the Old 
 One would certainly have plunged down to the very 
 bottom of the sea, whence he would not soon have 
 given himself the trouble of coming up in order to 
 answer any impertinent questions. Ninety-nine 
 people out of a hundred, I suppose, would have been 
 frightened out of their wits by the very first of his 
 ugly shapes, and would have taken to their heels at 
 
142 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 once. For one of the hardest things in this world is 
 to see the difference between real dangers and imagi- 
 nary ones. 
 
 But as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only 
 squeezed the Old One so much the tighter at every 
 change of shape, and really put him to no small toi'- 
 ture, he finally thought it best to reappear in his own 
 figure. So there he was again, a fishy, scaly, web- 
 footed sort of personage, with something like a tuft 
 of seaweed at his chin. 
 
 " Pray, what do you want with me?" cried the Old 
 One as soon as he could take breath, for it is quite a 
 tiresome affair to go through so many false shapes. 
 " Why do you squeeze me so hard? Let me go this 
 moment, or I shall begin to consider you an extremely 
 uncivil person. 
 
 "My name is Hercules!" roared the mighty stran- 
 ger, " and you will never get out of my clutch until 
 you tell me the nearest way to the garden of the 
 Hesperides." 
 
 When the old fellow heard who it was that had 
 caught him, he saw with half an eye that it would be 
 necessary to tell him everything that he wanted to 
 know. The Old One was an inhabitant of the sea, 
 you must recollect, and roamed about everywhere, 
 like other seafaring people. Of course he had often 
 heard cf the fame of Hercules, and of the wonderful 
 things that he was constantly performing in various 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 143 
 
 parts of the earth, and how determined he always was 
 to accomplish whatever he undertook. He therefore 
 made no more attempts to escape, but told the hero 
 how to find the garden of the Hesperides, and like- 
 wise warned him of many ditficulties which must be 
 overcome before he could arrive thither. 
 
 " You must go on tnus and thus," said the Old Man- 
 of the Sea, after taking the points of the compass, 
 "till you come in sight of a very tall giant who holds 
 the sky on his shoulders. And the giant, if he hap- 
 pens to be in the humor, will tell you exactly where 
 the garden of the Hesperides lies." 
 
 " And if the giant happens not to be in the humor,** 
 remarked Hercules, balancing his club on the tip of 
 his finger, " perhaps I shall find means to persuade 
 him." 
 
 Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his 
 pardon for having squeezed him so roughly, the hero 
 resumed his journey. He met with a great many 
 strange adventures, which would be well worth your 
 hearing if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely 
 as they deserve. 
 
 It was in this journey, if I mistake not, that he 
 encountered a prodigious giant who was so wonder- 
 fully contrived by nature that every time he touched 
 the earth he became ten times as strong as ever he 
 had been before. His name was Antaeus. You may 
 see. plainly enough, that it was a very difficult busb 
 
144 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 ness to fight with such a fellow, for as ofteu as he got 
 a knock-down blow, up he started again, stronger, 
 fiercer, and abler to use his weapons than it* his enemy 
 had let him alone. Thus, the harder Hercules 
 pounded the giant with his club, the farther he 
 seemed from winning the victory. I have sometimes 
 argued with such people, but never fought with one. 
 The only way in which Hercules found it possible to 
 finish the battle was by lifting Antseus off his feet 
 into the air, and squeezing and squeezing and squeez- 
 ing him, until finally the strength was quite squeezed 
 out of his enormous body. 
 
 When this affair was finished Hercules continued 
 his travels, and went to the land of Egypt, where he 
 was taken prisoner, and would have been put to death 
 if he had not slain the king of the country and made 
 his escape. Passing through the deserts of Africa 
 and going as fast as he could, he arrived at last on 
 the shore of the great ocean. And here, unless he 
 could walk on the crests of the billows, it seemed as 
 if his journey must needs be at an end. 
 
 Nothing was before him save the foaming, dash- 
 ing, measureless ocean. But suddenly, as he lookei 
 toward the horizon, he saw something, a great way 
 off, which he had not seen the moment before. It 
 gleamed very brightly, almost as you may have beheld 
 the round, golden disk of the sun when it rises or sets 
 over the edge of the world. It evidently drew nearer. 
 
THE THREE GOLDET^ APPLES. 145 
 
 for at every instant this wonderful object became 
 laro^r and more lustrous. At length it had come so 
 nigh that Hercules discovered it to be an immense 
 cup or bowl made either of gold or burnished brass. 
 How it had got afloat upon the sea is more than I can 
 tell you. There it was, at all events, rolling on the 
 tumultuous billows, which tossed it up and down and 
 heaved their foamy tops against its sides, but without 
 ever throwing their spray over the brim. 
 
 "I have seen many giants in my time," thought 
 Hercules, " but never one that would need to drink 
 his wine out of a cup like this." 
 
 And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! 
 It was as large — as large — but, in short, I am afraid 
 to say how immeasurably large it was. To speak 
 within bounds, it was ten times larger than a great 
 mill-wheel, and, all of metal as it was, it floated over 
 the heaving surges more lightly than an acorn-cup 
 adoMTi the brook. The waves tumbled it onward 
 until it grazed against the shore within a short dis- 
 tance of the spot where Hercules was standing. 
 
 As soon as this happened he knew what was to be 
 done, for he had not gone through so many remark- 
 able adventures without learning pretty well how to 
 conduct himself whenever anything came to pass a 
 little out of the common rule. It was just as clear 
 as daylight that this marvellous cup had been set 
 adrift by some unseen power and guided hitherward 
 ■^ 10 
 
146 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 in order to carry Hercules across the sea on his way 
 to the garden of the Hesperides. Accordingly, with- 
 out a moment's delay he clambered o^er the brim 
 and slid down on the inside, where, spreading out his 
 lion's skin, he proceeded to take a little repose. He 
 had scarcely rested until now since he bade farewell 
 to the damsels on the margin of the river. The 
 waves dashed with a pleasant and ringing sound 
 against the circumference of the hollow cup; it rocked 
 lightly to and fro, and the motion was so soothing 
 that it speedily rocked Hercules into an agreeable 
 slumber. 
 
 His nap had probably lasted a good while, when the 
 cup chanced to graze against a rock, and in conse- 
 quence immediately resounded and reverberated 
 through its golden or brazen substance a hundred 
 times as loudly as ever you heard a church-bell. The 
 noise awoke Hercules, who instantly started up and 
 gazed around him, wondering w^hereabouts he was. 
 He was not long in discovering that the cup had 
 floated across a great part of the sea, and was ap- 
 proaching the shore of what seemed to be an island. 
 And on that island what do you think he saw? 
 
 No, you will never guess it — not if you were to try 
 fifty thousand times! It positively appears to me 
 that this was the most marvellous spectacle that had 
 €ver been seen by Hercules in the whole course of his 
 w^onderful travels and adventures. It was a greater 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 147 
 
 marvel than the hydra with nine heads, which kept 
 growing twice as fast as they were cut off; greater 
 than the six-legged man-monster; greater than An- 
 taeus; greater than anything that was ever beheld by 
 anybody before or since the days of Hercules, or than 
 anything that remains to be beheld by travellers iu 
 all time to come. It was a giant! 
 
 But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall 
 as a mountain; so vast a giant that the clouds rested 
 about his midst like a girdle, and hung like a hoary 
 beard from his chin, and flitted before his huge eyes 
 so that he could neither see Hercules nor the golden 
 cup in which he was voyaging. And, most wonder- 
 ful of all, the giant held up his great hands and ap- 
 peared to support the sky, which, so far as Hercules 
 could discern through the clouds, was resting upon 
 his head ! This does really seem almost too much to 
 believe. 
 
 Meanwhile the bright cup continued to float on- 
 ward, and finally touched the strand. Just then a 
 iireeze wafted away the clouds from before the giant's 
 '"^isage, and Hercules beheld it, with all its enormous 
 features — eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, a 
 nose a mile long, and a mouth of the same width. 
 It was a countenance terrible from its enormity of 
 size, but disconsolate and weary, even as you may see 
 the faces of many people nowadays who are com- 
 pelled to sustain burdens above their strength. AVhat 
 
i48 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 the sky was to the giant such are the cares of earth 
 to those who let themselves be weighed down by theii:i. 
 And whenever men undertake what is beyond the 
 just measure of their abilities they encounter precisel} 
 such a doom as had befallen this poor giant. 
 
 Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long 
 while. An ancient forest had been growing and de- 
 caying around his feet, and oak trees of six or seven 
 centuries old had sprung from the acorns and forced 
 themselves between his toes. The giant now looked 
 down from the far height of his great eyes, and, per- 
 ceiving Hercules, roared out, in a voice that resem- 
 bled thunder proceeding out of the cloud that had 
 just flitted away from his face: 
 
 " Who are you, down at my feet, there? And 
 whence do you come in that little cup?" 
 
 "I am Hercules!" thundered back the hero, in a 
 voice pretty nearly or quite as loud as the giant's 
 own. " And I am seeking for the garden of the Hes- 
 perides!" 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho!" roared the giant, in a fit of im- 
 mense laughter. "That is a wise adventure, truly!" 
 
 *' And why not?" cried Hercules, getting a little 
 angry at the giant's mirth. " Do you think I am 
 afraid of the dragon with a hundred heads?" 
 
 Just at this time, while they were talking together, 
 some black clouds gathered about the giant's middle 
 and burst into a tremendous storm of thunder and 
 
A Wonder Book 3 
 
 PANDORA AND HER BOX 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLi:.^. 149 
 
 lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules found 
 it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant's 
 immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into 
 the obscurity of the tempest, and now and then a 
 momentary glimpse of his whole figure mantled in a 
 volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking most of 
 the time, but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in 
 with the reverberations of the thunder-claps and 
 rolled away over the hills like them. Thus by talk- 
 ing out of season the foolish giant expended an in- 
 calculable quantity of breath to no purpose, for the 
 thunder spoke quite as intelligibly as ha 
 
 At last the storm swept over as suddenly as it had 
 come. And there again was the clear sky, and the 
 weary giant holding it up, and the pleasant sunshine 
 beaming over his vast height and illuminating it 
 against the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. 
 So far above the shower had been his head that not a 
 hair of it was moistened by the raindrops. 
 
 When the giant could see Hercules still standing 
 on the seashore he roared out to him anew : 
 
 "I am Atlas, the mightiest giant in the world! 
 And I hold the sky upon my head !" 
 
 "So I see," answered Hercules. "But can you 
 show me the way to the garden of the Hesperides?" 
 
 "What do you want there?" asked the giant. 
 
 " I want three of the golden apples," shouted Her- 
 cules, "for my cousin the king." 
 
150 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 "There is nobody but myself," quoth the giant, 
 " that can go to the garden of the Hesperides and 
 gather the golden apples. If it were not for this lit- 
 ,tle business of holding up the sky, I would make half 
 a dozen steps across the sea and get them for you." 
 
 "You are very kind," replied Hercules. "And 
 cannot you rest the sky upon a mountain?" 
 
 " None of them are quite high enough," said Atlas, 
 shaking his head. " But if you were to take your 
 stand on the summit of that nearest one your head 
 would be pretty nearly on a level with mine. You 
 seem to be a fellow of some strength. What if you 
 should take my burden on your shoulders while I do 
 your errand for you?" 
 
 Hercules, as you must be careful to remember, was 
 a remarkably strong man; and, though it certainly 
 requires a great deal of muscular power to uphold 
 the sky, yet if any mortal could be supposed capable 
 of such an exploit, he was the one. Nevertheless it 
 jeemed so difficult an undertaking that for the first 
 time in his life he hesitated. 
 
 "Is the sky very heavy?" he inquired. 
 
 "Why, not particularly so at first," answered the 
 giant, shrugging his shoulders, " but it gets to be a 
 little burdensome after a thousand years." 
 
 "And how long a time," asked the hero, "will it 
 take you to get the golden apples?" 
 
 * Oh, that will be done in a few moments!" cried 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 151 
 
 Atlas. " I shall take ten or fifteen miles at a stride, 
 and be at the garden and back again before your 
 shoulders begin to ache." 
 
 "Well, then," answered Hercules, "I will climb 
 the mountain behind you and relieve you of your 
 burden." 
 
 The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own, 
 and considered that he should be doing the giant a 
 favor by allowing him this opportunity for a ramble. 
 And, besides, he thought that it would be still more 
 for his own glory if he could boast of upholding the 
 sky than merely to do so ordinary a thing as to con- 
 quer a dragon with a hundred heads. Accordingly, 
 without more words, the sky was shifted from the 
 shoulders of Atlas and placed upon those of Hercules. 
 
 "When this was safely accomplished, the first thing 
 that the giant did was to stretch himself; and you 
 may imagine what a prodigious spectacle he was then. 
 Next, he slowly lifted one of his feet out of the forest 
 that had grow^n up around it, then the other. Then 
 all at once he began to caper and leap and dance for 
 joy at his freedom, flinging himself nobody knows 
 how high into the air, and floundering down again 
 with a shock that made the earth tremble. Then he 
 laughed — ho! ho! ho! — with a thunderous roar that 
 was echoed from the moutains far and near, as if they 
 and the giant had been so many rejoicing brothers. 
 When his joy had a little subsided he stepped into ih» 
 
152 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES 
 
 sea — ten miles at the first stride, which brought him 
 mid-leg deep; and ten miles at the second, when the 
 water came Just above his knees; and ten miles more 
 at the third, by which he was immersed nearly to his 
 waist. This was the greatest depth of the sea. 
 
 Hercules watched the giant as he still went on- 
 ward, for it was really a wonderful sight, this 
 immense human form more than thirty miles off, 
 half-hidden in the ocean, but with his upper half as 
 tall and misty and blue as a distant mountain. At 
 last the gigantic shape faded entirely out of view. 
 And now Hercules began to consider what he should 
 do in case Atlas should be drowned in the sea, or if 
 he were to be stung to death by the dragon with the 
 hundred heads which guarded the golden apples of 
 the Hesperides. If any such misfortune were to hap- 
 pen, how could he ever get rid of the sky? And, by 
 the bye, its weight began already to be a little irksome 
 to his head and shoulders. 
 
 " I really pity the poor giant," thought Hercules. 
 " If it wearies me so much in ten minutes, how must 
 it have wearied him in a thousand years!" 
 
