Citation
A wonder-book for girls and boys

Material Information

Title:
A wonder-book for girls and boys
Spine title:
Hawthorne's wonder book
Added title page title:
Gorgon's head
Added title page title:
Golden touch
Added title page title:
Paradise of children
Added title page title:
Three golden apples
Added title page title:
Miraculous pitcher
Added title page title:
Chimæra
Creator:
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864
Baker, William Jay ( Engraver )
Billings, Hammatt, 1818-1874 ( Illustrator )
James R. Osgood and Company ( Publisher )
Welch, Bigelow & Co ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
James R. Osgood and Company
Manufacturer:
Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
256 p. : ill. ; 18 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1876 ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1876 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1876
Genre:
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Publisher's advertisements precede text.
General Note:
Title page printed in red and black ink.
Funding:
Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
Statement of Responsibility:
by Nathaniel Hawthorne ; with engravings by Baker from designs by Billings.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Special Collections, George A. Smathers Libraries
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026807335 ( ALEPH )
ALH1734 ( NOTIS )
61250009 ( OCLC )

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NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S WORKS.

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NEW ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY EDITION.
Nine vols. remo. Price, per vol. ...... cece cece cee ce cece $ 2.00
Twice-Told Tales. The English Note-Books.
Mosses from an Old Manse. The American Note-Books.
The Scarlet Letter, and The | The French and Italian Note-
Blithedale Romance. Books.
The House of the Seven Gables, | Our Old Home, and Septimius
and The Snow Image. Felton.
The Marble Faun.

HOUSEHOLD EDITION.
Complete, 21 vols., on Tinted Paper, in Box........ co eteree $ 42.00

SEPARATE WORKS.

OUR OLD HOME. 6M0.....ccccccccccccccsccccccccececs $ 2.00
THE MARBLE FAUN. 2volS. 16M0.....cccccccccecces 4.00
THE SCARLET LETTER, 16M0. ...... ccc cece cece ceoes 2.00
THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. 16mo....... 2.00
TWICE-TOLD TALES, With Portrait. 2vols. 16mo... 4.00
THE SNOW-IMAGE, and Other Twice-Told Tales ...... 2.00
THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE. 16M0......cccccceees 2.00
MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE, 2 vols. 16mo..... 4.00
AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS,. 2 vols. 16M0..........06 4.00
ENGLISH NOTE-BOOKS. 2 vols. r6M0.....eee ee eees 4.00

FRENCH AND ITALIAN NOTE-BOOKS. 2 vols. 16mo. 4.00
SEPTIMIUS FELTON, or, The Elixir of Life. 16m0... 1.50
TWICE-TOLD TALES. With Portrait. Blue and Gold.

ZVOIS, Z32MO, cc cecc recs cn cccccscncceercccscsseeeeencecs 3.00
JUVENILES.
TRUE STORIES FROM HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY.
Illustrated. L6M0....... cece cece cece ete e ese ceceeecceees 1.50
THE WONDER-BOOK. Illustrated. 16mo............... 1.50
TANGLEWOOD TALES. Illustrated. 16mo............. 1.50

*" For sale by all Booksellers. Sent, post-paid, on recetpt of
price by the Publishers,

JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., Boston.





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POR GIRLS AD BOTS.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

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BOSTON:

JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.

1876.





COPYRIGHT, 1852.
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

-

University Press: Wetcu, BIGELow, & Co.,
| CAMBRIDGE.







rendered into very capital reading for children.
In the httle volume here offered to the public, he has
worked up half a dozen of them, with this end in view.
A great freedom of treatment was necessary to his plan ;
but it will be observed by every one who attempts to
render these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace,
that they are marvellously independent of all temporary
modes and circumstances. They remain essentially the
same, after changes that would affect the identity of
almost anything else.

He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege, in
having sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dictated, the
forms that have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or
three thousand years. No epoch of time can claim a

copyright in these immortal fables. They seem never



al PREFACE.

to have been made; and certainly, so long as man
exists, they can never perish; but, by their indestructi-
bility itself, they are legitimate subjects for every age to
clothe with its own garniture of manners and sentiment,
and to imbue with its own morality. In the present
version they may have lost much of their classical aspect
(or, at all events, the author has not been careful to
preserve it), and have, perhaps, assumed a Gothic or
romantic guise.

In performing this pleasant task, —for it has been
really a task fit for hot weather, and one of the most
agreeable, of a literary kind, which he ever undertook, —
the author has not always thought it necessary to write
downward, in order to meet the comprehension of chil-
dren. He has generally suffered the theme to soar,
whenever such was its tendency, and when he himself
was buoyant enough to follow without an effort. Chil-
dren possess an unestimated sensibility to whatever is
deep or high, m imagination or feeling, so long as it is
simple, likewise. It is only the artificial and the com-

plex that bewilder them.
LENox, July 15, 1851.







PAGE
PREFACE , ° oe ‘ ° ° ° ‘ 5
THE GORGON’S HEAD.
TANGLEWOOD Porcu. — Introductory to ‘“ The Gor-
gon’s Head” yx. , , . , . tdi
THE Gorcon’s Heap. er . 17
TaNGLEWoop Porc. — After the Story. . ~ 48
THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
SHapow Brook. — Introductory to “The Golden
Touch”. , ; . . . ; . 58
THE GortpEen Toucu , ; . . . 57

SHapow Brook. — After the Story . ‘ ~ 09

THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

TANGLEWooD Piay-Room.— Introductory to ‘“ The
Paradise of Children”’ . . . . . . 85

THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN . . . . 89

TANGLEWOOD Piay-Room, — After the Story . ~ 110—



Vill CONTENTS.

THE TIIREE GOLDEN APPLES.
TANGLEWOOD FirestpE. — Introductory to “ The
Three Golden Apples” . , . . , . LIS
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES . . , 121

TANGLEWOOD FirestpE. — After the Story ; . 147

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

THE HILLsIpDE. — Introductory to ‘The Miraculous

Pitcher”. . . . . . . 158
THE Mrracvrous PITCHER . . . . 157
Tar Hurston. — After the Story . , , . 182

THE CHIMERA.
Baup-Summit. — Introductory to “The Chimera”? . 187
THE CHIMHRA ... to, . 191
BaLp-Summir. — After the Story . . , » 220





PPLE
THE GORGON’S HEAD.





*





TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GORGON’S HEAD.”



Ey Tanglewood, one fine autumnal morning, was
i>) assembled a merry party of little folks, with a
tall youth in the midst of them. They had planned a
nutting expedition, and were impatiently waiting for the
mists to roll up the hill-slopes, and for the sun to pour
the warmth of the Indian summer over the fields and
pastures, and into the nooks of the many-colored woods.
There was a prospect of as fine a day as ever gladdened
the aspeet. of this beautiful and comfortable world. As
yet, however, the morning mist filled up the whole length
and breadth of the valley, above which, on a gently
sloping eminence, the mansion stood.

This body of white vapor extended to within less than
a hundred yards of the house. It completely hid every-
thing beyond that distance, except a few ruddy or yellow
tree-tops, which here and there emerged, and were glori-
fied by the early sunshine, as was likewise the broad sur-
face of the mist. Four or five miles off to the south-



12 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

ward rose the summit of Monument Mountain, .and
seemed to be floating on a cloud. Some fifteen miles
farther away, in the same direction, appeared the loftier
Dome of Taconic, looking blue and indistinct, and hardly
so substantial as the vapory sea that almost rolled over
it. The nearer hills, which bordered the valley, were
half submerged, and were specked with. little cloud-
wreaths all the way to their tops. On the whole, there
was so much cloud, and so little solid earth, that it had
the effect of a vision.

The. children above-mentioned, being as full of life as
they could hold, kept overflowing from the porch of
Tanglewood, and scampering along the gravel-walk, or
rushing across the dewy herbage of the lawn. I can
hardly tell how many of these small people there were ;
not less than nine or ten, however, nor more than a
dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether girls or boys.
They were brothers, sisters, and cousins, together with a
few of their young acquaintances, who had been invited
by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle to spend some of this delight-
ful weather with their own children, at Tanglewood. I
am afraid to tell you their names, or even to give them
any names which other children have ever been called by ;
because, to my certain knowledge, authors sometimes get
themselves into great trouble by accidentally giving the
names of real persons to the characters in their books.
For this reason, I mean to call them Primrose, Peri-
winkle, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover,
Huckleberry, Cowslip, Squash-blossom, Milkweed, Plan-
tam, and Buttercup; although, to be sure, such titles



TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 13

might better suit a group of fairies than a company of
earthly children.

It is not to be supposed that these little folks were to
be permitted by their careful fathers and mothers, uncles,
aunts, or grandparents, to stray abroad into the woods
and fields, without the guardianship of some particularly
grave and elderly person. O no, indeed! In the first
sentence of my book, you will recollect that I spoke of a
tall youth, standing in the midst of the children. His
name — (and I shall let you know his real name, because
he considers it a great honor to have told the stories that
are here to be printed) — his name was Eustace Bright.
He was a student at Williams College, and had reached,
I think, at this period, the venerable age of eighteen
years; so that he felt quite like a grandfather towards
Periwinkle, Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash-blossom,
Milkweed, and the rest, who were only half or a third
as venerable as he. A trouble in his eyesight (such as
many students think it necessary to have, nowadays, in
order to prove their diligence at their books) had kept
him from college a week or two after the beginning of
the term. But, for my part, I have seldom met with a
pair of eyes that looked as if they could see farther or
better than those of Eustace Bright.

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as
all Yankee students are; but yet of a healthy aspect, and
as light and active as if he had wings to his shoes. By
the by, bemg much addicted to wading through stream-
lets and across meadows, he had put on cowhide boots
for the expedition. He wore a linen blouse, a cloth cap,



14 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

and a pair of green spectacles, which he had assumed,
probably, less for the preservation of his eyes, than for
the dignity that they imparted to his countenance. In
either case, however, he mght as well have Iet them
alone; for Huckleberry, a mischievous little elf, crept
behind Eustace as he sat on the steps of the porch,
snatched the spectacles from his nose, and clapped them
on her own; and as the student forgot to take them
back, they fell off into the grass, and lay there -till the
next spring.

Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great
fame among the children, as a narrator of wonderful
stories; and though he sometimes pretended to be an-
noyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and
always for more, yet I really doubt whether he liked
anything quite so well as to tell them. You might have
seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, Sweet
Fern, Cowslip, Buttereup, and most of their playmates,
besought him to relate one of his stories, while they were
waiting for the mist to elear up.

“Yes, Cousin Eustaee,’’ said Primrose, who was a
bright girl of twelve, with laughing eyes, and a nose
- that turned up a little, “the morning 1s certainly the best
time for the stories with which you so often tire out our
patience. We shall be in less danger of hurting your
feelings, by falling asleep at the most. interesting points,
— as little Cowslip and I did last night!”

“Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six
years old; “I did not fall asleep, and I only shut my
eyes, so as to see a picture of what Cousin Eustace was



TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 15

telling about. His stories are good to hear at night,
because we can dream about them asleep; and good in
the morning, too, because then we can dream about them
awake. So I hope he will tell us one this very minute.”

“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace; “cer-
tainly you shall have the best story I can think of, if
it were only for defending me so well from that naughty
Primrose. But, children, I have already told you so
many fairy tales, that I doubt whether there is a single
one which you have not heard at least twice over. I am
afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if I repeat any of
them again.”

“No, no, no!” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plantain,
and half a dozen others. “ We like a story all the better
for having heard it two or three times before.”

And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story
seems often to deepen its mark in their interest, not
merely by two or three, but by numberless repetitions.
But Hustace Bright, in the exuberance of his resources,
scorned to avail himself of an advantage which an older
story-teller would have been glad to grasp at.

“It would be a great pity,” said he, “if a man of my
learning (to say nothing of original fancy) could not find
a new story every day, year in and year out, for children
such as you. I will tell you one of the nursery tales
that were made for the amusement of our great old
grandmother, the Harth, when she was a child in frock
and pinafore. There are a hundred such; and it is a
wonder to me that they have not long ago been put into
picture-books for little girls and boys. But, instead of



16 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

that, old gray-bearded grandsires pore over them, In
musty volumes of Greek, and puzzle themselves with try-
ing to find out when, and how, and for what they were
made.” |

“Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace!” eried all
the children at once; “talk no more about your stories,
but begin.”

“Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace
Bright, “and be all as still as so many mice. At the
slightest interruption, whether from great, naughty Prim-
rose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite the story
short off between my teeth, and swallow the untold part.
But, in the first place, do any of you know what a Gor-
gon is P”

“I do,” said Primrose.

“Then hold your tongue!” rejoimed Eustace, who had
rather she would have known nothing about the matter. -
“Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell you a sweet
pretty story of a Gorgon’s head.”

And so he did, as you may begin to read on the next
page. Working up his sophomorical erudition with a
good deal of tact, and incurring great obligations to Pro-
fessor Anthon, he, nevertheless, disregarded all classical
authorities, whenever the vagrant audacity of his imagina-
tion impelled him to do so.





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THE GORGON’S HEAD.

SIE RSEUS was the son of Danaé, who was the

daughter of a king. And when Perseus was a
very little boy, some wicked people put his
mother and himself ito a chest, and set them afloat upon
the sea. The wind blew freshly, and drove the chest
away from the shore, and the uneasy billows tossed it up
and down; while Danaé clasped her child closely to her
bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its
foamy crest over them both. The chest sailed on, how-
ever, and neither sank nor was upset; until, when night
was coming, it floated so near an island that it got en-
tangled in a fisherman’s nets, and was drawn out high
and dry upon the sand. The island was called Seriphus,
and it was reigned over by King Polydectes, who hap-
pened to be the fisherman’s brother.

This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceed-
ingly humane and upright man. He showed great kind-
ness to Danaé and her little boy; and continued to be-
friend them, until Perseus had grown to be a handsome
B





18 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

youth, very strong and active, and skilful in the use of
arms. Long before this time, King Polydectes had seen
the two strangers —the mother and her child — who
had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he
was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman,
but extremely wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a
dangerous enterprise, in which he would probably be
killed, and then to do some great mischief to Danaé her-
self. So this bad-hearted king spent a long while in con-
sidering what was the most dangerous thing that a young
man could possibly undertake to perform. At last, hav-
ing hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn out as
fatally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus.

The young man came to the palace, and found the king
sitting upon his throne.

“ Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily
upon him, “you are grown up afine young man. You,and
your good mother have received a great deal of kindness
from myself, as well as from my worthy brother the fish-
erman, and I suppose you would not be sorry to repay
some of it.”’

‘Please your Majesty,”’ answered Perseus, “I would
willingly risk my life to do so.”

“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a cunning
smile on his lips, “I have a little adventure to propose to
you; and, as you are a brave and enterprising youth,
you will doubtless look upon it as‘a great piece of good
luck to have so rare an opportunity of distinguishing
yourself. You must know, my good Perseus, I think of
getting married to the beautiful Princess Hippodamia ;



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 19

and if is customary, on these occasions, to make the
bride a present of some far-fetched and elegant curiosity.
I have been a little perplexed, I must honestly confess,
where to obtain anything likely to please a princess of
her exquisite taste. But, this morning, I flatter myself,
I have thought of precisely the article.”

“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?”
cried Perseus, eagerly.

“You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe
you to be,” replied King Polydectes, with the utmost
graciousness of manner. ‘ The bridal gift which I have
set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hippodamia
is the head of the Gorgon Medusa, with the snaky locks;
and I depend on you, my dear Perseus, to bring it to
me. So, as L am anxious to settle affairs with the
princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the
better I shall be pleased.”

“YT will set out to-morrow morning,” answered
Perseus.

“Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king.
“And, Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be
careful to make a clean stroke, so as not to injure its
appearance. You must bring it home in the very best
condition, in order to suit the exquisite taste of the
beautiful Princess Hippodamia.”

Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hear-
ing before Polydectes burst into a laugh; being greatly.
amused, wicked king that he was, to find how readily the
young man fell into the snare. The news quickly spread
abroad, that Perseus had undertaken to cut off the head



2() THE GORGON’S HEAD.

of Medusa with the snaky locks. Everybody was re-
joiced ; for most of the inhabitants of the island were
as wicked as the king himself, and would have liked
nothing better than to see some enormous mischief hap-
pen to Danaé and her son. The only good man in this
unfortunate island of Seriphus appears to have -been the
fisherman. As Perseus walked along, therefore, the
people pointed after him, and made mouths, and winked
to one another, and ridiculed him as loudly as they
dared.

“Ho, ho!” cried they; ‘‘ Medusa’s snakes will sting
him soundly ! ”

Now, there were three Gorgons alive, at that period ;
and they were the most strange and terrible monsters
that had ever been since the world was made, or that
have been seen in after days, or that are likely to be seen
in all time to come. J hardly know what sort of crea-
ture or hobgoblin to call them. They were three sisters,
and seem to have borne some distant resemblance to
women, but were really a very frightful and mischievous
species of dragon. It is; indeed, difficult to imagine
what hideous beings these three sisters were. Why, in-
stead of locks of hair, if you can believe me, they had
each of them a hundred enormous snakes growing on
their heads, all alive, twisting, wriggling, curling, and
thrusting out their venomous tongues, with forked stings
at the end! The teeth of the Gorgons were terribly
long tusks ; their hands were made of brass; and their
bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were some-
thing as hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too,



THE GORGON’S TIEAD. 1

and exceedingly splendid ones, I can assure you; for
every feather in them was pure, bright, glittering, bur-
nished gold, and they looked very dazzlingly, no doubt,
when the Gorgons were flying about in the sunshine.

But when people happened to cateh a glimpse of ‘their
glittering brightness, aloft in the air, they seldom stopped
to gaze, but ran and hid themselves as speedily as they
could. You will think, perhaps, that they were afraid of
being stung by the serpents that served the Gorgons
instead of hair, —or of having their heads bitten off by
their ugly tusks, — or of being torn all to pieces by their
brazen claws. Well, to be sure, these were some of the
dangers, but by no means the greatest, nor the most diffi-
cult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abomina-
ble Gorgons was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his
eyes full upon one of their faces, he was certain, that
very instant, to be changed from warm flesh and blood
into cold and lifeless stone !

Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very danger-
ous adventure that the wicked King Polydectes had con-
trived for this Innocent young man. Perseus himself,
when he had thought over the matter, could not help -
seeing that he had very little chance of coming safely
through it, and that he was far more likely to become a
stone image than to bring back the head of Medusa with
the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other difficulties,
there was one which it would have puzzled an older man
than Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with
and slay this golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked,
brazen-clawed, snaky-haired monster, but he must do it



Oo THE GORGON’S HEAD.

with his eyes shut, or, at least, without so much as a
glance at the enemy with whom he was contending. -
Else, while his arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen
ito stone, and stand with that uplifted arm for centuries,
until time, and the wind and weather, should crumble
him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to be-
fall a young man who wanted to perform a great: many
brave deeds, and to enjoy a great deal of happiness, in
this bright and beautiful world.

So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that
Perseus could not bear to tell his mother what he had
undertaken to do. He therefore took his shield, girded
on his sword, and crossed over from the island to the
mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place, and
hardly reframed from shedding tears. |

But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard
a voice close beside him.

“ Perseus,” said the voice, ‘why are you sad?”

He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had
hidden it, and, behold! all alone as Perseus had sup-
posed himself to be, there was a stranger in the solitary
place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and remarkably shrewd-
looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders, an
odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in
his hand, and a short and very crooked sword hanging
by his side. He was exceedingly light and active in his
figure, like a person much accustomed to gymnastic ex-
ercises, and well able to leap or run. Above all, the
stranger had such a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect
(though it was certainly a little mischievous, into the



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 93

bargain), that Perseus could not help feeling his spirits
grow livelier, as he gazed at him. Besides, being really
a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that any-
body should have found him with tears in his eyes, like
a timid little school-boy, when, after all, there might be
no oceasion for despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes, and
answered the stranger pretty briskly, putting on as brave
a look as he could.

“T am not so very sad,” said he; ‘only thoughtful
about an adventure that I have undertaken.”

“Oho!” answered the stranger. ‘‘ Well, tell me all
about it, and possibly I may be of service to you. I have
helped a good many young men through adventures that
looked d:fficult enough beforehand. Perhaps you may
have heard of me. J have more names than one; but
the name of Quicksilver suits me as well as any other.
Tell me what your trouble is, and we will talk the matter
over, and see what can be done.”

The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite
a different mood from his former one. He resolved to tell
Quicksilver all his difficulties, since he could not easily
be worse off than he already was, and, very possibly, his
new friend might give him some advice that would turn
out well in the end. So he let the stranger know, in few
words, precisely what the case was ; — how that King
Polydectes wanted the head of Medusa with the snaky
locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Prmcess Hippo-
damia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him,
but was afraid of being turned into stone.

