Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 Names used in the stories
 The kingdom above the clouds
 The wonderful world
 The great bear and the little...
 The gladness of nature
 A story of the springtime, part...
 The voice of spring
 A story of the springtime, part...
 The fountain
 The childhood of Apollo and...
 The brook
 Echo and Narcissus
 Invitation to Echo
 How Narcissus loved his own...
 A web and a spider
 "Twist ye, twine ye"
 The story of the Laurel
 The story of a sweet singer
 The queen huntress and a bold...
 The hunter's song
 The story of Perseus
 How Perseus went in quest of Medusa's...
 How Perseus won a wife
 The story of Io
 Song to Pan
 How a mother's pride was humbl...
 A mighty hero of olden times
 The story of a poisoned shirt
 The artisan's wonderful wings
 Birds in summer
 A cruel king
 Rise! for the day is passing
 A lock of purple hair, and what...
 The cruel king's punishment
 A thread that saved many lives
 How a wicked city was destroye...
 A dream that came true
 In absence
 The story of the golden fleece,...
 The cloud
 The story of the golden fleece,...
 The arrow and the song
 The story of the golden fleece,...
 How a boy loved a stag
 A sea god and a wicked enchant...
 A youth who was changed into a...
 To a friend
 A wonderful sculptor
 A musical contest of long ago
 The sweet singer
 A giant who loved a sea nymph
 The shepherd's song to his...
 Back Cover

Title: Stories of long ago
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00088960/00001
 Material Information
Title: Stories of long ago in a new dress
Physical Description: 177, 11 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Kupfer, Grace H. (Grace Harriet), b. 1873
D.C. Heath and Company ( Publisher )
C.J. Peters & Son ( Typographer )
L. Barta & Co ( Printer )
Publisher: D.C. Heath & Co.
Place of Publication: Boston U.S.A. ;
New York ;
Manufacturer: Typography by C. J. Peters & Son ; Presswork by L. Barta & Co.
Publication Date: 1898, c1897
Copyright Date: 1897
Subject: Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Fairy tales -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Gods -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Goddesses -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Kings and rulers -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Musicians -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Birds -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Civilization -- Juvenile literature -- Greece   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1899   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1899   ( lcsh )
Fairy tales -- 1899   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1899   ( rbgenr )
Fantasy literature -- 1899   ( rbgenr )
Juvenile literature -- 1899   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Fairy tales   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
Fantasy literature   ( rbgenr )
Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Statement of Responsibility: by Grace H. Kupfer.
General Note: Publisher's catalogue follows text.
General Note: Pictorial cover.
General Note: Illustrated title page.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00088960
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002232661
notis - ALH3057
oclc - 40997329

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Table of Contents
        Page 5
        Page 6
    List of Illustrations
        Page 7
    Names used in the stories
        Page 8
    The kingdom above the clouds
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
    The wonderful world
        Page 15
    The great bear and the little bear
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The gladness of nature
        Page 21
    A story of the springtime, part I
        Page 22
        Page 23
    The voice of spring
        Page 24
    A story of the springtime, part II
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
    The fountain
        Page 29
    The childhood of Apollo and Diana
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
    The brook
        Page 37
    Echo and Narcissus
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Invitation to Echo
        Page 43
    How Narcissus loved his own image
        Page 44
        Page 45
    A web and a spider
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    "Twist ye, twine ye"
        Page 51
    The story of the Laurel
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    The story of a sweet singer
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    The queen huntress and a bold hunter
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    The hunter's song
        Page 67
    The story of Perseus
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    How Perseus went in quest of Medusa's head
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    How Perseus won a wife
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    The story of Io
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
    Song to Pan
        Page 89
    How a mother's pride was humbled
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    A mighty hero of olden times
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    The story of a poisoned shirt
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
    The artisan's wonderful wings
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    Birds in summer
        Page 111
        Page 112
    A cruel king
        Page 113
        Page 114
    Rise! for the day is passing
        Page 115
    A lock of purple hair, and what came of it
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
    The cruel king's punishment
        Page 119
        Page 120
    A thread that saved many lives
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
    How a wicked city was destroyed
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
    A dream that came true
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
    In absence
        Page 135
    The story of the golden fleece, part I
        Page 136
        Page 137
    The cloud
        Page 138
    The story of the golden fleece, part II
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    The arrow and the song
        Page 142
    The story of the golden fleece, part III
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
    How a boy loved a stag
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
    A sea god and a wicked enchantress
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
    A youth who was changed into a flower
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
    To a friend
        Page 161
    A wonderful sculptor
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
    A musical contest of long ago
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
    The sweet singer
        Page 169
    A giant who loved a sea nymph
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
    The shepherd's song to his love
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

"Cupid once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head."










ALMOST all boys and girls like fairy tales; they appeal
to the imaginative side of the child's nature. We cannot
make school reading effective as a means of education un-
less we make it a pleasure as well: we must recognize the
activity of the imagination in childhood.
Myths are closely akin to fairy tales, and nothing in
the whole field of literature can so well serve our purpose.
The myths of the Greeks and Romans are especially val-
uable because they have become an inseparable part of
art and literature. They have a historical value, too,
in conveying to the reader some idea of the thoughts
and habits of the beauty-loving people with whom they
In this little book I have gathered together some of
the most pleasing of these myths, and have told them in
simple, fairy-tale style, without any attempt to explain their
origin, or to point a moral. If they please and interest
the child, they will fulfill their purpose.
I have avoided the use of an undue number of proper
names, those stumbling-blocks in the pathway of a
young reader. Just enough have been given to hold the
reader's interest and to make him familiar with the chief
characters in the mythical play, characters that he will
meet again and again in literature and art. The pronoun-


cing list on page 8 includes all these names, and with a
little help here and there from the teacher they need
cause the pupil no difficulty.
Following many of the stories there are poems bearing
directly on the subjects. These have been selected with
the utmost care. They are designed not merely to intro-
duce the children to some of our greatest authors, but
also to cultivate a taste for what is purest and best in
The illustrations are intended to serve an educative
purpose similar to that of the poems. They are repro-
ductions of famous paintings and sculptures by the fore-
most artists of all ages, and it is hoped that they may
awaken the true artistic sense.
The poems by Longfellow, Lowell, Phcebe Cary, and
Edith M. Thomas are printed by permission of, and ar-
rangement with, their publishers, Houghton, Mifflin, and
Co.; and the poems by William Cullen Bryant and Fitz-
Greene Halleck by permission of D. Appleton and Co.
Thanks are due also to the Century Co., in whose pub-
lication, St. Nicholas, the poem Invitation to Echo,"
first appeared.
G. II. K.


The Wonderful World .Lilliut Lectures 15
The Gladness of Nature William C. Bryant 21
The Voice of Spring Felicia Hemans 24
The Fountain . James R. Lowell 29
The Brook . Alfred Tennyson 37
Invitation to Echo . Edith M. Thomas 43
"Twist ye, Twine ye" Walter Scott . 51
Cupid . . Thomas Moore 57
Orpheus with His Lute .. William Shaksfeare 61
Eurydice . Francis W. Bourdillon 62

The Hunter's Song Barry Cornwall 67
Lullaby .. . .Alfred Tennyson 71

THE STORY OF lo . . . 82
Song to Pan . Beaumont and Fletcher 89

Children . .. Henry W. Longfellow 95
Birds in Summer .. Mary Howll Ill
A CRUEL KING . . . 113
Rise! For the Day is Passing Adelaide Procter 115

In Absence . Pha.be Cary . 135
The Cloud . Percy B. Shelley 138
The Arrow and the Song Henry W. Longfellow 142
How A BOY LOVED A STAG .. . 149
Earth to Earth . Phaebe Cary . 152
The Sea Hath Its Pearls Henry W. Longfellow 156
To a Friend.. . .Fitz-Greene Halleck 161
The Sweet Singer . Henry W. Longfellow 169
The Shepherd's Song to His
Love . Christopher Marlowe 176


1. SLEEPING LOVE .. (Perrault) Frontisfiece

2. AURORA .... (Guido Reni) . i

3. THE CHASE . (Debay) . .. 17

4. CERES . . (Glyptothek, Munich) 27

5. LATONA AND HER CHILDREN (Rinehart) . 33

6. ECHO . .. .(Roberts) . 39

7. A SPINNER . (Moreau) . 47

8. APOLLO BELVEDERE (Vatican, Rome/) 55

9. DIANA OF VERSAILLES (Louvre, Paris) 65

10. PERSEUS AND THE CRAEAE (BuIrne-Jones) . 75

11. PERSEUS . (Canova) . 83

12. NIOBE . . (Uffizi Palace, Florence) 93

13. FORTUNE . . (Vatican, Rome) 99

14. MINERVA IDE VELLETRI (Louvre, Paris) 107

15.' FLYING MERCURY . (Bologna) . 125

16. JASON AND THE DRAGON (Salvalor Rosa) 147

17. THE DISCOBOLUS . (Vatican, Rome) 157

IS; VENUS DE MILO . (Louvre, Paris) 163

19. APOLLO CITHARAEDUS .. (Vatican, Rome) 171



A' gis.
Ac tae' on.
Ae'geus (jis).
Ae' son.
An dr6m' e da.
A p6l' lo.
A rueh ne.
Ar'c as.
Ar' go.
Ar'go nauts.
A ri ad'ne.
Bau' is.
Cal us' to.
Gas si o pe' ia.
B9n' taur
hia' ron.
hi' ron.

Her'ciU leg.
Hy a cn' thus.
I ct ri an.
Ie' a rus.
Ja son.
Ji no.
Jil pi ter.
La t6'na.
Me de' a.
Med i ter ra'ne an.
Me du'sa.
Mar' ao ry.
MI' das.
MI ner' va.
Mn' o taur.
Nar gis'sus.
Neph'e le.

Nap' tune.
Ni o be.
0 lm' pus.
r' phefls.
Phi le' mon.
Phryx' us.
P1l y phe' mus.
Pro ser' pi nE.
Pyg ma' li on.
Sp9y1la (sil).
SI' i ly.
Sam' nus.
The' sens.

QTr' 9e.
Cy' clops.
9Cp a rls'sus.
y' prus.
Dae'da lus.
Dan' aBe.
Daph' ne.
De i a nl ra.
Di an' a.
E' ypt.
Eu ryd'i ;e.
GaB a t' a.
Glau' us.
GCr' gons.
Ha' deg.
HEl cy'o ne.
H1'1 16.



LONG, long ago, there lived, in the land which we call
Greece, a race of brave men and beautiful women. They
thought their own land the best and the fairest in the
world; and as they watched the sunsets and the rising of
the moon and all the other beautiful things that nature
showed them, they were filled with awe and wonder.
So they said, "There must be some mighty people
living above us, who rule the sun and the moon and the
stars and the oceans and the rivers and the woods and
everything else. They are great and happy and good,
and they live forever; they can do whatever they please,
and from them come all our joys and sorrows. Let us
worship them and sing of them." And they called these
mighty people gods and goddesses.
In the central part of Greece, there stood a lofty moun-
tain called Olympus. Its sides were covered with thick,
green woods; and it was so high that its peak seemed to
pierce through the clouds, up, up into the sky, till the eye
could scarcely follow it. -None of the people of Greece
had ever climbed to the top of Mount Olympus, and they
said it was there that the gods lived, among the clouds
and the stars.