 Oh, my sweet little people, you have no idea what 
 a weight there was in that same blue sky which looks 
 so soft and aerial above our heads! And there, too, 
 was the bluster of the wind, and the chill and watery 
 clouds, and the blazing sun, all taking their turns to 
 make Hercules uncomfortable. He began to be afraid 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 153 
 
 that the giant would never come back. He gazed 
 wistfully at the world beneath him, and acknowledged 
 to himself that it was a far happier kind of life ^.o be 
 a shepherd at the foot of a mountain than to stand 
 on its dizzy summit and bear up the firmament ^vith 
 his might and main. For of course, as you will easily 
 understand, Hercules had an immense responsibility 
 on his mind, as well as a weight on his head a.nd 
 shoulders. Why, if he did not stand perfectly still 
 and keep the sky immovable, the sun would perhaps 
 be put ajar ! Or, after nightfall, a great many of the 
 stars might be loosened from their places, and shower 
 down like fiery rain upon the people's heads! And 
 how ashamed would the hero be if, owing to his un- 
 steadiness beneath its weight, the sky should crack 
 and show a great fissure quite across it! 
 
 I know not how long it was before, to his unspeak- 
 able joy, he beheld the huge shape of the giant, like 
 % cloud, on the far-off edge of the sea. At his nearer 
 approach Atlas held up his hand, in which Hercules 
 could perceive three magnificent golden apples as big 
 as pumpkins, all hanging from one branch. 
 
 " I am glad to see you again," shouted Hercules 
 when the giant was within hearing. *' So you have 
 got the golden apples?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," answered Atlas; "and very 
 fair apples they are. I took the finest that grew on 
 the tree, I assure you. Ah, it is a beautiful spot, 
 
154 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 that garden of the Hesperides! Yes, and the dragon 
 with a hundred heads is a sight worth any man's see- 
 ing. After all, you had better have gone for the 
 apples yourself." 
 
 "No matter," replied Hercules. "You have hal 
 a pleasant ramble, and have done the business as well 
 as I could. I heartily thank you for your trouble. 
 And now, as I have a long way to go and am rather 
 in haste, and as the king my cousin is anxious to re- 
 ceive the golden apples, will you be kind enough to 
 take the sky off my shoulders again?" 
 
 "Why, as to that," said the giant, chucking the 
 golden apples into the air twenty miles high or there- 
 abouts and catching them as they came down — "as 
 to that, my good friend, I consider you a little un- 
 reasonable. Cannot I carry the golden apples to the 
 king your cousin much quicker than you could? As 
 his majesty is in such a hurry to get them, I promise 
 you to take my longest strides. And, besides, I have 
 no fancy for burdening myself with the sky just 
 now." 
 
 Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a grea; 
 shrug of his shoulders. It being now twilight, you 
 might have seen two or treer stars tumble out of their 
 places. Everybody on earth looked upward in 
 affiright, thinking that the sky might be going to fall 
 next. 
 
 "Oh, that will never do!" cried Giant Atlas witk 
 
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 155 
 
 a great roar of laughter. " I have not let fall so 
 many stars within the last five centuries. By the 
 time you have stood there as long as I did you will 
 begin to learn patience." 
 
 "What!" shouted Hercules, very wrathfully, "do 
 you intend to make me bear this burden forever?" 
 
 "We will see about that one of these days," an- 
 swered the giant. " At all events, you ought not to 
 complain if you have to bear it the next hundred 
 years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good 
 while longer, in spite of the backache. Well, then, 
 after a thousand years, if I happen to feel in the 
 mood, we may possibly shift about again. You are 
 certainly a very strong man, and can never have a 
 better opportunity to nrove it. Posterity will talk of 
 you, I warrant it." 
 
 " Pish ! a fig for its talk !" cried Hercules, with an- 
 other hitch of his shoulders. "Just take the sky 
 upon your head one instant, will you? I want to 
 make a cushion of my lion's skin for the weight to 
 rest upon. It really chafes me, and will cause un- 
 necessary inconvenience in so many centuries as I am 
 to stand here." 
 
 " That's no more than fair, and I'll do it," quoth 
 the giant, for he had no unkind feeling toward Her- 
 cules, and was merely acting with a too selfish con- 
 sideration of his own ease. " For just five minutes, 
 then, I'll take back the sky. Only for five minutes. 
 
156 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 
 
 recollect. I have do idea of spending another thou- 
 sand years as I spent the last. Variety is the spice of 
 life, say I." 
 
 Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He 
 Shrew down the golden apples, and received back the 
 sky from the head and shoulders of Hercules upon 
 his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules 
 picked up the three golden apples that were as big or 
 bigger than pumpkins, and straightway set out on 
 his journey homeward, without paying the slightest 
 heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bel- 
 lowed after him to come back. Another forest sprang 
 up around his feet and grew ancient there, and again 
 might be seen oak-trees of six or seven centuries old, 
 that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes. 
 
 And there stands the giant to this day, or, at an5 
 rate, there stands a mountain as tall as he and which 
 bears his name; and when the thunder rumbles about 
 its summit we may imagine it to be the voice of Giant 
 Atlas bellowing after Hercules. 
 
TANGLE WOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 AFTER THE STORY. 
 
 '* Cousin" Eustace," demanded Sweet Fern, who 
 had been sitting at the story-teller's feet with his 
 mouth wide open, "exactly how tall was this giant?" 
 
 "Oh, Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern!" cried the stu- 
 dent, " do you think I was there to measure him 
 with a yardstick? Well, if you must know to a 
 hair's breadth, I suppose he might be from three to 
 fifteen miles straight upward, and that he might have 
 seated himself on Taconic and had Monument Moun- 
 tain for a footstool." 
 
 "Dear me!" ejaculated the good little boy, with a 
 contented sort of a grunt, " that was a giant sure 
 enough! And how long was his little finger?" 
 
 "As long as from Tanglewood to the lake," said 
 Eustace. 
 
 "Sure enough that was a giant!" repeated Sweet 
 Fern, in an ecstasy at the precision of these measure- 
 ments. " And how broad, I wonder, were the shoul- 
 ders of Hercules?" 
 
i58 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 "That is what I have never been able to find out," 
 answered the student. " But I think they must have 
 been a great deal broader than mine, or than your 
 father's, or than almost any shoulders which one sees 
 nowadays." 
 
 "I wish," whispered Sweet Fern, with his mouth 
 close to the student's ear, " that you would tell me 
 how big were some of the oak-trees that grew be- 
 tween the giant's toes." 
 
 " They were bigger," said Eustace, " than the great 
 chestnut tree which stands beyond Captain Smith's 
 house." 
 
 " Eustace, " remarked Mr. Pringle, after some de- 
 liberation, " I find it impossible to express such an 
 opinion of this story as will be likely to gratify in the 
 smallest degree your pride of authorship. Pray let 
 me advise you never more to meddle with a classical 
 myth. Your imagination is altogether Gothic, and 
 will inevitably Gothicize everything that you touch. 
 The effect is like bedaubing a marble statue with 
 paint. This giant, now ! How can you have ven- 
 tured to thrust his huge disproportioned mass 
 among the seemly outlines of Grecian fable, the ten- 
 dency of which is to reduce even the extravagant 
 within limits by its pervading elegance?" 
 
 "I described the giant as he appeared to me," re- 
 plied the student, rather piqued. " And, sir, if you 
 would only bring your mind into such a relation with 
 
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 159 
 
 these fables as is necessary in order to remodel them, 
 you would see at once that an old Greek had no more 
 exclusive right to them than a modern Yankee has. 
 They are the common property of the world and of 
 all time. The ancient poets remodelled them at 
 pleasure, and held them plastic in their hands; and 
 why should they not be plastic in my hands as well?" 
 
 Mr. Pringle could not forbear a smile. 
 
 "And, besides," continued Eustace, "the moment 
 yon put any warmth of heart, any passion or affec- 
 tion, any human or fJivine morality, into a classic 
 mould, you make it Xylite another thing from what it 
 was before. My owi opinion is that the Greeks, by 
 taking possession of these legends (which were the 
 immemorial birthright of mankind) and putting them 
 into shapes of indestructible beauty, indeed, but cold 
 and heartless, have done all subsequent ages an incal- 
 culable injury." 
 
 " Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy," said 
 Mr. Pringle, laughing outright. "Well, well, go 
 on ; but take my advice, and never put any of your 
 travesties on paper. And as your next effort, what if 
 you should try your hand on some one of the legends 
 of Apollo?" 
 
 "Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility," ob- 
 served the student after a moment's meditation; 
 " and, to be sure, at first thought the idea of a Gothic 
 Apollo strikes one rather ludicrously. But I will 
 
160 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 
 
 turn over your suggestion in my mind, and do not 
 quite despair of success." 
 
 During the above discussion the children (who un- 
 derstood not a word of it) had grown very sleepy 
 and were now sent off to bed. Their drowsy babble 
 was heard ascending the staircase, while a northwest 
 wind roared loudly among the treetops of Tangle- 
 wood, and played an anthem around the- house. 
 Eustace Bright went back to the study and again en- 
 deavored to hammer out some verses, but fell asleep 
 between two of the rhymes. 
 
THE HILL-SIDE. 
 
 INTRODUCTOKY TO "THE MIRACULOUS 
 
 PITCHER." 
 
 And when and where do you think we find the 
 children next? No longer in the winter-time, but in 
 the merry month of May. !No longer in Tanglewood 
 play-room or at Tanglewood fireside, but more than 
 half-way up a monstrous hill, or a mountain, as per- 
 haps it would be better pleased to have us call it. 
 They had set out from home with the mighty pur- 
 pose of climbing this high hill even to the very tip- 
 top of its bald head. To be sure it was not quite so 
 high as Chimborazo or Mont Blanc, and was even 
 a good deal lower than old Graylock. But, at any 
 rate, it was higher than a thousand ant-hillocks or a 
 million of molehills, and when measured by the 
 short strides of little children might be reckoned a 
 very respectable mountain. 
 
 And was Cousin Eustace with the party? Of that 
 you may be certain, else how could the book go on a 
 11 
 
162 THE HILL- SIDE. 
 
 step farther? He Tvas now in the middle of the 
 spring vacation, and looked pretty much as we saw 
 him four or five months ago, except that if you 
 gazed quite closely at his upper lip you could discern 
 the funniest little bit of a mustache upon it. Set- 
 ting aside this mark of mature manhood, you might 
 have considered Cousin Eustace just as much a boy 
 as when you first became acquainted with him. He 
 was as merry, as jDlayful, as good-humored, as light 
 of foot and of spirits, and equally a favorite with the 
 little folks as he had always been. This expedition 
 up the mountain was entirely of his contrivance. All 
 the way up the steep ascent he had encouraged the 
 elder children with his cheerful voice, and when 
 Dandelion, Cowslip, and Squash-blossom grew 
 weary he had lugged them along, alternately, on his 
 back. In this manner they had passed through the 
 orchards and pastures on the lower part of the hill, 
 and had reached the wood which extends thence 
 toward its bare summit. 
 
 The month of May thus far had been more amiable 
 than it often is, and this was as sweet and genial a 
 day as the heart of man or child could wish. In their 
 progress up the hill the small people had found 
 enough of violets, blue and white, and some that 
 were as golden as if they had the touch of Midas on 
 them. That sociablest of flowers, the little Housa- 
 tonia, was very abundant. It is a flower that never 
 
THE HILL-SIDE. i63 
 
 lives alone, bnt which loves its own kind, and is al- 
 ways fond of dwelling with a great many friends and 
 relatives around it. Sometimes you see a family of 
 them covering a space no bigger than the palm of 
 your hand, and sometimes a large community whiten- 
 ing a whole tract of pasture and all keeping one an- 
 other in cheerful heart and life. 
 
 Within the verge of the wood there were colum- 
 bines, looking more pale than red, because they were 
 so modest, and had thought proper to seclude them- 
 selves too anxiously from the sun. There were wild 
 geraniums, too, and a thousand white blossoms of 
 the strawberry. The trailing arbutus was not yet 
 quite out of bloom, but it hid its precious flowers 
 under the last year's withered forest-leaves as carefully 
 as a mother-bird hides its little young ones. It 
 knew, I suppose, how beautiful and sweet-scemted 
 they were. So cunning was their concealment that 
 the children sometimes smelled the delicate richness of 
 their perfume before they knew whence it proceeded. 
 
 Amid so much new life it was strange and truly 
 pitii!ul to behold here and there, in the fields and 
 pastures, the hoary periwigs of dandelions that had 
 already gone to seed. They had done with summer 
 before the summer came. Within those small globes 
 oJ: winged seeds it was autumn now. 
 
 Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages 
 with any more talk about the springtime and wild 
 
164 THE HILL-SIDE. 
 
 flowers. There is something, we hope, more interest- 
 ing to be talked about. If you look at the group of 
 children, you may see them all gathered around Eus- 
 tace Bright, who, sitting on the stump of a tree, 
 seems to be just beginning a story. The fact is, the 
 younger part of the troop have found out ohat it 
 takes rather too many of their short strides to meas- 
 ure the long ascent of the hill. Cousin EustacCj 
 therefore, has decided to leave Sweet Fern, Cowslip, 
 Squash-blossom, and Dandelion at this point, midway 
 up, until the return of the rest of the party from the 
 summit. And because they complain a little and do 
 not quite like to stay behind, he gives them some ap- 
 ples out of his pocket and proposes to tell them a 
 very pretty story. Hereupon they brighten up and 
 change their grieved looks into the broadest kind of 
 smiles. 
 
 As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden be- 
 hind a bush, and shall tell it over to you in the pages 
 that come next. 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 
 
 One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and 
 his old wife Baucis sat at their cottage door enjoying 
 the calm and beautiful sunset. They had already 
 eaten their frugal supper, and intended now to spend 
 a quiet hour or two before bedtime. So they talked 
 together about their garden and their cow and their 
 bees and their grapevine which clambered over the 
 cottage wall, and on which the grapes were begin- 
 ning to turn purple. But the rude shouts of chil- 
 dren and the fierce barking of dogs in the village 
 near at hand grew louder and louder, until at last it 
 was hardly possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear 
 each other speak. 
 
 "Ah, wife," cried Philemon, "I fear some poor 
 traveller is seeking hospitality among our neighbors 
 yonder, and instead of giving him food and lodging 
 they have set their dogs at him, as their custom is!" 
 
 " Well-a-day !" answered old Baucis; "I do wish 
 our neighbors felt a little more kindness for their 
 fellow-creatures. And only think of bringing up 
 
166 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 their children in this naughty way, and patting 
 them on the head when they fling stones at strangers !" 
 
 "Those children will never come to any good," 
 said Philemon, shaking his white head. "To tell 
 you the truth, wife, I should not wonder if some ter- 
 rible thing were to happen to all the people in the 
 village unless they mend their manners. But as for 
 you and me, so long as Providence affords us a crust 
 of bread let us be ready to give half to any poor, 
 homeless stranger that may come along and need it." 
 