“ And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver,



9 4, TIE GORGON’S HEAD.

with his mischievous smile. ‘ You would make a very
handsome marble statue, it is true, and it would be a
considerable number of centuries before you crumbled
away; but, on the whole, one would rather be a young
man for a few years, than a stone image for a great
many.” .

“QO, far rather!’ exclaimed Perseus, with the tears
again standing in his eyes. ‘“‘ And, besides, what would
my dear mother do, if her beloved son were turned into
a stone?”

“Well, well; let us hope that the affair will not turn
out so very badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encour-
aging tone. ‘lam the very person to help you, if any-
body can. My sister and myself will do our utmost to
bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as it now
looks.”

“Your sister ?” repeated Perseus.

“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. ‘“‘She is very
wise, I promise you; and as for myself, | generally have
all my wits about me, such as they are. If you show |
yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you
need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first
of all, you must polish your shield, till you can see your
face in it as distinctly as in a mirror.”

This seemed to Perseus rather an odd begmning of
the adventure; for he thought it of far more conse-
quence that the shield should be strong enough to defend ©
him from the Gorgon’s brazen claws, than that it should
be bright enough to show him the reflection of his face.
However, concluding that Quicksilver knew better than



pw

THE GORGON’S HEAD. 29

himself, le immediately set to work, and scrubbed the
shield with so much diligence and good-will, that it very
quickly shone like the moon at harvest-time. Quicksil-
ver looked at it with a smile, and nodded his approbation.
Then, taking off his own short and crooked sword, he
girded it about Perseus, instead of the one which he had
before worn.

“No sword but mine will answer your purpose,” ob-
served he; “the blade has a most excellent temper, and
will cut through iron and brass as easily as through the
slenderest twig. And now we will set out. The next
thing is to find the Three Gray Women, who will tell us
where to find the Nymphs.”

“The Three Gray Women!” eried Perseus, to whom

this seemed only a new difficulty in the path of his adven-
ture; “pray, who may the Three Gray Women be? IT
never heard of them before.”
_ «They are three very strange old ladies,” said Quick-
silver, laughing. ‘They have but one eye among them,
and only one tooth. Moreover, you must find them out
by starlight, or in the dusk of the evening; for they
never show themselves by the light either of the sun or
moon.’

“But,” said Perseus, “why should I waste my time
with these Three Gray Women? Would it not be better
to set out at once in search of the terrible Gorgons ?”’

“No, no,’ answered his friend. “There are other
things to be done, before you can find your way to the
Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to hunt up these
old ladies; and when we meet with them, you may be

2



26 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

sure that the Gorgons are not a great way off. Come,
let us be stirring!”

Perseus, by this time, felt so much confidence in his
companion’s sagacity, that he made no more objections,
and professed himself ready to begin the adventure im-
mediately. They accordingly set out, and walked at a
pretty brisk pace; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found
it rather d:fficult to keep up with his nimble friend Quick-
silver. To say the truth, he had a singular idea that
Quicksilver was furnished with a pair of winged shoes,
which, of course, helped him along marvellously. And
then, too, when Perseus looked sideways at him, out of
the corner of his eye, he seemed to see wings on the side
of his head; although, if he turned a full gaze, there
were no such things to be perceived, but only an odd
kind of cap. But, at all events, the twisted staff was
evidently a great convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled
him to proceed so fast, that Perseus, though a remark-
ably active young man, began to be out of breath.
“Here!” eried Quicksilver, at last,— for he knew well
enough, rogue that he was, how hard Perseus found it to
keep pace with him,— “take you the staff, for you need
it a great deal more than I. Are there no better walkers
than yourself, in the island of Seriphus ?”

“T could walk pretty well,” said Perseus, glancing
slyly at his companion’s feet, ‘if I had only a pair of
winged shoes.”

“We must see about getting you a pair,” answered
Quicksilver.

But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely, that he



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 97

no longer felt the slightest weariness. In fact, the stick
seemed to be alive in his hand, and to lend some of its
life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now walked onward
at their ease, talking very sociably together; and Quick-
silver told so many pleasant stories about his former ad-
ventures, and how well his wits had served him on vari-
ous occasions, that Perseus began to think him a very
wonderful person. He evidently knew the world; and
nobody is so charming to a young man as a friend who
has that kind of knowledge. Perseus listened the more
eagerly, in the hope of brightening his own wits by what
he heard.

At last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver had
spoken of a sister, who was to lend her assistance in the
adventure which they were now bound upon.

“Where is she?” he inquired. ‘Shall we not meet
her soon ?”

“All at the proper time,” said his companion. ‘“‘ But
tlus sister of mine, you must understand, is quite a dif-
ferent sort of character from myself. She is very grave
and prudent, seldom smiles, never laughs, and makes it a
rule not to utter a word unless she has something par-
ticularly profound to say. Neither will she listen to any
but the wisest conversation.”

“Dear me!” ejaculated Perseus ; “I shall be afraid
to say a syllable.”

“She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,”
continued Quicksilver, “ and has all the arts and sciences
at her fingers’ ends. In short, she is so immoderately
wise, that many people call her wisdom personified. But,



28 | THE GORGON’S HEAD.

to tell you the truth, she has hardly vivacity enough for
my taste; and I think you would scarcely find her so
pleasant a travellmg companion as myself. She has her
good points, nevertheless; and vou will find the benefit
of them, in your encounter with the Gorgons.”

By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were
now come to a very wild and desert place, overgrown
with shaggy bushes, and so silent and solitary that no-
body seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. All
was waste and desolate, in the gray twilight, which grew
every moment more obscure. Perseus looked about him,
rather disconsolately, and asked Quicksilver whether they
had a great deal farther to go.

“Hist! hist!°’ whispered his companion. ‘ Make
no noise! This is just the time and place to meet the
Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do not see
you before you see them; for, though they have but a
single eye among the three, it is as sharp-sighted as half
a dozen common eyes.”

“ But what must I do,’ asked Perseus, “ when we
meet them ?”

Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three Gray
Women managed with their one eye. They were in the
habit, it seems, of changing it from one to another, as if
it had been a pair of spectacles, or — which would have
suited them better — a quizzing-glass. When one of the
three had kept the eye a certain time, she took it out of
the socket and passed it to one of her sisters, whose turn
it might happen to be, and who immediately clapped it
into her own head, and enjoyed a peep at the visible



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 29

world. Thus it will easily be understood that only one
of the Three Gray Women could see, while the other two
were in utter darkness; and, moreover, at the instant
when the eye was passing from hand to hand, neither of
the poor old ladies was able to see awink. I have heard
of a great many strange things, in my day, and have
witnessed not a few; but none, it seems to me, that can
compare with the oddity of these Three Gray Women,
all peeping through a single eye.

So thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished
that he almost fancied his companion was joking with him,
and that there were no such old women in the world.

“You will soon find whether I tell the truth or
no,” observed Quicksilver. “Hark! hush! hist! hist!
There they come, now ! ”

Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the
evening, and there, sure enough, at no great distance off,
he descried the Three Gray Women. The light being so
faint, he could not well make out what sort of figures
they were; only he discovered that they had long gray
hair; and, as they came nearer, he saw that two of them
had but the empty socket of an eye, in the middle of
their foreheads. But, in the middle of the third sister’s
forehead, there was a very large, bright, and piercing
eye, which sparkled like a great diamond in a ring; and
so penctrating did it seem to be, that Perseus could not
help thinking it must possess the gift of seeing in the
darkest midnight just as perfectly as at noonday. The
sight of three persons’ eyes was melted and collected into
that single one.



30 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

Thus the three old dames got along about as comfort-
ably, upon the whole, as if they could all see at once.
She who chanced to have the eye in her forehead led the
other two by the hands, peeping sharply about her, all
the while; insomuch that Perseus dreaded lest she should
see right through the thick clump of bushes behind which
he and Quicksilver had hidden themselves. My stars!
it was positively terrible to be within reach of so very
sharp an eye!

But, before they reached the clump of bushes, one of
the Three Gray Women spoke.

“Sister! Sister Scarecrow!” cried she, “you have
had the eye long enough. It is my turn now!”

“Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Nightmare,”
answered Searecrow. “I thought I had a glimpse of
something behind that thick bush.”

“ Well, and what of that?” retorted Nightmare, peev-
ishly. “Cant I see into a thick bush as easily as your-
self? The eye is mine, as well as yours; and I know
the use of it as well as you, or may be a little better. I
insist upon taking a peep immediately !”

But here the third sister, whose name was Shakejoint,
began to complain, and said that it was her turn to have
the eye, and that Scarecrow and Nightmare wanted to
keep it all to themselves. To end the dispute, old Dame
Scarecrow took the eye out of her forehead, and held it
forth in her hand.

“Take it, one of you,” cried she, “and quit this fool-
ish quarrelling. For my part, I shall be glad of a little
thick darkness. Take it quickly, however, or I must
clap it into my own head again!”



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 31

_ Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint stretched
out their hands, groping eagerly to snatch the eye out of
the hand of Scarecrow. But, being both alike blind,
they could not easily find where Scarecrow’s hand was ;
and Scarecrow, being now just as much in the dark as
Shakejoimt and Nightmare, could not at once meet either
of their hands, in order to put the eye into it. Thus (as
you will see, with half an eye, my wise little auditors),
these good old dames had fallen into a strange perplex-
ity. For, though the eye shone and glistened like a star,
as Scarecrow held it out, yet the Gray Women caught
not the least glinpse of its light, and were all three in
utter darkness, from too impatient a desire to see.

(Juicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shake-
joint and Nightmare both groping for the eye, and each
finding fault with Scarecrow and one another, that he
could scarcely help laughing aloud.

“Now is your time!” he whispered to Perseus.
(Quick, quick! before they can clap the eye into either
of their heads. Rush out upon the old ladies, and snatch
it from Scarecrow’s hand !”

In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were still
scolding each other, Perseus leaped from behind the
clump of bushes, and made himself master of the prize.
The marvellous eye, as he held it in his hand, shone very
brightly, and seemed to look up into his face with a
knowing air, and an expression as if it would have
winked, had it been provided with a pair of eyelids for
that purpose. But the Gray Women knew nothing of
what had happened; and, each supposing that one of her



32 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

sisters was in possession of the eye, they began their
quarrel anew. At last, as Perseus did not wish to put
~ these respectable dames to greater inconvenience than was
really necessary, he thought it right to explain the matter.

“My good ladies,” said he, “pray. do not be angry
with one another. If anybody is in fault, it is myself;
for I have the honor to hold your very brilliant and ex-
cellent eye in my own hand!”

“You! you have our eye! And who are you?”
screamed the Three Gray Women, all in a breath; for
they were terribly frightened, of course, at hearing a
strange voice, and discovering that their eyesight had got
into the hands of they could not guess whom. “O,
what shall we do, sisters? what shall we do? We are
all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us our one,
precious, solitary eye! You have two of your own!
Give us our eye!”

“Tell them,” whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, “ that
they shall have back the eye as soon as they direct you
where to find the Nymphs who have the flying slippers,
the magic wallet, and the helmet of darkness.”

“My dear, good, admirable old ladies,” said Perseus,
addressing the Gray Women, “there is no occasion for
putting yourselves into such a fright. I am by no means
a bad young man. You shall have back your eye, safe
and sound, and as bright as ever, the moment you tell me
where to find the Nymphs.”

“The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs
does he mean?” screamed Scarecrow. ‘There are a
great many Nymphs, people say ; some that go a hunting



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 33

in the woods, and some that live inside of trees, and some
that have a comfortable home in fountains of water. We
know nothing at all about them. We are three unfortu-
nate old souls, that go wandering about in the dusk, and
never had but one eye amongst us, and that one you have
stolen away. O, give it back, good stranger ! — who-
ever you are, give it back!” ——

All this while the Three Gray Women were groping
with their outstretched hands, and trying their utmost to
get hold of Perseus. But he took good care to keep out
of their reach.

“My respectable dames,” said he, —for his mother
had taught him always to use the greatest civility,— “I
hold your eye fast in my hand, and shall keep it safely
for you, until you please to tell me where to find these
Nymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep the enchanted
wallet, the flying slippers, and the what is it P — the hel-
met of invisibility.”

“Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man
talking about?” exclaimed Scarecrow, Nightmare, and
Shakejoint, one to another, with great appearance of
astonishment. ‘A pair of flying slippers, quoth he!
His heels would quickly fly higher than his head, if he
were silly enough to put them on. Anda helmet of in-
visibility! How could a helmet make him invisible, un-
less it were big enough for him to hide under it? And
an enchanted wallet! What sort of a contrivance
may that be, I wonder? No, no, good stranger! we can
tell you nothing of these marvellous things. You have
two eyes of your own, and we have but a single one

2% Cc



9

34 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

amongst us three. You can find out such wonders better
than three blind old creatures, like us.”

Perseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really to
think that the Gray Women knew nothing of the mat-
ter; and, as it grieved him to have put them to so much
trouble, he was just on the point of restoring their eye
and asking pardon for his rudeness in snatching it away.
But Quicksilver caught his hand.

“Don’t let them make a fool of you!” said he.
“These Three Gray Women are the only persons in
the world that can tell you where to find the Nymphs;
and, unless you get that information, you will never
succeed in cutting off the head of Medusa with the
snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye, and all will go
well.”

As it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. There
are but few things that people prize so much as they
do their eyesight; and the Gray Women valued their
single eye as Inghly as if it had been half a dozen,
which was the number they ought to have had. Find-
ing that there was no other. way of recovering it, they at
last told Perseus what he wanted to know. No sooner
had they done so, than he immediately, and with the ut-
most respect, clapped the eye into the vacant socket in
one of their foreheads, thanked them for their kindness,
and bade them farewell. Before the young man was out
of hearing, however, they had got into a new dispute,
because he happened to have given the eye to Scarecrow,
who had already taken her turn of it when their trouble
with Perseus commenced.



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 39

It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray Women
were very much in the habit of disturbing their mutual
harmony by bickerings of this sort; which was the more
pity, as they could not conveniently do without one an-
other, and were evidently intended to be inseparable
companions. As a general rule, I would advise all peo-
ple, whether sisters or brothers, old or young, who
chance to have but one eye amongst them, to cultivate
forbearance, and not all insist upon peeping through it
at once. |

Quicksilver and Perseus, in the mean time, were mak-
ing the best of their way in quest of the Nymphs. The
old dames had given them such particular directions,
that they were not long in finding them out. They
proved to be very different persons from Nightmare,
Shakejoint, and Scarecrow ; for, instead of being old,
they were young and beautiful; and instead of one eye
amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had two exceed-
ingly bright eyes of her own, with which she looked very
kindly at Perseus. They seemed to be acquainted with
Quicksilver; and when he told them the adventure
which Perseus had undertaken, they made no difficulty
about giving him the valuable articles that were in their
custody. In the first place, they brought ont what ap-
peared to be a small purse, made of deer-skin, and curi-
ously embroidered, and bade him be sure and keep it
safe. This was the magic wallet. The Nymphs next
produced a pair of shoes, or slippers, or sandals, with a
nice little pair of wings at the heel of each.

“ Put them on, Perseus,” said Quicksilver. “ You



36 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

will find yourself as light-heeled as you can desire, for
the remainder of our journey.”

So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on,
while he laid the other on the ground by his side. Un-
expectedly, however, this other slipper spread its wings,
fluttered up off the ground, and would probably have
flown away, if Quicksilver had not made a leap, and
luckily caught it in the air.

“Be more careful,’ said he, as he gave it back to
Perseus. ‘‘ It would frighten the birds, up aloft, if they
should see a flying slipper amongst them.”

When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful
slippers, he was altogether too buoyant to tread on earth.
Making a step or two, lo and behold! upward he popt
into the air, high above the heads of Quicksilver and the
Nymphs, and found it very difficult to clamber down
again. Winged slippers, and all such high-flying contriv-
auces, are seldom quite easy to manage, until one grows
a little accustomed to them. Quicksilver laughed at lis
companion’s involuntary activity, and told him that he
must not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for
the invisible helmet.

The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its
dark tuft of waving plumes, all in readiness to put upon
his head. And now there happened about as wonderful
an incident as anything that I have yet told you. The
instant before the helmet was put on, there stood Per-
seus, a beautiful young man, with golden ringlets and rosy
cheeks, the crooked sword by his side, and the brightly
polished shield upon his arm, —a figure that seemed all



THE GORGON’S HEAD. O7

made up of courage, sprightliness, and glorious light.
But when the helmet had descended over his white brow,
there was no longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing
but empty air! Even the helmet, that covered him with
its invisibility, had vanished!

“Where are you, Perseus?” asked Quicksilver.

“Why, here, to be sure!” answered Perseus, very

quietly, although his voice séemed to come out of the
transparent atmosphere. “Just where I was a moment
ago. Don’t you see me?”
_ © No, indeed!’ answered his friend. ‘ You are hid-
den under the helmet. But, if I cannot see you, neither
can the Gorgons. Tollow me, therefore, and we will try
your dexterity in using the winged slippers.”

With these words, Quicksilver’s cap spread its wings,
as if his head were about to fly away from his shoulders ;
but his whole figure rose lightly into the air, and Perseus
followed. By the time they had ascended a few hundred
feet, the young man began to feel what a delightful thing
it was to leave the dull earth so far beneath him, and to
be able to flit about like a bird.

It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, and
saw the round, bright, silvery moon, and thought that he
should desire nothing better than to soar up thither, and
spend his life there. Then he looked downward again,
and saw the earth, with its seas, and lakes, and the silver
courses of its rivers, and its snowy mountain-peaks, and
the breadth of its fields, and the dark cluster of its
woods, and its cities of white marble; and, with the
moonshine sleeping over the whole scene, if was as beau-



Te) THE GORGON’S HEAD.

tiful as the moon or any star could be. And, among
other objects, he saw the island of Seriphus, where his
dear mother was. Sometimes, he and Quicksilver ap-
proached a cloud, that, at a distance, looked as if it were
made of fleecy silver; although, when they plunged into
it, they found themselves chilled and moistened with gray
mist. So swift was their flight, however, that, in an
instant, they emerged from the cloud into the moonlight
again. Once, a high-soaring eagle flew right against the
invisible Perseus. The bravest sights were the meteors,
that gleamed suddenly out, as if a bonfire had been
kindled in the sky, and made the moonshine pale for as
much as a hundred miles around them.

As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied
that he could hear the rustle of a garment close by his
side ; and it was on the side opposite to the one where
~ he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver was visible.

‘Whose garment is this,” inquired Perseus, “that
keeps rustling close beside me, in the brecze ?”

“OQ, it is my sister’s!” answered Quicksilver. “She is
coming along with us, as. I told you she would. We
could do nothing without the help of my sister. You
have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes, too!
Why, she can see you, at this moment, just as distinctly
as if you were not invisible; and Ill venture to say, she
will be the first to discover the Gorgons.” .

By this time, in their swift voyage through the air,
they had come within sight of the great ocean, and were
soon flying over it. Far beneath them, the waves tossed
themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or rolled a white



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 39

surf-line upon the long beaches, or foamed against the
rocky cliffs, with a roar that was thunderous, in the
lower world; although it became a gentle murmur, like
the voice of a baby half asleep, before it reached the ears
of Perseus. Just then a voice spoke in the air close by
him. It seemed to be a woman’s voice, and was melo-
dious, though not exactly what might be called sweet,
but grave and mild.

“* Perseus,”’ said the voice, ‘ there are the Gorgons.”

“Where?” exclaimed Perseus. ‘‘ I cannot see them.”

“On the shore of that island beneath you,” replied
the voice. “A pebble, dropped from your hand, would
strike in the midst of them.”’

“YT told you she would be the first to discover them,”’
said Quicksilver to Perseus. ‘‘ And there they are!”

Straight downward, two or three thousand feet below
him, Perseus perceived a small island, with the sea break-
ing into white foam all around its rocky shore, except on
one side, where there was a beach of snowy sand. He
descended towards it, and, looking earnestly at a cluster
or heap of brightness, at the foot of a precipice of black
rocks, behold, there were the terrible Gorgons! They
lay fast asleep, soothed by the thunder of the sea; for
it required a tumult that would have deafened everybody
else to lull such fierce creatures into slumber. The
moonlight glistened on their steely scales, and on their
golden wings, which drooped idly over the sand. Their
brazen claws, horrible to look at, were thrust out, and
clutched the wave-beaten fragments of rock, while the
sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor mortal



4.0) TILE GORGON’S HEAD.

all to pieces. The snakes that served them instead of
hair seemed likewise to be asleep; although, now and
then, one would writhe, and lift its head, and thrust out
its forked tongue, emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let
itself subside among its sister snakes.

_ The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of
insect, — immense, golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies,
or things of that sort, —at once ugly and beautiful, —.
than like anything else; only that they were a thousand
and a million times as big. And, with all this, there
was something partly human about them, too. Luckily
for Perseus, their faces were completely hidden from him
by the posture in which they lay ; for, had he but looked
one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out of
tle air, an image of senseless stone.