They pictured the marble halls,, with their great, shin-
ing pillars and their thrones of gold and silver. The walls
of the palaces, they said, were covered with pictures such
as no man's hand had ever painted, -pictures such as we
sometimes see in the sunset sky, when the pink and gold
and purple cloudlets sink into *the west, changing their
shape each moment that we gaze at them.
Up in that land above the clouds, it was springtime all
the year round. It never rained there and it was never
cold; the birds sang from morning till night, and the
flowers bloomed from one year's end to the other.
Sometimes the mighty rulers of the sun and the moon
and all the world left their homes and came down to visit
the people on the earth. Once in a great, great while
they came in their own true forms; but far oftener they
took on the shape of animals or human beings, so that
they might not be recognized.
The people of Greece, who made up all the stories I
am going to tell you, believed that if they did anything
wrong it would displease the gods, and that they would
be punished by sickness or death or some other evil; but
if they did what was right, the mighty people would be
pleased and would love them and send them wealth and
So they built great temples of marble, and in them
they set up gold and ivory statues of the gods; and there
they came, in time of trouble, to ask for help and comfort;
and when they were happy they came to offer up their
thanks to the kind gods.
The king of the gods was Jupiter, who ruled not only
the people of the earth, but the mightier people of the
heavens. He it was who hurled the thunderbolts and

" He drove his golden sun chariot through the heavens,"


guided the winds and the waters, and, in a word, ruled
over all heaven and earth. His wife was Juno, the queen
of heaven, who helped him in his work. I am afraid you
will not love Juno very much by the time you have read
all the stories I am going to tell you; for she was selfish
and jealous, and, like all such people, often made herself
and others very unhappy. She had one great favorite, a
peacock, which was always with her.
Besides Jupiter and Juno there were many other gods
and goddesses; and as you are going to read stories about
some of them, I will tell you who they were.
Apollo was the god of the sun, of music, and of love.
SHe was very beautiful, as indeed almost all the gods were;
but he was the fairest of them all. He drove his golden
sun chariot through the heavens every day, and on his lyre
he played sweet music. He could heal all kinds of wounds,
and could shoot wonderfully well with his golden arrows.
His twin sister was Diana, goddess of the moon. She
drove her silver car at night when Apollo had gone to rest
in the western sky. She was also the goddess of hunt-
ing; and, in the daytime, she wandered through the green
woods, with her arrows at her side, while her fleet hounds
sped on in front of her, and a train of young girls and
wood nymphs followed.
As Apollo was the most beautiful of all the gods, so
Venus, the queen of love and beauty, was the fairest of
the goddesses. She was supposed to have sprung from
the sea one day, in a cloud of spray, and all the beings
who dwelt in the sea, the sea nymphs and the sea gods
and Neptune himself, rose with songs of gladness to wel-
come their queen.
She had a little son named Cupid, who also was the


god of love; and he was sometimes called the god of the
bow, because he was never seen without his bow and ar-
rows. You will hear later what curious arrows they were.
Cupid was always young and rosy and dimpled; he never
grew up as the other god children did.
Neptune, who was Jupiter's brother, was the ruler of
all the waters of the earth. The gods of the sea, and the
mermaids and the river gods as well, were his subjects.
His palace beneath the ocean waves was built of seaweeds
and corals and shells.
I must not forget to tell you of Minerva, the goddess of
wisdom and of war. The owl was her favorite bird. She
spent much of her time in weaving and embroidering, for
she was very fond of this pastime.
And then there was Mercury, fleet-footed Mercury.
He was called "The Swift" and no wonder; for he had
winged sandals, and could fly faster than the lightest bird.
He had a winged cap besides, and a magic staff wreathed
with two serpents, with which he could do all sorts of
things. He was the messenger of the gods on all their
errands between heaven and earth.
Away down in the center of the earth, there was a
gloomy kingdom known as Hades or the land of shades;
and the Greeks thought that people who died went down
into this dark land. Its ruler was King Pluto. He was
very lonely in his somber palace; and one time, as you
shall hear, he came to earth and stole away the daughter
of Ceres to live with him in his underground home.
Ceres was the goddess of the earth, and the people
looked to her for bountiful harvests, and for the growth of
everything that sprang from the earth.
Lastly there was Pan, the god of the shepherds and of


the woods. He was a strange creature, half goat and half
man. But he was loved by every one, and especially by
the shepherds; for he guarded their flocks from harm, and
played his pipes and danced with them in many a frolic.
And, if we believe the stories told by the Greeks, in and
about the woods and the waters and the fields wandered
all the gods I have spoken of. They lived their lives of
mingled pleasure and sorrow, just as did the men and
women who worshiped them, and pictured them in their
palaces of gold and silver and precious stones, up in the
land of the clouds and the stars.


GREAT, wide, beautiful, wonderful world,
With the wonderful water round you curled,
And the wonderful grass upon your breast-
World, you are beautifully dressed.

The wonderful air is over me,
And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,
And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

You friendly earth, how far do you go,
With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow,
With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,
And people upon you for thousands of miles ?

Ah! you are so great, and I am so small,
I tremble to think of you, world, at all.
(Lilliput Lectures.)



THIS is a story about a woman whom you will all love.
Almost everybody loved Callisto and her little son Arcas;
for she was fair and good, and kind to all who knew her.
She had a very joyous nature, and when she went
hunting in the forests with her companions, as she often
did, she was always the leader of the merry party. She
dearly loved the woods with their gurgling brooks and
tuneful birds and bright flowers. She laughed and sang
to the beautiful world about her, and in return all nature
seemed to smile on her.
I said that almost everybody loved Callisto; for although
her little boy and all her companions and even the gods
were very fond of her, there was one who did not love her,
and that was Juno.
For some reason, Juno could not bear to look at Callisto,
and the lovelier and fairer she grew, the more the queen
of heaven seemed to hate her. At last, one day when
Juno met her in the forest, hunting and singing as she
went along, all bitter feelings seemed to rush into her
heart at once; and she hated Callisto so much that she
could no longer bear to see her.
So she did a very cruel thing,- she raised her hand
and spoke a few magic words. In an instant Callisto's
slender, white hands had changed into great, hairy paws ;
and where but a moment before a fair young woman had
stood, there was now only a shaggy, ugly bear.
The poor bear, afraid of herself and of every sound,
rushed through the forest, hiding in caves and behind
trees whenever she heard the patter of feet on the ground.

E'. s *

"He and his hound brought the wild deer to bay."




For although her body was like a bear's, her thoughts and
feelings were still human, and she feared the wild beasts
of the woods.
For fifteen long years, poor Callisto lived lonely and
sad in the forest. Her joy in nature was all gone. In
vain the brooks gurgled as they sped merrily by; in vain
the sun looked down with his cheery smile; in vain the
birds sang their happy songs. She cared for none of
them, and no longer responded to the beauty that sur-
rounded her.
Nuts and vwld honey and berries were her food the
running brooks, her drink. At night she slept in the hol-
low of a tree or in some dark cavern. Often she heard
the voices of her former friends, as they went hunting
over the hills; and then she trembled and crouched be-
hind the trees, for she did not want them to find her.
Many a time her thoughts went back to that day when
she had last seen her little son, and she wondered what
had become of the boy.
So thrice five summers and winters passed, and, in the
meanwhile, Arcas had grown to be a fine, tall youth, who,
like his mother, was very fond of hunting. So good a
marksman was he that he hardly ever missed his aim,
and with his faithful hound, and his sharp hunting knife,
brought many a wild deer to bay.
One day he took his bow and arrows, and started out
alone. He had been hunting a long time, when, in follow-
ing a deer's track, he came suddenly into a little cleared
space, and saw, standing within a few feet of him, a great,
shaggy bear.
Callisto, for it was she, did not hear the sound of foot-
steps until it was too late to hide, and then she turned


to see who was coming. In an instant, in spite of the
many years since she had last seen him, the mother knew
her son; and she gazed with wondering eyes at the child
who had grown to be such a tall, fine-looking boy. She
longed to speak; but of course her growling would have
frightened Arcas, so she merely kept her eyes fixed on
At first Arcas was only startled at coming so suddenly
within a few feet of a bear; but soon he became frightened
at the animal's fixed stare. There was such a strange
sadness in the eyes that gazed at him that*he felt a terror
which he could not explain. Scarcely knowing what he
did, he raised his bow and aimed an arrow at his mother.
Just at this moment Jupiter appeared, and snatched
both bow and arrow from his hands. For Jupiter had
always loved Callisto, and heowas sorry for the harm his
wife had done to one so good and gentle. To make up
as far as he could for Juno's cruelty, he changed both
mother and son into bright, glowing stars, and put them
in the heavens, to shine there forever, the Great Bear
and the Little Bear. There you may see them on any
starry night and think of their story.
Juno was very angry when she saw the newly-made
stars twinkling in the sky. She had tried to show her
hatred toward Callist6 by taking away her human form, but
now Jupiter had made her and her son far greater than
human beings. She went to Neptune, god of the sea, and
told him her troubles. She asked him to grant her at least
one little favor, -never to let the Great Bear or the Little
Bear enter his ocean palace.
If some time you watch the stars over the ocean, you
will see that as the night passes, they seem to sink lower


and lower, and at last to vanish into the sea. That is
what Juno meant by speaking of the stars entering Nep-
tune's ocean palace. Neptune promised to do as she
wished, and he kept his word, for from that day to this,
the Great Bear and the Little Bear have never set.


Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den,
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.




IN the blue Mediterranean Sea, which washes the south-
ern shore of Europe, lies the beautiful island of Sicily.
Long, long ago, there lived on this island a goddess
named Ceres. She had power to make the earth yield
plentiful crops of grain, or to leave it barren; and on her
depended the food, and therefore the life, of all the peo-
ple on the great, wide earth.
Ceres had one fair young daughter, whom she loved
very dearly. And no wonder, for Proserpine was the sun-
niest, happiest girl you could imagine.
Her face was all white and pink, like apple blossoms
in spring, and there was just enough blue in her eyes to
give you a glimpse of an April morning sky. Her long,
golden curls reminded you of the bright sunlight. In
fact, there was something so young and fair and tender
about the maiden that if you could imagine anything so
strange as the whole springtime, with all its loveliness,
changed into a human being, you would have looked but
an instant at Proserpine and said, She is the Spring."
Proserpine spent the long, happy days in the fields,
helping her mother, or dancing and singing among the
flowers, with her young companions.
Way down under the earth, in the land of the dead,
lived dark King Pluto; and the days were very lonely
for him with only shadows to talk to. Often and often,
he had tried to urge some goddess to come and share
his gloomy throne; but not the richest jewels or wealth


could tempt any one of them to leave the bright sunlight
above and dwell in the land of shades.
One day Pluto came up to earth and was driving along
in his swift chariot, when, behind some bushes, he heard
such merry voices and musical laughter that he drew rein,
and stepping down, parted the bushes to see who was on
the other side. There he saw Proserpine standing in the
center of a ring of laughing young girls who were pelting
her with flowers.
The stern old king felt his heart beat quicker at sight
of all these lovely maidens, and he singled out Proser-
pine, and said to himself, "She shall be my queen. That
fair face can make even dark Hades light and beautiful."
But he knew it would be useless to ask the girl for her
consent ; so, with a bold stride, he stepped into the midst
of the happy circle.
The young girls, frightened at his dark, stern face, fled
to right and left. But Pluto grasped Proserpine by the
arm and carried her to his chariot, and then the horses
flew along the ground, leaving Proserpine's startled com-
panions far behind.
King Pluto knew that he must hasten away with his
prize, lest Ceres should discover her loss; and, to keep out
of her path, he drove 'his chariot a roundabout way. He
came to a river; but as he neared its banks, it suddenly
began to bubble and swell and rage, so that Pluto did not
dare to drive through its waters. To go back another
way would mean great loss of time; so with his scepter
he struck the ground thrice. It opened, and, in an in-
stant, horses, chariot, and all, plunged into the darkness
But Proserpine knew that the nymph of the stream had


recognized her, and had tried to save her by making the
waters of the stream rise. So, just as the ground was
closing over her, the girl seized her girdle and threw it far
out into the river. She hoped that in some way the girdle
might reach Ceres and help her to find her lost daughter.