 "That's right, husband!" said Baucis. "So we 
 will." 
 
 These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, 
 and had to work pretty hard for a living. Old Phil- 
 emon toiled diligently in his garden, while Baucis 
 was always busy with her distaff, or making a little 
 butter and cheese with their cow's milk, or doing one 
 thing or another about the cottage. Their food was 
 seldom anything but bread, milk, and vegetables, 
 with sometimes a portion of honey from their bee- 
 hive, and now and then a bunch of grapes that had 
 ripened against the cottage wall. But they were 
 two of the kindest old people in the world, and would 
 cheerfully have gone without their dinners any day 
 rather than refuse a slice of their brown loaf, a cup 
 of new milk, and a spoonful of honey to the weary 
 traveller who might pause before their door. They 
 felt as if such guests had a sort of holiness, and that 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 16? 
 
 they therefore ought to treat them better and more 
 bountifully than their own selves. 
 
 Their cottage stood on a rising ground at some short 
 distance from a village which lay in a hollow valley, 
 that was about half a mile in breatdh. This valley, 
 in past ages when the world was new, had probably 
 been the bed of a lake. There fishes had glided to 
 and fro in the depths, and water-weeds had grown 
 along the margin, and trees and hills had seen their 
 reflected images in the broad and peaceful mirror. 
 But as the waters subsided men had cultivated the 
 Boil and built houses on it, so that it was now a fer- 
 tile spot, and bore no traces of the ancient lake ex- 
 cept a very small brook, which meandered through 
 the midst of the village and supplied the inhabitants 
 with water. The valley had been dry land so long 
 that oaks had sprung up and grown great and high, 
 and perished with old age, and been succeeded by 
 others as tall and stately as the first. Never was 
 there a prettier or more fruitful valley. The very 
 sight of the plenty around them should have made 
 the inhabitants kind and gentle and ready to shov\^ 
 their gratitude to Providence by doing good to their 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely 
 village were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which 
 heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a 
 ?ery selfish and hardhearted people, and had no 
 
168 THE MIRACJLOUS PITCHER. 
 
 pity for the poor nor sympathy with the homeless. 
 They would only have laughed had anybody told 
 them that human beings owe a debt of love to one 
 another, becanse there is no other method of paying 
 the debt of love and care which all of ns owe to Prov- 
 idence. You will hardly believe what I am going to 
 tell you. These naughty people taught their chil- 
 dren to be no better than themselves, and used to 
 clap their hands by way of encouragement when they 
 saw the little boys and girls run after some poor 
 stranger, shouting at his heels and pelting him with 
 stones. They kept large and fierce dogs, and when- 
 ever a traveller ventured to show himself in the vil- 
 lage street this pack of disagreeable curs scampered to 
 meet him, barking, snarling, and showing their teeth. 
 Then they would seize him by the leg or by the 
 clothes, just as it happened; and, if he were ragged 
 when he came, he was generally a pitiable object be- 
 fore he had time to run away. This was a very ter- 
 rible thing to poor travellers, as you may suppose, 
 especially when they chanced to be sick or feeble or 
 lame or old. Such persons (if they once knew how 
 badly these unkind people and their unkind children 
 and curs were in the habit of behaving) would go 
 miles and miles out of their way rather than try to 
 pass through the village again. 
 
 What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was 
 that when rich persons came in their chariots or rid* 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 169 
 
 ing on beautiful horses, with their servants in rich 
 liveries attending on them, nobody could be more 
 civil and obsequious than the inhabitants of the vil- 
 lage. They would take oil their hats and make the 
 humblest bows vou ever saw. If the children were 
 rude, they were pretty certain to get their ears boxed ; 
 and as for the dogs, if a single cur in the pack pre- 
 sumed to yelp, his master instantly beat him with a 
 club and tied him up without any supper. This 
 would have been all very well, only it proved that the 
 villagers cared much about the money that a stranger 
 had in his pocket, and nothing whatever for the hu- 
 man soul, which lives equally in the beggar and the 
 prince. 
 
 So now yon can understand why old Philemon 
 spoke so sorrowfully when he heard the shouts of the 
 children and the barking of the dogs at the farther 
 extremity of the village street. There was a con- 
 fused din, which lasted a good while and seemed to 
 pass quite through the breadth of the valley. 
 
 "I never heard the dogs so loud," observed the 
 good old man. 
 
 "Nor the children so rude," answered his good old 
 wife. 
 
 They sat shaking their heads one to another while 
 the noise came nearer and nearer, until, at the 
 foot of the little eminence on which their cottage 
 stood, they saw two travellers approaching on foot. 
 
170 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 Close behind them came the fierce dogs snarling at 
 their very heels. A little farther off ran a crowd of 
 children, who sent up shrill cries and flung stones at 
 the two strangers with all their might. Once or 
 twice the younger of the two men (he was a slender 
 and very active figure) turned about and drove back 
 the dogs with a staff which he carried in his hand. 
 His companion, who w\as a very tall person, walked 
 calmly along, as if disdaining to notice either the 
 naughty children or the pack of curs w^hose manners 
 the children seemed to imitate. 
 
 Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and 
 looked as if they might not have money enough in 
 their pockets to pay for a night's lodging. And this, 
 I am afraid, was the reason why the villagers had al- 
 lowed their children and dogs to treat them so 
 rudely. 
 
 " Come, wife," said Philemon to Baucis, " let us go 
 and meet these poor people. No doubt they feel al- 
 most too heavy-hearted to climb the hill." 
 
 " Go you and meet them," answered Baucis, " while 
 I make haste within doors and see whether we can 
 get them anything for supper. A comfortable bowd 
 of bread and milk would do wonders toward raising 
 their spirits." 
 
 Accordingly she hastened into the cottage. Phile- 
 mon, on his part, went forward and extended his 
 hand with so hospitable an aspect that there was no 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 171 
 
 need of saying — what, nevertheless, he did say, in 
 the heartiest tone imaginable: 
 
 "Welcome, strangers! welcome!" 
 
 " Thank you," replied the younger of the two, in a 
 lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness 
 and trouble. " This is quite another greeting than, 
 we have met with yonder in the village. Pray-, why 
 do you live in such a bad neighborhood?" 
 
 "Ah!" observed old Philemon, with a quiet and be- 
 nign smile, " Providence put me here, I hope, among 
 other reasons, in order that I may make what amends 
 I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors." 
 
 " Well said, old father," cried the traveller, ^augh- 
 ing; "and, if the truth must be told, my companion 
 and myself need some amends. Those children (the 
 little rascals!) have bespattered us finely with their 
 mud balls, and one of the curs has torn my cloak, 
 which was ragged enough already. But I took him 
 across the muzzle with my staff, and I think you may 
 have heard him yelp even thus far off. " 
 
 Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits; 
 nor, indeed, would you have fancied by the travel- 
 ler's look and manner that he was weary with a long 
 day's journey, besides being disheartened by rough 
 treatment at the end of it. He was dressed in rather 
 an odd way, with a sort of cap on his head, the brim 
 of which stuck out over both ears. Though it vras a 
 summer evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept 
 
r.2 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 wrapped closely about Mm, perhaps because bis under- 
 garments were shabby. Philemon perceived, too, 
 that he had on a singular pair of shoes ; but as it was 
 now growing dusk, and as the old man's eyesight was 
 none the sharpest, he could not precisely tell in what 
 the strangeness consisted. One thing certainly seemed 
 queer: the traveller was so wonderfully light and 
 active that it appeared as if his feet sometimes rose 
 from the ground of their own accord or could only be 
 kept down by an effort. 
 
 •'I used to be lightfooted in my youth," said Phil- 
 emon to the traveller, "but I always found my feet 
 grow heavier toward nightfall." 
 
 " There is nothing like a good staff to help one 
 along," answered the stranger; *'and I happen to 
 have an excellent one, as you see." 
 
 The staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that 
 Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive- 
 wood, and had something like a little pair of wings 
 near the top. Two snakes carved in the wood were 
 represented as twining themselves about the staff, and 
 were so very skilfully executed that old Philemon 
 (whose eyes, you know, were getting rather dim) al- 
 most thought them alive, and that he could see them 
 ^rrioforlinor and twisting. 
 
 "A curious piece of work, sure enough!" said he. 
 **A staff with winofs! It would be an excellent kind 
 of stick for a little boy to ride astride of." 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 173 
 
 By this time Philemon and his two guests had 
 reached the cottage door. 
 
 "Friends," said the old man, "sit down and rest 
 yourselves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis 
 has gone to see what you can have for supper. We 
 are poor folks, but you shall be welcome to whatever 
 we have in the cupboard." 
 
 The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on 
 the bench, letting his stafi fall as he did so. And 
 here happened something rather marvellous, though 
 trifling enough too. The staff seemed to get up from 
 the ground of its own accord, and, spreading its little 
 pair of wings, it half-hopped, half-flew, and leaned 
 itself against the wall of the cottage. There it stood 
 quite still, except that the snakes contnued to wrig- 
 gle. But, in my private opinion, old Philemon's eye- 
 sight had been playing him tricks again. 
 
 Before he could ask any questions the elder stran- 
 ger drew his attention from the wonderful staff by 
 speaking to him. 
 
 " Was there not," asked the stranger in a remark- 
 ably deep tone of voice, "a lake, in very ancient 
 times, covering the spot where now stands yonder 
 village?" 
 
 "Not in my day, friend," answered Philemon, 
 "and yet I am an old man, as you see. There were 
 always the fields and meadows just as they are now, 
 and the old trees, and the little stream murmuring 
 
174 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 through the midst of the valley. My father, nor his 
 father before him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I 
 know, and doubtless it will still be the same when 
 old Philemon shall be gone and forgotten." 
 
 "That is more than can safely be foretold," ob- 
 served the stranger; and there was something very 
 stern in his deep voice. He shook his head, too, so 
 that his dark and heavy curls were shaken with the 
 movement. " Since the inhabitants of yonder village 
 have forgotten the affections and .sympathies of their 
 nature, it were better that the lake shoi^ild be rippling 
 over their dwellings again." 
 
 The traveller looked so stern that Philemon was 
 really almost frightened; the more so, that at his 
 frown the twilight seemed suddenly to grow darker, 
 and that when he shook his head there was a roll as 
 of thunder in the air. 
 
 But in a moment afterward the stranger's face t)e- 
 came so kindly and mild that the old man quite for- 
 got his terror. Nevertheless, he could not help feel- 
 ing that this elder traveller must be no ordinary per- 
 sonage, although he happened now to be attired so 
 humbly and to be journeying on foot. Not that 
 Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise or any 
 character of that sort, but rather some exceedingly 
 wise man who went about the world in this poor garb, 
 despising wealth and all worldly objects, and seeking 
 everywhere to add a mite to his wisdom. This idea 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 175 
 
 appeared the more probable because, when Philemon 
 raised his eyes to the stranger's face, he seemed to 
 see more thought there in one look than he could 
 have studied out in a lifetime. 
 
 While Baucis was getting the supper the travellers 
 both began to talk ver}" sociably with Philemon. The 
 younger, indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made 
 such shrewd and witty remarks that the good old man 
 continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced 
 him the merriest fellow whom he had seen for many 
 a day. 
 
 "Pray, my young friend," said he as they grew 
 familiar together, "what may I call your name?" 
 
 "Why, I am very nimble, as you see," answered 
 the traveller. " So if you call me Quicksilver th3 
 name will fit tolerablv well." 
 
 "Quicksilver? Quicksilver?" repeated Philemon,, 
 jooking in the traveller's face to see if he were mak- 
 ing fun of him. "It is a very odd name. And your 
 companion there? Has he as strange a one?" 
 
 " You must ask the tliiinder to tell you," replied 
 Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. " No 
 other voice is loud enough." 
 
 This remark, whether it were serious or in Jest, 
 might have caused Philemon to conceive a very great 
 awe of the elder stranger if, on venturing to gaze 
 on him, he had not beheld so much beneficence 
 in his visage. But, undoubtedly, here was the 
 
176 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 grandest figure that ever sat so humbly beside a cot- 
 tage door. When the stranger conversed it was with 
 gravity, and in such a way that Philemon felt irre- 
 sistibly moved to tell him everything which he had 
 most at heart. This is always the feeling that people 
 have when they meet with any one wise enough to 
 comprehend all their good and evil and to despise 
 not a tittle of it. 
 
 But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man 
 that he was, had not many secrets to disclose. He 
 talked, however, quite garrulously about the events 
 of his past life, in the whole course of which he had 
 never been a score of miles from this very spot. His 
 wife Baucis and himself had dwelt in the cottage 
 from their youth upward, earning their bread by 
 honest labor, always poor but still contented. He 
 told what excellent butter and cheese Baucis made, 
 and how nice were the vegetables which he raised in 
 his g:arden. He said, too, that because they loved 
 one another so very much, it was the wish of both 
 that death might not separate them, but that they 
 should die, as they had lived, together. 
 
 As the stranger listened a smile beamed over his 
 countenance and made its expression as sweet as it 
 was grand. 
 
 "You are a good old man," said he to Philemon, 
 " and you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet. 
 It is fit that your wish be granted." 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 177 
 
 And it seemed to Philemon just then as if the sun- 
 set clouds threw up a bright flash from the west and 
 kindled a sudden light in the sky. 
 
 Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to 
 the door, began to make apologies for the poor fare 
 which she was forced to set before her guests. 
 
 "Had we known you were coming," said she, "my 
 good man and myself would have gone without a 
 morsel rather than you should lack a better supper. 
 But I took the most part of to-day's milk to make 
 cheese, and our last loaf is already half-eaten. Ah, 
 me! I never feel the sorrow of being poor save when 
 a poor traveller knocks at our door." 
 
 " All will be very well ; do not trouble yourself, my 
 good dame," replied the elder stranger, kindly. 
 "An honest, hearty welcome to a guest works mir- 
 acles with the fare, and is capable of turning the 
 coarsest food to nectar and ambrosia." 
 
 "A welcome you shall have," cried Baucis, "and 
 likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, 
 and a bunch of purple grapes besides." 
 
 "Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!" exclaimed 
 Quicksilver, laughing; "an absolute feast! and yon 
 shall see how bravely I will play my part at it. I 
 think I never felt hungrier in my life." 
 
 "Mercy on us!" whispered Baucis to her husband. 
 " If the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am 
 afraid there will not be half enough supper. " 
 12 
 
178 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 They all went into the cottage. 
 