— * Now,” whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the
side of Perseus, — ‘‘ now is your time to do the deed! Be
quick ; for, if one of the Gorgons should awake, you are
too late!”

“Which shall I strike at ?”’ asked Perseus, drawing his
sword and descending a little lower. ‘They all three
look alike. All three have snaky locks. Which of the
three is Medusa ? ”

It must be understood that Medusa was the only one
of these dragon-monsters whose head Perseus could pos-
sibly cut off. As for the other two, let him have the
sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he might have
hacked away by the hour together, without doing them
the least harm. |
_ Be cautious,” said the calm voice which had before



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4]

spoken to him. ‘One of the Gorgons is stirring in her
sleep, and is just about to turn over. ‘That is Medusa.
Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to stone!
Look at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright
mirror of your shield.”

Perseus now understood Quicksilver’s motive for so
earnestly exhorting him to polish his shield. In its sur-
face he could safely look at the reflection of the Gorgon’s
face. And there it was, — that terrible countenance, —
mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the moon-
light falling over it, and displaying all its horror. The
snakes, whose venomous natures could not altogether
sleep, kept twisting themselves over the forehead. It
was the fiercest and most horrible face that ever was seen
or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful, and savage
kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed, and the
Gorgon was still in a deep slumber; but there was an
unquiet expression disturbing her features, as if the mon-
ster was troubled with an ugly dream. She gnashed her
white tusks, and dug into the sand with her brazen claws.

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa’s dream, and
to be made more restless by it. They twined themselves
into tumultuous knots, writhed fiercely, and uplifted a
hundred hissing heads, without opening their eyes. _

“Now, now!” whispered Quicksilver, who was grow-
ing impatient. “Makea dash at the monster!”

“ But be calm,” said the grave, melodious voice, at the ‘
young man’s side. ‘Look im your slueld, as you fly
downward, and take care that you do not miss your first
stroke.”



4.2 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

~ Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his
eyes on Medusa’s face, as reflected in his shield. The
nearer he came, the more terrible did the snaky visage
and metallic body of the monster grow. At last, when
he found himself hovering over her within arm’s length,
Perseus uplifted his sword, while, at the same instant,
each separate snake upon the Gorgon’s head stretched
threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed her eyes.
But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the
stroke fell like a lightning-flash; and the head of the
wicked Medusa tumbled from her body!

~ Admirably done!” cried Quicksilver. ‘‘ Make haste,
and clap the head into your magic wallet.”

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroi-
dered wallet, which he had hung about his neck, and
which had hitherto been no bigger than a purse, grew all
at once large enough to contain Medusa’s head. As
quick as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still
writhing upon it, and thrust it in. |

“Your task is done,” said the calm voice. ‘ Now fly;
for the other Gorgons will: do their utmost to take ven-
geance for Medusa’s death.”

_ It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus
had not done the deed so quietly, but that the clash of
his sword, and the hissing of the snakes, and the thump
of Medusa’s head as tt tumbled upon the sea-beaten sand,
awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, for an
instant, sleepily mibbing their eyes with their brazen fin-
gers, while all the snakes on their heads reared themselves
on end with surprise, and with venomous malice against



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 43

they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the
scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings
all ruffled, and half spread out on tlie sand, it was really
awful to hear what yells and screeches they set up. And
then the snakes! They sent forth a hundred-fold hiss,
with one consent, and Medusa’s snakes answered them
out of the magic wallet.

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake, than they
hurtled upward into the air, brandishing their brass tal-
ous, gnashing their horrible tusks, and flapping their huge
wings so wildly, that some of the golden feathers were
shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And there,
perhaps, those very feathers lie scattered, till this day.
Up rose the Gorgons, as I tell you, staring horribly
about, in hopes of turning somebody to stone. Had
Perseus looked them in the face, or had he fallen into
their clutches, his poor mother would never have kissed
her boy again! But he took good care to turn his eyes
another way; and, as he wore the helmet of invisibility,
the Gorgons knew not in what direction to follow him;
nor did he fail to make the best use of the winged slip-
pers, by soaring upward a perpendicular mile or so. At
that height, when the screams of those abominable crea-
tures sounded faintly beneath him, he made a straight
course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry Me-
dusa’s head to King Polydectes.

I have no time to tell you of several marvellous things
that befell Perseus, on his way homeward; such as his
killing a hideous sea-monster, just as it was on the point
of devouring a beautiful maiden; nor how he changed an



4,4: THE GORGON’S HEAD.

enormous giant into a mountain of stone, merely by show-
ing him the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter
story, you may make a voyage to Africa, some day or
other, and see the very mountain, which is still known
by the ancient giant’s name.

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where
he expected to see his dear mother. But, during his
absence, the wicked king had treated Danaé so very ill,
that she was compelled to make her escape, and had
taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests
were extremely kind to her. These praiseworthy priests,
and the kind-hearted fisherman, who had first shown
hospitality to Danaé and little Perseus when he found
them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only
persons on the island who cared about doing right. All
the rest of the people, as well as King Polydectes him-
self, were remarkably ill-behaved, and deserved no better
destiny than that which was now to happen.

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight
to the palace and was immediately ushered into the pres-
ence of the king. Polydectes was by no means rejoiced
to see him; for he had felt almost certain, in his own
evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor
young man to pieces, and have eaten him up, out of the
way. However, seeing him safely returned, he put the
best face he could upon the matter and asked Perseus
how he had succeeded.

‘Have you performed your promise? ”’ inquired he.
“Have you brought me the head of Medusa with the
‘snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you dear;



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4d
for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Prin-
cess Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she
would admire so much.”

“Yes, please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, in a
quiet way, as if it were no very wonderful deed for such
a young manas he to perform. “I have brought you
the Gorgon’s head, snaky locks and all!”

“Indeed! Pray let me see it,” quoth King Polydee.
tes. “It must be avery curious spectacle, if all that
travellers tell about it be true!”

“Your Majesty is in the right,” replied Perseus. “Tt
is really an object that will be pretty certain to fix
the regards of all who look at it. And, if your Majesty
think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be proclaimed,
and that all your Majesty’s subjects be summoned to be-
hold this wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine,
have seen a Gorgon’s head before, and perhaps never
may again! ”

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set
of reprobates, and very fond of sight-seeing, as idle
persons usually are. So he took the young man’s ad-
vice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all direc-
tions, to blow the trumpet at the street-corners, and in
the market-places, and wherever two roads met, and
summon everybody to court. Thither, accordingly, came
a great multitude of good-for-nothing vagabonds, all of
whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been
glad if Perseus had met with some ill-hap, in his encoun-
ter with the Gorgons. If there were any better people
in the island (as I really hope there may have been, al-



46 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

though the story tells nothing about any such), they stayed
quietly at home, minding their own business, and taking
care of their little children. Most of the inhabitants, at
all events, ran as fast as they could to the palace, and
shoved, and pushed, and elbowed one another, in their
eagerness to get near a balcony, on which Perseus
showed himself, holding the embroidered wallet in his
hand.

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the
mighty King Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and.
with his flattering courtiers in a semicircle round about
him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and subjects, all
gazed eagerly towards Perseus.

“Show us the head! Show us the head!” shouted
the people; and there was a fierceness in their cry as if
they would tear Perseus to pieces, unless he should sat-
isfy them with what he had to show. ‘Show us the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks! ”

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful
Perseus.

‘“‘O King Polydectes,” cried he, “and ye many peo-
ple, I am very loath to show you the Gorgon’s head ! ”

“ Ah, the villain and coward!” yelled the people, more
fiercely than before. ‘He is making game of us! He
has no Gorgon’s head! Show us the head, if you have
it, or we will take your own head for a football! ”

The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the king’s
ear; the courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Per-
seus had shown disrespect to their royal lord and master ;
and the great King Polydectes himself waved his hand,



THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4,7

and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of authority,
on his peril, to produce the head.

“Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your
own!”

And Perseus sighed.

“This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “‘ or you die

“ Behold it, then!’ cried Perseus, in a voice like the
blast of a trumpet.

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had
time to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, his evil
counsellors, and all his fierce subjects were no longer
anything but the mere images of a monarch and his peo-
ple. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and atti-
tude of that moment! At the first glimpse of the terri-
ble head of Medusa, they whitened into marble! And
Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet, and went
to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid
of the wicked King Polydectes.

{ >







TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

AFTER THE STORY.

|AS not that a very fine story?” asked Eustace.
| “O yes, yes!” cried Cowslip, clapping her -
| hands. ‘And those funny old women, with
only one eye amongst them! I never heard of anything
so strange.” |

“As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,”
observed Primrose, “‘there was nothing so very wonder-
ful in that. I suppose it was a false tooth. But think
of your turnmg Mercury into Quicksilver, and talking
about his sister! You are too ridiculous! ”

‘And was she not his sister?’ asked Eustace Bright.
“Tf I had thought of it sooner, I would have described
her as a maiden lady, who kept a pet owl!”

“‘ Well, at any rate,” said Primrose, ‘your story seems
to have driven away the mist.” :

And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the

vapors had been quite exhaled from the landscape. A
scene was now disclosed which the spectators might
almost fancy as having been created since they had last
looked in the direction where it lay. About half a mile





TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 4.9

distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared a beauti-
ful lake, which reflected a perfect image of its own
wooded banks, and of the summits of the more distant
hills. It gleamed in glassy tranquillity, without the
trace of a winged breeze on any part of its bosom. Be-
yond its farther shore was Monument Mountain, in a re-
cumbent. position, stretching almost across the valley.
Kustace Bright compared it to a huge, headless sphinx,
wrapped in a Persian shawl; and, indeed, so rich and
diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods, that
the simile of the shawl was by no means too high-colored
for the reality. In the lower ground, between Tangle-
wood and the lake, the clumps of trees and borders of
woodland were chiefly golden-leaved or dusky brown, as
having suffered more from frost than the foliage on the
hillsides.

Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, inter-
mingled with a slight haze, which made it unspeakably
soft and tender. O, what a day of Indian summer was
it going to be! The children snatched their baskets, and
set forth, with hop, skip, and jump, and all sorts of
frisks and gambols; while Cousin Eustace proved his
fitness to preside over the party, by outdoing all their
antics, and performing several new capers, which none of
them could ever hope to imitate. Behind went a good
old dog, whose name was Ben. He was one of the most
respectable and kind-hearted of quadrupeds, and probably
felt it to be his duty not to trust the children away from
their parents without some better guardian than this

feather-brained Eustace Bright.
3 D






THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

OOK








SHADOW BROOK.

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GOLDEN TOUCH.”

ri noon, our juvenile party assembled in a dell,
M:| through the depths of which ran a little brook.
es) The dell was narrow, and its steep sides, from
the margin of the stream upward, were thickly set with
trees, chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, among which grew a
few oaks and maples. In the summer time, the shade of
so many clustering branches, meeting and intermingling
across the rivulet, was deep enough to produce a noon-
tide twilight. Hence came the name of Shadow Brook.
But now, ever since autumn had crept into this secluded
place, all the dark verdure was changed to gold, so that
it really kindled up the dell, instead of shading it. The
bright yellow leaves, even had it been a cloudy day, would
have seemed to keep the sunlight among them; and
enough of them had fallen to strew all the bed and mar-
gin of the brook with sunlight, too. Thus the shady
nook, where summer had cooled herself, was now the
sunniest spot anywhere to be found.

The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold,





O40 SHADOW BROOK.

here pausing to form a pool, in which minnows were
darting to and fro; and then it hurried onward ata .
swifter pace, as if in haste to reach the lake ; and, forget-
ting to look whither it went, it tumbled over the root of
a tree, which stretched quite across its current. You
would have laughed to hear how noisily it babbled about
this accident. And even after it had run onward, the
brook still kept talking to itself, as if it were in a maze.
It was wonder-smitten, I suppose, at finding its dark dell
so illuminated, and at hearing the prattle and merriment
of so many children. So it stole away as quickly as it
could, and hid itself in the lake. - a
In the dell of Shadow Brook, Eustace Bright and his
little friends had eaten their dinner. They had brought
plenty of good things from Tanglewood, in their baskets,
and had spread them out on the stumps of trees, and on
mossy trunks, and had feasted merrily, and made a very
nice dinner indeed. After it was over, nobody felt like
stirring.
~ © We will rest. ourselves here,” said several of the
children, “‘ while Cousin Eustace tells us another of his
pretty stories.”
~ Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired, as well as
the children, for he had performed great feats on that
memorable forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cowslip, and
Buttercup were almost persuaded that he had winged
slippers, like those which the Nymphs gave Perseus; so
often had the student shown himself at the tiptop of a
nut-tree, when only a moment before he had been stand-
ing on the ground. And then, what showers of walnuts



SHADOW BROOK. 5D

had he sent rattling down upon their heads, for their
busy little hands to gather into the baskets! In short,
he had been as active as a squirrel or a monkey, and
now, flinging himself down on the yellow leaves, seemed
inclined to take a little rest.

But children have no mercy nor consideration for any-
body’s weariness; andif you had but a single breath
left, they would ask you to spend it in telling them a
story. |

“Cousin Eustace,” said Cowslip, “that was a very nice
story of the Gorgon’s Head. Do you think you could
tell us another as good?”

“Yes, child,” said Eustace, pulling the brim of his cap
over his eyes, as if preparing fora nap. “I can tell you
a dozen, as good or better, if I choose.”

‘OQ Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what he
says?” cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. ‘Cousin
Kustace is going to tell us a dozen better stories than
that about the Gorgon’s Head!”

“JT did not promise you even one, you foolish little
Cowslip!” said Kustace, half pettishly. ‘“ However, I
suppose you must have it. This is the consequence of
having earned a reputation! I wish I were a great
deal duller than I am, or that I had never shown half
the bright qualities with which nature has endowed
me; and then I might have my nap out, in peace and
comfort !”

But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted before,
was as fond of telling his stories as the children of hear-
ing them. His mind was in a free and happy state, and



56 SIIADOW BROOK.

took delight in its own activity, and scarcely required
any external impulse to set it at work.

How difficult is this spontaneous play of the intellect
from the trained diligence of maturer years, when toil
has perhaps grown easy by long habit, and the day’s
work may have become essential to the day’s comfort,
although the rest. of the matter has bubbled away! This
remark, however, is not meant for the children to hear.

Without further solicitation, Eustace Bright proceeded
to tell the following really splendid story. It had come
into his mind as he lay looking upward into the depths
of a tree, and observing how the touch of Autumn had
transmuted every one of its green leaves into what re-
sembled the purest gold. And this change, which we
have all of us witnessed, is as wonderful as anything that
Eustace told about, in the story of Midas.





THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

e

Ma |NCE upon a time, there lived a very rich man,
a | and a king besides, whose name was Midas;
ws and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but
myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never
knew, or have entirely forgotten. So, because I love
odd names for little girls, L choose to call her Marygold.

This King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything
else in’ the world. He valued bis royal crown chiefly
because it was composed of that precious metal. If he
loved anything better, or half so well, it was the one
little maiden who played so merrily around her father’s
footstool. But the more Midas loved his daughter, the
more did he desire and seek for wealth. He thought,
foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly do for
this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest
pile of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped
together since the world was made. Thus, he gave all
his thoughts and all his time to this one purpose. If
ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the gold-

3%





58 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real
gold, and that they could be squeezed safely into his
strong box. When little Marygold ran to met him, with
_ abunch of buttercups and dandelions, he used to say,
“Poh, poh, child! If these flowers were as golden as
they look, they would be worth the plucking !.”

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely
possessed of this insane desire for riches, King Midas
had shown a great taste for flowers. He had planted
a garden, in which grew the biggest and beautifullest
and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw or smelt.
These roses were still growing in the garden, as large, as
lovely, and as fragrant, as when Midas used to pass whole
hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their perfume.
But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to cal-
culate how much the garden would be worth, if each
of the innumerable rose-petals were a thin plate of gold.
And though he once was fond of music (in spite of an
idle story about his ears, which were said to resemble
those of an ass), the only music for poor Midas, now,
was the chink of one coin against another.

At length (as people always grow more and more fool-
ish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser),
Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that he
could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that was
not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass
a large portion of every day ina dark and dreary apart-
ment, under ground, at the basement of his palace. It
was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole
—for it was little better than a dungeon — Midas be-



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 59

took himself, whenever he wanted to be particularly
happy. Here, after carefully locking the door, he would
take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup as big as a wash-
bowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck-measure of gold-
dust, and bring them from the obscure corners of the
room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that fell
from the dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam
for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine
without its help. And then would he reckon over the
coins in the bag ; toss up the bar, and catch it as it came
down; sift the gold-dust through his fingers; look at
the funny image of his own face, as reflected in the bur-
nished circumference of the cup; and whisper to him-
‘self, “O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art
thou!” But it was laughable to see how the image of
his face kept grinning at him, out of the polished surface
of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behav-
ior, and to have a naughty inclination to make fun of
him.

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he
was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very tip-
top of enjoyment would never be reached, unless the whole
world were to become his treasure-room, and be filled
with yellow metal which should be all his own.

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as
you are, that in the old, old times, when King Midas was
alive, a great many things came to pass, which we should
consider wonderful if they were to happen in our own
day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many
things take place nowadays, which seem not only won-



60 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

derful to us, but at which the people of old times would
have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I regard our
own times as the strangest of the two; but, however that
may be, I must go on with my story.

Midas was enjoying himself im his treasure-room, one
day, as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall over the
heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly up, what should
he behold. but the figure of a stranger, standing in the

bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with
a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether it was that the im-
agination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge over every-
ihing, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help
fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded
him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, al-
though his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now
a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures than be-
fore. Even the remotest corners had their share of it,
and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with
tips of flame and sparkles of fire.

As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key
in the lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly
break into his treasure-room, he, of course, concluded
that his visitor must be something more than mortal. It
is no matter about tellmg you who he was. In those
days, when the earth was comparatively a new affair, it was
supposed to be often the resort of bemgs endowed with
supernatural power, and who used to interest them-
selves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and chil-
dren, half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met
such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet one



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 6]

of them again. The stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so
good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would
have been unreasonable to suspect him of intending any
mischief. It was far more probable that he came to do
Midas a favor. And what could that favor be, unless
to multiply his heaps of treasure ?

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his
lustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden objects
that were there, he turned again to Midas.

“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he ob-
served. ‘I doubt whether any other four walls, on
earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to
pile up in this room.’

‘““T have done pretty well, — pretty well,” answered
Midas, in a discontented tone. ‘‘ But, after all, it is but
a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me my whole
life to get it together. If one could live a thousand
years, he might have time to grow rich!”

“What!” exclaimed the stranger. ‘Then you are
not satisfied ? ”

Midas shook his head.

“And pray what would satisfy you?” asked the stran-
ger. ‘‘ Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I should
be glad ‘to know.”

Midas paused and meditated. THe felt a presentiment
that this stranger, with such a golden lustre in his good-
humored smile, had come hither with both the power and
the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now,
therefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but
to speak, and obtain whatever possible, or seemingly



62 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

impossible thing, it might come into his head to ask.
So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up
one golden mountain upon another, in his imagination,
without being able to imagine them big enough. At last,
a bright idea occurred to King Midas. It seemed really
as bright as the glistening metal which he loved so much.

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in
the face.

“Well, Midas,” observed his visitor, “I see that you
have at length hit upon something that will satiety you.
Tell me your wish.”

‘It is only this,” replied Midas. “I am weary of
collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and be-
holding the heap so diminutive, after I have done my
best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to
gold!”

The stranger’s smile grew so very broad, that it seemed
to fill the room like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into
a shadowy dell, where the yellow autumnal leaves — for
so looked the lumps and particles of gold — lie strewn
‘in the glow of light.

‘The Golden Touch!” exclaimed he. ‘ You certainly
deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant
a conception. But are you quite sure that this will sat-
isfy you?”

“ How could it fail? ” said Midas.

“And will you never regret the possession of it ? ”

“What could induce me?” asked Midas. “I ask
nothing else, to render me perfectly happy.”

“ Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, waving



THE GOLDEN TOUCH: 63

his hand in token of farewell. ‘To-morrow, at sunrise,
you will find yourself gifted with the Golden Touch.”

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly
bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On
opening them again, he beheld only one yellow sunbeam
in the room, and, all around him, the glistening of the
precious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding
up. |

Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story
does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was
probably in the state of a child’s, to whom a beautiful
new plaything has been promised in the morning. At
any rate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, when
King Midas was broad awake, and, stretching his arms
out of bed, began to touch the objects that were within
reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden
Touch had really come, according to the stranger’s prom-
ise. So he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside, and
on various other things, but was grievously disappointed
to perceive that they remained of exactly the same sub-
stance as before. Indeed, he felt very much afraid that
he had only dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else
that the latter had been making game of him. And what
a miserable affair would it be, if, after all his hopes, Midas
must content himself with what little gold he could
scrape together by ordinary means, instead of creating it
by a touch!