I COME, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o'er the mountains, with light and song.
Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.

I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy North,
And the larch has hung all his tassels forth;
The fisher is out on the sunny sea,
And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free,
And the pine has a fringe of softer green,
And the moss looks bright, where my step has been.

From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain;
They are sweeping on to the silvery main,
They are flashing down from the mountain brows,
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs,
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves.




IN the evening Ceres returned to her home; but her
daughter, who usually came running to meet her, was
nowhere to be seen. Ceres searched for her in all the
rooms, but they were empty. Then she lighted a great
torch from the fires of a volcano, and went wandering
among the fields, looking for her child. When morning
broke, and she had found no trace of Proserpine, her
grief was terrible to see.
On that sad day, Ceres began a long, long wandering.
Over land and sea she journeyed, bearing in her right
hand the torch which had been kindled in the fiery
All her duties were neglected, and everywhere the crops
failed, and the ground was barren and dry. Want and
famine took the place of wealth and plenty throughout
the world. It seemed as though the great earth grieved
with the mother for the loss of beautiful Proserpine.
When the starving people came to Ceres and begged
her to resume her duties and to be their friend again,
Ceres lifted her great eyes, wearied with endless seeking,
and answered that until Proserpine was found, she could
think only of her child, and could not care for the ne-
glected earth. So all the people cried aloud to Jupiter
that he should bring Proserpine back to her mother, for
they were sadly in need of great Ceres' help.
At last, after wandering over all the earth in her fruit-
less search, Ceres returned to Sicily. One day, as she


was passing a river, suddenly a little swell of water car-
ried something to her feet. Stooping to see what it was,
she picked up the girdle which Proserpine had long ago
thrown to the water nymph.
While she was looking at it, with tears in her eyes,
she heard a fountain near her bubbling louder and louder,
until at last it seemed to speak. And this is what it
said :
"I am the nymph of the fountain, and I come from
the inmost parts of the earth, O Ceres, great mother!
There I saw your daughter seated on a throne at the
dark king's side. But in spite of her splendor, her
cheeks were pale and her eyes were heavy with weeping.
I can stay no longer now, O Ceres, for I must leap into
the sunshine. The bright sky calls me, and I must hasten
Then Ceres arose and went to Jupiter and said, "I
have found the place where my daughter is hidden. Give
her back to me, and the earth shall once more be fruitful,
and the people shall have food."
Jupiter was moved, both by the mother's sorrow and
by the prayers of the people on earth; and he said that
Proserpine might return to her home if she had tasted no
food while in Pluto's kingdom.
So the happy mother hastened down into Hades. But
alas! that very day Proserpine had eaten six pomegranate
seeds; and for every one of those seeds she was doomed
each year to spend a month underground.
For six months of the year Ceres is happy with her
daughter. At Proserpine's coming, flowers bloom and
birds sing and the earth everywhere smiles its welcome
to its young queen.

"Ceres lighted a torch and went searching for her child."


Some people say that Proserpine really is the spring-
time, and that while she is with us all the earth seems
fair and beautiful. But when the time comes for Proser-
pine to rejoin King Pluto in his dark home .underground,
Ceres hides herself and grieves through all the weary
months until her daughter's return.
Then the earth, too, is somber and sad. The leaves
fall to the ground, as though the trees were weeping for
the loss of the fair, young queen; and the flowers hide
underground, until the eager step of the maiden, return-
ing to earth, awakens all nature from its winter sleep.


INTO the sunshine,
Full of the light,
Leaping and flashing
From morn till night!

Into the moonlight,
Whiter than snow,
Waving so flower-like
When the winds blow I

Into the starlight,
Rushing in spray,
Happy at midnight,
Happy by day!

Ever in motion,
Blithesome and cheery,
Still climbing heavenward,
Never aweary;


Glad of all weathers,
Still seeming best,
Upward or downward,
Motion thy rest;

Full of a nature
Nothing can tame,
Changed every moment,
Ever the same.

Ceaseless aspiring,
Ceaseless content,
Darkness or sunshine
Thy element;

Glorious fountain!
Let my heart be
Fresh, changeful, constant,
Upward like thee!


MR. FROG, hopping into the water or sitting on a log in
the middle of a mud pond, is certainly not a very attrac-
tive or lovable creature. But he has his good qualities,
nevertheless, and he improves very much on acquaintance.
There was once a poet who went out into the woods to
sing among the green trees; and his mind was filled with
the story of a beautiful woman and two helpless little chil-
dren, who had been treated very cruelly. While he was
thinking about them, he came suddenly to a muddy brook,


and in the middle of it, on a mossy log, sat five or six big,
speckled frogs, croaking away with all their might.
Now poets, you must know, love beautiful things, and
these frogs were very ugly indeed; besides it was the
first time the poet had ever seen such creatures. So he
turned away from them in disgust, and went home and
wrote his story about the beautiful womafi and the two
helpless children, and he put something about the frogs
into his tale. As he had not liked them at all, he made
them seem very bad and ugly; but that is no reason
why we need dislike the little speckled creatures, when
we hear them croaking in the marshes.
This is the story of the unhappy mother, and of the
men who were changed intb frogs because they were so
unkind to her.
Long ago, there lived in Greece a very beautiful
woman, whose name was Latona. It is a soft, pretty
name, and will help us to picture her to whom it belonged.
She was tall and graceful, and usually wore soft, pearl-
colored robes. Her hair was dark, and her eyes were
a deep, clear gray. They were sad eyes, because Lato-
na's life was very unhappy.
Juno hated the gray-eyed woman; and she treated her
so badly, and was so unkind to her, that poor Latona had
to flee from place to place, to escape the queen's anger.
One day, she came to a stream; and there lay a little
rowboat without any oars ; and the ripples of water made
soft music as they plashed against its sides.
The water sounded so quiet and restful, and poor
Latona was so tired and discouraged, that she stepped
into the boat and pushed it off from the shore. She sat
down, her hands folded in her lap, softly crying as she


drifted along. Night came, and still the little boat went
bravely along through the dark water, and the stars
looked down in pity, as though they wished to comfort
It seemed a long time since she had left the land,
although it was only a few hours. Toward morning, she
was startled from her sorrow by the grating of the keel
on the shore; and when she looked up, she saw that she
had drifted to a little island.
It was a pretty place, covered with trees, and along the
shores grew many bright flowers. It all looked so cheer-
ful that Latona took heart again and stepped out of the
boat to explore the little kingdom she had found.
Nor was she disappointed. Berries and fruits of all
kinds grew there in plenty, and in the very center of the
island was a cave which served well for a house.
Best of all, by the side of the cave, ran a brook of
clear, sparkling water. It danced along over the pebbles,
and wound its way across the little island, and seemed to
sing a song of welcome to Latona. In fact, it was as
lovely a home as any one could wish for.
And here Latona lived for a long, long time. She was
very happy, and hoped that Juno would never find her in
this hidden corner of the earth. After a while one of the
gods, who loved and pitied her, sent two beautiful twin
babes to gladden her heart. She never wearied of watch-
ing her little boy and girl, as they lay asleep or played
with their fingers and toes in true baby fashion. She
named the boy Apollo, and the girl Diana.
One sad day, when she was sitting in the sunshine with
her children, a black, angry-looking cloud spread over the
sky; and when Latona looked up toward it, she saw Juno

"Watching her little boy and girl as they lay asleep."



8l~%l~~. ~;c~ac~tC~B~%~i;~'i


-- -------
~_r .


standing before her. With harsh words, the goddess or-
dered the poor mother to leave the island at once; and,
although it made Latona very sad to go from the home
where she had been so happy, she hastened away, for she
feared that otherwise Juno might harm her two beautiful
babes. So she took a little one in each arm, and again
set forth on her wanderings.
She came at length to a desert land, where there was
not a blade of grass or a flower to rest her tired eyes.
The hot sand burned her feet, and her lips were parched
with thirst. The two babes in her arms sometimes seemed
to weigh like lead, -she was so tired from walking all
day long. Yet her cloak was always held so as to shield
them, not herself, from the sun. The mother was glad to
suffer anything for her children's sake.
She had been walking for days and days, the hot sand
burning her tender feet, and her throat dry and parched
for lack of water, when suddenly she saw in the distance
a. clump of trees, and a glimmer of blue water amid the
The hope of relief gave her new strength, and she has-
tened toward the spot. When she came to it, she found
a lake of clear, blue water. All about it tall reeds were
growing, and some rough peasants were plucking them
and binding them in sheaves.
Latona bent and tried to reach the pure water with her
lips, for both her arms were burdened with the children.
But she started up again, wflen the men, in a very rude
and unkind tone, ordered her not to drink.
What said Latona in surprise, surely you will not
forbid me to drink of this pure water, which the gods have
put here for all to enjoy! I am weary from long wander-


ing over the desert, and my lips are parched with thirst."
The water looked so cool and inviting that Latona once
more bent to drink of it.
But the men only renewed their rude talk and threat-
ened that, if she did not go away, they would do her some
harm. Then Latona began to plead, with tears in her
eyes. Surely, if you have no pity for me," she said,
."you cannot be so cruel to these little children who
stretch out their arms to you." And, as she put aside
her cloak, the little boy and girl really did stretch out
their tiny baby fingers, as though to beg these hard-hearted
men to be more gentle.
But they were very hard-hearted indeed, and for answer
they began to kick mud and stones into the water, so that
in a few moments the clear lake had become a muddy
pool, and the water was unfit to drink.
Then Latona became very angry, and raising her eyes
to heaven she cried, If there is any one to hear me, and
any justice among the gods, let these men live forever in
that pool!"
The gods heard her prayer, and the men were at once
changed into frogs; and to this day they haunt the quiet
pools, now sitting on the rocks, now leaping into the water
with ugly croaks.
As for Latona, her time of suffering was almost over.
The twin babes for whom she had borne so much, grew
up to repay her, as well as children ever can repay their
Jupiter, the god who had sent them to Latona in her
loneliness, had given them his own godlike nature; and
when next we hear of them, Apollo is the great god of the
sun and of music, and Diana, his beautiful twin sister, is


the goddess of the moon. So much did they honor their
mother that her lightest wish was a law to them, and
nothing that she asked of them was left ungranted.