 And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you some* 
 thing that will make you open your eyes very wide? 
 It is really one of the oddest circumstances in the 
 whole story. Quicksilver's staff, you recollect, had 
 set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well, 
 when its master entered the door, leaving this won- 
 derful staff behind, what should it do but immedi- 
 ately spread its little wings and go hopping and flut- 
 tering up the doorsteps! Tap, tap, went the staff on 
 the kitchen floor; nor did it rest until it had stood 
 itself on end, with the greatest gravity and decorum, 
 beside Quicksilver's chair. Old Philemon, however, 
 as well as his wife, was so taken up in attending to 
 their guests that no notice was given to what the 
 staff had been about. 
 
 As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper 
 for two hungry travellers. In the middle of the table 
 was the remnant of a brown loaf, with apiece of cheese 
 .on one side of it and a dish of honeycomb on the 
 other. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes 
 for each of the guests. A moderately sized earthen 
 pitcher nearly full of milk stood at a corner of 
 the board, and when Baucis had fllled two bowls 
 and set them before the strangers only a little milk 
 remained in the bottom of the pitcher. Alas! it 
 is a very sad business when a bountiful heart finds 
 Itself pinched and squeezed among narrow circum- 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 179 
 
 s/;ances. Poor Baucis kept wishing that she might 
 s';arve for a week to come, if it were possible by so 
 doing, to provide these hungry folks a more plentiful 
 sapper. 
 
 And, since the snpper w^as so exceedingly small,. 
 she could not help wishing that their appetites had 
 not been quite so large. Why, at their very first sit- 
 tino: down the travellers both drank off all the milk 
 in their two bowls at a draught. 
 
 "A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if yon 
 please," said Quicksilver. "The day has been hot 
 and I am very much athirst." 
 
 "Now, my dear people," answered Baucis, in great 
 confusion, " I am so sorry and ashamed ! But the 
 ti'uth is, there is hardly a drop more milk in the 
 pitcher. Oh, husband! husband! why didn't we go 
 without our supper?" 
 
 "Why, it appears to me," cried Quicksilver, start- 
 ing up from table and taking the pitcher by the 
 handle, — " it really appears to me that matters are 
 not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is 
 certainly more milk in the pitcher." 
 
 So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, 
 he proceeded to fill not only his own bowl, but his 
 companion's likewise, from the pitcher that was sup- 
 posed to be almost empty. The good woman could 
 scarcely believe her eyes. She had certainly poured 
 out nearly all the milk, and had peeped in afterward 
 
ISO THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 and seen the bottom of the pitcher as she set it down 
 npou the table. 
 
 "But I am old," thought Baucis to herself, "and 
 apt to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a 
 mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot help 
 being empty now, after filling the bowls twice over." 
 
 " What excellent milk !" observed Quicksilver, 
 after quaffing the contents of the second bowl. 
 " Excuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask 
 you for a little more." 
 
 Now, Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see 
 anything, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher 
 upside down, and consequently had poured out every 
 drop of milk in filling the last bowl. Of course there 
 could not possibly be any left. However, in order to 
 let him know precisely how the case was, she lifted 
 the pitcher and made a gesture as if pouring milk 
 into Quicksilver's bowl, but without the remotest idea 
 that any milk would stream forth. What was her 
 surprise, therefore, when such an abundant cascade 
 tell bubbling into the bowl that it was immediately 
 filled to the brim and overflowed upon the table! 
 The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver's 
 staff (but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to 
 observe this circumstance) stretched out their heads 
 and began to lap up the spilt milk. 
 
 And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had! 
 It seemed as if Philemon's only cow must have pas- 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. . 181 
 
 tured that day on the richest herbage that could be 
 found anywhere in the world. I only wish that each 
 of you, my beloved little souls, could have a bowl of 
 such nice milk at supper-time! 
 
 "And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother 
 Baucis," said Quicksilver, "and a little of that 
 honey." 
 
 Baucis cut him a slice accordingly; and though 
 the loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had 
 been rather too dry and crusty to be palatable, it was 
 now as light and moist as if but a few hours out of 
 the oven. Tasting a crumb which had fallen on the 
 table, she found it more delicious than bread ever 
 was before, and could hardly believe that it was a loaf 
 of her kneading and baking. Yet what other loaf 
 could it possibly be? 
 
 But oh, the honey! I may just as well let it alone, 
 without trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt 
 and looked. Its color was that of the purest and 
 most transparent gold, and it had the odor of a thou- 
 sand flowers, but of such flowers as never grew in an 
 earthly garden, and to seek which the bees must have 
 flown above the clouds. The wonder is that, after 
 alighting on a flower-bed of so delicious fragrance 
 and immortal bloom, they should have been content 
 to fly down again to their hive in Philemon's garden. 
 Never was such honey tasted, seen, or smelt. The 
 perfume floated around the kitchen, and made it so 
 
182 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 delightful that, had you closed your eyes, you would 
 instantly have forgotten the low ceiling and smoky 
 walls, and have fancied yourself in an arbor with 
 celestial honeysuckles creeping over it. 
 
 Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old 
 dame, she could not but think that there was some- 
 thing rather out of the common way in all that had 
 been going on. So, after helping the guests to bread 
 and honey and laying a bunch of grapes by each of 
 their plates, she sat down by Philemon and told him 
 what she had seen in a whisper. 
 
 "Did you ever hear the like?" asked she. 
 
 "No, I never did," answered Philemon, with a 
 smile. " And I rather think, my dear old wife, you 
 have been walking about in a sort of a dream. If I 
 had poured out the milk, I should have seen through 
 the business at once. There happened to be a little 
 more in the pitcher than you thought — that is all." 
 
 "Ah, husband," said Baucis, "say what you will, 
 these are very uncommon people." 
 
 "Well, well," replied Philemon, still smiling, 
 " perhaps they are. They certainly do look as if they 
 had seen better days, and I am heartily glad to see 
 them making so comfortable a supper." 
 
 Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of 
 grapes upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes 
 in order to see the more clearly) was of opinion that 
 the clusters had grown larger and richer, and that 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 183 
 
 e'ich separate grape seemed to be on the point of 
 bursting with ripe juice. It was entirely a mystery 
 to her how such grapes could ever have been produced 
 from the old stunted vine that climbed against the 
 cottage-wall. 
 
 "Very admirable grapes, these!" observed Quick- 
 s*Uver, as he swallowed one after another without 
 apparently diminishing his cluster. " Pray, my good 
 host, whence did you gather them?" 
 
 " From my own vine," answered Philemon. " You 
 may see one of its branches twisting across the win- 
 dow yonder. But wife and I never thought the 
 grapes very fine ones." 
 
 *' I never tasted better," said the guest. " Another 
 cap of this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall 
 then have supped better than a prince." 
 
 This time old Philemon bestirred himself and took 
 up the pitcher, for he was curious to discover whether 
 there was any reality in the marvels which Baucis had 
 whispered to him. He knew that his good old wife 
 was incapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom 
 mistaken in what she supposed to be true; but this 
 was so very singular a case that he wanted to see into 
 it with his own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, 
 tlierefore, he slyly peeped into it, and was fully satis- 
 fied that it contained not so much as a siugle drop. 
 AW at once, however, he beheld a little white foun- 
 tain, which gushed up from the bottom of the pitcher 
 
184 THE MIRACULOCfS PITCHER. 
 
 and speedily filled it to the brim with foaming and 
 deliciously fragrant milk. It was lucky that Phile- 
 mon, in his surprise, did not drop the miraculous 
 pitcher from his hand. 
 
 "Who are ye, wonder-working strangers?" cried 
 he, even more bewildered than his wife had been. 
 
 "Your guests, my good Philemon, and your 
 friends," replied the elder traveller, in his mild, deep 
 voice that had something at once sweet and awe- 
 inspiring in it. " Give me likewise a cup of the 
 milk; and may your pitcher never be empty for kind 
 Baucis and yourself, any more than for the needy 
 wavfarer !" 
 
 The supper being now over, the strangers requested 
 to be shown to their place of repose. The old people 
 would gladly have talked with them a little longer, 
 and have expressed the wonder which they felt, and 
 their delight at finding the poor and meagre supper 
 prove so much better and more abundant than they 
 '''oped. But the elder traveller had inspired them 
 with such reverence that they dared not ask him any 
 questions. And when Philemon drew Quicksilver 
 aside and inquired how under the sun a fountain of 
 milk could have got into an old earthen pitcher, this 
 latter personage pointed to his staff. 
 
 *' There is the whole mystery of the affair," quoth 
 Quicksilver; "and if you can make it out, I'll thank 
 you to let me know. I can't tell what to make of 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 185 
 
 my staff. It is always playing such odd tricks as 
 this, sometimes getting me a supper, and quite as 
 often stealing it away. If I had any faith in such 
 nonsense, I should say the stick was bewitched." 
 
 He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces 
 that they rather fancied he was laughing at them. 
 The magic staff went hopping at his heels as Quick- 
 silver quitted the room. When left alone the good 
 old couple spent some little time in conversation 
 about the events of the evening, and then lay down 
 on the floor and fell fast asleep. They had given up 
 their sleeping-room to the guests, and had no other 
 bed for themselves save these planks, which I wish 
 had been as soft as their own hearts. 
 
 The old man and his wife were stirring betimes in 
 the morning, and the strangers likewise arose with 
 the sun and made their preparations to depart. Phil- 
 emon hospitably entreated them to remain a little 
 longer until Baucis could milk the cow and bake a 
 cake upon the hearth, and perhaps find them a few 
 fresh eggs for breakfast. The guests, however, 
 seemed to think it better to accomplish a good part 
 of their journey before the heat of the day should 
 come on. They therefore persisted in setting out 
 immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to walk 
 forth with them a short distance and show them the 
 road which they were to take. 
 
 So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting 
 
186 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 together like old friends. It was very remarkable 
 indeed how familiar the old couple insensibly grew 
 with the elder traveller, and how their good and 
 simple spirits melted into his, even as two drops of 
 water would melt into the illimitable ocean. And as 
 for Quicksilver, with his keen, quick, laughing wits, 
 he appeared to discover every little thought that but 
 peeped into their minds before they suspected it them- 
 selves. They sometimes wished, it is true, that he 
 had not been quite so quick-witted, and also that he 
 would fling away his staff, which looked so mysteri- 
 ously mischievous with the snakes always writhing 
 about it. But then, again. Quicksilver showed him- 
 self so very good-humored that they would have been 
 rejoiced to keep him in their cottage, staff, snakes, 
 and all, every day and the whole day long. 
 
 "Ah me! TVell-a-day!" exclaimed Philemon when 
 they had walked a little way from their door. " If our 
 neighbors only knew what a blessed thing it is to 
 show hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all 
 their dogs and never allow their children to fling an- 
 other stone." J 
 
 " It is a sin and shame for them to behave so — that 
 it is!" cried good old Baucis, vehemently. "And I 
 mean to go this very day and tell some of them what 
 naughty people they are." 
 
 ''I fear," remarked Quicksilver, slyly smilin^f, 
 *that you will find none of them at home." 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 187 
 
 The elder traveller's brow just then assumed such 
 a grave, stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal, 
 that neither Baucis nor Philemon dared to speak a 
 word. They gazed reverently into his face, as if they 
 had been gazing at the sky. 
 
 " When men do not feel toward the humblest 
 stranger as if he were a brother," said the traveller, 
 in tones so deep that they sounded like those of an 
 organ, "they are unworthy to exist on earth, which 
 was created as the abode of a great human brother- 
 hood." 
 
 "And, by the bye, my dear old people," cried 
 Quicksilver, with the liveliest look of fun and mis- 
 chief in his eyes, " where is this same village that you 
 talk about? On which side of us does it lie? Me- 
 thinks I do not see it hereabouts." 
 
 Philemon and his wife turned toward the valley, 
 where at sunset only the day before they had seen the 
 meadows, the houses, the gardens, the clumps of 
 trees, the wide, green-margined street with children 
 playing in it, and all the tokens of business, enjoy- 
 ment, and prosperity. But what was their astonish- 
 ment! There was no longer any appearance of a 
 village! Even the fertile vale in the hollow of which 
 it lay had ceased to have existence. In its stead they 
 beheld the broad blue surface of a lake which filled 
 the great basin of the valley from brim to brim, and 
 reflected the surrounding hills in its bosom with as 
 
188 THE 3IIRACUL0US PITCHER. 
 
 traDquil an image as if it had been there ever since 
 the creation of the world. For an instant the lake 
 remained perfectly smooth. Then a little breeze 
 sprang up and caused the water to dance, glitter, and 
 sparkle in the early sunbeams and to dash with a 
 pleasant rippling murmur against the hither shore. 
 
 The lake seemed so strangely familiar that the old 
 couple were greatly j^erplexed, and felt as if they 
 could only have been dreaming about a village hav- 
 ing lain there. But the next moment they remem- 
 bered the vanished dwellinsfs and the faces and 
 characters of the inhabitants far too distinctly for a 
 dream. The village had been there yesterday, and 
 now was gone! 
 
 " Alas !" cried these kind-hearted old people, " what 
 has become of our poor neighbors?" 
 
 "They exist no longer as men and women," said 
 the elder traveller in his grand and deep voice, while 
 a roll of thunder seemed to echo it at a distance. 
 " There was neither use nor beauty in such a life as 
 theirs, for they never softened or sweetened the hard 
 lot of mortality by the exercise of kindly affections 
 between man and man. They retained no image of 
 the better life in their bosoms, therefore the lake that 
 was of old has spread itself forth again to reflect the 
 Bky." 
 
 " And as for those foolish people," said Quicksilver, 
 with his mischievous smile, "they are all transformed 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 139 
 
 to fishes. 'There needed but little change, for they 
 were already a scaly set of rascals and the coldest- 
 blooded beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis, 
 whenever you or your husband have an appetite for a 
 dish of broiled trout, he can throw in a line and pull, 
 out half a dozen of your old neighbors." 
 
 "Ah," cried Baucis, shuddering, "I would not for 
 the world put one of them on the gridiron!" 
 
 "No," added Philemon, making a wry face, "w© 
 could never relish them." 
 
 "As for you, good Philemon," continued the elder 
 traveller — "and you, kind Baucis — you with your 
 scanty means have mingled so much heartfelt hospi- 
 tality with your entertainment of the hom.eless stran- 
 ger that the milk became an inexhaustible fount for 
 nectar, and the brown loaf and the honey were am- 
 brosia. Thus the divinities have feasted at your 
 board off the same viands that supply their banquets 
 on Olympus. You have done well, my dear old 
 friends. Wherefore, request whatever favor you have 
 most at heart, and it is granted." 
 
 Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and 
 then — I know not which of the two it was who 
 spoke, but that one uttered the desire of both their 
 hearts : 
 
 " Let us live together while we live, and leave the 
 world at the same instant when we die, for we have 
 always loved one another." 
 
190 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 "Be it so," replied the stranger with majestic 
 kindness. "Now look toward your cottage." 
 
 They did so; but what was their surprise on be- 
 holding a tall edifice of white marble with a wide- 
 open portal occupying the spot where their humble 
 residence had so lately stood. 
 
 "There is your home," said the stranger, benefi- 
 cently smiling on them both. " Exercise your hospi- 
 tality in yonder palace as freely as in the poor hovel 
 to which you welcomed us last evening." 
 
 The old folks fell on their knees to thank him, 
 but behold ! neither he nor Quicksilver was there. 
 
 So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in 
 the marble palace, and spent their time, with vast 
 satisfaction to themselves, in making everybody jolly 
 and comfortable who happened to pass that way. 
 The milk-pitcher, I must not forget to say, retained 
 its marvellous quality of being never empty when it 
 was desirable to have it full. Whenever an honest, 
 good-humored, and free-hearted guest took a draught 
 from the pitcher, he invariably found it the sweetest 
 and most invigorating fluid that ever ran down his 
 throat. But if a cross and disagreeable curmudgeon 
 happened to sip, he was pretty certain to twist his 
 Tisage into a hard knot and pronounce it a pitcher 
 of sour milk. 
 
 Thus the old couple lived in their palace a great, 
 great while, and grew older and older, and very old 
 
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 191 
 
 indeed. At length, however, there came a summer 
 morning when Philemon and Baucis failed to make 
 their appearance, as on other mornings, with one 
 hospitable smile overspreading both their pleasant 
 faces, to invite the guests of overnight to breakfast. 
 The guests searched everywhere, from top to bottom 
 of the spacious palace, and all to no purpose. But 
 after a great deal of perplexity they espied in front 
 of the portal two venerable trees which nobody could 
 remember to have seen there the day before. Yet 
 there they stood, with their roots fastened deep into 
 the soil and a huge breath of foliage overshadowing 
 the whole front of the edifice. One was an oak and 
 the other a linden tree. Their boughs — it was 
 strange and beautiful to see — were intertwined to- 
 gether and embraced one another, so that each tree 
 seemed to live in the other tree's bosom much more 
 than in its own. 
 
 While the guests were marvelling how these trees, 
 that must have required at least a century to grow, 
 could have come to be so tall and venerable in a sin- 
 gle night, a breeze sprang up and set their intermin- 
 gled boughs astir. And then there was a deep, broad 
 murmur in the air, as if the two mysterious trees 
 were speaking. 
 
 " I am old Philemon!" murmured the oak. 
 
 "I am old Baucis!" murmured the linden-tree. 
 
 But as the breeze sjrew stronger the trees both 
 
192 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 
 
 spoke at once — "Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Phile- 
 mon!" — as if one were both and both were one, and 
 talking together in the depths of their mutual heart. 
 It was plain enough to perceive that the good old 
 couple had renewed their age, and were now to spend 
 a quiet and delightful hundred years or so, Philemon 
 as an oak and Baucis as a linden-tree. And oh, what 
 a hospitable shade did they fling around them! 
 Whenever a wayfarer paused beneath it he heard a 
 pleasant whisper of the leaves above his head, and 
 wondered how the sound should so much resemble 
 words like these: 
 
 " Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome!" 
 And some kind soul that knew what would have 
 pleased old Baucis and old Philemon best built a cir- 
 cular seat around both their trunks, where, for a 
 great while afterward, the weary and the hungry and 
 the thirsty used to repose themselves and quaff milk 
 abundantly out of the miraculous pitcher. 
 
 And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the 
 pitcher here now i 
 
THE HILL-SIDE. 
 
 AFTER THE STORY, 
 
 '"How much did the pitcher hold?" asked Sweet 
 Fern. 
 
 " It did not hold quite a quart," answered the stu- 
 dent, " but you might keep pouring miik out of it 
 till you should fill a hogshead, if you pleased. The 
 truth is, it would run on for ever, and not be dry 
 even at midsummer, which is more than can be said 
 of yonder rill that goes babbling down the hillside." 
 
 "And what has become of the pitcher now?" in- 
 quired the little boy. 
 
 " It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty- 
 five thousand years ago," replied Cousin Eustace. 
 "The people mended it as well as they could, but, 
 though it would hold milk pretty well, it was never 
 afterward known to fill itself of its own accord. So, 
 you see, it was no better than any other cracked 
 earthen pitcher." 
 
 " What a pity!" cried all the children at once, 
 13 
 
1S4 THE HILL-SIDE. 
 
 The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the 
 party, as did likewise a half-grown Newfoundland 
 puppy who went by the name of Bruin, because he 
 was just as black as a bear. Ben, being elderly and 
 of very circumspect habits, was respectfully requested 
 by Cousin Eustace to stay behind with the four little 
 children, in order to keep them out of mischief. As 
 for black Bruin, who was himself nothing but a 
 child, the student thought it best to take him along, 
 lest in his rude play with the other children he should 
 trip them up and send them rolling and tumbling 
 down the hill. Advising Cowslip, Sweet Fern, Dan- 
 delion, and Squash-blossom . to sit pretty still in the 
 spot where he left them, the student, with Primrose 
 and the elder children, began to ascend, and wei« 
 eooii out of sight among the trees. 
 
BALD SUMMIT. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY TO "THE CHIMERA. 
 
 »t 
 
 Upward along the steep and wooded hillside went 
 Eustace Bright and his companions. The trees were 
 not yet in full leaf, but had budded forth sufficiently 
 to throw an airy shadow, while the sunshine filled 
 them with green light. There were moss-grown 
 rocks half-hidden among the old brown fallen leaves; 
 there were rotten tree-trunks lying at full length 
 where they had long ago fallen ; there were decayed 
 boughs that had been shaken down by the wintry 
 gales and were scattered everywhere about. But still, 
 though these things looked so aged, the aspect of the 
 wood was that of the newest life, for, whichever way 
 you turned your eyes, something fresh and green 
 was springing forth, so as to be ready for the summer. 
 
 At last the young people reached the upper verge 
 of the wood, and found themselves almost at the 
 summit of the hill. It was not a peak nor a great 
 round ball, but a pretty wide plain or tableland witb 
 
196 BALD SUMMIT. 
 
 a house and barn upon it at some distance. Tha^ 
 house was the home of a solitary family, and often- 
 times the clouds whence fell the rain and whence the 
 snow-storm drifted down into the valley hung lower 
 than this bleak and lonely dwelling-place. 
 
 On the highest point of the hill was a heap of 
 stones, in the centre of which was stuck a long pole 
 with a little flag fluttering at the end of it. Eustace 
 Jed the children thither, and bade them look around 
 and see how large a tract of our beautiful world they 
 could take in at a glance. And their eyes grew 
 wider as they looked. 
 
 Monument Mountain, to the southward, was still 
 in the centre of the scene, but seemed to have sunk 
 and subsided, so that it was now but an undistin- 
 guished member of a large family of hills. Beyond 
 it the Taconic range looked higher and bulkier than 
 before. Our pretty lake was seen, with all its little 
 bays and inlets; and not that alone, but two or three 
 ^^Q'N lakes were opening their blue eyes to the sun. 
 Several white villages, each with its steeple, were 
 scattered about in the distance. There were so ma»v 
 farmhouses, with their acres of woodland, pasture, 
 mowing-fields, and tillage, that the children could 
 hardly make room in their minds to receive all these 
 different objects. There, too, was Tanglewood, 
 which they had hitherto thought such an important 
 apex of the world. It now occupied so small a space 
 
BALD SUMMIT. 197 
 
 that they gazed far beyond it and on either side, and 
 searched a good while with all their eyes before dis- 
 covering whereabout it stood. 
 
 White fleecy clouds were hanging in the air, and 
 threw the dark spots of their shadow here and therein 
 over the landscape. But by and by the sunshine was 
 where the shadow had been, and the shadow was 
 somewhere else. 
 
 Far to the westward was a range of blue mountains 
 which Eustace Bright told the children were the 
 Catskills. Among those misty hills, he said, was a 
 spot where some old Dutchmen were playing an ever- 
 lasting game of ninepins, and where an idle fellow 
 whose name was Eip Van Winkle had fallen asleep 
 and slept twenty years at a stretch. The children 
 eagerly besought Eustace to tell them all about this 
 wonderful affair. But the student replied that the 
 story had been told once already, and better than it 
 ever could be told again, and that nobody would have 
 a right to alter a word of it until it should have 
 grown as old as "The Gorgon's Head" and "The 
 Three Golden Apples," and the rest of those miracu- 
 lous legends. 
 
 "At least," said Periwinkle, "while we rest our- 
 selves here and are looking about us you can tell u& 
 another of your own stories." 
 
 "Yes, Cousin Eustace," cried Primrose, "I advise- 
 you to Sell us a story here. Take some lofty subject or 
 
198 BALD SUMMIT. 
 
 other, and see if your imagination will not come up to 
 it. Perhaps the mountain air ma}' make you poetical 
 for once. And no matter how strange and wonderful 
 the story may be, now that we are up among the 
 clouds we can believe anything." 
 
 " Can you believe," asked Eustace, " that there was 
 once a winged horse?" 
 
 "Yes," said saucy Primrose, "but I am afraid you 
 will never be able to catch him." 
 
 " For that matter. Primrose," rejoined the student, 
 " I might possibly catch Pegasus, and get upon his 
 back too, as well as a dozen other fellows that I know 
 of. At any rate, here is a story about him; and, of 
 all places in the world, it ought certainly to be told 
 upon a mountain-top." 
 
 So, sitting on the pile of stones while the children 
 clustered themselves at its base, Eustace fixed his eyes 
 on a white cloud that was sailing by and began as 
 follows. 
 
 s,S, , 
 
 
 
 1 ■ ' ^ ■ . 
 
THE CHIMERA. 
 
 Okce, in the old, old times (for all the strange 
 things which I tell you about happened long before 
 anybody can remember), a fountain gushed out of a 
 hillside in the marvellous land of Greece. And, for 
 aught I know, after so many thousand years it is still 
 gushing out of the very self-same spot. At any rate, 
 there was the pleasant fountain welling freshly forth 
 and sparkling down the hillside in the golden sunset 
 when a handsome young man named Bellerophon 
 drew near its margin. In his hand he held a bridle 
 studded with brilliant gems and adorned with a 
 golden bit. Seeing an old man and another of middle 
 age and a little boy near the fountain, and likewise a 
 maiden who was dipping up some of the water in a 
 pitcher, he paused and begged that he might refresh 
 himself with a draught. 
 
 "This is very delicious water," he said to the 
 maiden as he rinsed and filled her pitcher after drink- 
 ing out of it. " Will you be kind enough to tell me 
 whether the fountain has any name?" 
 
200 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 "Yes, it is called the fountain of Pirene," an- 
 swered the maiden; and then she added, "My grand- 
 mother has told me that this clear fountain was once 
 a beautiful woman, and when her son was killed by 
 the arrows of the huntress Diana she melted all away 
 'into tears. And so the water which you find so cool 
 and sweet is the sorrow of that poor mother's heart!" 
 
 "I should not have dreamed," observed the young 
 stranger, " that so clear a well-spring, with its gush 
 and gurgle and its cheery dance out of the shade into 
 the sunlight, had so much as one teardrop in its 
 bosom. And this, then, is Pirene? I thank you, 
 pretty maiden, for telling me its name. I have oome 
 from a far-away country to find this very spot." 
 
 A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his 
 cow to drink out of the spring) stared hard at young 
 Bellerophon and at the handsome bridle which he 
 carried in his hand. 
 
 " The water-courses must be getting low, friend, 
 in your part of the world," remarked he, **if you 
 come so far only to find the Fountain of Pirene. 
 But, pray, have you lost a horse? I see you carry 
 the bridle in your hand, and a very pretty one it is, 
 with that double row of bright stones upon it if the 
 horse was as fine as the bridle, you are much to be 
 pitied for losing him." 
 
 " I have lost no horse," said Bellerophon with a 
 smile, " but I happen to be seeking a very famous 
 
THE CHIMyERA. 201 
 
 pne, which, as wise people have informed me, must 
 be found hereabouts, if anywhere. Do you know 
 whether the winged horse Pegasus still haunts the 
 Fountain of Pirene, as he used to do in your fore- 
 father's daysV" 
 
 But then the country fellow laughed. 
 
 Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard 
 that this Pegasus was a snow-white steed with beau- 
 tiful silvery wungs who spent most of his time on the 
 summit of Mount Helicon. He was as wild and as 
 swift and as buoyant in his flight through the air as 
 any eagle that ever soared into the clouds. There 
 was nothing else like him in the world. He had no 
 mate, he had never been backed or bridled by a mas- 
 ter, and for many a long year he led a solitary and 
 a happy life. 
 
 Oh, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! 
 Sleeping at night, as he did, on a lofty mountain- 
 top, and passing the greater part of the day in the 
 air, Pegasus seemed hardly to be a creature of the 
 ^rth. Whenever he was seen up very high above 
 people's heads, with the sunshine on his silvery wings, 
 you would have thought that he belonged to the sky, 
 and that, skimming a little too low, he had got astray 
 among our mists and vapors and was seeking his way 
 back again. It was very pretty to behold him plunge 
 into the fleecy bosom of a bright cloud and be lost in 
 it for a moment or two, and then break forth frona. 
 
20^ THE CHIMjERA. 
 
 the other side. Or, in a sullen rainstorm, when 
 there was a gray pavement of clouds over the whole 
 sky, it would sometimes happen that the winged 
 horse descended right through it, and the glad light 
 of the upper region would gleam after him. In an- 
 other instant, it is true, both Pegasus and the pleas- 
 ant light would be gone away together. But any 
 one that was fortunate enough to see this wondrous 
 spectacle felt cheerful the whole day afterward, and 
 as much longer as the storm lasted. 
 
 In the summertime and in the beautifulest of 
 weather Pegasus often alighted on the solid earth, 
 and, closing his silvery wings, would gallop over hill 
 and dale for pastime as fleetly as the wind. Oftener 
 than in any other place he had been seen near the 
 Fountain of Pirene, drinking the delicious water or 
 rolling himself upon the soft grass of the margin. 
 Sometimes, too (but Pegasus was very dainty in his 
 food), he would crop a few of the clover-blossoms that 
 iiappened to be sweetest. 
 