All this while, it was only the gray of the morning,
with but a streak of brightness along the edge of the sky,
where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very discon-



64 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

solate mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes, and
kept growing sadder and sadder, until the earliest sun-
beam shone through the window, and gilded the ceiling
over his head. It seemed to Midas that this bright yel-
low sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular way on
the white covering of the bed. Looking more closely,
what was his astonishment and delight, when he found
that this linen fabric had been transmuted to what seemed
a woven texture of the purest and brightest gold! The
Golden Touch had come to him, with the first sunbeam !

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran
about the room, grasping at. everything that happened to
be in his way. He seized one of the bedposts, and it be-
came immediately a fluted golden pillar. He pulled aside
a window-curtain, in order to admit a clear spectacle of
the wonders which he was performing; and the tassel
grew heavy in his hand,—a mass of gold. He took up
a book from the table. At his first touch, it assumed
the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged
volume as one often meets with, nowadays; but, on run-
ning his fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bun-
dle of thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the
book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his
clothes, and was enraptured to see himself in a magnifi-
cent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility and
softness, although it burdened him a little with its weight.
He drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had
hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear
child’s neat and pretty stitches running all along the bor-
der, in gold thread!



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 63

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not
quite please King Midas. He would rather that his little
daughter’s handiwork should have remained just the same
as when she climbed his knee and put it into his hand.

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle.
Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, and put
them on his nose, in order that he might see more dis-
tinctly what he was about. In those days, spectacles for
common people had not been invented, but were already
worn by kings; else, how could Midas have had any?
To his great perplexity, however, excellent as the glasses
were, he discovered that he could not possibly see through
them. But this was the most natural thing in the world ;
for, on taking them off, the transparent crystals turned
out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were
worthless as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It
struck Midas as rather inconvenient, that, with all his
wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a
pau of serviceable spectacles.

“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to him-
self, very philosophically. “We cannot expect any great
good, without its being accompanied with some small in-
convenience. The Golden Touch is worth the sacrifice
of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one’s very eye-
sight. My own eyes will serve for ordmary purposes,
and little Marygold will soon be old enough to read to
me.” \y
Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune,
that the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious to con-
tain him. He therefore went down stairs, and smiled,

E



66 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

on observing that the balustrade of the staircase became
a bar of burnished gold, as his hand passed over it, in
his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it was brass only
a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted it),
and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, he
found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom,
and others in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom.
Very delicious was their fragrance in the morning breeze.
Their delicate blush was one of the fairest sights in the
world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet tran-
quillity, did these roses seem to be.

But Midas knew a way to make them far more pre-
cious, according to his way of thinking, than roses had
ever been before. So he took great pains in going from
bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most in-
defatigably ; until every individual flower and bud, and
even the worms at the heart of some of them, were
changed to gold. By the time this good work was com-
pleted, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and, as
the morning air had given him an excellent appetite, he
made haste back to the palace.

What was usually a king’s breakfast m the days of
Midas, I really do not know, and cannot stop now to in-
vestigate. To the best of my belief, however, on this
particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot cakes,
some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh
boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and a
bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Marygold. At
all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before a king’; and,
whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have
had a better.



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 67

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance.
Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating himself
at table, awaited the child’s coming, in order to begin his
own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really loved his
daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning,
on account of the good fortune which had befallen him.
It was not a great while before he heard her coming
along the passageway crying bitterly. This circum-
stance surprised him, because’ Marygold was one of the
cheerfullest little people whom you would see in a sum-
mer’s day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a
twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs, he deter-
mined to put little Marygold into better spirits, by an
agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table, he
touched his daughter’s bowl (which was a China one,
with pretty figures all around it), and transmuted it to
gleaming gold,

Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately opened
the door, and showed herself with her apron at her eyes,
still sobbing as if her heart would break.

“How now, my little lady!” cried Midas. “ Pray
what is the matter with you, this bright morning ? ”

_ Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes,
held out. her hand, in which was one of the roses which
Midas had so recently transmuted.

‘ Beautiful !”’ exclaimed her father. ‘And what is
there in this magnificent golden rose to make you ery ?”

‘Ah, dear father! ” answered the child, as well as her
sobs would let her; “it is not beautiful, but the ugliest
flower that ever grew! As soon as I was dressed, I ran



68 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

into the garden to gather some roses for you; because I
know you like them, and like them the better when gath-
ered by your little daughter. But, oh dear, dear me!
What do you think has happened? Such a misfortune!
All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly and had
so many lovely blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They
are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no
longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter
with them ?” ,

“Poh, my dear little girl, — pray don’t ery about it!”
said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself
had wrought the change which so greatly afflicted her.
“Sit down and eat your bread and milk! You will find
it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which
will last hundreds of years) for an ordinary one which
would wither in a day.”

‘“T don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold,
tossing it contemptuously away. “It has no smell, and
the hard petals prick my nose ! ”

The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied
with her grief for the blighted roses that she did not even
notice the wonderful transmutation of her China bowl.
Perhaps this was all the better ; for Marygold was accus-
tomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures,
and strange trees and houses, that were painted on the
circumference of the bowl; and these ornaments were
now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the metal.

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee;
and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal
it may have been when he took it up, was gold when he



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 69

set it down. He thought to himself, that it was rather
an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his simple
habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be
puzzled with the difficulty of keeping his treasures safe.
The cupboard and the kitchen would no longer be a se-
cure place of deposit for articles so valuable as golden
bowls and coffee-pots.

Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to
his lips, and, sipping it, was astonished to perceive that,
the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became molten
gold, and, the next moment, hardened into a lump!

“Ha!” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.

* What is the matter, father?” asked litle Marygold,
gazing at him, with the tears still standing in her eyes.

“ Nothing, child, nothing!” said Midas. ‘ Hat your.
milk, before.it gets quite cold.”

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and,
by way of experiment, touched its tail with his finger.
To his horror, it was immediately transmuted from an
admirably fried brook trout into a gold fish, though not
one of those gold-fishes which people often keep in glass
globes, as ornaments for the parlor. No; but it was
really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been very
cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world.
Its little bones were now golden wires; its fins and tail
were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks of
the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a
nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal. piece of work, as you may suppose; ouly King Midas,
just at that moment, would much rather have had a real’



10 | THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable imita-
tion of one.

“T don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “how I
am to get any breakfast!”

He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely
broken it, when, to his cruel mortification, though, a mo-
ment before, it had been of the whitest wheat, it assumed
the yellow hue of Indian meal. To say the truth, if it
had really been a hot Indian cake, Midas would have
prized it a good deal more than he now did, when its so-
lidity and increased weight made him too bitterly sensible
that it was gold. Almost in despair, he helped himself
to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change
similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, in-
deed, might have been mistaken for one of those which
the famous goose, in the story-book, was in the habit of
laying; but King Midas was the only goose that had had
anything to do with the matter.

“Well, this is a quandary!” thought he, leaning back
in his chair, and looking quite enviously at little Mary-
gold, who was now eating her bread and milk with great
satisfaction. ‘Such a costly breakfast before me, and
nothing that can be eaten!”

Hoping that, by dint of great despatch, he might avoid
what he now felt to be a considerable inconvenience,
King Midas next snatched a hot potato, and attempted to
cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a hurry. But
the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his
‘mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which
so burnt his tongue that he roared aloud, and, jumping



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. il

up irom the table, began to dance and stamp about the
room, both with pain and affright.

“Father, dear father!’ cried little Marygold, who
was a very affectionate child, “‘ pray what is the matter ?
Have you burnt your mouth ? ”

“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t
know what is to become of your poor father! ”

And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of
such a -pitiable case, in all your lives? Here was liter-
ally the richest breakfast that could be set before a king,
and its very richness made it absolutely good for nothing.
The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread
and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas,
whose delicate food was really worth its weight in gold.
And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas
was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by dinner-
time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for sup-
per, which must undoubtedly consist of the same sort of
indigestible dishes as those now before him! How many
days, think you, would he survive a continuance of this
rich fare ?

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he
began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one de-
sirable thing in the world, or even the most desirable.
But this was only a passing thought. So fascinated was
Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he would
still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so
paltry a consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what
a price for one meal’s victuals! It would have been the
same as paying millions and millions of money (and as



12 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

many millions more as would take forever to reckon up)
for some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a
cup of coffee!

“It would be quite too dear,” thought Midas.

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the per-
plexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud, and
very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could endure
it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at her father,
and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find
out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet
and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started from
her chair, and, running to Midas, threw her arms affec-
tionately about his knees. He bent down and kissed
her. He felt that his little daughter’s love was worth
a thousand times more than he had gained by the Golden
Touch.

‘‘ My precious, precious Marygold ! ” cried he.

But Marygold made no answer.

Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift
which the stranger bestowed! The moment the lips
of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a change had
taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as
it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yel-
low tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful
brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and tender
little form grew hard and inflexible within her father’s
encircling arms. O, terrible misfortune! The victim of
lus insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a hu-
man child no longer, but a golden statue !

Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love,



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 19

grief, and pity, hardened into her face. It was the pret-
tiest and most woful sight that ever mortal saw. All
the features and tokens of Marygold were there; even
the beloved little dimple remained in her golden chin.
But, the more perfect was the resemblance, the greater
was the father’s agony at beholding this golden image,
which was all that was left him of a daughter. It had
been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt par-
ticularly fond of the child, to say that she was worth her
weight in gold. And now the phrase had become lit-
erally true. And now, at last, when it was too late, he
felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart, that loved
him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could be piled
up betwixt the earth and sky!

It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how
Midas, in the fulness of all his gratified desires, began
to wring his hands and bemoan himself; and how he
could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor yet to look
away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on the
image, he could not possibly believe that she was changed
to gold. But, stealing another glance, there was the
precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop on its yel-
low cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, that it
seemed as if that very expression must needs soften the
gold, and make it flesh again. This, however, could not
be. So Midas had only to wring his hands, and to wish
that he were the poorest man in the wide world, if the
loss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest rose-
color to his dear child’s face.

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly

4



74 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

beheld a stranger, standing near the door. Midas bent
down his head, without speaking; for he recognized the
same figure which had appeared to him, the day before,
in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him this dis-
astrous faculty of the Golden Touch. The stranger’s
countenance still wore a smile, which seemed to shed a
yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed on little
Marygold’s image, and on the other objects that had been
transmuted by the touch of Midas. |

“Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, ‘ pray how
do you succeed with the Golden Touch ?”

Midas shook his head.

“‘T am very miserable,” said lie.

“Very miserable, indeed!” exclaimed the stranger.
“And how happens that? Have I not faithfully kept
my promise with you? Have you not everything that
your heart desired P”’

“Gold is not everything,” answered Midas. ‘‘ And I
have lost all that my heart really cared for.”

“Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yes-
terday?”’ observed the stranger. “‘ Let us see, then.
Which of these two things do you think is really worth
the most, —the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of
clear cold water?”

“OQ blessed water!” exclaimed Midas. “ It will never
moisten my parched throat. again!”

“The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “ or
a crust of bread ?” | :

“ A piece of bread,’ answered Midas, ‘is worth all the
gold on earth!”



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 15D

“The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “or your
own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving, as she was
an hour ago?”

“OQ my child, my dear child cried poor Midas
wringing his hands. ‘I would not have given that one
small dimple in her chin for the power of changing this
whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!”

“ You are wiser than you were, King Midas

{ 7

{

sald
the stranger, looking seriously at him. ‘“‘ Your own
heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from
flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be
desperate. But you appear to be still capable of under-
standing that the commonest things, such as lie within
everybody’s grasp, are more valuable than the riches
which so: many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell
me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this
Golden Touch?”

“Tt is hateful to me!” replied Midas.

A fly settled on lus nose, but immediately fell to the
floor; for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered.

“Go, then,” said the stranger, ‘and plunge into the
river that glides past the bottom of your garden. ‘Take
Jikewise a vase of the same water, and sprinkle it over
any object that you may desire to change back again from
gold into its former substance. If you do this in earnest-
ness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief
which your avarice has occasioned.”

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head,
the lustrous stranger had vanished.
~ You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in



76 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

snatching up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it
was no longer earthen after he touched it), and hasten-
ing to the river-side. As he scampered along, and forced
his way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvel-
lous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind him, as
if the autumn had been there, and nowhere else. On
reaching the river’s brink, he plunged headlong in, with-
out waiting so much as to pull off his shoes.

“Poof! poof! poof!” snorted King Midas, as his
head emerged out of the water. ‘‘ Well; this is really a
refreshing bath, and I think it must have quite washed
away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my pitch-
er!” :

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened
his very heart to see it change from gold into the same
good, honest earthen vessel which it had been before he
touched it. He was conscious, also, of a change within
himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have
gone out of his bosom. No doubt, his heart had been
gradually losing its human substance, and transmuting —
itself into insensible metal; but had now softened back
again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on the
bank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and
was overjoyed to find that the delicate flower retained its
purple hue, instead of undergoing a yellow blight. The
curse of the Golden Touch had, therefore, really been re-
moved from him.

king Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I sup-
pose, the servants knew not what to make of it when
they saw their royal master so carefully bringing



THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 17

home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water,
which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had
wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean of
molten gold could have been. The first thing he did, as
you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls
over the golden figure of little Marygold.

- No sooner did it fall on her than you would have
laughed to see how the rosy color came back to the dear
child’s cheek !—and how she began to sneeze and sput-
ter !— and how astonished she was to find herself drip-
ping wet, and her father still throwing more water over
her!

“Pray do not, dear father!” cried she. “See how
you have wet my nice frock, which I put on only this
morning ! ”’

For Marygold did not know that she had been a little
golden statue; nor could she remember anything that
had happened since the moment when she ran with out-
stretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved
child how very foolish he had been, but contented himself
with showing how much wiser he had now grown. For
this purpose, he led little Marygold into the garden,
where he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over
the rose-bushes, and with such good effect that above
five thousand roses recovered their beautiful bloom.
There were two circumstances, however, which, as long
as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Gold-
en Touch. One was, that the sands of the river sparkled
like gold; the other, that little Marygold’s hair had now



78 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

a golden tinge, which he had never observed in it before
she had been transmuted -by the effect of his kiss. - This
change of hue. was really an improvement, and made
Marygold’s hair richer than in her babyhood.

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and
used to trot Marygold’s children on his knee, he was
fond of telling them this marvellous story, pretty much as
I have now told it to you. And then would he stroke
their glossy ringlets, and tell them that their hair, like-
wise, had a rich shade of gold, which they had inherited
from their mother.

“And, to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,”
quoth King Midas, diligently trotting the children all the
while, “ever since that morning, I have hated the very
sight of all other gold, save this!”







SHADOW BROOK.

AFTER THE STORY.

ELL, children,” inquired Eustace, who was
{| very fond of eliciting a definite opinion from
mAs) his auditors, “did you ever, in all your lives,
listen to a better story than this of ‘The Golden
Touch’ ?”

“Why, as to the story of King Midas,” said saucy
Primrose, “it was a famous one thousands of years be-
fore Mr. Eustace Bright came into the world, and will
continue to be so as long after he quits it. But some
people have what we may call ‘The Leaden Touch,’ and
make everything dull and heavy that they lay their fin-
gers upon.”

“You are a smart child, Primrose, to be not yet in
your teens,” said Eustace, taken rather aback by the
piquancy of her criticism. ‘ But you well know, in
your naughty little heart, that I have burnished the old
gold of Midas all over anew, and have made it shine as it
never shone before. And then that figure of Marygold!
Do you perceive no nice workmanship in that? And
how finely I have brought out and deepened the moral !





50. SHADOW BROOK.

What say you, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Clover, Peri-
winkle?. Would any of you, after hearing this story, be
so foolish as to desire the faculty of changing things to
gold ? ”

‘““T should like,” said Periwinkle, a girl of ten, “to
have the power of turning everything to gold with my
right forefinger; but, with my left forefinger, I should
want the power of changing it back again, if the first
change did not please me. And I know what I would
do, this very afternoon !”’

‘Pray tell me,” said Eustace.

“ Why,” answered Periwinkle, “I would touch every
one of these golden leaves on the trees with my left fore-
finger, and make,them all green again; so that we might
have the summer back at once, with no ugly winter in
the mean time.”

“OQ Periwinkle!” cried Eustace Bright, “there you
are wrong, and would doa great deal of mischief. Were
T Midas, I would make nothing else but just such golden
days as these over and over again, all the year through-
out. My best thoughts always come a little too late.
Why did not I tell you how old King Midas came to
America, and changed the dusky autumn, such as it is
In other countries, into the burnished beauty which it
here puts on? He gilded the leaves of the great volume
of Nature.”

“Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, a good little boy,
who was always making particular inquiries about. the
precise height of giants and the littleness of fairies, “how
big was Marygold, and how much did she weigh after
she was turned to gold?”



SHADOW BROOK. S|

She was about as tall as you are,” replied Eustace,
“and, as gold is very heavy, she weighed at least two
thousand pounds, and might have been coined into thirty
or forty thousand gold dollars. I wish Primrose were
worth half as much. Come, little people, let us clamber
out of the dell, and look about us.”

They did so. The sun was now an hour or two
beyond its noontide mark, and filled the great hol-
low of the valley with its western radiance, so that it
seemed to be brimming with mellow light, and to spill
it over the surrounding hillsides, like golden wine
out of a bowl. It was such a day that you could
not help saying of it, “There never was such a
day before!” although yesterday was just such a day,
and to-morrow will be just such another. Ah, but
there are very few of them in a twelvemonth’s cir-
cle! It is a remarkable peculiarity of these October
days, that each of them seems to occupy a great deal
of space, although the sun rises rather tardily at that
season of the year, and goes to bed, as little children
ought, at sober six o’clock, or even earlier. We can-
not, therefore, call the days long; but they appear, some-
how or other, to make up for their shortness by their
breadth;- and when the cool night comes, we are con-
scious of having enjoyed a big armful of life, since
morning. |

“Come, children, come!” cried Eustace Bright.
“More nuts, more nuts, more nuts! Full all your bas-
kets; and, at Christmas time, I will crack them for
you, and tell you beautiful stories!”

4 F



82 SHADOW BROOK.

So away they went; all of them in excellent spirits,
except little Dandelion, who, I am sorry to tell you, had
been sitting on a chestnut-bur, and was stuck as full as
a pincushion of its prickles. Dear me, how uncomfort-
ably he must have felt!





ar ietegieies—
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

ay








TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

_ INTRODUCTORY TO “THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN,”

ITE golden days of October passed away, as so
ber likewise, and the greater part of chill De-
cember, too. At last came merry Christmas, and Eus-
tace Bright along with it, making it all the merrier bv
his presence. And, the day after his arrival from col-
lege, there came a mighty snow-storm. Up to this time,.
the winter had held back, and had given us a good many.
mild days, which were like smiles upon its wrinkled vis-.
age. The grass had kept itself green, im sheltered places,
such as the nooks of southern hill-slopes, and along the
lee of the stone fences. It was but a week or two ago,
and since the beginning of the month, that the children.
had found a dandelion in bloom, on the margin of Shadow
Brook, where it glides out of the dell.

But no more green grass and dandelions now. This
was such a snow-storm! Twenty miles of it might have
been visible at once, between the windows of Tangle-
wood and the dome of Taconic, had it been possible to.





$6 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

see so far, among the eddying drifts that whitened all the
atmosphere. It seemed as if the hills were giants, and
were flinging monstrous handfuls of snow at one another,
in their enormous sport. So thick were the fluttering
snow-flakes, that even the trees, midway down the valley,
were hidden by them the greater part of the time. Some-
times, it is true, the little prisoners of Tanglewood could
discern a dim outline of Monument Mountain, and the
smooth whiteness of the frozen lake at its base, and the
black or gray tracts of woodland in the nearer landscape.
But these were merely peeps through the tempest.
Nevertheless, the children rejoiced greatly in the snow-
storm. They had already made acquaintance with it, by
tumbling heels over head into its highest drifts, and fling-
ing snow at one another, as we have just fancied the
erkshire mountains to be doing. And now they had
come back to their spacious play-room, which was as big
as the great drawing-room, and was lumbered with all
sorts of playthings, large and small. The biggest was
a rocking-horse, that looked like a real pony; and there
was a whole family of wooden, waxen, plaster, and china
dolls, besides rag-babies; and blocks enough to build
Bunker Hill Monument, and nine-pins, and balls, and
humming-tops, and battledores, and grace-sticks, and
skipping-ropes, and more of such valuable property than
I could tell of in a printed page. But the children liked
the snow-storm better than them all. It suggested so many
brisk enjoyments for to-morrow, and all the remainder
of the winter. The sleigh-ride; the slides down hill
iito the valley ; the snow-images that were to be shaped



TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. S7

out; the snow-fortresses that were to be built; and the
snow-balling to be carried on!