I COME from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling.

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel.

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever.


I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel-covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever.


THIS is the story of a maiden who came to grief because
she talked too much, and because she always wanted to
have the last word. You can find out for yourselves
whether or not it is true, any day when you walk in the
woods or go through a tunnel. In fact, I should not
wonder if most of you have already tried giving some
call when you are passing under a bridge, in order to
hear the queer little spirit that lives in such places, and
takes delight in mockingly answering back.
Poor Echo Now she is nothing but a voice, but
there was a time when she danced and sang in the green
woods with the other nymphs. She had one great fault,
however, she was too talkative; and the worst of it


Echo quickly answered, -Here!
" Echo quickly answered, 'Here !' "


was, she told such interesting stories that her listeners
would forget how the time was passing.
Many a time even Juno would come down to earth and
listen by the hour to Echo's delightful tales. But one day
she found out that Echo amused her in this way only to
please Jupiter. For Jupiter sometimes grew tired of Juno,
and wished to be alone.
Juno was very angry at Echo; and she punished her
in rather a queer way, by taking from her the power of
that tongue with which she had been too ready. Poor
Echo found that she could no longer speak; she could
only mimic the last words of others.
Now there was a youth named Narcissus, who was as
beautiful as a sunshiny day in spring, and he was brave
and manly as well. Every one who saw him loved him;
but he seemed to have no heart, for he loved no one but
One day he was wandering through the forest with
some comrades, when he stopped to pluck a wild flower,
and lost sight of his friends. He turned to take the
path which he thought the right one, and in so doing,
passed by the tall oak tree in which Echo lived.
The moment the girl saw him she fell in love with
him ; and she followed him through the woods, longing
for the power to speak to him. But alas she could not
They went on in this way for some time, Narcissus
parting the branches in search of his comrades, and Echo
stealing softly behind him, until the boy suddenly saw
that he had lost his way and called out, "Is there any
one here?" Echo, who had stepped behind a tree, quickly
answered Here! "


The youth was very much surprised, for he had thought
himself alone in the woods. He looked all around, but not
seeing any one to whom the voice could belong, he called,
"Come whereupon Echo likewise called, Come "
This was bewildering. He could see no one, and yet
every cry of his was answered, and the voice seemed very
near. He went on calling and questioning, and each time
Echo answered in his own words. She did not dare show
herself, for fear that he might be angry, but you see she
could not help answering.
At last Narcissus, who was getting very impatient,
called, Let us come together here." Echo answered in
a very glad tone, and stepping from behind the tree, ran
to meet him.
When she came up to him, she tried to throw her
arms around his neck, to tell him her love in that way;
for, you know, the poor girl could not tell it in words.
But Narcissus hated to have any one show him affection;
so he pushed her aside very roughly, and fled from her
farther into the woods.
Poor Echo! His unkind looks had hurt her sadly, and
she hid herself in the woqds, and mourned and grieved,
thinking of the beautiful youth who had treated her so
rudely. She suffered very much and wept night and day
and could not touch any food; so that she grew pale and
thin and began to waste away to a shadow, as people say,
until at last her body vanished altogether, and nothing but
her voice remained.
Since that time she lies hidden in the woods, and no
one has ever seen so much as a gleam of her white arms
in the branches; but her voice is still heard among the
hills, answering to every call.



Two of us among the daisies
In the meadow bright and still,-
You, alone among the mazes
Of the dark trees on the hill;
O sweet Echo,
O fleet Echo,
Can we not o'ertake you, following with a will?
(Ah, Will!)
'Tis my name, but much I wonder
That you, in your hiding place,
On the shady hill or under,
Things you never knew can trace!
Declare, mocker,
O rare mocker,
What my sister's name is, else you're in disgrace!
(Is Grace!)
What sweet things do you resemble, -
Morning dewdrops, starry gleams,
Flowers that in the light wind tremble,
Beckonings of the rippled streams?
O dear playmate,
Come near, playmate;
Are these fancies true, or naught at all but dreams?
(But dreams!)
Then come down and let us see you;
If you cannot come to stay,
Ask the stern old hill to free you
Jdst for half a holiday.
O glad Echo,
O sad Echo,
To escape your prison can you find no way?
(No way!)



NARCISSUS, who was so cold to poor Echo, and indeed
to all who loved him, at last fell in love himself, and in a
very strange way.
When Narcissus was born, his mother took him to a
wise man who could foretell the future, and asked whether
her boy would live to manhood. The prophet answered,
"If he never recognizes himself." At the time, no one
understood the meaning of the words; but when you have
read this story, I think you will see what the wise man
Narcissus was very fond, of hunting, and he often
roamed through the woods from morning till night, with
only his bow and arrows for companions.
One day he had been tracking the game through the
forest for many hours, and at last, worn out with the heat
and the exercise, he came to a shady spot in the woods,
where, hidden among the low bushes, there was a little
The water was clear as crystal; and Narcissus stooped
to drink of it; but suddenly he paused in wonder, for re-
flected in the smooth surface, was the most beautiful. face
he had ever seen. He looked at it in ever-growing sur-
prise, and the more he looked, the fairer did the face seem.
Narcissus at last had fallen in love- but it was with his
own reflection.
He spoke to the beautiful image, and the red lips in
the water parted as though they were answering him; but
no sound could he hear. He smiled, and the two starry
eyes in the pool smiled back at him. When he beckoned,


the loved one beckoned too; and the nearer he bent to
the water, the nearer to its surface did the beautiful face
When he tried to touch it, it disappeared from view.
That was because, when the water was rippled by his
touch, the image became blurred. But when the water
was still, the face was again seen in all its loveliness.
Poor Narcissus! He, with whom so many had been in
love, was at last in love himself, and with a thing that had
no form, or substance, -a mere shadow.
He lost all desire for food or for sleep, and night and
day he lay-upon the grass, gazing at his own image re-
flected in the water. When Apollo guided his morning
chariot over the hills, the face in the pool seemed touched
with a golden light that made it more beautiful than ever;
and at night, when Diana drove her silver car through the
heavens, the poor boy could scarcely breathe for marveling
at the beauty of his own face.
Slowly he began to pine away. The red left his cheeks
and his body grew thinner and thinner, until at last he
Echo had seen the poor boy's madness, and although
he had treated her so cruelly, she felt only sorrow at
his trouble. Whenever Narcissus, in despair, cried out,
"Alas! or "Woe is me! Echo sorrowfully repeated the
cry. His last words addressed to the image in the water
were, Oh youth, beloved in vain, farewell "; and Echo
answered, "Farewell! "
The nymphs of the rivers and the wood nymphs all
mourned for their dead friend. And they prepared the
funeral pile, for in those days people used to burn the
bodies of the dead.


When all was ready, they went with garlands to carry
him to his bier, but the body of the dead youth had van-
ished. In its stead there stood a beautiful flower, with a
bright golden center and soft, white petals, which nodded
to its reflection in the pool. And, to this day the lovely
flower, called the narcissus, is found by quiet pools, gazing
at its image in the water.


IN an ancient city of Greece, there lived a young girl #
named Arachne, whose parents had once been very poor
and humble. Arachne, however, brought wealth and com-
fort into their little cottage, through her great skill in
spinning and embroidering.
Such beautiful things did she fashion with her wool,
and so graceful did she look as she worked with her spin-
dle, that great lords and ladies came from every part of
the land to see her at her work. Her name was famous
throughout Greece, and princes and merchants paid her
great prices for her wonderful embroidery.
So, as I said, wealth and comfort took the place of
poverty in Arachne's home, and the parents blessed their
daughter, and all of them lived very happily. Thus it
might have gone on until they died, had not Arachne's
head been turned by the praises that were showered upon
her from all sides. She became so vain about her work
that she could think of nothing but how wonderful she
was; and one day she boasted that, though she was only
a humble girl, she was far greater in her skill than the

F 1'.', ;I

r K:-

S" o graceful she looked as she worked with her spindle,"


goddess Minerva. Minerva, you remember, was the god-
dess of wisdom and of war; but in her spare moments
she amused herself by doing just such work as had made
Arachne famous, embroidery in wool, or tapestry, as it
was called.
Now there was no fault that displeased the gods more
than conceit ; so when Minerva heard of the girl's bold
speech, she was much astonished, and thought she would
visit Arachne to see what she meant by her boast.
Accordingly, she took on the form of an old, gray-
haired woman, and leaning on her staff, as though too fee-
ble to walk erect, she came into the little room where
Arachne sat spinning. She joined the circle that sur-
rounded the maiden at her work, and listened to the girl's
boastful claim that she could outdo Minerva herself in skill.
Then the old woman spoke. "My daughter," she said,
laying her hand on Arachne's shoulder, "listen to the
advice of an old woman who has had much experience in
life. Be content to reign as queen of your art among
women, but do not compare yourself with the gods. Ask
pardon for the foolish words you have just spoken. I
promise you that Minerva will grant it."
But the young girl only looked cross and ugly, as she
answered in a very churlish tone, You are an old woman
and you speak like one. Let Minerva come and try her
skill,with mine, and I will prove my words. She is afraid
of the test, else why does she not come ? "
Then Minerva dropped her staff and cried, Lo! she
is come!" and she took on her true shape and showed
herself in all her godlike splendor. The bystanders fell
upon the ground and worshiped her. But Arachne, fool-
ish Arachne, held her head high, and did not show the


least fear or awe; on the contrary, she again asked Mi-
nerva to enter into a trial of skill.
Without more words, the goddess and the humble girl
took their stand, each before an empty loom, and began
to work in silence. The group in the back of the room
watched, breathless with wonder and awe.
In the center of Minerva's loom there soon appeared
figures telling the story of a famous contest in which
the gods had taken part; and into each of the four cor-
ners she wove a picture of the fate that had overtaken
daring mortals who had opposed the gods. These were
meant as a warning to Arachne.
But Arachne worked on at her loom, with the color
glowing in her cheeks and her breath coming very fast.
And such beauty as grew under her skillful fingers! You
could almost see the birds fly and hear the lapping of
the waves on the shore, and the clouds seemed floating
through real air. But the stories that she pictured were
all chosen to show that even the gods could sometimes
make mistakes.
When she laid down her spindle, Minerva, in spite of
her anger at the girl's boldness, was forced to admit that
Arachne had won the contest. But this only made her
wrath the greater; and when Arachne saw the look of
anger in Minerva's face, she suddenly felt how foolish and
wrong she had been. It was too late now for repentance.
The goddess seized the beautiful web, and tore it into
shreds. Then she raised her shuttle and struck Arachne
three times on the head.
Arachne was too proud to submit to such treatment.
She seized a rope which lay near her pn the floor, and
would have hung herself, to end her shame and sorrow.