 To the Fountain of Pirene, therefore, people's great- 
 grandfathers had been in the habit of going (as long 
 as they were youthful and retained their faith in 
 winged horses) in hopes of getting a glimpse at the 
 beautiful Pegasus. But of late years he had been 
 very seldom seen. Indeed, there were many of the 
 country folks dwelling within half an hour's walk of 
 the fountain who had never beheld Pegasus, and did 
 
THE CHIMERA. 203 
 
 lot believe that there was any such creature in exist- 
 ence. The country fellow to whom Bellerophon was 
 speaking chanced to be one of those incredulous 
 persons. 
 
 And that was the reason why he laughed. 
 
 ** Pegasus, indeed!" cried he, turning up his nose, 
 as high as such a flat nose could be turned up. 
 " Pegasus, indeed ! A winged horse, truly ! Why, 
 friend, are you in your senses? Of what use would 
 wings be to a horse? Could he drag the plough so 
 well, think you? To be sure, there might be a little 
 saving in the expense of shoes, but then how would a 
 man like to see his horse flying out of the stable-win- 
 dow? — yes, or whisking him up above the clouds 
 when he only wanted to ride to mill? No, no! I 
 don't believe in Pegasus. There never was s«ch a 
 ridiculous kind of a horse-fowl made!" 
 
 "I have some reason to think otherwise," said Bel- 
 lerophon, quietly. 
 
 And then he turned to an old gray man who wi.. 
 leaning on a staff and listening very attentively with 
 his head stretched forward and one hand at his ear, 
 because for the last twenty years he had been getting 
 rather deaf. 
 
 "And what say you, venerable sir?" inquired he. 
 " In your younger days, I should imagine, you must 
 frequently have seen the winged steed." 
 
 "Ah J young stranger, my memory is very poor,** 
 
204 THE CHIMjERA. 
 
 said the aged man. "When I was a lad, if I remem- 
 ber rightly, I used to believe there was such a horse, 
 and so did everybody else. But nowadays I hardly 
 know what to think, and very seldom think about 
 the winged horse at all. If I ever saw the creature, 
 it was a long, long while ago; and, to tell you the 
 truth, I doubt whether I ever did see him. One day, 
 to be sure, when I was quite a youth, I remember 
 seeing some hoof-tramps round about the brink of 
 the fountain. Pegasus might have made those hoof- 
 marks, and so might some other horse." 
 
 "And have never seen him, my fair maiden?" 
 asked Bellerophon of the girl, who stood with the 
 pitcher on her head while this talk went on. " You 
 certainly could see Pegasus if anybody can, for your 
 eyes are very bright." 
 
 "Once I thought I saw him," replied the maiden, 
 with a smile and a blush. " It was either Pegasus or 
 a large white bird a very great way up in the air. 
 And one other time, as I was coming to the founatin 
 with my pitcher, I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk 
 and melodious neigh as that was! My very heart 
 leaped with delight at the sound. But it startled me, 
 nevertheless, so that I ran home without filling my 
 pitcher." 
 
 "That was truly a pity!" said Bellerophon. 
 
 And he turned to the child whom I mentioned at 
 the beginning of the story, and who was gazing at 
 
THE CHIMjERA. 205 
 
 him, as children are apt to gaze at strangers, with his 
 rosy mouth wide open. 
 
 "Well, my little fellow," cried Bellerophon, play- 
 fully pulling one of his curls, " I suppose you have 
 often seen the winged horse." 
 
 "That I have," answered the child very readily. 
 " I saw him yesterday and many times before." 
 
 "You are a fine little man!" said Bellerophon, 
 drawing the child closer to him. " Come, tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 " Why," replied the child, "I often come here to 
 sail little boats in the fountain and to gather pretty 
 pebbles out of its basin. And sometimes, when I 
 look down into the water, I see the image of the 
 winged horse in the picture of the sky that is there. 
 I wish he would come down and take me on his back 
 and let ine ride him up to the moon. But if I so 
 much as stir to look at him, he flies far away, out of 
 sight." 
 
 And Bellerophon put his faith in the child who 
 had seen the image of Pegasus in the water, and in 
 the maiden who had heard him neigh so melodiously, 
 rather than in the middle-aged clown who believed 
 only in cart-horses, t/i' in the old man who had for- 
 gotten the beautiful things of his youth. 
 
 Therefore he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene 
 for a great many days afterward. He kept continu- 
 ally on the watch, looking upward at the sky or else 
 
206 THE CHIMj^RA. 
 
 down into the water, hoping forever that he should 
 see either the reflected image of the winged horse or 
 the marvellous reality. He held the bridle, with its 
 bright gems and golden bit, always ready in his hand. 
 The rustic people who dwelt in the neighborhood and 
 drove their cattle to the fountain to drink would 
 often laugh at poor Bellerophon, and sometimes take 
 him pretty severely to task. They told him that an 
 able-bodied young man like himself ought to have 
 better business than to be wasting his time in such an 
 idle pursuit. They offered to sell him a horse if he 
 wanted one, and when Bellerophon declined the pur- 
 chase they tried to drive a bargain with him for his 
 fine bridle. 
 
 Even the country boys thought him so very foolish 
 that they used to have a great deal of sport about 
 him, and were rude enough not to care a fig although 
 Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, 
 for example, would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest 
 imaginable capers by way of flying, while one of his 
 schoolfellows would scamper after him holding forth 
 a twist of bulrushes which was intended to represent 
 Bellerophon's ornamental bridle. But the gentle 
 child who had seen the picture of Pegasus in the 
 water comforted the young stranger more than all the 
 naughty boys could torment him. The dear little 
 fellow in his play-hours often sat down beside him, 
 and without speaking a word wouLd look down into 
 
THE CHIMERA. 207 
 
 the fountain and up toward the sky with so innocent 
 a faith that Bellerophon could not help feeling en- 
 couraged. 
 
 Now, you will perhaps wish to be told why it was 
 that Bellerophon had undertaken to catch the winged 
 horse, and we shall find no better opportunity to 
 speak about this matter than while he is waiting for 
 Pegasus to appear. 
 
 If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon's pre- 
 vious adventures, they might easily grow into a very 
 long story. It will be quite enough to say that in a 
 certain country of Asia a terrible monster called a 
 Obimaera had made its appearance, and was doing 
 more mischief than could be talked about between 
 uow and sunset. According to the best accounts 
 which I have been able to obtain, this Chimsera was 
 nearly, if not quiet, the ugliest and most poisonous 
 creature, and the strangest and unaccountablest, and 
 the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult to 
 run away from, that ever came out of the earth's in- 
 side. It had a tail like a boa constrictor, its body 
 was like I do not care what, and it had three separate 
 heads, one of which was a lion's, the second a goat's, 
 And the third an abominably great snake's, and a hot 
 blast of fire came flaming out of each of its three 
 moaths. Being an earthly monster, I doubt whether 
 it had any wings; but, win^s or no, it ran like a goat 
 and a lion and wriggled along like a serpent, and 
 
208 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 thus contrived to make about as much speed as all 
 the three together. 
 
 Oh, the mischief and mischief and mischief that 
 this naughty creature did! With its flaming breath 
 it could set a forest on fire or burn up a field of grain, 
 or, for that matter, a village with all its fences and 
 houses. It laid waste the whole country round about, 
 and used to eat up people and animals alive, and cook 
 them afterward in the burning oven of its stomach. 
 Mercy on us, little children! I hope neither you 
 nor I will ever happen to meet a Chimera. 
 
 While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise 
 call it) was doing all these horrible things, it so 
 chanced that Bellerophon came to that part of the 
 world on a visit to the king. The king's name was 
 lobates, and Lycia was the country which he ruled 
 over. Bellerophon was one of the bravest youths in 
 the world, and desired nothing so much as to do some 
 valiant and beneficent deed, such as would make all 
 mankind admire and love him. In those days the 
 only way for a young man to distinguish himself was 
 by fighting battles, either with the enemies of his 
 country or with wicked giants or with troublesome 
 dragons or with wild beasts, when he could find noth' 
 ing more dangerous to encounter. King lobates, per- 
 ceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposed 
 to him to go and fight the Chimaera, w'hich everybody 
 else was afraid of, and which, unless it should be sood 
 
THE CHIM.^RA. 209 
 
 killed, was likely to convert Lycia into a desert. Bel- 
 lerophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the 
 king that he would either slay this dreaded Chimaera 
 or perish in the attempt. 
 
 But, in the first place, as the monster was so pro* 
 digiously swift, he bethought himself that he should 
 never win the victory by fighting on foot. The 
 wisest thing he could do, therefore, was to get the 
 very best and fleetest horse that could anywhere be 
 found. And what other horse in all the world was 
 half so fleet as the marvellous horse Pegasus, who had 
 wings as well as legs, and was even more active in the 
 air than on the earth? To be sure, a great many 
 people denied that there was any such horse with 
 wings, and said that the stories about him were all 
 poetry and nonsense. But, wonderful as it appeared, 
 Bellerophon believed that Pegasus was a real steed, 
 and hoped that he himself might be fortunate enough 
 to find him ; and, once fairly mounted on his back, he 
 would be able to fight the Chimaera at better advantage. 
 
 And this was the purpose with which be had 
 travelled from Lycia to Greece and had brought the 
 beautifully ornamented bridle in his hand. It was 
 an enchanted bridle. If he could only succeed in 
 putting the golden bit into the mouth of Pegasus, 
 the winged horse would be submissive, and would 
 own Bellerophon for his master, and fly whitherso- 
 ever he might choose to turn the rein. 
 14 
 
210 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time while 
 Bellerophon waited and waited for Pegasus, in hopes 
 that he would come and drink at the Fountain of 
 Pirene. He was afraid lest King lobates should im- 
 agine that he had fled from the Chimaera. It pained 
 him, too, to think how much mischief the monster 
 was doing while he himself, instead of fighting with 
 it, was compelled to sit idly poring over the bright 
 waters of Pirene as they gushed out of the sparkling 
 sand. And as Pegasus came thither so seldom in 
 these latter years, and scarcely alighted there more 
 than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon feared that he 
 might grow an old man, and have no strength left in 
 his arms nor courage in his heart, before the winged 
 horse would appear. Oh, how heavily passes the time 
 while an adventurous youth is yearning to do his 
 part in life and to gather in the harvest of his re- 
 nown! How hard a lesson it is to wait! Our life is 
 brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching us 
 only this! 
 
 Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child 
 had grown so fond of him and was never weary of^ 
 keeping him company. Every morning the child 
 gave him a new hope to put in his bosom instead of 
 yesterday's withered one. 
 
 "Dear Bellerophon," he would cry, looking up 
 hopefully into his face, " I think we shall see Pegj/sus 
 to-day." 
 
TEE CHIMjERA. 211 
 
 And at length, if it had not been for the little 
 boy's unwavering faith, Bellerophon would have given 
 up all hope, and would have gone back to Lycia and 
 have done his best to slay the Chimera without the 
 help of the winged horse. And in that case poor 
 Bellerophon would at least have been terribly scorched 
 by the creature's breath, and would most probably' 
 have been killed and devoured. Nobodv should ever 
 
 ft/ 
 
 try to fight an earth-born Chimera unless he can first 
 get upon the back of an aerial steed. 
 
 One morning the child spoke to Belleropohon even 
 more hopefully than usual. 
 
 "Dear, dear Bellerophon," cried he, "I know not 
 why it is, but I feel as if we should certainly see Pe- 
 gasus to-day. " 
 
 And all that day he would not stir a .step from 
 Bellerophon's side, so they ate a crust of bread to- 
 gether and drank some of the water of the fountain. 
 In the afternoon there they sat, and Bellerophon bad 
 thrown his arm around the child, who likewise had 
 put one of his little hands into Bellerophon's. The 
 latter was lost in his own thoughts, and was fixing his 
 eyes vacantly on the trunks of the trees that over- 
 shadowed the fountain and on the grapevines that 
 clambered up among their branches. But the gentle 
 child was gazing down into the water; he was grieved, 
 for Bellerophon's sake, that the hope of another day 
 should be deceived like so many before it, and two or 
 
212 THE CHIM.^RA. 
 
 three quiet tear-drops fell from his ej^es and mingled 
 with what were said to be the many tears of Pirene 
 when she wept for her slain children. 
 
 But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt 
 the pressure of the child's little hand and heard a 
 soft, almost breathless whisper: 
 
 " See there, dear Bellerophon ! There is an image 
 in the water!" 
 
 The young man looked down into the dimpling 
 mirror of the fountain, and saw what he took to be 
 the reflection of a bird which seemed to be flying at 
 a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine 
 on its snowy or silvery wings. 
 
 "What a splendid bird it must be!" said he. 
 " And how very large it looks, though it must really 
 be flying higher than the clouds!" 
 
 " It makes me tremble," whispered the child. "I 
 am afraid to look up into the air. It is very beauti- 
 ful, and yet I dare only look at its image in the water. 
 Dear Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? 
 It is the winged horse Pegasus." 
 
 Bellerophon's heart began to throb. He gazed 
 keenly upward, but could not see the winged creature, 
 whether bird or horse, because just then it had 
 plunged into the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. 
 It was but a moment, however, before the object re- 
 appeared, sinking lightly down out of the cloud, 
 although still at a vast distance from the earth. 
 
THE CHIMJSRA. 213 
 
 Bellerophon caught the child in his arms and shrank 
 back with him, so that they were both hidden among 
 the thick shrubbery which grew all around the foun- 
 tain. Not that he was afraid of any harm, but he 
 dreaded lest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse of them, he 
 would fly far away and alight in some inaccessible 
 mountain-top, for it was really the winged horse. 
 After they had expected him so long, he was coming 
 to quench his thirst with the water of Pirene. 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying 
 in great circles, as you may have seen a dove when 
 about to alight. Downward came Pegasus, in those 
 wide, sweeping circles which grew narrower and nar- 
 rower still as he gradually approached the earth. The 
 nigher the view of him, the more beautiful he was 
 and the more marvellous the sweep of his silvery 
 wings. At last, with so light a pressure as hardly to 
 bend the grass about the fountain or imprint a hoof- 
 tramp in the sand of its margin, he alighted, and, 
 stooping his wild head, began to drink. He drew in 
 the water with long and pleasant sighs and tranquil 
 pauses of enjoyment, and then another draught, and 
 another, and another, for nowhere in the world or 
 up among the clouds did Pegasus love any water as 
 he loved this of Pirene. And when his thirst was 
 Blaked he cropt a few of the honey-blossoms of the 
 clover, delicately tasting them, but not caring to 
 make a hearty meal, because the herbage just be- 
 
214 THE CHIM^EA. 
 
 neath the clouds on the lofty sides of Mount Helicon 
 suited his palate better than this ordinary grass. 
 