So the little folks blessed the snow-storm, and were
glad to see it come thicker and thicker, and watched
hopefully the long drift that was piling itself up in the
avenue, and was already higher than any of their heads.

“Why, we shall be blocked up till spring!” cried
they, with the hugest delight. “ What a pity that the
house is too high to be quite covered up! The little red
house, down yonder, will be buried up to its eaves.”

“You silly children, what do you want of more
snow ?”’ asked Eustace, who, tired of some novel that he
was skimming through, had strolled into the play-room.
“It has done mischief enough already, by spoiling the
only skating that 1 could hope for through the winter.
We shall see nothing more of the lake till April; and
this was to have been my first day upon it! Don’t you
pity me, Primrose ?”’

“QO, to be sure!” answered Primrose, laughing.
“ But, for your comfort, we will listen to another of your
old stories, such as you told us under the porch, and
down in the hollow, by Shadow Brook. Perhaps I shall
like them better now, when there is nothing to do, than
while there were nuts to be gathered, and beautiful
weather to enjoy.”

Hereupon, Periwinkle, Clover, Sweet Fern, and as
many others of the little fraternity and cousinhood as
were still at Tanglewood, gathered about Eustace, and
earnestly besought him for a story. The student yawned,
stretched himself, and then, to the vast admiration of the



88 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

small people, skipped three times back and forth over
the top of a chair, in order, as he explained to them, to
set his wits in motion.

“Well, well, children,” said he, after these prelimi-
naries, “since you insist, and Primrose has set her heart
upon it, I will see what can be done for you. And, that
you may know what happy days there were before snow-
storms came into fashion, I will tell you a story of the
oldest of all old times, when the world was as new as
Sweet Fern’s bran-new humming-top. There was then
but one season in the year, and that was the delightful
summer; and but one age for mortals, and that was
childhood.” |

“ LT never heard of that before,”’ said Primrose.

“Of course, you never did,” answered Eustace. “It
shall be a story of what nobody but myself ever dreamed
of, —a Paradise of children, — and how, by the naughti-
ness of just such a little imp as Primrose here, it all caine
to nothing.” : |

So Eustace Bright sat down in the chair which he had
just been skipping over, took Cowslip upon his knee, or-
dered silence throughout the auditory, and began a story
about a sad naughty child, whose name was Pandora, and
about her playfellow Epimetheus. You may read it, word
for word, in the pages that come next.







YONG, long ago, when this old world was in its
tender infancy, there was a child, named Epime-
theus, who never had either father or mother:
and, that he might not be lonely, another child, fatherless
aud motherless like himself, was sent from a far country,
to live with him, and be his playfellow and helpmate.
Her name was Pandora.

The first thing that Pandora saw, when she entered
the cottage where Epimetheus dwelt, was a great box.
And almost the first question which she put to him, after
crossing the threshold, was this, —

‘* Hpimetheus, what have you in that box ?”

‘““My- dear little Pandora,” answered Epimetheus,
“that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not to
ask any questions about it. The box was left here to be
kept safely, and I do not myself know what it contains.”

“But who gave it to you?” asked Pandora. ‘ And
where did it come from ?” |

“That 1s a secret, too,” replied Epimetheus.





90 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN,

{9

“How provoking!” exclaimed Pandora, pouting her
lip. “I wish the great ugly box were out of the way! ”

“Q come, don’t think of it any more,” cried Epime-
theus. ‘Let us run out of doors, and have some nice
play with the other children.”

It is thousands of years since EHpimetheus and Pan-
dora were alive; and the world, nowadays, is a very
different sort of thing from what it was in their time.
Then, everybody was a child. There needed no fathers
and mothers to take care of the children; because there
was no danger, nor trouble of any kind, and no clothes
to be mended, and there was always plenty to eat and
drink. Whenever a child wanted his dinner, he found it
growing on a tree; and, if he looked at the tree in the
morning, he could see the expanding blossom of that
night’s supper; or, at eventide, he saw the tender bud of
to-morrow’s breakfast. It was a very pleasant life in-

zed. No labor to be done, no tasks to be studied;
nothing but sports and dances, and sweet voices of chil-
dren talking, or carolling like birds, or gushing out in
merry laughter, throughout the livelong day.

What was most wonderful of all, the children never
quarrelled among themselves; neither had they any ery-
ing fits; nor, since time first began, had a single one of
these little mortals ever gone apart into a corner, and
sulked. O, what a good time was that to be alive in!
The truth is, those ugly little winged monsters, called
Troubles, which are now almost as numerous as mosqul-
toes, had never yet been seen on the earth. It is proba-
ble that the very greatest disquietude which a child had



THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 9]

ever experienced was Pandora’s vexation at not being —
able to discover the secret of the mysterious box. |

This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble ;
but, every day, it grew more and more substantial, until,
before a great while, the cottage of Epimetheus and
Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the other chil-
dren.

“Whence can the box have come?” Pandora contin-
ually kept saying to herself and to Epimetheus. “And
what in the world can be inside of it?”

“Always talking about this box!” said Epimetheus, at
last; for he had grown extremely tired of the subject.
“J wish, dear Pandora, you would try to talk of some-
thing else. Come, let us go and gather some ripe figs,
and eat them under the trees, for our supper. And I
know a vine that has the sweetest and juiciest grapes you
ever tasted.”

“ Always talking about grapes and figs!” cried Pan-
dora, pettishly.

“Well, then,” said Epimetheus, who was a very good-
tempered child, like a multitude of children in those
days, “let us run out and have a merry time with our
playmates.”

“JT am tired of merry times, gnd don’t care if I never
have any more!” answered our pettish little Pandora.
“And, besides, I never do have any. This ugly box!
I am so taken up with thinking about it all the time. I
insist upon your telling me what is inside of it.” |

“As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not
know!” replied Epimetheus, getting a little vexed.
‘How, then, can I tell you what is inside? ”’



92 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

“You might open it,” said Pandora, looking sideways
at, Epimetheus, “and then we could see for ourselves.” ©
“Pandora, what are you thinking of? ”’ exclaimed Epi-
metheus. |

And his face expressed so much horror at the idea
of looking into a box, which had been confided to him
on the condition of his never opening it, that Pandora
thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, how-
ever, she could not help thinking and talking about the
box.

“ At least,” said she, “you can tell me how it came
here.”

“Tt was left at the door,” replied Epimetheus, “ just
before. you came, by a person who looked very smiling
and intelligent, and who could hardly forbear laughing
as he put it down. He was dressed in an odd kind of a
cloak, and had on a cap that seemed to be made partly
of feathers, so that it looked almost as if it had wings.”

‘What sort of a staff had he ? ” asked Pandora.
- QO, the most curious staff you ever saw!”
Epimetheus. “It was like two serpents twisting around
a stick, and was carved so naturally that I, at first,
thought the serpents were alive.” | |

“T know him,” saidpPandora, thoughtfully. “ No-
body else has such a staff. It was Quicksilver; and he
brought me hither, as well as the box. No doubt he
intended it for me; and, most. probably, it contains pretty
dresses for me to wear, or toys for you and me to play
with, or something very nice for us both to eat!”

‘Perhaps so,’ answered Epimetheus, turning away.

‘cried



THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 93

But until Quicksilver comes back and tells us so, we
have neither of us any right to lift the lid of the box.”

“What a dull boy he is!” muttered Pandora, as
Epimetheus left the cottage. “I do wish he had a little
more enterprise ! ”

For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus had
gone out without asking Pandora to accompany him.
He went to gather figs and grapes by himself, or to seek
whatever amusement he could find, in other society than
his little playfellow’s. He was tired to death of hearing
about the box, and heartily wished that Quicksilver, or
whatever was the messenger’s name, had left it at some
other child’s door, where Pandora would never have set
eyes on it. So perseveringly as she did babble about this
one thing! The box, the box, and nothing but the box!
It seemed as if the box were bewitched, and as if the
cottage were not big enough to hold it, without Pandora’s
continually stumbling over it, and making Epimetheus
stumble over it likewise, and bruising all four of their
shins.

Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus should
have a box in his ears from morning till might ; especially
as the little people of the earth were so unaccustomed to
vexations, in those happy days, that they knew not how
to deal with them. Thus, a small vexation made as
much disturbance, then, as a far bigger one would, in
our own times.

After Epimetheus was gone, Pandora stood gazing at
the box. She had called it ugly, above a hundred times ;
but, in spite of all that she had said against it, it was



9 4 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

positively a very handsome article of furniture, and would
have been quite an ornament to any room in which it
should be placed. It was made of a beautiful kind of
— wood, with dark and rich veins spreading over its sur-
face, which was so highly polished that little Pandora
could see her face in it. As the child had no other look-
ing-glass, it is odd that she did not value the box, merely
on this account.

The edges and corners of the box were carved with
‘most wonderful skill. Around the margin there were
figures of graceful men and women, and the prettiest
children ever seen, reclining or sporting amid a profusion
of flowers and foliage; and these various objects were so
exquisitely represented, and were wrought together in
such harmony, that flowers, foliage, and human beings
seemed to combine into a wreath of mingled beauty. But
here and there, peeping forth from behind the carved
foliage, Pandora once or twice fancied that she saw a face
not so lovely, or something or other that was disagree-
able, and which stole the beauty out of all the rest.
Nevertheless, on looking more closely, and touching the
spot with her finger, she could discover nothing of the
kind. Some face, that was really beautiful, had been
made to look ugly by her catching a sideway glimpse
at it. |

The most beautiful face of all was done in what is called
high relief, in the centre of the lid. There was nothing
else, save the dark, smooth richness of the polished wood,
and this one face in the centre, with a garland of flowers
about its brow. Pandora had looked at this face a great



THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 95

many times, and imagined that the mouth could smile if
it liked, or be grave when it chose, the same as any living
mouth. The features, indeed, all wore a very lively and
rather mischievous expression, which looked almost as if
it needs must burst out of the carved lips, and utter itself
in words,

Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have been
something like this:

“Do not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can there
be in opening the box? Never mind that poor, simple
Epimetheus! You are wiser than he, and have ten times
as much spirit. Open the box, and see if you do not find
something very pretty !”

The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fastened ;
not by a lock, nor by any other such contrivance, but by
a very intricate knot of gold cord. There appeared to be
no end to this knot, and no beginning. Never was a knot
so cunningly twisted, nor with so many ins and outs,
which roguishly defied the skilfullest fingers to disentan-
gle them. And yet, by the very difficulty that there was
init, Pandora was the more tempted to examine the kuot,
and just see how it was made. Two or three times, al-
ready, she had stooped over the box, and taken the knot
between her thumb and forefinger, but without positively
trying to undo it.

“T really believe,” said she to herself, “that I begin
to see how it was done. Nay,. perhaps I could tie it up
again, after undoing it. There would be no harm in that,
surely. Even Epimetheus would not blame me for that.
I need not open the box, and should not, of course, with-



96 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

out the foolish boy’s consent, even if the knot were un-
tied.” |

It might have been better for Pandora if she had hada
little work to do, or anything to employ her mind upon,
so as not to be-so constantly thinking of this one subject.
But children led so easy a life, before any Troubles came
into the world, that they had really a great deal too much
leisure. They could not be forever playing at hide-and:
seek among the flower-shrubs, or at blind-man’s-buff with
garlands over their eyes, or at whatever other games had
been found out, while Mother Earth was in her babyhood.
When life is all sport, toil is the real play. There was
absolutely nothing to do. A little sweeping and dusting
about the cottage, [ suppose, and the gathering of fresh
flowers (which were only too abundant everywhere), and
arranging them in vases,— and poor little Pandora’s day’s
work was over. And then, for the rest of the day, there
was the box!

After all, [ am not quite sure that the box was not a
blessing to. her in its way. It supplied her with such a
variety of ideas to think of, and to talk about, whenever
she had anybody to listen! When she was in good-
humor, she could admire the bright polish of its sides,
and the rich border of beautiful faces and foliage that ran
all around it. Or, if she chanced to be ill-tempered, she
could give it a push, or kick it with her naughty little
foot. And many a kick did the box — (but it was a
mischievous box, as we shall see, and deserved all it got)
——many a kick did it receive. But, certain it is, if it had
not been for the box, our active-minded little Pandora



THE PARADISE OF CIIILDREN. 97

would not have known half so well how to spend her
time as she now did.

_ For it was really an endless employment to guess what
was inside. What could it be, indeed? Just imagine, my
little hearers, how busy your wits would be, if there were
a great box in the house, which, as you might have rea-
son to suppose, contained something new and pretty for
your Christmas or New-Year’s gifts. Do you think that
you should be less curious than Pandora? If you were
left alone with the box, might you not feel a little tempted
to litt the id? But you would not do it. O, fie! No,
no! Only, if you thought there were toys in it, it would
be so very hard to let slip an opportunity of taking just
one peep! I know not whether Pandora expected any
toys; for none had yet begun to be made, probably, in
those days, when the world itself was one great play-
thing for the children that dwelt upon it. But Pandora
was convinced that there was something very beautiful
and valuable in the box; and therefore she felt just as
anxious to take a peep as any of these little girls, here
around me, would have felt. And, possibly, a little more
so; but of that I am not quite so certain.

On this particular day, however, which we have so
long been talking about, her curiosity grew so much
greater than it usually was, that, at last, she approached
the box. She was more than half determined to open it,
if she could. Ah, naughty Pandora!

First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy ;
quite too heavy for the slender strength of a child, like
Pandora. She raised one end of the box a few inches

D G



QS THE PARADISE OF CILILDREN,

from the floor, and let it fall again, with a pretty loud
thump. A moment afterwards, she almost fancied that
she heard something stir, inside of the box. She applied
her ear as closely as possible, and listened. Positively,
there did seem to be a kind of stifled murmur, within!
Or was it merely the singing in Pandora’s ears? Or
could it be the beating of her heart? The child could
not quite satisfy herself whether she had heard anything
or no. But, at all events, her curiosity was stronger
than ever, |

As she drew back her head, her eyes fell upon the knot
of gold cord.

‘Tt must have been a very ingenious person who tied
this knot,” said Pandora to herself. “But I think I
could untie it, nevertheless. I am resolved, at least, to
find the two ends of the cord.”

So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and pried
into its intricacies as sharply as she could. Almost
without intending it, or quite knowing what she was
about, she was soon busily engaged in attempting to undo
it. Meanwhile, the bright sunshine came through the
open window; as did likewise the merry voices of the
children, playing at a distance, and perhaps the voice of
Epimetheus among them. Pandora stopped to listen.
What a beautiful day it was! Would it not be wiser, if
she were to let the troublesome knot alone, and think no
more about the box, but run and join her little playfel-
lows, and be happy?

All this time, however, her fingers were half uncon-
sciously busy with the knot; and happening to glance at



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NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S WORKS.

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{Wlouter-Boo

POR GIRLS AD BOTS.

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

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BOSTON:

JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY,
Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.

1876.


COPYRIGHT, 1852.
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

-

University Press: Wetcu, BIGELow, & Co.,
| CAMBRIDGE.




rendered into very capital reading for children.
In the httle volume here offered to the public, he has
worked up half a dozen of them, with this end in view.
A great freedom of treatment was necessary to his plan ;
but it will be observed by every one who attempts to
render these legends malleable in his intellectual furnace,
that they are marvellously independent of all temporary
modes and circumstances. They remain essentially the
same, after changes that would affect the identity of
almost anything else.

He does not, therefore, plead guilty to a sacrilege, in
having sometimes shaped anew, as his fancy dictated, the
forms that have been hallowed by an antiquity of two or
three thousand years. No epoch of time can claim a

copyright in these immortal fables. They seem never
al PREFACE.

to have been made; and certainly, so long as man
exists, they can never perish; but, by their indestructi-
bility itself, they are legitimate subjects for every age to
clothe with its own garniture of manners and sentiment,
and to imbue with its own morality. In the present
version they may have lost much of their classical aspect
(or, at all events, the author has not been careful to
preserve it), and have, perhaps, assumed a Gothic or
romantic guise.

In performing this pleasant task, —for it has been
really a task fit for hot weather, and one of the most
agreeable, of a literary kind, which he ever undertook, —
the author has not always thought it necessary to write
downward, in order to meet the comprehension of chil-
dren. He has generally suffered the theme to soar,
whenever such was its tendency, and when he himself
was buoyant enough to follow without an effort. Chil-
dren possess an unestimated sensibility to whatever is
deep or high, m imagination or feeling, so long as it is
simple, likewise. It is only the artificial and the com-

plex that bewilder them.
LENox, July 15, 1851.




PAGE
PREFACE , ° oe ‘ ° ° ° ‘ 5
THE GORGON’S HEAD.
TANGLEWOOD Porcu. — Introductory to ‘“ The Gor-
gon’s Head” yx. , , . , . tdi
THE Gorcon’s Heap. er . 17
TaNGLEWoop Porc. — After the Story. . ~ 48
THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
SHapow Brook. — Introductory to “The Golden
Touch”. , ; . . . ; . 58
THE GortpEen Toucu , ; . . . 57

SHapow Brook. — After the Story . ‘ ~ 09

THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

TANGLEWooD Piay-Room.— Introductory to ‘“ The
Paradise of Children”’ . . . . . . 85

THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN . . . . 89

TANGLEWOOD Piay-Room, — After the Story . ~ 110—
Vill CONTENTS.

THE TIIREE GOLDEN APPLES.
TANGLEWOOD FirestpE. — Introductory to “ The
Three Golden Apples” . , . . , . LIS
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES . . , 121

TANGLEWOOD FirestpE. — After the Story ; . 147

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

THE HILLsIpDE. — Introductory to ‘The Miraculous

Pitcher”. . . . . . . 158
THE Mrracvrous PITCHER . . . . 157
Tar Hurston. — After the Story . , , . 182

THE CHIMERA.
Baup-Summit. — Introductory to “The Chimera”? . 187
THE CHIMHRA ... to, . 191
BaLp-Summir. — After the Story . . , » 220


PPLE
THE GORGON’S HEAD.


*


TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GORGON’S HEAD.”



Ey Tanglewood, one fine autumnal morning, was
i>) assembled a merry party of little folks, with a
tall youth in the midst of them. They had planned a
nutting expedition, and were impatiently waiting for the
mists to roll up the hill-slopes, and for the sun to pour
the warmth of the Indian summer over the fields and
pastures, and into the nooks of the many-colored woods.
There was a prospect of as fine a day as ever gladdened
the aspeet. of this beautiful and comfortable world. As
yet, however, the morning mist filled up the whole length
and breadth of the valley, above which, on a gently
sloping eminence, the mansion stood.

This body of white vapor extended to within less than
a hundred yards of the house. It completely hid every-
thing beyond that distance, except a few ruddy or yellow
tree-tops, which here and there emerged, and were glori-
fied by the early sunshine, as was likewise the broad sur-
face of the mist. Four or five miles off to the south-
12 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

ward rose the summit of Monument Mountain, .and
seemed to be floating on a cloud. Some fifteen miles
farther away, in the same direction, appeared the loftier
Dome of Taconic, looking blue and indistinct, and hardly
so substantial as the vapory sea that almost rolled over
it. The nearer hills, which bordered the valley, were
half submerged, and were specked with. little cloud-
wreaths all the way to their tops. On the whole, there
was so much cloud, and so little solid earth, that it had
the effect of a vision.

The. children above-mentioned, being as full of life as
they could hold, kept overflowing from the porch of
Tanglewood, and scampering along the gravel-walk, or
rushing across the dewy herbage of the lawn. I can
hardly tell how many of these small people there were ;
not less than nine or ten, however, nor more than a
dozen, of all sorts, sizes, and ages, whether girls or boys.
They were brothers, sisters, and cousins, together with a
few of their young acquaintances, who had been invited
by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle to spend some of this delight-
ful weather with their own children, at Tanglewood. I
am afraid to tell you their names, or even to give them
any names which other children have ever been called by ;
because, to my certain knowledge, authors sometimes get
themselves into great trouble by accidentally giving the
names of real persons to the characters in their books.
For this reason, I mean to call them Primrose, Peri-
winkle, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover,
Huckleberry, Cowslip, Squash-blossom, Milkweed, Plan-
tam, and Buttercup; although, to be sure, such titles
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 13

might better suit a group of fairies than a company of
earthly children.