But Minerva held her back and cried, Nay, you shall
live, wicked girl; but henceforth you shall hang from a
thread, and all your race shall bear the same punishment
In an instant Arachne's hair fell off, and her face be-
came so small that her body looked very large next to it,
though in reality it, too, had diminished in size. Her fin-
gers were changed into ugly spider's legs, and, .hanging
from her thread, she spun and spun forever.
If you can find a dusty old corner in an attic, or if you
will look closely along your garden wall, perhaps you will
see, if not Arachne herself, at least one of her race, spin-
ning and spinning away at a web, as a punishment for
that foolish girl's vanity.


TwisT ye, twine ye! even so
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope and fear and peace and strife,
In the thread of human life.

Passions wild and follies vain,
Pleasures soon exchanged for pain;
Doubt and jealousy and fear,
In the magic dance appear.

Now they wax and now they dwindle,
Whirling with the whirling spindle.
Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle human bliss and woe.



ONCE upon a time there was a great, great flood over
all the earth. Some wicked people had angered the gods,
and Jupiter sent all the waters of the earth and sky to
cover the world.
He did not want the waters to dry up until all the
people were dead, so he shut fast in their caverns all the
winds except the south wind, which was sometimes called
the messenger of rain. And Jupiter sent this messenger
of his to wander over all the earth.
A mighty figure of ruin he was, as he swept along,
emptying the clouds as he passed. His face was cov-
ered with a veil.like the night, his beard was loaded with
showers, and his wings and the folds of his cloak were
dripping wet. The gods of the ocean and the river gods
all helped him in his work; till, in a short time, the whole
earth was out of sight under a vast sea, and all the wicked
people were drowned.
Then Jupiter was sorry to see the earth looking so
empty and deserted, so he called home the south wind and
set the other winds free. The north wind and the east
wind and the gentle west wind swept over the earth until
it was again dry and green. After that Jupiter sent a
new race of better men and women to live upon it.
But, strange to say, the water had brought forth many
queer new animals; and among them there was a huge
monster, so ugly that I will not -even try to tell you what
it looked like, and so wicked and cruel that the people
for miles around the swampy land where it dwelt lived
in constant terror.


No one dared go near the hideous creature, until, one
day, the archer Apollo came with his glittering arrows,
and slew it, after a fierce battle. The people were then
very happy; and you may be sure that they made a great
ado over Apollo, so that he left the country feeling very
proud of himself.
As he was going along, whom should he meet but the
little god Cupid, armed with his bow and arrows ? Cupid,
you remember, was the young god of love, sometimes
called god of the bow; and I promised to tell you how
wonderful his arrows were.
Some of them were sharp-pointed and made of shining
gold, and whoever was pierced by one of these at once fell
deeply in love. But the other arrows were blunt and made
of dull lead, and, strange to say, they made people hate
one another. You will hear, in a moment, what use Cupid
made of these curious arrows of his.
When Apollo met Cupid thus armed, he began to taunt
him. "What have you to do with the arrow?" he cried,
in a boastful tone. "That is my weapon. I have just
proved it by slaying the terrible monster. Come, Cupid,
give up the bow which rightfully belongs to me."
Now, Cupid was a very quick-tempered little god, and
he cried in a passion, Though your arrow may pierce all
other things, my arrow can wound you." Then he flew
off in a very bad humor, and tried to think of some way
in which he could make Apollo feel which of them was
the better marksman.
By and by he came to a grove in which a beautiful
nymph, Daphne, was wandering. This was just what he
wanted. He shot the arrow of lead into her heart, and
the girl felt a cold shiver run through her. She looked


up to see what had happened, and caught a glimpse of
Apollo's golden garments above the tree-tops.
Cupid saw him at the same instant, and, quick as a
flash, he planted a golden arrow in Apollo's heart. Then
he flew away, satisfied.
The golden arrow did its work only too well. For no
sooner had the sun god caught a glimpse of the beautiful
nymph than he fell deeply in love with her; and just as
quickly, Daphne had been made to hate Apollo, and she
turned to flee from him into the woods.
Apollo followed in hot haste, calling to her not to be
afraid and not to run so fast, for fear she might hurt her-
self on the thorns and brambles; and at last he cried,
",Do not try to run from me. I love you, and will do you
no harm. I am the great sun god Apollo."
But Daphne was only the more terrified at these words,
and fled more swiftly, while Apollo still followed. He
had almost reached her side, when she stretched out her
arms to her father, the god of a river along whose banks
she was fleeing. "Oh father," she cried, "help me! help
me! Either let the earth open and swallow me, or change
this form of mine so that Apollo will not love me."
Hardly had she finished her prayer, when her limbs grew
heavy, and a thin bark began to cover her skin. Her hair
changed into green leaves, her arms to slender branches,
and her feet, which had borne her along so swiftly, were
now rooted to the ground. Her father had answered her
prayer, and had changed her into a laurel tree.
When Apollo saw that his beautiful Daphne had be-
come a tree, he wept and threw his arms about the newly-
formed bark and said, Since you cannot be my wife, fair
Daphne, at least you shall be my tree, my laurel. Your


"I am the great sun god Apollo."



foliage shall be used to crown the heads of victors, and
shall be green alike in summer and in winter." And so
it came to pass, the laurel, Apollo's emblem from that
day on, became the sign of honor and triumph.
If now you should ever hear the phrase crowned with
laurel," you will know what it means, if only you remem-
ber the story of Apollo and Daphne.


CUPID once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head;
Luckless urchin, not to see
Within the leaves a slumbering bee.

The bee awaked-with anger wild
The bee awaked, and stung the child.
Loud and piteous are his cries;
To Venus quick he runs, he flies.

"Oh, mother! I am wounded through,--
I die with pain-in sooth I do!
Stung by some little angry thing,
Some serpent on a tiny wing.

A bee it was for once, I know,
I heard a rustic call it so."
Thus he spoke, and she the while
Heard him with a soothing smile.

Then said, "My infant, if so much
Thou feel'st the little wild bee's touch,
How must the heart, ah, Cupid, be,
The hapless heart that's stung by thee ?"



ONCE there lived in Greece a wonderful musician named
Orpheus. When he played his lyre, the trees were so
charmed by his music that they followed him as he went
along; and the lifeless rocks became living and trembled
at the beauty of his song. And he could so charm people
that they would forget all their bad thoughts, and become
for a while as lovely as the sounds they heard.
Now Orpheus had a fair young wife, Eurydice; and
much as he loved his music, she was still more dear to
him. She was as beautiful as the dewy morning; and it
did not take Orpheus' music to make her good, for she
had never had a thought that was not pure and lovely.
One day, Eurydice was walking in the fields with some
young girls, gathering flowers as she went along, when
suddenly from under a cluster of leaves, a serpent darted
out with a loud "hiss," and before Eurydice could step
aside, the snake had bitten her in the foot.
The weeping girls carried her home to Orpheus, who
did all in his power to restore his dear wife ; but, after a
few hours of suffering, she died.
Orpheus' grief was terrible to see. He took up his
beloved lyre, but its charm for him was gone. He drew
from it such low, sad strains, that even the rocks and the
trees were moved to tears for his sorrow. At last he could
bear his loneliness no longer, and he determined to go to
the Lower World to seek Eurydice, a thing that few
human beings had ever tried to do. Hades, you remem-
ber, was the land of the dead, ruled by King Pluto and
his young wife Proserpine.


To this gloomy place, the bright, happy Eurydice had
been brought by the boatman Charon, whose business it
was to take the souls of the dead over the dark River of
Death to Hades; and hither Orpheus went to seek her.
Taking his lyre with him, he went along, full of hope,
until he came to the black River of Death. Charon at
first refused to carry him across ; but Orpheus played for
him so sweetly that the stern boatman was melted to tears,
and at last agreed to take the player across the river.
But at the entrance to Hades, there was a fierce, horrible
dog, with three enormous heads, three pairs of fiery eyes,
and three mouths, bristling with ugly fangs.
When Orpheus came to the gate, the dog began to
snarl and show his teeth as an ugly dog 'will, and started
to spring upon this unbidden visitor to the Lower World.
But, quick as a flash, Orpheus seized his lyre and drew
from it such beautiful music that the dog crouched down
at his feet, and licked the hands he had been ready to
So Orpheus passed through the gateway, and after fol-
lowing many dark and winding passages, came to the
throne where the king and queen were seated in state.
Before Pluto could express his wonder at seeing a liv-
ing being in his underground palace, Orpheus fell on his
knees, and, fingering the strings of his lyre, told the sad
story of his love and loss in a song so beautiful and
touching that both Pluto and Proserpine wept to hear
him. When he had finished, Pluto granted his prayer
and gave him leave to lead Eurydice back with him to
He made one condition, however,- that Orpheus must
not look back at his wife until they had passed the bounds


of Hades. To this Orpheus gladly agreed, and so, after
many kind parting words, he started to return through
those gloomy passages, Eurydice silently following.
They had nearly reached the entrance, when Orpheus
had a sudden fear that Eurydice might have lagged behind.
Before he could think of what he was doing, he turned
his head quickly to see whether she was still following.
But alas! he caught only a glimpse of her, as, with her
arms stretched toward him and her lips speaking a last
farewell, she sank back into that Hades from which his
love and his wonderful gift of music had so nearly saved
In vain Orpheus tried to get back into Hades; and
after sitting foi seven days on the bank of the river,
without touching food of any kind or sleeping for an in-
stant, he sadly returned to the green earth.
He went up on a high mountain, and there he lived
with only the birds and the trees and the wild animals; for,
since he could not have Eurydice, he cared for no other
companions. But the birds and the wild beasts and the
flowers loved him dearly, and tried to show their gratitude
for the sweet music he made for them. They did, indeed,
comfort him, and he lived for a long time in this sorrow-
ful quiet.
So time passed on, until one day, as Orpheus was walk-
ing on the mountain, he met a band of dancing women
who were singing gay songs as they tripped along. Or-
pheus, to whom the sight of such careless mirth was very
painful, would have turned aside; but as soon as the
women saw his lyre, they came up to him and ordered
him, in a rough manner, to play them some gay music.
Now Orpheus, as you know, could think only of sad


things since Eurydice had gone from him, and he felt that
he could not play merry tunes. But when he refused, the
women flew into a rage, and fell upon him, and put him
to death with stones and arrows. Cruel, mad women they
were, and their king afterwards punished them severely
for their heartless action.
They cast the singer's body into the weeping river.
His last words as he floated down the stream were,
"Eurydice! Eurydice!"; and the rocks and the trees
echoed back the cry, Eurydice Eurydice!"
The trees and the rocks and the birds and the flowers
mourned the loss of the sweet singer, and the wood
nymphs and the water nymphs, who had often listened
in rapture to his music, grew pale and thin with grieving
over his death.
But Orpheus himself, with a happy heart, crossed the
dark River of Death into the realm of Hades. This time
Charon gladly ferried him across, and the fierce dog
wagged his tail in friendly greeting. At the entrance
gate stood Eurydice, waiting to welcome him; and he
rushed forward to meet his dear wife and put his arms
about her, happy in the thought that they would never
again be parted.


ORPHEUS with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing;
To his music, plants and flowers
Ever sprung, as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.


Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art;
Killing care and grief of heart.