 After thus 'drinking to his heart's content, and in 
 his dainty fasnion condescending to take a little food, 
 the winged horse began to caper to and fro and dance, 
 as it were, out of mere idleness and sport. There 
 never was a more playful creature made than this very 
 Pegasus. So there he frisked in a way that it de- 
 lights me to think about, fluttering his great wings 
 as lightly as ever did a linnet, and running little 
 races half on earth and half in air, and which I 
 know not whether to call a flight or a gallop. When 
 a creature is perfectly able to fly, he sometimes chooses 
 to run Just for the pastime of the thing ; and so did 
 Pegasus, although it cost him some little trouble to 
 keep his hoofs so near the ground. Bellerophon, 
 meanwhile holding the child's hand, peeped forth 
 from the shrubbery, and thought that never was any 
 sight so beautiful as this, nor ever a horse's eyes so 
 wild and spirited as those of Pegasus. It seemed a 
 sin to think of bridling him and riding on his back. 
 
 Once or twice Pegasus stopped and snuffed the air, 
 pricking up his ears, tossing his head, and turning 
 it on all sides, as if he partly suspected some mischief 
 or other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no 
 sound, he soon began his antics again. 
 
 At length — not that he was weary, but only idle 
 and luxurious — Pegasus folded his wings and lay down 
 
THE CHIMERA. 215 
 
 on the soft green turf. But, being too full of aerial 
 life to remain quiet for many moments together, he 
 soon rolled over on his back with his four slender legs 
 in the air. It was beautiful to see him, this one 
 solitary creature whose mate had never been created, 
 but who needed no companion, and living a great 
 many hundred years, was as happy as the centuries 
 were long. The more he did such things as mortal 
 horses are accustomed to do, the less earthly and the 
 more wonderful he seemed. Bellerophon and the 
 child almost held their breath, partly from delightful 
 awe, but still more because they dreaded lest the 
 slightest stir or murmur should send him up with the 
 speed of an arrow-flight into the farthest blue of the 
 sky. 
 
 Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over 
 and over, Pegasus turned himself about and, indo- 
 lently, like any other horse, put out his fore legs in 
 order to rise from the ground ; and Bellerophon, who 
 had guessed that he would do so, darted suddenly 
 from the thicket and leaped astride of his back. 
 
 Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse! 
 
 But what a bound did Pegasus make when, for the 
 first time, he felt the weight of a mortal man upon 
 his loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had time to 
 draw a breath Bellerophon found himself five hun- 
 dred feet aloft, and still shooting upward, while the 
 winged horse snorted and trembled with terror and 
 
216 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 anger. Upward he went, up, up, up, until he 
 plunged into the cold, misty bosom of a cloud at 
 which, only a little before, Bellerophon had been 
 gazing and fancying it a very pleasant spot. Then 
 again, out of the heart of the cloud, Pegasus shot 
 down like a thunderbolt, as if he meant to dash both 
 himself and his rider headlong against a rock. Then 
 he went through about a thousand of the wildest 
 caprioles that had ever been performed either by a 
 bird or a horse. 
 
 I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed 
 straiorht forward and sideways and backward. He 
 reared himself erect, with his fore legs on a wreath 
 of mist and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung 
 out his heels behind and put down his head between 
 his legs, with his wings pointing right upward. At 
 about two miles' heigjht above the earth he turned 
 a somerset, so that Bellerophon's heels were where his 
 head should have been, and he seemed to look down 
 into the sky, instead of up. He twisted his head 
 about, and, looking Bellerophon in the face with fire 
 flashing from his eyes, made a terrible attempt to 
 bite him. He fluttered his pinions so wildly that one 
 of the silver feathers was shaken out, and, floating 
 earthward, was picked up by the child, who kept it as 
 long as he lived in memory of Pegasus and Bellero- 
 phon. 
 
 But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good 
 
THE CHIMERA. ^i 
 
 a horseman as ever galloped) had been watching his 
 opportunity, and at last clapped the golden bit of 
 the enchanted bridle between the winged steed's jaws. 
 No sooner was this done than Pegasus became as 
 manageable as if he had taken food all his life out of 
 Bellerophon's hand. To speak what I reall}- feel, it 
 was almost a sadness to see so wild a creature grow 
 suddenly so tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so 
 likewise. He looked round to Bellerophon with tears 
 in his beautiful eyes, instead of the fire that so re- 
 cently flashed from them. But when Bellerophon 
 patted his head and spoke a few authoritative yet 
 kind and soothing words, another look came into the 
 eyes of Pegasus, for he was glad at heart, after so 
 many lonely centuries, to have found a companion 
 &nd a master. 
 
 Thus it always is with winged horses and with all 
 Buch wild and solitary creatures. If you can catch 
 and overcome them, it is the surest way to win their 
 Ipve. 
 
 While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake 
 Bellerophon off his back he had flown a very long 
 distance, and they had come within sight of a lofty 
 mountain by the time the bit was in his mouth. 
 Bellerophon had seen this mountain before, an-d knew 
 it to be Helicon, on the summit of which was the 
 winged horse's abode. Thither (after looking gently 
 into his rider's face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now 
 
kliS THE CHIMERA. 
 
 flew, and, alighting, waited patiently until Bellero- 
 phon should please to dismount. The young man 
 accordingly leaped from his steed's back, but still 
 held him fast by the bridle. Meeting his eyes, how- 
 ever, he was so affected by the gentleness of his as- 
 pect and by his beauty, and by the thought of the 
 free life which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that he 
 could not bear to keep him a prisoner if he really 
 desired his liberty. 
 
 Obeying this generous impulse, he slipped the en- 
 chanted bridle off the head of Pegasus and took the 
 bit from his mouth. 
 
 " Leave me, Pegasus!" said he. "Either leave me 
 or love me." 
 
 In an instant the winged horse shot almost out of 
 sight, soaring straight upward from the summit of 
 Mount Helicon. Being long after sunset, it was now 
 twilight on the mountain-top and dusky evening over 
 all the country round about. But Pegasus flew so 
 high that he overtook the departed day and was 
 bathed in the upper radiance of the sun. Ascending 
 higher and higher, he looked like a bright speck, and 
 at last could no longer be seen in the hollow waste of 
 the sky. And Bellerophon was afraid that he should 
 never behold him more. But while he was lamenting 
 his own folly the bright speck reappeared, and drew 
 nearer and nearer until it descended lower than the 
 sunshine, and behold Pegasus had come back ! After 
 
THE CHIMERA. 219 
 
 this trial there was no more fear of the winged horse's 
 making his escape. He and Bellerophon were friends, 
 and put loving faith in one another. 
 
 That night they lay down and slept together, with 
 Bellerophon's arm about the neck of Pegasus, not as 
 a caution, but for kindness. And they awoke at 
 peep of day and bade one another good-morning, 
 each in his own language. 
 
 In this manner Bellerophon and the wondrous 
 steed spent several days, and grew better acquainted 
 and fonder of each other all the time. They went on 
 long aerial journeys, and sometimes ascended so high 
 that the earth looked hardly bigger than the moon. 
 They visited different countries, and amazed the in- 
 habitants, who thought that the beautiful young man 
 on the back of the winged horse must have come 
 down out of the sky. A thousand miles a day was 
 no more than an easy space for the fleet Pegasus to 
 pass over. Bellerophon was delighted with this kind 
 of life, and would have liked nothing better than to 
 live always in the same way, aloft in the clear atmos- 
 phere, for it was always sunny weather up there, 
 however cheerless and rainy it might be in the 
 lower region. But he could not forget the horrible 
 Chimaera which he had promised King lobates to 
 slay. So at last, when he had become well accus- 
 tomed to feats of horsemanship in the air, and could 
 aianage Pegasus with the least motion of his 
 
220 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 hand, and had taught him to obey his voice, he 
 determined to attempt the performance of this peril- 
 ous adventure. 
 
 At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his 
 eyes, he gently pinched the winged horse's ear in 
 order to arouse him. Pegasus immediately started 
 from the ground, and pranced about a quarter of a 
 mile aloft and made a grand sweep around the moun- 
 tain-top by way of showing that he was wide awake 
 and ready for any kind of an excursion. 
 
 During the whole of this little flight he uttered a 
 loud, brisk, and melodious neigh, and finally came 
 down at Bellerophon's side as lightly as ever you saw 
 a sparrow hop upon a twig. 
 
 "Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky- 
 skimmer!" cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the 
 horse's neck. " And now, my fleet and beautiful 
 friend, we must break our fast. To-day we are to 
 fight the terrible Chimsera." 
 
 As soon as they had eaten their morning meal and 
 drank some sparkling water from a spring called Hip- 
 pocrene, Pegasus held out his head of his own accord, 
 so that his master might put on the bridle. Then, 
 with a great many playful leaps and airy caperings, 
 he showed his impatience to be gone while Bellero- 
 phon Avas girding on his sword and hanging his shield 
 about his neck and preparing himself for battle. 
 When everything was ready the rider mounted and 
 
TEE CHIMERA. 221 
 
 (as was his custom when going a long distance) as- 
 cended five miles perpendicularly, so as the better to 
 see whither he was directing his course. He then 
 turned the head of Pegasus toward the east and set 
 out for Lycia. In their flight they overtook an eagle 
 and came so nigh him, before he could get out of 
 their way, that Bellerophon might easily have caught 
 him by the leg. Hastening onward at this rate, it 
 was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the 
 lofty mountains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy 
 valleys. If Bellerophon had been told truly, it was 
 in one of those dismal valleys that the hideous Chi- 
 maera had taken up its abode. 
 
 Being now so near their journey's end, the winged 
 horse gradually descended with his rider, and they 
 took advantage of some clouds that were floating over 
 the mountain-tops in order to conceal themselves. 
 Hovering on the upper surface of a cloud and peep- 
 ing over its edge, Bellerophon had a pretty distinct 
 view of the mountainous part of Lycia, and could 
 look into all its shadowy vales at once. At first there 
 appeared to be nothing remarkable. It was a wild, 
 savage, and rocky tract of high and precipitous hills. 
 In the more level part of the country there were the 
 ruins of houses that had been burnt, and here and 
 there the carcasses of dead cattle strewn about the 
 pastures where they had been feeding. 
 
 **The Ohimaera must have done this mischief," 
 
222 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 thought Bellerophon. " But where can the monster 
 
 be?" 
 
 As I have already said, there was nothing remark- 
 able to be detected at first sight in any of the valleys 
 and dells that lay among the precipitous heights of 
 the mountains — nothing at all, unless, indeed, it were 
 three spires of black smoke which issued from what 
 seemed to be the mouth of a cavern and clambered 
 sullenly into the atmosphere. Before reaching the 
 mountain-top these three black smoke-wreaths min- 
 gled themselves into one. The cavern was almost 
 directly beneath the winged horse and his rider, at 
 the distance of about a thousand feet. The smoke, 
 as it crept heavily upward, had an ugly, sulphurous, 
 stifling scent, which caused Pegasus to snort and Bel- 
 lerophon to sneeze. So disagreeable was it to the 
 marvellous steed (who was accustomed to breathe 
 only the purest air) that he waved his wings and 
 shot half a mile out of the range of this offensive 
 vapor. 
 
 But on looking behind him, Bellerophon saw some- 
 thing that induced him first to draw the bridle and] 
 then to turn Pegasus about. He made a sign, which 
 the winged horse understood, and sunk slowly 
 through the air until his hoofs were scarcely more 
 than a man's height above the rocky bottom of the 
 valley. In front, as far off as you could throw a stone, 
 "was the cavern's mouth with the three smoke-wreaths 
 
THE CHIMERA. 223 
 
 oozing out of it. And what else did Bellerophon 
 behold there? 
 
 There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible 
 creatures curled up within the cavern. Their bodies 
 lay so close together that Bellerophon could not dis- 
 tinguish them apart; but, judging by their heads, 
 one of these creatures was a huge snake, the second a 
 fierce lion, and the third an ugly goat. The lion and 
 the goat were asleep; the snake was broad awake, 
 and kept staring around him with a great pair of fiery 
 eyes. But — and this was the most wonderful part of 
 the matter — the three spires of smoke evidently issued 
 from the nostrils of these three heads ! So strange was 
 the spectacle that, though Bellerophon had been all 
 along expecting it, the truth did not immediately 
 occur to him that here was the terrible three-headed 
 Chimaera. He had found out the Chimaera's cavern. 
 The snake, the lion, and the goat, as he supposed 
 them to be, were not three separate creatures, bufc 
 one monster! 
 
 The wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering, as two- 
 thirds of it were, it still held in its abominable claws 
 the remnant of an unfortunate lamb — or possibly 
 (but I hate to think so) it was a dear little boy — ■ 
 whifch its three mouths had been gnawing before 
 two of them fell asleep! 
 
 All at once Bellerophon started as from a dream, 
 and knew it to be the ChimaBra. Pegasus seemed to 
 
224 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 know it a- the same instant, and sent forth a neigh 
 that sounded like the call of a trumpet to battle. At 
 this sound the three heads reared themselves erect and 
 belched out great flashes of flame. Before Bellero- 
 phon had time to consider what to do next the monster 
 flung itself out of the cavern and sprung straight to- 
 ward him, with its immense claws extended and its 
 snaky tail twisting itself venomously behind. If 
 Pegasus had not been as nimble as a bird, both he 
 and his rider would have been overthrown by the 
 Chimaera's headlong rush, and thus the battle have 
 been ended before it was well begun. But the winged 
 horse was not to be caught so. In the twinkling of 
 an eye he was up aloft, half-way to the clouds, snort- 
 ing with anger. He shuddered, too, not with 
 affright, but with utter disgust at the loathsomeness 
 of this poisonous thing with three heads. 
 
 The Chimaera, on the other hand, raised itself up 
 so as to stand absolutely on the tip end of its tail, with 
 its talons pawing fiercely in the air and its three heads 
 spluttering fire at Pegasus and his rider. My stars! 
 how it roared and hissed and bellowed ! Bellerophon, 
 meanwhile, was fitting his shield on his arm and 
 drawing his sword. 
 
 "Now, my beloved Pegasus," he whispered in the 
 winged horse's ear, " thou must help me to slay this 
 insufferable monster, or else thou shalt fly back to thy 
 (solitary mountain-peak without thy friend Bellero* 
 
THE CHIMERA. 225 
 
 phon. For either the Chimera dies or its three 
 mouths shall gnaw this head of mine which has 
 slumbered upon thy neck." 
 