It is not to be supposed that these little folks were to
be permitted by their careful fathers and mothers, uncles,
aunts, or grandparents, to stray abroad into the woods
and fields, without the guardianship of some particularly
grave and elderly person. O no, indeed! In the first
sentence of my book, you will recollect that I spoke of a
tall youth, standing in the midst of the children. His
name — (and I shall let you know his real name, because
he considers it a great honor to have told the stories that
are here to be printed) — his name was Eustace Bright.
He was a student at Williams College, and had reached,
I think, at this period, the venerable age of eighteen
years; so that he felt quite like a grandfather towards
Periwinkle, Dandelion, Huckleberry, Squash-blossom,
Milkweed, and the rest, who were only half or a third
as venerable as he. A trouble in his eyesight (such as
many students think it necessary to have, nowadays, in
order to prove their diligence at their books) had kept
him from college a week or two after the beginning of
the term. But, for my part, I have seldom met with a
pair of eyes that looked as if they could see farther or
better than those of Eustace Bright.

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as
all Yankee students are; but yet of a healthy aspect, and
as light and active as if he had wings to his shoes. By
the by, bemg much addicted to wading through stream-
lets and across meadows, he had put on cowhide boots
for the expedition. He wore a linen blouse, a cloth cap,
14 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

and a pair of green spectacles, which he had assumed,
probably, less for the preservation of his eyes, than for
the dignity that they imparted to his countenance. In
either case, however, he mght as well have Iet them
alone; for Huckleberry, a mischievous little elf, crept
behind Eustace as he sat on the steps of the porch,
snatched the spectacles from his nose, and clapped them
on her own; and as the student forgot to take them
back, they fell off into the grass, and lay there -till the
next spring.

Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great
fame among the children, as a narrator of wonderful
stories; and though he sometimes pretended to be an-
noyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and
always for more, yet I really doubt whether he liked
anything quite so well as to tell them. You might have
seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, Sweet
Fern, Cowslip, Buttereup, and most of their playmates,
besought him to relate one of his stories, while they were
waiting for the mist to elear up.

“Yes, Cousin Eustaee,’’ said Primrose, who was a
bright girl of twelve, with laughing eyes, and a nose
- that turned up a little, “the morning 1s certainly the best
time for the stories with which you so often tire out our
patience. We shall be in less danger of hurting your
feelings, by falling asleep at the most. interesting points,
— as little Cowslip and I did last night!”

“Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six
years old; “I did not fall asleep, and I only shut my
eyes, so as to see a picture of what Cousin Eustace was
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 15

telling about. His stories are good to hear at night,
because we can dream about them asleep; and good in
the morning, too, because then we can dream about them
awake. So I hope he will tell us one this very minute.”

“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace; “cer-
tainly you shall have the best story I can think of, if
it were only for defending me so well from that naughty
Primrose. But, children, I have already told you so
many fairy tales, that I doubt whether there is a single
one which you have not heard at least twice over. I am
afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if I repeat any of
them again.”

“No, no, no!” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plantain,
and half a dozen others. “ We like a story all the better
for having heard it two or three times before.”

And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story
seems often to deepen its mark in their interest, not
merely by two or three, but by numberless repetitions.
But Hustace Bright, in the exuberance of his resources,
scorned to avail himself of an advantage which an older
story-teller would have been glad to grasp at.

“It would be a great pity,” said he, “if a man of my
learning (to say nothing of original fancy) could not find
a new story every day, year in and year out, for children
such as you. I will tell you one of the nursery tales
that were made for the amusement of our great old
grandmother, the Harth, when she was a child in frock
and pinafore. There are a hundred such; and it is a
wonder to me that they have not long ago been put into
picture-books for little girls and boys. But, instead of
16 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

that, old gray-bearded grandsires pore over them, In
musty volumes of Greek, and puzzle themselves with try-
ing to find out when, and how, and for what they were
made.” |

“Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace!” eried all
the children at once; “talk no more about your stories,
but begin.”

“Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace
Bright, “and be all as still as so many mice. At the
slightest interruption, whether from great, naughty Prim-
rose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite the story
short off between my teeth, and swallow the untold part.
But, in the first place, do any of you know what a Gor-
gon is P”

“I do,” said Primrose.

“Then hold your tongue!” rejoimed Eustace, who had
rather she would have known nothing about the matter. -
“Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell you a sweet
pretty story of a Gorgon’s head.”

And so he did, as you may begin to read on the next
page. Working up his sophomorical erudition with a
good deal of tact, and incurring great obligations to Pro-
fessor Anthon, he, nevertheless, disregarded all classical
authorities, whenever the vagrant audacity of his imagina-
tion impelled him to do so.


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THE GORGON’S HEAD.

SIE RSEUS was the son of Danaé, who was the

daughter of a king. And when Perseus was a
very little boy, some wicked people put his
mother and himself ito a chest, and set them afloat upon
the sea. The wind blew freshly, and drove the chest
away from the shore, and the uneasy billows tossed it up
and down; while Danaé clasped her child closely to her
bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its
foamy crest over them both. The chest sailed on, how-
ever, and neither sank nor was upset; until, when night
was coming, it floated so near an island that it got en-
tangled in a fisherman’s nets, and was drawn out high
and dry upon the sand. The island was called Seriphus,
and it was reigned over by King Polydectes, who hap-
pened to be the fisherman’s brother.

This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an exceed-
ingly humane and upright man. He showed great kind-
ness to Danaé and her little boy; and continued to be-
friend them, until Perseus had grown to be a handsome
B


18 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

youth, very strong and active, and skilful in the use of
arms. Long before this time, King Polydectes had seen
the two strangers —the mother and her child — who
had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he
was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman,
but extremely wicked, he resolved to send Perseus on a
dangerous enterprise, in which he would probably be
killed, and then to do some great mischief to Danaé her-
self. So this bad-hearted king spent a long while in con-
sidering what was the most dangerous thing that a young
man could possibly undertake to perform. At last, hav-
ing hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn out as
fatally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus.

The young man came to the palace, and found the king
sitting upon his throne.

“ Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily
upon him, “you are grown up afine young man. You,and
your good mother have received a great deal of kindness
from myself, as well as from my worthy brother the fish-
erman, and I suppose you would not be sorry to repay
some of it.”’

‘Please your Majesty,”’ answered Perseus, “I would
willingly risk my life to do so.”

“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a cunning
smile on his lips, “I have a little adventure to propose to
you; and, as you are a brave and enterprising youth,
you will doubtless look upon it as‘a great piece of good
luck to have so rare an opportunity of distinguishing
yourself. You must know, my good Perseus, I think of
getting married to the beautiful Princess Hippodamia ;
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 19

and if is customary, on these occasions, to make the
bride a present of some far-fetched and elegant curiosity.
I have been a little perplexed, I must honestly confess,
where to obtain anything likely to please a princess of
her exquisite taste. But, this morning, I flatter myself,
I have thought of precisely the article.”

“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?”
cried Perseus, eagerly.

“You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe
you to be,” replied King Polydectes, with the utmost
graciousness of manner. ‘ The bridal gift which I have
set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hippodamia
is the head of the Gorgon Medusa, with the snaky locks;
and I depend on you, my dear Perseus, to bring it to
me. So, as L am anxious to settle affairs with the
princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the
better I shall be pleased.”

“YT will set out to-morrow morning,” answered
Perseus.

“Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king.
“And, Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be
careful to make a clean stroke, so as not to injure its
appearance. You must bring it home in the very best
condition, in order to suit the exquisite taste of the
beautiful Princess Hippodamia.”

Perseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hear-
ing before Polydectes burst into a laugh; being greatly.
amused, wicked king that he was, to find how readily the
young man fell into the snare. The news quickly spread
abroad, that Perseus had undertaken to cut off the head
2() THE GORGON’S HEAD.

of Medusa with the snaky locks. Everybody was re-
joiced ; for most of the inhabitants of the island were
as wicked as the king himself, and would have liked
nothing better than to see some enormous mischief hap-
pen to Danaé and her son. The only good man in this
unfortunate island of Seriphus appears to have -been the
fisherman. As Perseus walked along, therefore, the
people pointed after him, and made mouths, and winked
to one another, and ridiculed him as loudly as they
dared.

“Ho, ho!” cried they; ‘‘ Medusa’s snakes will sting
him soundly ! ”

Now, there were three Gorgons alive, at that period ;
and they were the most strange and terrible monsters
that had ever been since the world was made, or that
have been seen in after days, or that are likely to be seen
in all time to come. J hardly know what sort of crea-
ture or hobgoblin to call them. They were three sisters,
and seem to have borne some distant resemblance to
women, but were really a very frightful and mischievous
species of dragon. It is; indeed, difficult to imagine
what hideous beings these three sisters were. Why, in-
stead of locks of hair, if you can believe me, they had
each of them a hundred enormous snakes growing on
their heads, all alive, twisting, wriggling, curling, and
thrusting out their venomous tongues, with forked stings
at the end! The teeth of the Gorgons were terribly
long tusks ; their hands were made of brass; and their
bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were some-
thing as hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too,
THE GORGON’S TIEAD. 1

and exceedingly splendid ones, I can assure you; for
every feather in them was pure, bright, glittering, bur-
nished gold, and they looked very dazzlingly, no doubt,
when the Gorgons were flying about in the sunshine.

But when people happened to cateh a glimpse of ‘their
glittering brightness, aloft in the air, they seldom stopped
to gaze, but ran and hid themselves as speedily as they
could. You will think, perhaps, that they were afraid of
being stung by the serpents that served the Gorgons
instead of hair, —or of having their heads bitten off by
their ugly tusks, — or of being torn all to pieces by their
brazen claws. Well, to be sure, these were some of the
dangers, but by no means the greatest, nor the most diffi-
cult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abomina-
ble Gorgons was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his
eyes full upon one of their faces, he was certain, that
very instant, to be changed from warm flesh and blood
into cold and lifeless stone !

Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very danger-
ous adventure that the wicked King Polydectes had con-
trived for this Innocent young man. Perseus himself,
when he had thought over the matter, could not help -
seeing that he had very little chance of coming safely
through it, and that he was far more likely to become a
stone image than to bring back the head of Medusa with
the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other difficulties,
there was one which it would have puzzled an older man
than Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with
and slay this golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked,
brazen-clawed, snaky-haired monster, but he must do it
Oo THE GORGON’S HEAD.

with his eyes shut, or, at least, without so much as a
glance at the enemy with whom he was contending. -
Else, while his arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen
ito stone, and stand with that uplifted arm for centuries,
until time, and the wind and weather, should crumble
him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to be-
fall a young man who wanted to perform a great: many
brave deeds, and to enjoy a great deal of happiness, in
this bright and beautiful world.

So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that
Perseus could not bear to tell his mother what he had
undertaken to do. He therefore took his shield, girded
on his sword, and crossed over from the island to the
mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place, and
hardly reframed from shedding tears. |

But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard
a voice close beside him.

“ Perseus,” said the voice, ‘why are you sad?”

He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had
hidden it, and, behold! all alone as Perseus had sup-
posed himself to be, there was a stranger in the solitary
place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and remarkably shrewd-
looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders, an
odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in
his hand, and a short and very crooked sword hanging
by his side. He was exceedingly light and active in his
figure, like a person much accustomed to gymnastic ex-
ercises, and well able to leap or run. Above all, the
stranger had such a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect
(though it was certainly a little mischievous, into the
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 93

bargain), that Perseus could not help feeling his spirits
grow livelier, as he gazed at him. Besides, being really
a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that any-
body should have found him with tears in his eyes, like
a timid little school-boy, when, after all, there might be
no oceasion for despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes, and
answered the stranger pretty briskly, putting on as brave
a look as he could.

“T am not so very sad,” said he; ‘only thoughtful
about an adventure that I have undertaken.”

“Oho!” answered the stranger. ‘‘ Well, tell me all
about it, and possibly I may be of service to you. I have
helped a good many young men through adventures that
looked d:fficult enough beforehand. Perhaps you may
have heard of me. J have more names than one; but
the name of Quicksilver suits me as well as any other.
Tell me what your trouble is, and we will talk the matter
over, and see what can be done.”

The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite
a different mood from his former one. He resolved to tell
Quicksilver all his difficulties, since he could not easily
be worse off than he already was, and, very possibly, his
new friend might give him some advice that would turn
out well in the end. So he let the stranger know, in few
words, precisely what the case was ; — how that King
Polydectes wanted the head of Medusa with the snaky
locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Prmcess Hippo-
damia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him,
but was afraid of being turned into stone.

“ And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver,
9 4, TIE GORGON’S HEAD.

with his mischievous smile. ‘ You would make a very
handsome marble statue, it is true, and it would be a
considerable number of centuries before you crumbled
away; but, on the whole, one would rather be a young
man for a few years, than a stone image for a great
many.” .

“QO, far rather!’ exclaimed Perseus, with the tears
again standing in his eyes. ‘“‘ And, besides, what would
my dear mother do, if her beloved son were turned into
a stone?”

“Well, well; let us hope that the affair will not turn
out so very badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encour-
aging tone. ‘lam the very person to help you, if any-
body can. My sister and myself will do our utmost to
bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as it now
looks.”

“Your sister ?” repeated Perseus.

“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. ‘“‘She is very
wise, I promise you; and as for myself, | generally have
all my wits about me, such as they are. If you show |
yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you
need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first
of all, you must polish your shield, till you can see your
face in it as distinctly as in a mirror.”

This seemed to Perseus rather an odd begmning of
the adventure; for he thought it of far more conse-
quence that the shield should be strong enough to defend ©
him from the Gorgon’s brazen claws, than that it should
be bright enough to show him the reflection of his face.
However, concluding that Quicksilver knew better than
pw

THE GORGON’S HEAD. 29

himself, le immediately set to work, and scrubbed the
shield with so much diligence and good-will, that it very
quickly shone like the moon at harvest-time. Quicksil-
ver looked at it with a smile, and nodded his approbation.
Then, taking off his own short and crooked sword, he
girded it about Perseus, instead of the one which he had
before worn.

“No sword but mine will answer your purpose,” ob-
served he; “the blade has a most excellent temper, and
will cut through iron and brass as easily as through the
slenderest twig. And now we will set out. The next
thing is to find the Three Gray Women, who will tell us
where to find the Nymphs.”

“The Three Gray Women!” eried Perseus, to whom

this seemed only a new difficulty in the path of his adven-
ture; “pray, who may the Three Gray Women be? IT
never heard of them before.”
_ «They are three very strange old ladies,” said Quick-
silver, laughing. ‘They have but one eye among them,
and only one tooth. Moreover, you must find them out
by starlight, or in the dusk of the evening; for they
never show themselves by the light either of the sun or
moon.’

“But,” said Perseus, “why should I waste my time
with these Three Gray Women? Would it not be better
to set out at once in search of the terrible Gorgons ?”’

“No, no,’ answered his friend. “There are other
things to be done, before you can find your way to the
Gorgons. There is nothing for it but to hunt up these
old ladies; and when we meet with them, you may be

2
26 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

sure that the Gorgons are not a great way off. Come,
let us be stirring!”

Perseus, by this time, felt so much confidence in his
companion’s sagacity, that he made no more objections,
and professed himself ready to begin the adventure im-
mediately. They accordingly set out, and walked at a
pretty brisk pace; so brisk, indeed, that Perseus found
it rather d:fficult to keep up with his nimble friend Quick-
silver. To say the truth, he had a singular idea that
Quicksilver was furnished with a pair of winged shoes,
which, of course, helped him along marvellously. And
then, too, when Perseus looked sideways at him, out of
the corner of his eye, he seemed to see wings on the side
of his head; although, if he turned a full gaze, there
were no such things to be perceived, but only an odd
kind of cap. But, at all events, the twisted staff was
evidently a great convenience to Quicksilver, and enabled
him to proceed so fast, that Perseus, though a remark-
ably active young man, began to be out of breath.
“Here!” eried Quicksilver, at last,— for he knew well
enough, rogue that he was, how hard Perseus found it to
keep pace with him,— “take you the staff, for you need
it a great deal more than I. Are there no better walkers
than yourself, in the island of Seriphus ?”

“T could walk pretty well,” said Perseus, glancing
slyly at his companion’s feet, ‘if I had only a pair of
winged shoes.”

“We must see about getting you a pair,” answered
Quicksilver.

But the staff helped Perseus along so bravely, that he
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 97

no longer felt the slightest weariness. In fact, the stick
seemed to be alive in his hand, and to lend some of its
life to Perseus. He and Quicksilver now walked onward
at their ease, talking very sociably together; and Quick-
silver told so many pleasant stories about his former ad-
ventures, and how well his wits had served him on vari-
ous occasions, that Perseus began to think him a very
wonderful person. He evidently knew the world; and
nobody is so charming to a young man as a friend who
has that kind of knowledge. Perseus listened the more
eagerly, in the hope of brightening his own wits by what
he heard.

At last, he happened to recollect that Quicksilver had
spoken of a sister, who was to lend her assistance in the
adventure which they were now bound upon.

“Where is she?” he inquired. ‘Shall we not meet
her soon ?”

“All at the proper time,” said his companion. ‘“‘ But
tlus sister of mine, you must understand, is quite a dif-
ferent sort of character from myself. She is very grave
and prudent, seldom smiles, never laughs, and makes it a
rule not to utter a word unless she has something par-
ticularly profound to say. Neither will she listen to any
but the wisest conversation.”

“Dear me!” ejaculated Perseus ; “I shall be afraid
to say a syllable.”

“She is a very accomplished person, I assure you,”
continued Quicksilver, “ and has all the arts and sciences
at her fingers’ ends. In short, she is so immoderately
wise, that many people call her wisdom personified. But,
28 | THE GORGON’S HEAD.

to tell you the truth, she has hardly vivacity enough for
my taste; and I think you would scarcely find her so
pleasant a travellmg companion as myself. She has her
good points, nevertheless; and vou will find the benefit
of them, in your encounter with the Gorgons.”

By this time it had grown quite dusk. They were
now come to a very wild and desert place, overgrown
with shaggy bushes, and so silent and solitary that no-
body seemed ever to have dwelt or journeyed there. All
was waste and desolate, in the gray twilight, which grew
every moment more obscure. Perseus looked about him,
rather disconsolately, and asked Quicksilver whether they
had a great deal farther to go.

“Hist! hist!°’ whispered his companion. ‘ Make
no noise! This is just the time and place to meet the
Three Gray Women. Be careful that they do not see
you before you see them; for, though they have but a
single eye among the three, it is as sharp-sighted as half
a dozen common eyes.”

“ But what must I do,’ asked Perseus, “ when we
meet them ?”

Quicksilver explained to Perseus how the Three Gray
Women managed with their one eye. They were in the
habit, it seems, of changing it from one to another, as if
it had been a pair of spectacles, or — which would have
suited them better — a quizzing-glass. When one of the
three had kept the eye a certain time, she took it out of
the socket and passed it to one of her sisters, whose turn
it might happen to be, and who immediately clapped it
into her own head, and enjoyed a peep at the visible
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 29

world. Thus it will easily be understood that only one
of the Three Gray Women could see, while the other two
were in utter darkness; and, moreover, at the instant
when the eye was passing from hand to hand, neither of
the poor old ladies was able to see awink. I have heard
of a great many strange things, in my day, and have
witnessed not a few; but none, it seems to me, that can
compare with the oddity of these Three Gray Women,
all peeping through a single eye.

So thought Perseus, likewise, and was so astonished
that he almost fancied his companion was joking with him,
and that there were no such old women in the world.

“You will soon find whether I tell the truth or
no,” observed Quicksilver. “Hark! hush! hist! hist!
There they come, now ! ”

Perseus looked earnestly through the dusk of the
evening, and there, sure enough, at no great distance off,
he descried the Three Gray Women. The light being so
faint, he could not well make out what sort of figures
they were; only he discovered that they had long gray
hair; and, as they came nearer, he saw that two of them
had but the empty socket of an eye, in the middle of
their foreheads. But, in the middle of the third sister’s
forehead, there was a very large, bright, and piercing
eye, which sparkled like a great diamond in a ring; and
so penctrating did it seem to be, that Perseus could not
help thinking it must possess the gift of seeing in the
darkest midnight just as perfectly as at noonday. The
sight of three persons’ eyes was melted and collected into
that single one.
30 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

Thus the three old dames got along about as comfort-
ably, upon the whole, as if they could all see at once.
She who chanced to have the eye in her forehead led the
other two by the hands, peeping sharply about her, all
the while; insomuch that Perseus dreaded lest she should
see right through the thick clump of bushes behind which
he and Quicksilver had hidden themselves. My stars!
it was positively terrible to be within reach of so very
sharp an eye!

But, before they reached the clump of bushes, one of
the Three Gray Women spoke.

“Sister! Sister Scarecrow!” cried she, “you have
had the eye long enough. It is my turn now!”

“Let me keep it a moment longer, Sister Nightmare,”
answered Searecrow. “I thought I had a glimpse of
something behind that thick bush.”

“ Well, and what of that?” retorted Nightmare, peev-
ishly. “Cant I see into a thick bush as easily as your-
self? The eye is mine, as well as yours; and I know
the use of it as well as you, or may be a little better. I
insist upon taking a peep immediately !”