HE came to call me back from death
To the bright world above;
I hear him yet with trembling breath
Low calling, Oh, sweet love !
Come back, the earth is just as fair,
The flowers, the open skies are there,
Come back to life and love !"

Oh, all my heart went out to him,
And the sweet air above;
With happy tears my eyes were dim;
I called him, Oh, sweet love!
I come, for thou art all to me;
Go forth, and I will follow thee,
Right back to life and love."

I followed through the cavern black,
I saw the blue above.
Some terror turned him to look back;
I heard him wail, Oh, love,
What have I done! what have I done!"
And then I saw no more the sun,
And lost were life and love.



THE story I am going to tell you is of that beautiful
maiden Diana, goddess of the moon and of the chase.
Every evening, when Apollo, her twin brother, sank
from sight in his golden sun chariot, she arose and guided
her silver car across the heavens. But when the dawn
came, and Apollo began his daily journey around the
world, Diana left her silvery chariot in the sky and came
down to earth.
Clad in her short hunting garments, her shining quiver
of arrows slung over one shoulder, she spent the day in the
, green woods, enjoying the pleasures of the chase. She
was followed by a train of young girls, who hunted and
rested with her. But only the fairest and best maidens
were thought worthy of the great honor of hunting with
When they were tired of the sport, they would seek a
shady place where, perhaps, a cool brook sped along over
the stones ; and there they would bathe their hot limbs,
and drink the cooling water, and lie on the soft grass
under the trees. No one ever dared to enter these quiet,
hidden groves, for they ,were sacred to Diana and her
Actaeon was a youth who also was very fond of hunt-
ing. More than all else, he loved to follow the deer;
and he had a fine pack of hounds that never failed to
track the game when once they had caught scent of the
One day, Actaeon had been out hunting for many hours.


He was tired and thirsty, and he looked about for some
spot in which to rest. Suddenly he heard the sound of
running water, and, eager to quench his thirst, parted the
branches and stepped into an open space beyond.
But what did he see ? Lying about on the grass were
all the fair huntresses with their queen in their midst. At
the moment when Actaeon parted the branches, Diana
was stepping into the rippling water. At sight of him, she
paused, flushed with anger and surprise. "Bold mortal,"
she cried, "darest thou enter my secret hiding places?
Never shalt thou go back and say to men that thou hast
seen Diana at her midday rest."
She thereupon sprinkled a few drops of water in his
face, and then something very strange happened. Poor
Actaeon had been so bewildered, at sight of Diana's
beauty and at her anger, that he had stood motionless
and silent, rooted to the spot. But now he tried to speak,
and found he could not utter a word. The angry god-
dess had changed his form into that of a deer, the animal
which he and his faithful hounds had so often hunted.
In terror and dismay, he looked at his new body, which
was so strange and yet so familiar to him. At that mo-
ment he heard, in the distance, the baying of his own
dogs, coming to join him. Ah he must hide from them,
for they would not know their master hidden in that body
of a stag.
He turned to flee, but it was too late. One of the
hounds had caught sight of his antlers and had given the
cry; and the next minute, the whole pack of eager crea-
tures was at his back.
Poor Actaeon! He fled in terror, but although his
swift feet carried him along like the wind, his antlers



"Clad in her hunting skirt, with her quiver of arrows,"


caught in the trees and bushes and held him back. At
last, tired out by the struggle, he sank to the ground.
An instant later the pack fell upon him, and the young
hunter was torn to pieces by his own hounds.


HARK, hark! Who calleth the maiden Morn
from her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?
The horn the horn !
The merry, sweet ring of the hunter's horn.

Now through the copse where the fox is found,
And over the stream, at a mighty bound,
And over the high lands and over the low,
O'er furrows, o'er meadows, the hunters go!
Away! as a hawk flies full at his prey-
So flieth the hunter away, away!

Hark, hark What sound on the wind is borne?
'Tis the conquering voice of the hunter's horn:
The horn the horn!
The merry, bold voice of the hunter's horn.

Sound, sound the horn To the hunter good
What's the gully deep or the roaring flood?
Right over he bounds, as the wild stag bounds,
At the heels of his swift, sure, silent hounds.

Hark, hark Now home, and dream till morn
Of the bold, sweet sound of the hunter's horn!
The horn the horn!
Oh, the sound of all sounds is the hunter's horn!



THERE was once a princess named Danae, and she had
a little baby boy, whom she called Perseus. The little
boy's father was far away, and Danae had no one to take
care of her and her child.
One day, some cruel people put Perseus and his mother
into a boat, and set them adrift on the great, wide sea.
They floated about for many days, and Danae held her
little boy close, and sang him sweet lullabies, to keep him
from crying at the great waves that every now and then
swept over the little boat.
She thought that they both would die; but somehow
the frail little bark did not upset, and one day a large
wave carried it upon an island, where it rested on the
sloping shore. There some kind people found them, and
gave Danae and her little boy a home. The mother and
son lived there for many years, until Perseus was no longer
a little baby boy, but a brave, fearless, young man.
Now the king of the island was a wicked and cruel
man, who for some reason hated Danae and Perseus, and
wished to get rid of them.
So he planned some means of getting Perseus out of
the way, for the wicked king knew that if the boy were
gone he could easily do what he liked with the mother.
At" last he thought of an adventure that would please
Perseus, and, at the same time, be so dangerous that the
youth, he felt sure, would never come back to his home.
On an island, in the middle of the ocean, on whose
shores the fierce waves beat all day long, there lived three
terrible sisters known as the Gorgons. They were half


women and half dragons. They had beautiful faces, but
their bodies were so hideous that one could think of them
only as ugly monsters.
Instead of skin, they had large scales; their hands
were made of brass; but most horrible of all, in place
of hair on their heads, there writhed hundreds and hun-
dreds of poisonous snakes, with open mouths and hissing
Not very pleasant creatures to meet, you may well
say. With one blow of their tails or of their brazen hands,
they could have crushed poor Perseus to atoms. But
worse than that, worse even than the deadly bite of the
snakes, was the power of their fierce eyes; for whoever
looked a Gorgon in the face, was immediately turned to
Of the three, the most terrible was Medusa; and the
task that the king had thought of giving Perseus was
nothing less than cutting off Medusa's head, snakes and
Since merely looking at the Gorgon would turn Perseus
to stone, and he could not very well cut off her head with-
out looking, the king was pretty safe in thinking that Per-
seus would never return to the island.
So he sent for the boy, and when he stood before him,
began to praise his boldness and courage, of which, he
said, he had heard so much. Perseus, of course, was flat-
tered by these words of praise, and replied, "Indeed, 0
King, I think there is no task from which I would shrink
in fear."
The king was delighted and said, "If I thought that,
my boy, I would let you undertake a task that I am sav-
ing for the bravest man in my kingdom."


"And do you think me worthy of this nonor? cried
Perseus, in great delight.
"You may try it, if you like," answered the king. "It
is to bring me the head of Medusa, with its snaky black
Perseus gladly agreed, and left the palace. Oh, how
the wicked king chuckled over the success of his plot!
In seeming to do the boy an honor, he thought he was
really sending him to his death.
Now after poor Perseus left the palace, he began to
think over his promise, and somehow the plan did not
seem nearly so pleasant nor so easy as when he was talk-
ing with the king. The more he thought of it, the less
he liked the idea. In the excitement of the moment, he
had promised to do something that would surely cost him
his life.
When he had passed the gates of the city, he sat down
under a tree by the roadside and began to think very
soberly; but the more he thought, the more hopeless did
his task seem.
Perseus was a very brave youth; but the bravest per-
son in the world would rather be alive than to be turned
to stone, and the thought of what would probably happen
to him made him so sad that he could not keep the tears
from his eyes.
Suddenly a voice said, "Perseus, why are you weep-
ing?" Perseus raised his head in surprise, and saw a
mischievous-looking little fellow, with an odd-shaped cap,
strange, winged shoes, and a staff, wreathed with serpents,
on which he leaned as he spoke. It was no other than
the swift-footed god Mercury, but this Perseus did not


Still there was something so kind and comforting in
the tone in which the queer-looking stranger asked the
question, that, almost before he knew it, Perseus was
telling him the whole story.
When he had finished, Mercury sat silent for a few
moments, lost in deep thought, and then .said, My boy,
you have undertaken a dangerous task, yet with my help
you may succeed. But first of all, you must promise to do
in all things just as I tell you." Perseus promised, and in
the next story you will hear whether or not he succeeded.


SWEET and low, sweet. and low,
Wind of the western sea -
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea.
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon and blow,
Blow him again to me
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon:
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon.
Sleep, my little one; sleep, my pretty one, sleep.



Now all the gods and goddesses had watched over
Perseus ever since his birth, and when Mercury came to
them and asked them to help the youth, they readily
Pluto lent him his wonderful helmet, which made the
wearer invisible; Minerva gave her shield which shone
like gold, and was so bright that it reflected things as in
a mirror; and Mercury himself gave his sharp, crooked
sword and his winged shoes with which Perseus could fly
more swiftly than the swiftest bird.
All that Perseus now had to do was to find out the
way to Medusa's island home, and the only people in the
whole world who knew where that was were three sisters
who lived together in a cave.
They were queer creatures, and the strangest thing
about them was that instead of having two eyes each,
as you and I have, there was but one eye for all three of
They took turns in using that single eye; so that while
one of them had the eye, the other two could see nothing
at all; and while they were passing the eye from one to
another, all three sisters were, for the moment, blind.
But such an eye as that one was! -worth much more
than any other six eyes put together. With it the sisters
could see what was going on in the farthest parts of the
earth, and that was how they knew the way to Medusa's
To this cave, in which the three sisters lived, Mercury


led Perseus, and after giving him some parting advice,
hid himself in the grove near by, while Perseus stood just
outside the cave, behind a bush, and waited.
By and by one of the women, with the wonderful eye
in her forehead, came to the door of the cave. As she led
her sisters by the hand, she told them of everything that
she was seeing with the eye, strange things that were
happening in countries far away.
They were interested for a while; but at length, one of
them grew impatient and said, Sister, it is my turn to
use the eye now. Give it to me." And the third sister
said quickly, "No, that is not true. It is my turn." And
the middle one, who had the eye, cried out, "I pray you,
sisters, let me keep the eye a little longer. I think I see
some one behind that thick bush."
When Perseus heard these words, he trembled in his
winged shoes. However, he need not have been afraid,
for the sisters fell to quarreling about the eye, and at last,
the one who had it was forced to take it out of her fore-
Now, at that instant, all three of the sisters were blind,
and Perseus, seeing his chance, darted out and seized the
eye. Then began a dreadful hubbub, each one of the
three insisting that the other had taken the eye, and I do
not know how. it all would have ended, had not Perseus
My good women," he said, "do not be frightened.
The eye is safe. I hold it in my hand this very moment."
With a cry of anger the three sisters darted in the di-
rection from which the voice came. But Perseus was too
quick for them. On his winged feet he rose high in the
air, and then, from a safe distance, called out, "You shall


not have your eye back, my friends, unless you tell me
exactly how to find the island on which Medusa lives."
This was a secret with which the sisters would not have
parted if they could have helped themselves; but the loss
of their precious eye was a thing too terrible to think of.
So, after a few minutes, they told Perseus all he wanted
to know, and he set their hearts at rest by clapping the eye
into the forehead of the sister standing nearest him.
Then he flew back swiftly to the grove where Mercury
was waiting, and thanked him for all his help, and, after
bidding him farewell, started out on his errand.
He flew over many lands and seas, until at last he came
to the island where the terrible Gorgons lived. He dared
not look down, even for an instant, for fear of being turned
to stone. But Minerva's bright shield served as a mirror,
and, reflected in it, he saw the three monsters lying fast
asleep on the shore beneath him.
He took his sharp, crooked sword, and, fixing his eyes
on Medusa's image in the shield, he darted down. With
one thrust, he cut off the head of the sleeping Gorgon,
and then flew up into the air again, holding the horrid
head behind him.
The hissing of the snakes on Medusa's head awakened
her two sisters, and they started up to follow Perseus ; but
on account of Pluto's helmet they could not see him, and
he escaped with the head of snaky-locked Medusa.
Back over land and sea he flew, and he had many
strange adventures by the way. When he reached the
island where his mother lived, he went straight to their
little cottage. He laid aside the shield, the helmet, the
sword, and the winged shoes; and, after wrapping the
head of Medusa in a cloth, went to greet his mother.