 Pegasus whinnied and, turning back his head, 
 rubbed his nose tenderly against his rider's cheek. 
 It was his way of telling hira that, though he had 
 wings and was an immortal horse, yet he would 
 perish, if it were possible for immortality to perish, 
 rather than leave Bellerophon behind. 
 
 "I thank you, Pegasus," answered Bellerophon. 
 *'Now, then, let us make a dash at the monster!" 
 
 Uttering these words, he shook the bridle, and 
 i'egasus darted down aslant, as swift as the flight of an 
 arrow, right toward the Chimaera's threefold head, 
 ■which all this time was poking itself as high as it 
 could into the air. As he came within arm's length 
 Bellerophon made a cut at the monster, but was car- 
 ried onward by his steed before he could see whether 
 the blow had been successful. Pegasus continued his 
 course, but soon wheeled round at about the same 
 distance from the Chimaera as before. Bellerophon 
 then perceived that he had cut the goat's head of the 
 monster almost oS, so that it dangled downward by 
 tlie skin and seemed quite dead. 
 
 But, to make amends, the snake's head and the 
 li^on's head had taken all the fierceness of the dead 
 one into themselves, and spit flame and hissed and 
 reared with a vast deal more fury than before. 
 15 
 
826 THE CHIMjERA. 
 
 "Never mind, my brave Pegasus!" cried Bellero 
 phon. " With another stroke like that we will stop 
 either its hissing or its roaring." 
 
 And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslant- 
 wise as before, the winged horse made another arrow- 
 flight toward the Chimagra, and Bellerophon aimed 
 another downright stroke at one of the two remaining 
 heads as he shot by. But this time neither he nor 
 Pegasus escaped so well as at first. AVith one of its 
 claws the Chimaera had given the young man a deep 
 scratch in his shoulder, and had slightly damaged 
 the left wing of the flying steed with the other. On 
 his part, Bellerophon had mortally wounded the? 
 lion's head of the monster, insomuch that it now 
 hung downward, with its fire almost extinguished 
 and sending out gasps of thick black smoke. The 
 snake's head, however (which was the only one now 
 left) , was twice as fierce and venomous as ever be- 
 fore. It belched forth shoots of fire five hundred 
 yards long, and emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, 
 and so ear-piercing that King lobates heard them 
 fifty miles off, and trembled till the throne shook 
 under him. 
 
 "Well-a-day!" thought the poor king, "the Chi- 
 maera is certainly coming to devour me." 
 
 Meanwhile, Pegasus had again paused in the air 
 and neighed angrily, while sparkles of a pure crystal 
 fiame darted out of his eyes. How unlike the lurid 
 
THE CHIMERA. 227 
 
 fire of the Chimaera! The aerial steed's spirit was 
 all aroused, and so was that of Bellerophon. 
 
 "Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?" cried the 
 young man, caring less for his own hurt than for the 
 anguish of this glorious creature that ought never 
 to have tasted pain. " The execrable Chimaera shall 
 pay for this mischief with his last head." 
 
 Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and 
 guided Pegasus, not aslantwise as before, but straight 
 at the monster's hideous front. So rapid was the 
 onset that it seemed but a dazzle and a flash before 
 Bellerophon was at close gripes with his enemy. 
 
 The Chimaera by this time, after losing its second 
 head, had got into a red-hot passion of pain and ram- 
 pant rage. It so flounced about, half on earth and 
 partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which 
 element it rested upon. It opened its snake-jaws to 
 Buch an abominable width that Pegasus might almost, 
 I was going to say, have flown right down its throat, 
 wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it 
 shot out a tremendous blast of its fiery breath and 
 enveloped Bellerophon and his steed in a perfect at- 
 mosphere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus, 
 scorching off one whole side of the young man's golden 
 ringlets, and making them both far hotter than was 
 comfortable from head to foot. 
 
 But this was nothinoj to what followed. 
 
 When the airy rush of the winged horse had brought 
 
228 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 him within the distance of a hundred yards the 
 Chimaera gave a spring, and flung its huge, awkward, 
 venomous, and utterly detestable carcass right upon 
 poor Pegasus, clung round him with might and main, 
 and tied up its snaky tail into a knot! Up flew the 
 aerial steed, higher, higher, above the mountain- 
 peaks, above the clouds, and almost out of sight of 
 the solid earth. But still the earth-born monster 
 kept its hold, and was borne upward along with the 
 creature of light and air. Bellerophon, meanwhile 
 turning about, found himself face to face with the 
 ugly grimness of the Chimaera's visage, and could 
 only avoid being scorched to death or bitten right in 
 twain by holding up his shield. Over the upper edge 
 of the shield he looked sternly into the savage eyes of 
 the monster. 
 
 But the Chimaera was so mad and wild with pain 
 that it did not guard itself so well as might else have 
 been the case. Perhaps, after all, the best way to 
 fight a Chimaera is by getting as close to it as you 
 can. In its efforts to stick its horrible iron claws 
 into its enemy the creature left its own breast quite 
 exposed, and, perceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his 
 sword up to the hilt into its cruel heart. Immedi- 
 ately the snaky tail untied its knot. The monster 
 let go its hold of Pegasus and fell from that vast 
 height downward, while the fire within its bosom, 
 instead of being put out, burned fiercer than ever, 
 
THE CHIMERA. 229 
 
 and quiukly began to consume the dead carcass. 
 Thus it fell out of the sky all aflame, and (it being 
 nightfall before it reached the earth) was mistaken 
 for a shooting star or a comet. But at early sunrise 
 some cottagers were going to their day's labor, and 
 Baw, to their astonishment, that several acres of 
 ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle 
 of a field there was a heap of whitened bones a great 
 deal higher than a haystack. Nothing else was ever 
 seen ot the dreadful Chimsera ! 
 
 And when Bellerophon had won the victory he bent 
 forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Back now, my beloved steed!" said he. "Back 
 to the Fountain of Pirene!" 
 
 Pegasus skimmed through the air quicker than 
 ever he did before, and reached the fountain in a 
 very short time. And there he found the old man 
 leaning on his staff, and the country fellow watering 
 his cow, and the pretty maiden filling her pitcher. . 
 
 "I remember now," quoth the old man, "I saw 
 this winged horse once before, when I was quite a lad 
 But he was ten times handsomer in those days." 
 
 " I own a cart-horse worth three of him," said the 
 country fellow. " If this pony were mine, the first 
 thing I should do would be to clip his wings." 
 
 But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had 
 always the luck to be afraid at the wrong time. So 
 
230 THE CHIMERA. 
 
 she ran away and let her pitcher tumble down and 
 broke it. 
 
 "Where is the gentle child," asked Bellerophon, 
 " who used to keep me company, and never lost his 
 faith, and never was weary of gazing into the foun- 
 tain?" 
 
 "Here am I, dear Bellerophon!" said the child 
 softly. 
 
 For the little boy had spent day after day on the 
 margin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come 
 back ; but when he perceived Bellerophon descending 
 through the clouds mounted on the winged horse, he 
 had shrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a del- 
 icate and tender child, and dreaded lest the old man 
 and the country fellow should see the tears gushing 
 from his eyes. 
 
 "Thou hast won the \ictory," said he joyfully, 
 running to the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on 
 the back of Pegasus. " I knew thou wouldst." 
 
 "Yes, dear child!" replied Bellerophon, alighting 
 from the winged horse. " But if thy faith had not 
 helped me, I should never have waited for Pegasus, 
 and never have gone up above the clouds, and never 
 have conquered the terrible Chim^era. Thou, my 
 beloved little friend, hast done it all. And now let 
 us give Pegasus his liberty." 
 
 So he slipt off the enchanted bridle from the head 
 of the marvellous steed. 
 
TEE CHIMERA, 231 
 
 "Be free for evermore, my Pegasus!" cried he, 
 -^rith a shade of sadness in his tone. " Be as free as 
 thou art fleet." 
 
 But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon's 
 shoulder, and would not be persuaded to take flight. 
 
 "Well, then," said Bellerophon, caressing the airy 
 horse, " thou shalt be with me as long as thou wilt, 
 and we will go together forthwith, and tell 'King 
 lobates that the Chimaera is destroyed." 
 
 Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child and 
 promised to come to him again, and departed. But 
 in after years that child took higher flights upon the 
 aerial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achieved 
 more honorable deeds than his friend's victory over 
 the Chimaera, for, gentle and tender as he was, h© 
 grew to be a mighty poet. 
 
BALD SUMMIT. 
 
 AFTER THE STORY. 
 
 Eustace Bright told the legend of Bellerophon 
 with as much fervor and animation as if he had really 
 been taking a gallop on the winged horse. At the 
 conclusion he was gratified to discern by the glowing 
 countenances of his auditors how greatly they had 
 been interested. All their eyes were dancing in their 
 heads except those of Primrose. In her eyes there 
 were positively tears, for she was conscious of some- 
 thing in the legend which the rest of them were not 
 yet old enough to feel. Child's story as it was, the 
 student had contrived to breathe through it the ardor, 
 th^ generous hope, and the imaginative enterprise of 
 youth. 
 
 "I forgive you now. Primrose," said he, "for all 
 your ridicule of myself and my stories. One tear pays 
 for a great deal of laughter." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Bright," answered Primrose, wiping 
 her eyes and giving him another of her mischievous 
 
BALD SUMMIT. 333 
 
 smiles, " it certainly does elevate your ideas to get your 
 head above the clouds. I advise you never to tell 
 another story unless it be, as at present, from the top 
 of a mountain." 
 
 " Or from the back of Pegasus," replied Eustace, 
 laughing. " Don't you think that I succeeded pretty 
 well in catching that wonderful pony?" 
 
 "It was so like one of your madcap pranks!" 
 cried Primrose, clapping her hands. " I think I see 
 you now on his back, two miles high and with your 
 head downward! It is well that you have not really 
 an opportunity of trying your horsemanship on any 
 wilder steed than our sober Davy or Old Hundred." 
 
 '• For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here at this 
 moment," said the student. "I would mount him 
 forthwith, and gallop about the country within a 
 circumference of a few miles, making literary calls on 
 my brother authors. Dr. Dewey would be within my 
 reach at the foot of Taconic. In Stockbridge yonder 
 is Mr. James, conspicuous to all the world on his 
 mountain-pile of history and romance. Longfellow, 
 I believe, is not yet at the Ox-bow, else the winged 
 horse would neigh at the sight of him. But here in 
 Lenox I should find our most truthful novelist, who 
 has made the scenery and life of Berkshire all her 
 own. On the hither side of Pittsfield sits Herman 
 Melville, shaping out the gigantic conception of his 
 'White Whale,' while the gigantic shape of Graylock 
 
234 BALD SUMMIT. 
 
 looms upon him from his study-window. Another 
 bound of my flying steed would bring me to the door 
 of Holmes, whom I mention last because Pegasus 
 would certainly unseat me the next minute and claim 
 the poet as his rider." 
 
 "Have we not an author for our next neighbor?" 
 asked Primrose — " that silent man who lives in the 
 old red house near Tanglewood Avenue, and whom 
 we sometimes meet, with two children at his side, in 
 the woods or at the lake? I think I have heard of 
 his having written a poem or a romance or an arith- 
 metic or a school history or some other kind of a 
 book." 
 
 "Hush, Primrose, hush !" exclaimed Eustace in a 
 thrilling whisper, and putting his finger on his lip. 
 " Not a word about that man, even on a hilltop ! If 
 our babble was to reach his ears and happen not to 
 please him, he has but to fling a quire or two of 
 paper into the stove, and you, Primrose, and I, and 
 Periwinkle, Sweet Fern, Squash-blossom, Blue Eye, 
 Huckleberry, Clover, Cowslip, Plantain, Milkweed, 
 Dandelion, and Buttercup — yes, and wise Mr. Pringle 
 with his unfavorable criticisms on my legends, and 
 poor Mrs. Pringle too — would all turn to smoke and 
 go whisking up the funnel ! Our neighbor in the red 
 house is a harmless sort of person enough, for aught 
 I know, as concerns the rest of the world, but some- 
 thing whispers to me that he has a terrible power 
 
BALD SUMMIT. 235 
 
 over ourselves, extending to nothing short of annihil- 
 iation." 
 
 *' And vrould Tanglewood turn to smoke as well as 
 we?" asked Periwinkle, quite appalled at the threat- 
 ened destruction. " And what would become of Ben 
 and Bruin?" 
 
 "Tanglewood would remain," replied the student,'- 
 "looking just as it does now, but occupied by an 
 entirely different family. And Ben and Bruin woul(^ 
 be still alive, and would make themselves very com- 
 fortable with the bones from the dinner-table, without 
 ever thinking of the good times which they and we 
 have had together." 
 
 "What nonsense you are talking!" exclaimed 
 Primrose. 
 
 With idle chat of this kind, the party had already 
 begun to descend the hill, and were now within the 
 shadow of the woods. Primrose gathered some 
 mountain-laurel, the leaf of which, though of last 
 year's growth, was still as verdant and elastic as if 
 the frost and thaw had not alternately tried their 
 force upon its texture. Of these twigs of laurel she 
 twined a wreath and took off the student's cap in 
 order to place it on his brow. 
 
 " Nobody else is likely to crown you for your stories,** 
 observed saucy Primrose, "so take this from me." 
 
 "Do not be too sure, answered Eustace, looking 
 really like a youthful poet with the laurel among his 
 
2.S6 BALD SUMMIT. ^ 
 
 glossy curls, " that I shall not win other wreaths bt 
 these wonderful and admirable stories. I mean to 
 spend all my leisure during the rest of the Tacation 
 and throughout the summer term at college in writing 
 them out for the press. Mr. J. T. Fields (with 
 whom I became acquainted when he was in Berkshire 
 ]ast summer, and who is a poet as well as a publisher) 
 will see their uncommon merit at a glance. He wili 
 get them illustrated, I hope, by Billings, and will 
 bring them before the world under the very best of 
 auspices, through the eminent house of Ticknor & Co. 
 In about five months from this moment I make no 
 doubt of being reckoned among the lights of the age." 
 
 "Poor boy!" said Primrose, half aside. " What s 
 disappointment awaits him!" 
 
 Descending a little lower. Bruin began to bark, 
 and was answered by the graver bow-wow of the re- 
 spectable Ben. 
 
 They soon saw the good old dog keeping careful 
 watch over Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, and 
 Squash-blossom. These little people, quite recovered 
 from their fatigue, had set about gathering checker- 
 berries, and now came clambering to meet their play 
 fellows. Thus reunited, the whole party went down 
 through Luther Butler's orchard and made the best 
 of their way home to Tanglewood. 
 
YA 04462 
 

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