But here the third sister, whose name was Shakejoint,
began to complain, and said that it was her turn to have
the eye, and that Scarecrow and Nightmare wanted to
keep it all to themselves. To end the dispute, old Dame
Scarecrow took the eye out of her forehead, and held it
forth in her hand.

“Take it, one of you,” cried she, “and quit this fool-
ish quarrelling. For my part, I shall be glad of a little
thick darkness. Take it quickly, however, or I must
clap it into my own head again!”
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 31

_ Accordingly, both Nightmare and Shakejoint stretched
out their hands, groping eagerly to snatch the eye out of
the hand of Scarecrow. But, being both alike blind,
they could not easily find where Scarecrow’s hand was ;
and Scarecrow, being now just as much in the dark as
Shakejoimt and Nightmare, could not at once meet either
of their hands, in order to put the eye into it. Thus (as
you will see, with half an eye, my wise little auditors),
these good old dames had fallen into a strange perplex-
ity. For, though the eye shone and glistened like a star,
as Scarecrow held it out, yet the Gray Women caught
not the least glinpse of its light, and were all three in
utter darkness, from too impatient a desire to see.

(Juicksilver was so much tickled at beholding Shake-
joint and Nightmare both groping for the eye, and each
finding fault with Scarecrow and one another, that he
could scarcely help laughing aloud.

“Now is your time!” he whispered to Perseus.
(Quick, quick! before they can clap the eye into either
of their heads. Rush out upon the old ladies, and snatch
it from Scarecrow’s hand !”

In an instant, while the Three Gray Women were still
scolding each other, Perseus leaped from behind the
clump of bushes, and made himself master of the prize.
The marvellous eye, as he held it in his hand, shone very
brightly, and seemed to look up into his face with a
knowing air, and an expression as if it would have
winked, had it been provided with a pair of eyelids for
that purpose. But the Gray Women knew nothing of
what had happened; and, each supposing that one of her
32 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

sisters was in possession of the eye, they began their
quarrel anew. At last, as Perseus did not wish to put
~ these respectable dames to greater inconvenience than was
really necessary, he thought it right to explain the matter.

“My good ladies,” said he, “pray. do not be angry
with one another. If anybody is in fault, it is myself;
for I have the honor to hold your very brilliant and ex-
cellent eye in my own hand!”

“You! you have our eye! And who are you?”
screamed the Three Gray Women, all in a breath; for
they were terribly frightened, of course, at hearing a
strange voice, and discovering that their eyesight had got
into the hands of they could not guess whom. “O,
what shall we do, sisters? what shall we do? We are
all in the dark! Give us our eye! Give us our one,
precious, solitary eye! You have two of your own!
Give us our eye!”

“Tell them,” whispered Quicksilver to Perseus, “ that
they shall have back the eye as soon as they direct you
where to find the Nymphs who have the flying slippers,
the magic wallet, and the helmet of darkness.”

“My dear, good, admirable old ladies,” said Perseus,
addressing the Gray Women, “there is no occasion for
putting yourselves into such a fright. I am by no means
a bad young man. You shall have back your eye, safe
and sound, and as bright as ever, the moment you tell me
where to find the Nymphs.”

“The Nymphs! Goodness me! sisters, what Nymphs
does he mean?” screamed Scarecrow. ‘There are a
great many Nymphs, people say ; some that go a hunting
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 33

in the woods, and some that live inside of trees, and some
that have a comfortable home in fountains of water. We
know nothing at all about them. We are three unfortu-
nate old souls, that go wandering about in the dusk, and
never had but one eye amongst us, and that one you have
stolen away. O, give it back, good stranger ! — who-
ever you are, give it back!” ——

All this while the Three Gray Women were groping
with their outstretched hands, and trying their utmost to
get hold of Perseus. But he took good care to keep out
of their reach.

“My respectable dames,” said he, —for his mother
had taught him always to use the greatest civility,— “I
hold your eye fast in my hand, and shall keep it safely
for you, until you please to tell me where to find these
Nymphs. The Nymphs, I mean, who keep the enchanted
wallet, the flying slippers, and the what is it P — the hel-
met of invisibility.”

“Mercy on us, sisters! what is the young man
talking about?” exclaimed Scarecrow, Nightmare, and
Shakejoint, one to another, with great appearance of
astonishment. ‘A pair of flying slippers, quoth he!
His heels would quickly fly higher than his head, if he
were silly enough to put them on. Anda helmet of in-
visibility! How could a helmet make him invisible, un-
less it were big enough for him to hide under it? And
an enchanted wallet! What sort of a contrivance
may that be, I wonder? No, no, good stranger! we can
tell you nothing of these marvellous things. You have
two eyes of your own, and we have but a single one

2% Cc
9

34 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

amongst us three. You can find out such wonders better
than three blind old creatures, like us.”

Perseus, hearing them talk in this way, began really to
think that the Gray Women knew nothing of the mat-
ter; and, as it grieved him to have put them to so much
trouble, he was just on the point of restoring their eye
and asking pardon for his rudeness in snatching it away.
But Quicksilver caught his hand.

“Don’t let them make a fool of you!” said he.
“These Three Gray Women are the only persons in
the world that can tell you where to find the Nymphs;
and, unless you get that information, you will never
succeed in cutting off the head of Medusa with the
snaky locks. Keep fast hold of the eye, and all will go
well.”

As it turned out, Quicksilver was in the right. There
are but few things that people prize so much as they
do their eyesight; and the Gray Women valued their
single eye as Inghly as if it had been half a dozen,
which was the number they ought to have had. Find-
ing that there was no other. way of recovering it, they at
last told Perseus what he wanted to know. No sooner
had they done so, than he immediately, and with the ut-
most respect, clapped the eye into the vacant socket in
one of their foreheads, thanked them for their kindness,
and bade them farewell. Before the young man was out
of hearing, however, they had got into a new dispute,
because he happened to have given the eye to Scarecrow,
who had already taken her turn of it when their trouble
with Perseus commenced.
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 39

It is greatly to be feared that the Three Gray Women
were very much in the habit of disturbing their mutual
harmony by bickerings of this sort; which was the more
pity, as they could not conveniently do without one an-
other, and were evidently intended to be inseparable
companions. As a general rule, I would advise all peo-
ple, whether sisters or brothers, old or young, who
chance to have but one eye amongst them, to cultivate
forbearance, and not all insist upon peeping through it
at once. |

Quicksilver and Perseus, in the mean time, were mak-
ing the best of their way in quest of the Nymphs. The
old dames had given them such particular directions,
that they were not long in finding them out. They
proved to be very different persons from Nightmare,
Shakejoint, and Scarecrow ; for, instead of being old,
they were young and beautiful; and instead of one eye
amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph had two exceed-
ingly bright eyes of her own, with which she looked very
kindly at Perseus. They seemed to be acquainted with
Quicksilver; and when he told them the adventure
which Perseus had undertaken, they made no difficulty
about giving him the valuable articles that were in their
custody. In the first place, they brought ont what ap-
peared to be a small purse, made of deer-skin, and curi-
ously embroidered, and bade him be sure and keep it
safe. This was the magic wallet. The Nymphs next
produced a pair of shoes, or slippers, or sandals, with a
nice little pair of wings at the heel of each.

“ Put them on, Perseus,” said Quicksilver. “ You
36 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

will find yourself as light-heeled as you can desire, for
the remainder of our journey.”

So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on,
while he laid the other on the ground by his side. Un-
expectedly, however, this other slipper spread its wings,
fluttered up off the ground, and would probably have
flown away, if Quicksilver had not made a leap, and
luckily caught it in the air.

“Be more careful,’ said he, as he gave it back to
Perseus. ‘‘ It would frighten the birds, up aloft, if they
should see a flying slipper amongst them.”

When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful
slippers, he was altogether too buoyant to tread on earth.
Making a step or two, lo and behold! upward he popt
into the air, high above the heads of Quicksilver and the
Nymphs, and found it very difficult to clamber down
again. Winged slippers, and all such high-flying contriv-
auces, are seldom quite easy to manage, until one grows
a little accustomed to them. Quicksilver laughed at lis
companion’s involuntary activity, and told him that he
must not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait for
the invisible helmet.

The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its
dark tuft of waving plumes, all in readiness to put upon
his head. And now there happened about as wonderful
an incident as anything that I have yet told you. The
instant before the helmet was put on, there stood Per-
seus, a beautiful young man, with golden ringlets and rosy
cheeks, the crooked sword by his side, and the brightly
polished shield upon his arm, —a figure that seemed all
THE GORGON’S HEAD. O7

made up of courage, sprightliness, and glorious light.
But when the helmet had descended over his white brow,
there was no longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing
but empty air! Even the helmet, that covered him with
its invisibility, had vanished!

“Where are you, Perseus?” asked Quicksilver.

“Why, here, to be sure!” answered Perseus, very

quietly, although his voice séemed to come out of the
transparent atmosphere. “Just where I was a moment
ago. Don’t you see me?”
_ © No, indeed!’ answered his friend. ‘ You are hid-
den under the helmet. But, if I cannot see you, neither
can the Gorgons. Tollow me, therefore, and we will try
your dexterity in using the winged slippers.”

With these words, Quicksilver’s cap spread its wings,
as if his head were about to fly away from his shoulders ;
but his whole figure rose lightly into the air, and Perseus
followed. By the time they had ascended a few hundred
feet, the young man began to feel what a delightful thing
it was to leave the dull earth so far beneath him, and to
be able to flit about like a bird.

It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, and
saw the round, bright, silvery moon, and thought that he
should desire nothing better than to soar up thither, and
spend his life there. Then he looked downward again,
and saw the earth, with its seas, and lakes, and the silver
courses of its rivers, and its snowy mountain-peaks, and
the breadth of its fields, and the dark cluster of its
woods, and its cities of white marble; and, with the
moonshine sleeping over the whole scene, if was as beau-
Te) THE GORGON’S HEAD.

tiful as the moon or any star could be. And, among
other objects, he saw the island of Seriphus, where his
dear mother was. Sometimes, he and Quicksilver ap-
proached a cloud, that, at a distance, looked as if it were
made of fleecy silver; although, when they plunged into
it, they found themselves chilled and moistened with gray
mist. So swift was their flight, however, that, in an
instant, they emerged from the cloud into the moonlight
again. Once, a high-soaring eagle flew right against the
invisible Perseus. The bravest sights were the meteors,
that gleamed suddenly out, as if a bonfire had been
kindled in the sky, and made the moonshine pale for as
much as a hundred miles around them.

As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied
that he could hear the rustle of a garment close by his
side ; and it was on the side opposite to the one where
~ he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver was visible.

‘Whose garment is this,” inquired Perseus, “that
keeps rustling close beside me, in the brecze ?”

“OQ, it is my sister’s!” answered Quicksilver. “She is
coming along with us, as. I told you she would. We
could do nothing without the help of my sister. You
have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes, too!
Why, she can see you, at this moment, just as distinctly
as if you were not invisible; and Ill venture to say, she
will be the first to discover the Gorgons.” .

By this time, in their swift voyage through the air,
they had come within sight of the great ocean, and were
soon flying over it. Far beneath them, the waves tossed
themselves tumultuously in mid-sea, or rolled a white
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 39

surf-line upon the long beaches, or foamed against the
rocky cliffs, with a roar that was thunderous, in the
lower world; although it became a gentle murmur, like
the voice of a baby half asleep, before it reached the ears
of Perseus. Just then a voice spoke in the air close by
him. It seemed to be a woman’s voice, and was melo-
dious, though not exactly what might be called sweet,
but grave and mild.

“* Perseus,”’ said the voice, ‘ there are the Gorgons.”

“Where?” exclaimed Perseus. ‘‘ I cannot see them.”

“On the shore of that island beneath you,” replied
the voice. “A pebble, dropped from your hand, would
strike in the midst of them.”’

“YT told you she would be the first to discover them,”’
said Quicksilver to Perseus. ‘‘ And there they are!”

Straight downward, two or three thousand feet below
him, Perseus perceived a small island, with the sea break-
ing into white foam all around its rocky shore, except on
one side, where there was a beach of snowy sand. He
descended towards it, and, looking earnestly at a cluster
or heap of brightness, at the foot of a precipice of black
rocks, behold, there were the terrible Gorgons! They
lay fast asleep, soothed by the thunder of the sea; for
it required a tumult that would have deafened everybody
else to lull such fierce creatures into slumber. The
moonlight glistened on their steely scales, and on their
golden wings, which drooped idly over the sand. Their
brazen claws, horrible to look at, were thrust out, and
clutched the wave-beaten fragments of rock, while the
sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some poor mortal
4.0) TILE GORGON’S HEAD.

all to pieces. The snakes that served them instead of
hair seemed likewise to be asleep; although, now and
then, one would writhe, and lift its head, and thrust out
its forked tongue, emitting a drowsy hiss, and then let
itself subside among its sister snakes.

_ The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of
insect, — immense, golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies,
or things of that sort, —at once ugly and beautiful, —.
than like anything else; only that they were a thousand
and a million times as big. And, with all this, there
was something partly human about them, too. Luckily
for Perseus, their faces were completely hidden from him
by the posture in which they lay ; for, had he but looked
one instant at them, he would have fallen heavily out of
tle air, an image of senseless stone.

— * Now,” whispered Quicksilver, as he hovered by the
side of Perseus, — ‘‘ now is your time to do the deed! Be
quick ; for, if one of the Gorgons should awake, you are
too late!”

“Which shall I strike at ?”’ asked Perseus, drawing his
sword and descending a little lower. ‘They all three
look alike. All three have snaky locks. Which of the
three is Medusa ? ”

It must be understood that Medusa was the only one
of these dragon-monsters whose head Perseus could pos-
sibly cut off. As for the other two, let him have the
sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he might have
hacked away by the hour together, without doing them
the least harm. |
_ Be cautious,” said the calm voice which had before
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4]

spoken to him. ‘One of the Gorgons is stirring in her
sleep, and is just about to turn over. ‘That is Medusa.
Do not look at her! The sight would turn you to stone!
Look at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright
mirror of your shield.”

Perseus now understood Quicksilver’s motive for so
earnestly exhorting him to polish his shield. In its sur-
face he could safely look at the reflection of the Gorgon’s
face. And there it was, — that terrible countenance, —
mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the moon-
light falling over it, and displaying all its horror. The
snakes, whose venomous natures could not altogether
sleep, kept twisting themselves over the forehead. It
was the fiercest and most horrible face that ever was seen
or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful, and savage
kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed, and the
Gorgon was still in a deep slumber; but there was an
unquiet expression disturbing her features, as if the mon-
ster was troubled with an ugly dream. She gnashed her
white tusks, and dug into the sand with her brazen claws.

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa’s dream, and
to be made more restless by it. They twined themselves
into tumultuous knots, writhed fiercely, and uplifted a
hundred hissing heads, without opening their eyes. _

“Now, now!” whispered Quicksilver, who was grow-
ing impatient. “Makea dash at the monster!”

“ But be calm,” said the grave, melodious voice, at the ‘
young man’s side. ‘Look im your slueld, as you fly
downward, and take care that you do not miss your first
stroke.”
4.2 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

~ Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his
eyes on Medusa’s face, as reflected in his shield. The
nearer he came, the more terrible did the snaky visage
and metallic body of the monster grow. At last, when
he found himself hovering over her within arm’s length,
Perseus uplifted his sword, while, at the same instant,
each separate snake upon the Gorgon’s head stretched
threateningly upward, and Medusa unclosed her eyes.
But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the
stroke fell like a lightning-flash; and the head of the
wicked Medusa tumbled from her body!

~ Admirably done!” cried Quicksilver. ‘‘ Make haste,
and clap the head into your magic wallet.”

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroi-
dered wallet, which he had hung about his neck, and
which had hitherto been no bigger than a purse, grew all
at once large enough to contain Medusa’s head. As
quick as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still
writhing upon it, and thrust it in. |

“Your task is done,” said the calm voice. ‘ Now fly;
for the other Gorgons will: do their utmost to take ven-
geance for Medusa’s death.”

_ It was, indeed, necessary to take flight; for Perseus
had not done the deed so quietly, but that the clash of
his sword, and the hissing of the snakes, and the thump
of Medusa’s head as tt tumbled upon the sea-beaten sand,
awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, for an
instant, sleepily mibbing their eyes with their brazen fin-
gers, while all the snakes on their heads reared themselves
on end with surprise, and with venomous malice against
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 43

they knew not what. But when the Gorgons saw the
scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings
all ruffled, and half spread out on tlie sand, it was really
awful to hear what yells and screeches they set up. And
then the snakes! They sent forth a hundred-fold hiss,
with one consent, and Medusa’s snakes answered them
out of the magic wallet.

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake, than they
hurtled upward into the air, brandishing their brass tal-
ous, gnashing their horrible tusks, and flapping their huge
wings so wildly, that some of the golden feathers were
shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And there,
perhaps, those very feathers lie scattered, till this day.
Up rose the Gorgons, as I tell you, staring horribly
about, in hopes of turning somebody to stone. Had
Perseus looked them in the face, or had he fallen into
their clutches, his poor mother would never have kissed
her boy again! But he took good care to turn his eyes
another way; and, as he wore the helmet of invisibility,
the Gorgons knew not in what direction to follow him;
nor did he fail to make the best use of the winged slip-
pers, by soaring upward a perpendicular mile or so. At
that height, when the screams of those abominable crea-
tures sounded faintly beneath him, he made a straight
course for the island of Seriphus, in order to carry Me-
dusa’s head to King Polydectes.

I have no time to tell you of several marvellous things
that befell Perseus, on his way homeward; such as his
killing a hideous sea-monster, just as it was on the point
of devouring a beautiful maiden; nor how he changed an
4,4: THE GORGON’S HEAD.

enormous giant into a mountain of stone, merely by show-
ing him the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter
story, you may make a voyage to Africa, some day or
other, and see the very mountain, which is still known
by the ancient giant’s name.

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where
he expected to see his dear mother. But, during his
absence, the wicked king had treated Danaé so very ill,
that she was compelled to make her escape, and had
taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests
were extremely kind to her. These praiseworthy priests,
and the kind-hearted fisherman, who had first shown
hospitality to Danaé and little Perseus when he found
them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only
persons on the island who cared about doing right. All
the rest of the people, as well as King Polydectes him-
self, were remarkably ill-behaved, and deserved no better
destiny than that which was now to happen.

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight
to the palace and was immediately ushered into the pres-
ence of the king. Polydectes was by no means rejoiced
to see him; for he had felt almost certain, in his own
evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor
young man to pieces, and have eaten him up, out of the
way. However, seeing him safely returned, he put the
best face he could upon the matter and asked Perseus
how he had succeeded.

‘Have you performed your promise? ”’ inquired he.
“Have you brought me the head of Medusa with the
‘snaky locks? If not, young man, it will cost you dear;
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4d
for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful Prin-
cess Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she
would admire so much.”

“Yes, please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, in a
quiet way, as if it were no very wonderful deed for such
a young manas he to perform. “I have brought you
the Gorgon’s head, snaky locks and all!”

“Indeed! Pray let me see it,” quoth King Polydee.
tes. “It must be avery curious spectacle, if all that
travellers tell about it be true!”

“Your Majesty is in the right,” replied Perseus. “Tt
is really an object that will be pretty certain to fix
the regards of all who look at it. And, if your Majesty
think fit, I would suggest that a holiday be proclaimed,
and that all your Majesty’s subjects be summoned to be-
hold this wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine,
have seen a Gorgon’s head before, and perhaps never
may again! ”

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set
of reprobates, and very fond of sight-seeing, as idle
persons usually are. So he took the young man’s ad-
vice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all direc-
tions, to blow the trumpet at the street-corners, and in
the market-places, and wherever two roads met, and
summon everybody to court. Thither, accordingly, came
a great multitude of good-for-nothing vagabonds, all of
whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been
glad if Perseus had met with some ill-hap, in his encoun-
ter with the Gorgons. If there were any better people
in the island (as I really hope there may have been, al-
46 THE GORGON’S HEAD.

though the story tells nothing about any such), they stayed
quietly at home, minding their own business, and taking
care of their little children. Most of the inhabitants, at
all events, ran as fast as they could to the palace, and
shoved, and pushed, and elbowed one another, in their
eagerness to get near a balcony, on which Perseus
showed himself, holding the embroidered wallet in his
hand.

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the
mighty King Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and.
with his flattering courtiers in a semicircle round about
him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and subjects, all
gazed eagerly towards Perseus.

“Show us the head! Show us the head!” shouted
the people; and there was a fierceness in their cry as if
they would tear Perseus to pieces, unless he should sat-
isfy them with what he had to show. ‘Show us the
head of Medusa with the snaky locks! ”

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful
Perseus.