"Perseus clapped the' eye into her forehead."


, Vi- :~


She was overjoyed to see her son, for she had long
since decided that he must be dead. You see, it had
taken a long, long time to reach the island where Medusa
lived; for it was so far away that no one but the three
sisters with their wonderful eye could tell how to reach it.
Perseus told his mother all that had happened to him,
and, above all, how he had met fair Andromeda, which is
the story I am going to tell you next. In return, he
heard how cruelly the king had treated Danae during her
son's absence; and vowed that he would take revenge.
The next morning he went to the palace. The king
was more surprised than pleased to see Perseus, for he,
too, had thought him dead. "Aha, Perseus'!" he cried,
" so you have come back without doing what you promised
to do. Your courage is not so great as you would have
us believe."
"Nay, your majesty," answered Perseus, "I have slain
Medusa, and have brought you back her head."
"That you must prove by showing us the head," said
the king, with a sneer; for, of course, he did not believe
Since your majesty insists, behold the head !" Perseus
cried; and drawing it from the bag at his side, he held it
aloft in all its horrid beauty. The king gazed at it an in-
stant, with the sneer still on his face, and then sat motion-
less, turned to stone in all his royal state.
When the people heard what had happened, there was
great rejoicing, for they had all feared and hated the cruel
king. Perseus chose a better ruler for them, under whom
they lived in peace and happiness.
Perseus knew that he owed his success to the help
which Mercury and the other gods had given him, and


he never forgot the debt he owed them. The head of
Medusa he gave to Minerva. She was much pleased with
the gift, and placed it in the center of her bright shield.
From that time on, wherever Minerva was seen in battle,
there glistened her shield with the head of Medusa, turn-
ing to stone all who gazed at its horrid beauty.


THIS is the story of the happy rescue of Andromeda
by Perseus, which I promised to tell you next. It all hap-
pened after Perseus had slain Medusa, and when he was
hurrying back to his island home.
In an island near Greece, there lived a beautiful
woman whose name was Cassiopeia. Long after the time
I am talking of, she was placed among the stars, and on
a starry night any one will show you Cassiopeia's Chair,
brightly shining in the heavens.
But at the time of my story, she still lived on earth,
and, as I said, she was very beautiful. She was also very
vain of her beauty, and one day boasted that she was
fairer than any of the sea nymphs. Now the sea nymphs
were very fair indeed, and it angered them to have Cassi-
opeia compare herself with them.
People in those days seem to have had very cruel ways
of showing their anger. The nymphs sent a sea serpent
to the island where Cassiopeia lived, and he did so much
harm that everybody was in despair. At length the peo-
ple went to their temple to consult the oracle.


This was an old custom among the people of long ago.
In many cities there were beautiful temples built to the
gods and goddesses; and in these temples dwelt priests
who were supposed to be the oracles of the gods, that
is, through them the gods spoke to human beings. If
any one was in doubt as to what he should do in time of
trouble, or wanted to know something that was to happen
in the future, he would go to one of these oracles, and
offer up a sacrifice to the god, in return for which the
oracle would utter words of warning or of advice.
When the men of this place went to their oracle to
inquire why such trouble had come upon them, the answer
was, Because of the vanity of Cassiopeia. If she will
give up her daughter Andromeda to the serpent, the sea
nymphs will be satisfied, and the sea serpent shall trouble
you no longer."
Great was the grief of the people at these words. An-
dromeda was so gentle and good that everybody loved her.
Many thought her even more beautiful than her mother,
for whose vanity she was to die.
And Cassiopeia herself ? She would not believe the
answer of the oracle. She rushed to the temple, and fell on
her knees, and offered to make any sacrifice if the oracle
would take back that cruel message, -that Andromeda
must be given as a peace offering to the sea serpent.
But the oracle repeated only the same heartless answer,
- "If you wish your town and all the people to be saved
from ruin, you must give up your daughter."
Then Cassiopeia went sadly home and locked herself in
her room; for she could not bear to look her child in the
face. Ah, how bitterly she regretted the vanity that had
led to all the trouble, and how she hated that beautiful


face of hers which had formerly given her so much
pleasure !
Meanwhile, the sorrowing people led Andromeda to the
seashore, and bound her with chains to an overhanging
rock. Then they stood sadly around, waiting for the com-
ing of the monster who was to devour the fairest and best
of all their young maidens.
Andromeda herself pretended to be very brave, so as
to lessen her poor mother's grief; but in truth she was
much frightened, and she shuddered at the thought of the
serpent's cruel jaws.
All were watching anxiously, when, suddenly, some-
thing black was seen above the water, afar off, -and
they knew that it was the dreaded creature. Nearer and
nearer came the serpent, lashing the water with its tail
and snorting in a most horrible manner. Now it had
almost reached the rock to which Andromeda was chained.
The poor girl gave one terrified shriek; and all the people
covered their eyes with their hands, for they could not
bear to see what was to happen.
All at once something like a little black cloud came
darting through the air, a crooked sword flashed an instant
in the light, and then was buried in the monster's back.
Perseus, flying above the spot, had seen, at a glance,
the girl bound to the rock and the hideous creature raising
itself to attack her. Quick as a flash, he had darted down,
and was now fighting a fierce battle with the monster.
The people watched the long combat with eager eyes.
When Perseus at last pierced the serpent's heart and the
ugly creature floated lifeless on the water, such a shout
went up from the shore that the hills around rang with
the echo.


Then Perseus unfastened Andromeda's chains and led
her to her parents. Such happy tears as the people shed!
And such rejoicing and praises of Perseus on all sides !
The hero became Cassiopeia's guest, and, after a few
days, when he had seen that the rescued girl was as good
and lovable as she was fair, he asked for her hand in
marriage. As for Andromeda, she had loved Perseus from
the moment she saw his crooked sword flash above the
sea serpent's head, and so she gladly consented to be his
The girl's parents now began to prepare for the wed-
ding, and the whole village was invited to be present at
the feast. Now there was an old man of whom Androm-
eda's parents were very much afraid. Some time before,
he had asked for their daughter as his wife, and the par-
ents had been afraid to say no.
But the girl hated this old man, and that was another
reason why she loved Perseus, who had saved her not only
from the sea serpent, but from'the man whom she dreaded
quite as much.
The wedding day dawned at last, bright and sunny,
and with great pomp and rejoicing Perseus and Andro-
meda were married. The people flocked to the tables that
were spread with many good things, and the feast began.
When the merriment was at its height, suddenly the
wide doors swung back, and the startled people saw, stand-
ing in the opening, an ugly, scowling, little man, holding
a sword, and followed by a band of armed soldiers.
There was silence in the room, until at length the old
man spoke : Perseus, I have come to claim my promised
bride, Andromeda. Give her to me peaceably, or else I
and my soldiers will kill you all."


Andromeda was very much frightened and clung to
Perseus in terror. Her husband laid his right hand on a
bag which he wore at his side and said, "The one you call
your bride, sir, is my wife, and no power of yours can take
her from me."
"We shall see," was the old man's answer; and he
started toward Perseus.
But in the middle of the room he came to a sudden
stop, and stood there motionless, his sword raised to
strike; for Perseus had lifted the terrible Gorgon's head,
and instantly the old man was turned to stone, just as he
When his followers saw what had happened to their
master, they turned and fled from the house; and the
merrymaking went on as though it had never been inter-
After that Perseus took his wife to his island home,
and there they spent many happy days together in his
mother's little cottage.


IN a certain part of Greece, there was a beautiful
grove, bordered on all sides by denser woods. Through
it there flowed a restless river, dashing over rocks and
scattering its spray, like fine mist, over all the trees on
its banks.
The god of the river had one child, a girl named lo,
and there was nothing she liked better than to wander in
the grove by the side of her father's stream.

.' .


, Perseus led his Wife to his Island Home."


One day, when Jupiter had come down to earth, he met
Io in the woods and began to talk to her. And he found
her so lovable that he came again and again, and spent
many a pleasant hour wandering with her along the banks
of the stream. lo did not know who Jupiter was, for he
came disguised as a boy; and she thought him only a
pleasant companion for her walks.
But Juno hated lo; for, as you remember, I have told
you what a jealous queen she was, and she could not bear
to have Jupiter care for any one besides herself. So one
day, when he had been away from home for many hours,
she suddenly made up her mind to go down to earth and
see the maiden of whom he was so fond. Her heart was
filled with bitter feelings toward lo, and as she entered
the grove, her frown was so dark that it seemed almost to
hide the sunlight.
I have told you that the gods knew.everything. So,
in some way, Jupiter felt Juno's wrath before she came
into the grove; and fearing that she might harm his com-
panion, quick as a flash, he changed Io into a white heifer.
When Juno came to the side of the river, all that she saw
was her husband in his own true form and the white cow
nibbling the grass at his side.
But she knew that it was lo, and she went up to her
side, and stroked her glossy neck, and then, turning to
Jupiter, begged him to give her the cow as a present.
What could Jupiter do ? He could not refuse his wife
such a trifle, and so he had to say yes, although it was
much against his will.
As Juno led Io away, she said to herself, Now that I
have you, I will take good care to keep you." So she set
one of her servants, Argus, to watch the cow. And a


very good watchman Argus made; for he had a hundred
eyes, and no matter how tired he was, he never closed
more than half of them at one time. If you or I had
fifty sharp eyes watching us day and night, we should find
it hard to do anything they did not see.
Never for a moment, was Io left unguarded. At night
she was tied to a tree, but during the day she could wan-
der about as she pleased. The poor girl did not quite
know what had happened to her. Instead of the food to
which she was accustomed, she had to eat leaves and
grass; she slept on the ground, and drank from the running
brooks. When she tried to stretch forth her arms to ask
pity of Argus, she found, to her surprise, that she had no
arms; and instead of the words she meant to speak, she
heard only a strange "moo" which came from her own lips.
She was frightened and hastened to the banks of the
river where she had so. often walked with her boy com-
panion. When she saw her horns reflected in the clear
water, her terror grew still greater. The water nymphs,
her former companions, did not recognize her; and even
her father only patted her neck and plucked some fresh
grass for her.
But that was too much for the poor girl, not to have
her own father know her! She could not speak to him,
but with her foot she traced her story in the sand. When
he read the sad tale, her father wept aloud, and, throwing
his arms about his daughter's neck, gave way to his grief.
Meanwhile, Argus faithfully kept watch, and saw all
that had passed between father and daughter. He now
thought it time to separate them, so he led his' charge
away to a distant pasture, and seated himself on the top
of a hill, from which he could see all that happened.


But Jupiter had not forgotten lo, and he wished to
help her if he could; so he called his son Mercury, the
messenger of the gods, and ordered him to kill Argus.
Mercury-flew swiftly to earth, and there put on the dress
of a shepherd boy, using his wonderful wand as a staff.
As he went along, he gathered the stray sheep that
crossed his path, and when he came near to the hill where
Argus was watching, he began to play on a pipe of reeds.
When Argus heard the sweet sounds of the pipe, he
was pleased, and called to Mercury, Hail stranger Come
share this stone with me ; here are rich pastures for your
flocks, and shade such as shepherds love."
Mercury seated himself on the hillside, and tried to put
Argus to sleep by ceaseless talking and playing; but the
watchman never closed more than half his eyes. So they
had been sitting for a long time, when at last Argus asked
the shepherd where his musical pipe had come from, and
then Mercury slowly told him the story:
"Once upon a time, there lived in a forest a nymph
called Syrinx. She was graceful and nimble and fleet of
foot, and she led the wood gods, or satyrs, as they were
called, many a race through the woods.
Now it happened that Pan, the god of the shepherds
and chief of the satyrs, saw her one day, as she was pass-
ing through the grove. He came up to speak to her, but
she was frightened at his goat's legs and his queer, furry
ears, and fled from him in terror. He followed, but she
ran so swiftly that he could not overtake her.
At last she came to a stream, and here she prayed
for help, to her sisters, the water nymphs. They heard
her and drew her down into the stream, and a moment
later a clump of reeds grew in the spot where she had


vanished. When Pan stretched out his arm toward Syrinx,
he found himself grasping, instead, the reeds that grew on
the marshy banks. Then he gave a deep sigh, and his
breath among the reeds made a soft, murmuring sound,
like music. Pan was so charmed by the sweet tone, that
he fastened some of the hollow reeds together with wax,
and thus made a musical pipe, which he named Syrinx, in
memory of the vanished nymph."
When Mercury finished his tale, which he had told at
great length and in a sleepy tone, he saw, to his delight,
that at last Argus was sound asleep, with all his eyes closed.
With his magic wand, he made the slumber sounder, and
then cut off the head with its hundred starry eyes.
Juno grieved sadly when she heard of the death of her
favorite, and she set his eyes in the tail of her own bird,
the peacock, where they shine in splendor to this day.
But alas! the queen blamed Io for all her trouble, and, to
punish her, sent a large gadfly to torment her. The fly
worried the poor cow day and night, and bit her and stung
her, until Io was almost beside herself with pain.
She wandered from one country to another trying in
vain to rid herself of the fly. At last she came to the land
of Egypt. There, tired out with her long travels, she lay
down by the side of the river Nile, and tried with groans
and pitiful cries to ask relief of the gods.
Jupiter could no longer bear to see her suffering; so
he begged Juno to take pity on Io, and promised never
again to speak to the maiden, if the queen would set her
free. Juno herself was moved with pity, and restored Io
to her own shape. The people of the land found her by
the side of the river Nile, and thought her so fair and
good that they made her their queen.


She lived happily for many years, until she grew old
and died.. Then the people carved a great statue of the
queen, and placed it in their temple; and they called the
statue Isis. Hundreds of years after Io was dead, the peo-
ple of Egypt still came and laid their flowers and other
gifts at the foot of the statue of Isis, to show how much
they loved their beautiful queen.


ALL ye woods and trees and bowers,
All ye virtues and ye powers
That inhabit in the lakes,
In the pleasant springs or brakes,
Move your feet
To our sound,
Whilst we greet
All this ground,
With his honor and his name
That defends our flocks from blame.

He is great and he is just,
He is ever good and must
Thus be honored. Daffodillies,
Roses, pinks, and loved lilies,
Let us fling,
Whilst we sing,
Ever holy,
Ever holy,
Ever honored, ever young,
Thus great Pan is ever sung.



THERE was once a great city called Thebes, and the
king and queen who ruled it had fourteen children, -
seven brave, strong sons and as many daughters. The
queen, Niobe, had much to make her happy, -wealth,
power, beautiful things of all kinds; but her greatest hap-
piness was in her children. How she loved them! She
would play with them, and tell them stories, and dry away
their tears with her kisses, and she was with them when-
ever she could steal away from the many things that kept
her busy.
Thebes, you must know, was a very great city indeed,
and there were many troublesome questions for the king
and queen to decide, if they wished to rule it well. But
no matter how perplexed or tired the queen was with
these worries of her kingdom, the sound of her children's
laughter or the touch of their little hands would drive
away all care from her heart, and leave her as happy as
though she, too, were a child.
Niobe's people did not love her so much as they feared
her; for although she was gentle and tender and loving in
her own home, when she went out to walk in the city,
dressed in her rich robes, she looked very haughty and
proud, and she always wanted every one to bow down to
her and say "How great is Niobe!"
Now every spring there was a festival held in Thebes,
in honor of Latona, the mother of the beautiful twin
gods, Apollo and Diana. And one year, when, as usual,
the women of the city hastened to the temple, with
garlands of flowers to offer to the great mother, Niobe


came last of all, dressed in a beautiful gown embroidered
with gold. Very tall and proud she looked as she walked
along, and, at the gates of the temple, all the women
turned and.bowed low to their queen.
Niobe raised her hand to command silence, and then
said, in a haughty tone, "You women of Thebes, where-
fore do you worship Latona, whom you have never seen,
when here I stand before you with all my wealth and
power ? Am I not far greater than Latona? I am a queen,
and she is but a humble woman. She has only two chil-
dren, and I have seven times that number, each one of them
more lovely than Apollo or Diana, whom you honor.
I am far greater than Latona; for if all my wealth
and power were taken from me, I should still have my
children, seven times the number of hers. And even
should fortune take one half of them from me, still would
I be greater than Latona. Turn from the altar, women of
Thebes, and cast away your wreaths. Me, and me only,
should you worship, for I am greater than Latona."
At these words the frightened women cast down their
wreaths and went silently from the temple.
It happened that Latona had come to the top of the
mountain overlooking the city of Thebes, to see the festi-
val in her honor; for there had been so much sorrow in
her life that she took all the joy that was within her
reach. And it was always joy to her to hear the hymns
sung in honor of the two great twins and their mother.
She heard the queen's boastful words, and hastened to
find Apollo and Diana. She told them that Niobe had
dared to compare herself with their mother, that she had
called her children greater than the gods, and had boasted
that fortune could not harm her.


When Diana and Apollo saw their mother's anger, they
tried to quiet her, and promised to punish the queen and
to humble her pride. As you remember, nothing angered
the gods so much as boastfulness and pride. So, veiled
in clouds that hid their glory, the twin brother and sister
went down to Thebes, to avenge the insult to their mother.
The seven princes were in the fields, mounted on their
fiery horses, chasing one another around the plain with
merry laughter. There Apollo found them, and let fly an
'arrow which pierced the eldest through the heart; and
then he shot another and another, until the seven boys
lay lifeless on the plain.
The bad news traveled quickly to the royal palace, and
Niobe, almost wild with grief, rushed out, bareheaded, with
her daughters close behind her. When she reached the
plain, and saw the awful sight, she fell upon the ground
with cries of anguish.
But her pride was not yet humbled, for, raising her
arms toward heaven, she cried, "You have taken revenge,
most cruel Latona, and think you have broken my heart.
Yet I am still greater and richer than you, for I have
seven children left, and you have only two."
Now Apollo and Diana, on seeing Niobe's terrible
grief, felt almost sorry for their deed, and thought she
had been punished enough. But when she spoke these
words of scorn against their mother, their anger blazed
forth afresh, and Diana seized her bow and shot her deadly
arrows, one after another.
As Niobe saw her daughters falling about her, she
seized the youngest and tried to hide her in her cloak,
crying, Leave me but this one, ye gods, spare me this
last and youngest one !" But the fatal arrow had already

Spare me t las young~e~...-.on. sh 'e.-.,

"'Spare me this last and youngest one,' she cried."


been loosed, and as the words left the mother's lips, the
last of her children fell dead at her feet.
Then the childless, humbled woman sat down upon
the plain among her dead, and gazed about her in silent
grief. And thus she sat, day after day, and never moved
nor spoke. Her grief was hardening her, slowly but
surely. The color left her cheeks, her eyes grew fixed
in their look of pain, and at last, through her sorrow, she
was changed to marble.
The marble image of grief stood upon the plain for
many days; until at last there came a mighty hurricane
sweeping across the plain, and it swept away the motion-
less figure in its course. It carried the image aloft to the
top of the high mountain overlooking Thebes, and placed
it there among the other rocks.
And to this day, you can see the woman of stone
seated on the high mountain top; or at least you can see
a rock that looks something like a woman; and in the
sightless eyes a little stream has its source and trickles
down the mountain side, as though poor Niobe wept on


COME to me, 0 ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.

Ye open the eastern windows,
That look toward the sun,
Where thoughts are singing swallows
And the brooks of morning run.


In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,
But in mine is the wind of autumn
And the first fall of the snow.

Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more?
We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.

What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood, -

That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow
Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below.

Come to me, O ye children!
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.

For what are all our contrivings
And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses,
And the gladness of your looks?

Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said;
For ye are living poems,
And all the rest are dead.



MANY hundreds of years ago, there was born a little
baby who grew up to be the strongest and most wonder-
ful man of his time.
When he was but a few weeks old, Juno, who hated
his mother and therefore wished to kill the little boy, sent
two huge snakes to strangle him in his cradle.
The nurse screamed when she saw the serpents coiling
themselves around the child, and her scream woke the
baby, Hercules, from his sleep. Starting up in his cradle,
he seized the snakes, one with each hand, and wrung their
necks. The astonished nurse could hardly believe what
she saw.
You can well understand how such a wonderful baby
might grow up into a remarkable man. Hercules was, in
fact, the strongest man of whom the world has any record.
Nowadays, when we wish to say that any one is very,
very powerful, we call his strength Herculean.
Hercules spent the greater part of his life in doing
things to help weaker people. Juno still wanted to show
her hatred of him, so she sent him into all sorts of dan-
gers. He had to fight hard battles, and kill fierce mon-
sters, and, in short, risk his life.all the time. But -he was
so brave that he feared nothing, and so strong that he over-
came all the dangers Juno'placed in his path. When the
queen saw this, she hit upon a new plan for making him
unhappy, she made hini a slave to the king of Argos.
Nothing could have been harder for Hercules to bear
than slavery ; for he had a restless spirit, which made him
chafe night and day under the chains that bound him.

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