‘“‘O King Polydectes,” cried he, “and ye many peo-
ple, I am very loath to show you the Gorgon’s head ! ”

“ Ah, the villain and coward!” yelled the people, more
fiercely than before. ‘He is making game of us! He
has no Gorgon’s head! Show us the head, if you have
it, or we will take your own head for a football! ”

The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in the king’s
ear; the courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Per-
seus had shown disrespect to their royal lord and master ;
and the great King Polydectes himself waved his hand,
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 4,7

and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of authority,
on his peril, to produce the head.

“Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your
own!”

And Perseus sighed.

“This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “‘ or you die

“ Behold it, then!’ cried Perseus, in a voice like the
blast of a trumpet.

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had
time to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, his evil
counsellors, and all his fierce subjects were no longer
anything but the mere images of a monarch and his peo-
ple. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and atti-
tude of that moment! At the first glimpse of the terri-
ble head of Medusa, they whitened into marble! And
Perseus thrust the head back into his wallet, and went
to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid
of the wicked King Polydectes.

{ >




TANGLEWOOD PORCH.

AFTER THE STORY.

|AS not that a very fine story?” asked Eustace.
| “O yes, yes!” cried Cowslip, clapping her -
| hands. ‘And those funny old women, with
only one eye amongst them! I never heard of anything
so strange.” |

“As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,”
observed Primrose, “‘there was nothing so very wonder-
ful in that. I suppose it was a false tooth. But think
of your turnmg Mercury into Quicksilver, and talking
about his sister! You are too ridiculous! ”

‘And was she not his sister?’ asked Eustace Bright.
“Tf I had thought of it sooner, I would have described
her as a maiden lady, who kept a pet owl!”

“‘ Well, at any rate,” said Primrose, ‘your story seems
to have driven away the mist.” :

And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the

vapors had been quite exhaled from the landscape. A
scene was now disclosed which the spectators might
almost fancy as having been created since they had last
looked in the direction where it lay. About half a mile


TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 4.9

distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared a beauti-
ful lake, which reflected a perfect image of its own
wooded banks, and of the summits of the more distant
hills. It gleamed in glassy tranquillity, without the
trace of a winged breeze on any part of its bosom. Be-
yond its farther shore was Monument Mountain, in a re-
cumbent. position, stretching almost across the valley.
Kustace Bright compared it to a huge, headless sphinx,
wrapped in a Persian shawl; and, indeed, so rich and
diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods, that
the simile of the shawl was by no means too high-colored
for the reality. In the lower ground, between Tangle-
wood and the lake, the clumps of trees and borders of
woodland were chiefly golden-leaved or dusky brown, as
having suffered more from frost than the foliage on the
hillsides.

Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, inter-
mingled with a slight haze, which made it unspeakably
soft and tender. O, what a day of Indian summer was
it going to be! The children snatched their baskets, and
set forth, with hop, skip, and jump, and all sorts of
frisks and gambols; while Cousin Eustace proved his
fitness to preside over the party, by outdoing all their
antics, and performing several new capers, which none of
them could ever hope to imitate. Behind went a good
old dog, whose name was Ben. He was one of the most
respectable and kind-hearted of quadrupeds, and probably
felt it to be his duty not to trust the children away from
their parents without some better guardian than this

feather-brained Eustace Bright.
3 D
THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

OOK


SHADOW BROOK.

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GOLDEN TOUCH.”

ri noon, our juvenile party assembled in a dell,
M:| through the depths of which ran a little brook.
es) The dell was narrow, and its steep sides, from
the margin of the stream upward, were thickly set with
trees, chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, among which grew a
few oaks and maples. In the summer time, the shade of
so many clustering branches, meeting and intermingling
across the rivulet, was deep enough to produce a noon-
tide twilight. Hence came the name of Shadow Brook.
But now, ever since autumn had crept into this secluded
place, all the dark verdure was changed to gold, so that
it really kindled up the dell, instead of shading it. The
bright yellow leaves, even had it been a cloudy day, would
have seemed to keep the sunlight among them; and
enough of them had fallen to strew all the bed and mar-
gin of the brook with sunlight, too. Thus the shady
nook, where summer had cooled herself, was now the
sunniest spot anywhere to be found.

The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold,


O40 SHADOW BROOK.

here pausing to form a pool, in which minnows were
darting to and fro; and then it hurried onward ata .
swifter pace, as if in haste to reach the lake ; and, forget-
ting to look whither it went, it tumbled over the root of
a tree, which stretched quite across its current. You
would have laughed to hear how noisily it babbled about
this accident. And even after it had run onward, the
brook still kept talking to itself, as if it were in a maze.
It was wonder-smitten, I suppose, at finding its dark dell
so illuminated, and at hearing the prattle and merriment
of so many children. So it stole away as quickly as it
could, and hid itself in the lake. - a
In the dell of Shadow Brook, Eustace Bright and his
little friends had eaten their dinner. They had brought
plenty of good things from Tanglewood, in their baskets,
and had spread them out on the stumps of trees, and on
mossy trunks, and had feasted merrily, and made a very
nice dinner indeed. After it was over, nobody felt like
stirring.
~ © We will rest. ourselves here,” said several of the
children, “‘ while Cousin Eustace tells us another of his
pretty stories.”
~ Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired, as well as
the children, for he had performed great feats on that
memorable forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cowslip, and
Buttercup were almost persuaded that he had winged
slippers, like those which the Nymphs gave Perseus; so
often had the student shown himself at the tiptop of a
nut-tree, when only a moment before he had been stand-
ing on the ground. And then, what showers of walnuts
SHADOW BROOK. 5D

had he sent rattling down upon their heads, for their
busy little hands to gather into the baskets! In short,
he had been as active as a squirrel or a monkey, and
now, flinging himself down on the yellow leaves, seemed
inclined to take a little rest.

But children have no mercy nor consideration for any-
body’s weariness; andif you had but a single breath
left, they would ask you to spend it in telling them a
story. |

“Cousin Eustace,” said Cowslip, “that was a very nice
story of the Gorgon’s Head. Do you think you could
tell us another as good?”

“Yes, child,” said Eustace, pulling the brim of his cap
over his eyes, as if preparing fora nap. “I can tell you
a dozen, as good or better, if I choose.”

‘OQ Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what he
says?” cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. ‘Cousin
Kustace is going to tell us a dozen better stories than
that about the Gorgon’s Head!”

“JT did not promise you even one, you foolish little
Cowslip!” said Kustace, half pettishly. ‘“ However, I
suppose you must have it. This is the consequence of
having earned a reputation! I wish I were a great
deal duller than I am, or that I had never shown half
the bright qualities with which nature has endowed
me; and then I might have my nap out, in peace and
comfort !”

But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted before,
was as fond of telling his stories as the children of hear-
ing them. His mind was in a free and happy state, and
56 SIIADOW BROOK.

took delight in its own activity, and scarcely required
any external impulse to set it at work.

How difficult is this spontaneous play of the intellect
from the trained diligence of maturer years, when toil
has perhaps grown easy by long habit, and the day’s
work may have become essential to the day’s comfort,
although the rest. of the matter has bubbled away! This
remark, however, is not meant for the children to hear.

Without further solicitation, Eustace Bright proceeded
to tell the following really splendid story. It had come
into his mind as he lay looking upward into the depths
of a tree, and observing how the touch of Autumn had
transmuted every one of its green leaves into what re-
sembled the purest gold. And this change, which we
have all of us witnessed, is as wonderful as anything that
Eustace told about, in the story of Midas.


THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

e

Ma |NCE upon a time, there lived a very rich man,
a | and a king besides, whose name was Midas;
ws and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but
myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never
knew, or have entirely forgotten. So, because I love
odd names for little girls, L choose to call her Marygold.

This King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything
else in’ the world. He valued bis royal crown chiefly
because it was composed of that precious metal. If he
loved anything better, or half so well, it was the one
little maiden who played so merrily around her father’s
footstool. But the more Midas loved his daughter, the
more did he desire and seek for wealth. He thought,
foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly do for
this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest
pile of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped
together since the world was made. Thus, he gave all
his thoughts and all his time to this one purpose. If
ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the gold-

3%


58 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real
gold, and that they could be squeezed safely into his
strong box. When little Marygold ran to met him, with
_ abunch of buttercups and dandelions, he used to say,
“Poh, poh, child! If these flowers were as golden as
they look, they would be worth the plucking !.”

And yet, in his earlier days, before he was so entirely
possessed of this insane desire for riches, King Midas
had shown a great taste for flowers. He had planted
a garden, in which grew the biggest and beautifullest
and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw or smelt.
These roses were still growing in the garden, as large, as
lovely, and as fragrant, as when Midas used to pass whole
hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their perfume.
But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to cal-
culate how much the garden would be worth, if each
of the innumerable rose-petals were a thin plate of gold.
And though he once was fond of music (in spite of an
idle story about his ears, which were said to resemble
those of an ass), the only music for poor Midas, now,
was the chink of one coin against another.

At length (as people always grow more and more fool-
ish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser),
Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that he
could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that was
not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass
a large portion of every day ina dark and dreary apart-
ment, under ground, at the basement of his palace. It
was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole
—for it was little better than a dungeon — Midas be-
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 59

took himself, whenever he wanted to be particularly
happy. Here, after carefully locking the door, he would
take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup as big as a wash-
bowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck-measure of gold-
dust, and bring them from the obscure corners of the
room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that fell
from the dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam
for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine
without its help. And then would he reckon over the
coins in the bag ; toss up the bar, and catch it as it came
down; sift the gold-dust through his fingers; look at
the funny image of his own face, as reflected in the bur-
nished circumference of the cup; and whisper to him-
‘self, “O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art
thou!” But it was laughable to see how the image of
his face kept grinning at him, out of the polished surface
of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behav-
ior, and to have a naughty inclination to make fun of
him.

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he
was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very tip-
top of enjoyment would never be reached, unless the whole
world were to become his treasure-room, and be filled
with yellow metal which should be all his own.

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as
you are, that in the old, old times, when King Midas was
alive, a great many things came to pass, which we should
consider wonderful if they were to happen in our own
day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many
things take place nowadays, which seem not only won-
60 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

derful to us, but at which the people of old times would
have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I regard our
own times as the strangest of the two; but, however that
may be, I must go on with my story.

Midas was enjoying himself im his treasure-room, one
day, as usual, when he perceived a shadow fall over the
heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly up, what should
he behold. but the figure of a stranger, standing in the

bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with
a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether it was that the im-
agination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge over every-
ihing, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help
fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded
him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, al-
though his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now
a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures than be-
fore. Even the remotest corners had their share of it,
and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with
tips of flame and sparkles of fire.

As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key
in the lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly
break into his treasure-room, he, of course, concluded
that his visitor must be something more than mortal. It
is no matter about tellmg you who he was. In those
days, when the earth was comparatively a new affair, it was
supposed to be often the resort of bemgs endowed with
supernatural power, and who used to interest them-
selves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and chil-
dren, half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met
such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet one
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 6]

of them again. The stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so
good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would
have been unreasonable to suspect him of intending any
mischief. It was far more probable that he came to do
Midas a favor. And what could that favor be, unless
to multiply his heaps of treasure ?

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his
lustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden objects
that were there, he turned again to Midas.

“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he ob-
served. ‘I doubt whether any other four walls, on
earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to
pile up in this room.’

‘““T have done pretty well, — pretty well,” answered
Midas, in a discontented tone. ‘‘ But, after all, it is but
a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me my whole
life to get it together. If one could live a thousand
years, he might have time to grow rich!”

“What!” exclaimed the stranger. ‘Then you are
not satisfied ? ”

Midas shook his head.

“And pray what would satisfy you?” asked the stran-
ger. ‘‘ Merely for the curiosity of the thing, I should
be glad ‘to know.”

Midas paused and meditated. THe felt a presentiment
that this stranger, with such a golden lustre in his good-
humored smile, had come hither with both the power and
the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now,
therefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but
to speak, and obtain whatever possible, or seemingly
62 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

impossible thing, it might come into his head to ask.
So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up
one golden mountain upon another, in his imagination,
without being able to imagine them big enough. At last,
a bright idea occurred to King Midas. It seemed really
as bright as the glistening metal which he loved so much.

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in
the face.

“Well, Midas,” observed his visitor, “I see that you
have at length hit upon something that will satiety you.
Tell me your wish.”

‘It is only this,” replied Midas. “I am weary of
collecting my treasures with so much trouble, and be-
holding the heap so diminutive, after I have done my
best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to
gold!”

The stranger’s smile grew so very broad, that it seemed
to fill the room like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into
a shadowy dell, where the yellow autumnal leaves — for
so looked the lumps and particles of gold — lie strewn
‘in the glow of light.

‘The Golden Touch!” exclaimed he. ‘ You certainly
deserve credit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant
a conception. But are you quite sure that this will sat-
isfy you?”

“ How could it fail? ” said Midas.

“And will you never regret the possession of it ? ”

“What could induce me?” asked Midas. “I ask
nothing else, to render me perfectly happy.”

“ Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, waving
THE GOLDEN TOUCH: 63

his hand in token of farewell. ‘To-morrow, at sunrise,
you will find yourself gifted with the Golden Touch.”

The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly
bright, and Midas involuntarily closed his eyes. On
opening them again, he beheld only one yellow sunbeam
in the room, and, all around him, the glistening of the
precious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding
up. |

Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story
does not say. Asleep or awake, however, his mind was
probably in the state of a child’s, to whom a beautiful
new plaything has been promised in the morning. At
any rate, day had hardly peeped over the hills, when
King Midas was broad awake, and, stretching his arms
out of bed, began to touch the objects that were within
reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden
Touch had really come, according to the stranger’s prom-
ise. So he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside, and
on various other things, but was grievously disappointed
to perceive that they remained of exactly the same sub-
stance as before. Indeed, he felt very much afraid that
he had only dreamed about the lustrous stranger, or else
that the latter had been making game of him. And what
a miserable affair would it be, if, after all his hopes, Midas
must content himself with what little gold he could
scrape together by ordinary means, instead of creating it
by a touch!

All this while, it was only the gray of the morning,
with but a streak of brightness along the edge of the sky,
where Midas could not see it. He lay in a very discon-
64 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

solate mood, regretting the downfall of his hopes, and
kept growing sadder and sadder, until the earliest sun-
beam shone through the window, and gilded the ceiling
over his head. It seemed to Midas that this bright yel-
low sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular way on
the white covering of the bed. Looking more closely,
what was his astonishment and delight, when he found
that this linen fabric had been transmuted to what seemed
a woven texture of the purest and brightest gold! The
Golden Touch had come to him, with the first sunbeam !

Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran
about the room, grasping at. everything that happened to
be in his way. He seized one of the bedposts, and it be-
came immediately a fluted golden pillar. He pulled aside
a window-curtain, in order to admit a clear spectacle of
the wonders which he was performing; and the tassel
grew heavy in his hand,—a mass of gold. He took up
a book from the table. At his first touch, it assumed
the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged
volume as one often meets with, nowadays; but, on run-
ning his fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bun-
dle of thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the
book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his
clothes, and was enraptured to see himself in a magnifi-
cent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility and
softness, although it burdened him a little with its weight.
He drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had
hemmed for him. That was likewise gold, with the dear
child’s neat and pretty stitches running all along the bor-
der, in gold thread!
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 63

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not
quite please King Midas. He would rather that his little
daughter’s handiwork should have remained just the same
as when she climbed his knee and put it into his hand.

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle.
Midas now took his spectacles from his pocket, and put
them on his nose, in order that he might see more dis-
tinctly what he was about. In those days, spectacles for
common people had not been invented, but were already
worn by kings; else, how could Midas have had any?
To his great perplexity, however, excellent as the glasses
were, he discovered that he could not possibly see through
them. But this was the most natural thing in the world ;
for, on taking them off, the transparent crystals turned
out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were
worthless as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It
struck Midas as rather inconvenient, that, with all his
wealth, he could never again be rich enough to own a
pau of serviceable spectacles.

“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to him-
self, very philosophically. “We cannot expect any great
good, without its being accompanied with some small in-
convenience. The Golden Touch is worth the sacrifice
of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one’s very eye-
sight. My own eyes will serve for ordmary purposes,
and little Marygold will soon be old enough to read to
me.” \y
Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune,
that the palace seemed not sufficiently spacious to con-
tain him. He therefore went down stairs, and smiled,

E
66 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

on observing that the balustrade of the staircase became
a bar of burnished gold, as his hand passed over it, in
his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it was brass only
a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted it),
and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, he
found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom,
and others in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom.
Very delicious was their fragrance in the morning breeze.
Their delicate blush was one of the fairest sights in the
world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet tran-
quillity, did these roses seem to be.

But Midas knew a way to make them far more pre-
cious, according to his way of thinking, than roses had
ever been before. So he took great pains in going from
bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most in-
defatigably ; until every individual flower and bud, and
even the worms at the heart of some of them, were
changed to gold. By the time this good work was com-
pleted, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and, as
the morning air had given him an excellent appetite, he
made haste back to the palace.

What was usually a king’s breakfast m the days of
Midas, I really do not know, and cannot stop now to in-
vestigate. To the best of my belief, however, on this
particular morning, the breakfast consisted of hot cakes,
some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh
boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and a
bowl of bread and milk for his daughter Marygold. At
all events, this is a breakfast fit to set before a king’; and,
whether he had it or not, King Midas could not have
had a better.
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 67

Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance.
Her father ordered her to be called, and, seating himself
at table, awaited the child’s coming, in order to begin his
own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really loved his
daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning,
on account of the good fortune which had befallen him.
It was not a great while before he heard her coming
along the passageway crying bitterly. This circum-
stance surprised him, because’ Marygold was one of the
cheerfullest little people whom you would see in a sum-
mer’s day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of tears in a
twelvemonth. When Midas heard her sobs, he deter-
mined to put little Marygold into better spirits, by an
agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table, he
touched his daughter’s bowl (which was a China one,
with pretty figures all around it), and transmuted it to
gleaming gold,

Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and disconsolately opened
the door, and showed herself with her apron at her eyes,
still sobbing as if her heart would break.

“How now, my little lady!” cried Midas. “ Pray
what is the matter with you, this bright morning ? ”

_ Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes,
held out. her hand, in which was one of the roses which
Midas had so recently transmuted.

‘ Beautiful !”’ exclaimed her father. ‘And what is
there in this magnificent golden rose to make you ery ?”

‘Ah, dear father! ” answered the child, as well as her
sobs would let her; “it is not beautiful, but the ugliest
flower that ever grew! As soon as I was dressed, I ran
68 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

into the garden to gather some roses for you; because I
know you like them, and like them the better when gath-
ered by your little daughter. But, oh dear, dear me!
What do you think has happened? Such a misfortune!
All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly and had
so many lovely blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They
are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no
longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter
with them ?” ,

“Poh, my dear little girl, — pray don’t ery about it!”
said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself
had wrought the change which so greatly afflicted her.
“Sit down and eat your bread and milk! You will find
it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which
will last hundreds of years) for an ordinary one which
would wither in a day.”

‘“T don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold,
tossing it contemptuously away. “It has no smell, and
the hard petals prick my nose ! ”

The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied
with her grief for the blighted roses that she did not even
notice the wonderful transmutation of her China bowl.
Perhaps this was all the better ; for Marygold was accus-
tomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures,
and strange trees and houses, that were painted on the
circumference of the bowl; and these ornaments were
now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the metal.

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee;
and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal
it may have been when he took it up, was gold when he
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 69

set it down. He thought to himself, that it was rather
an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his simple
habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be
puzzled with the difficulty of keeping his treasures safe.
The cupboard and the kitchen would no longer be a se-
cure place of deposit for articles so valuable as golden
bowls and coffee-pots.

Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to
his lips, and, sipping it, was astonished to perceive that,
the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became molten
gold, and, the next moment, hardened into a lump!

“Ha!” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast.

* What is the matter, father?” asked litle Marygold,
gazing at him, with the tears still standing in her eyes.

“ Nothing, child, nothing!” said Midas. ‘ Hat your.
milk, before.it gets quite cold.”

He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and,
by way of experiment, touched its tail with his finger.
To his horror, it was immediately transmuted from an
admirably fried brook trout into a gold fish, though not
one of those gold-fishes which people often keep in glass
globes, as ornaments for the parlor. No; but it was
really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been very
cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world.
Its little bones were now golden wires; its fins and tail
were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks of
the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy appearance of a
nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal. piece of work, as you may suppose; ouly King Midas,
just at that moment, would much rather have had a real’
10 | THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

trout in his dish than this elaborate and valuable imita-
tion of one.

“T don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “how I
am to get any breakfast!”

He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely
broken it, when, to his cruel mortification, though, a mo-
ment before, it had been of the whitest wheat, it assumed
the yellow hue of Indian meal. To say the truth, if it
had really been a hot Indian cake, Midas would have
prized it a good deal more than he now did, when its so-
lidity and increased weight made him too bitterly sensible
that it was gold. Almost in despair, he helped himself
to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change
similar to those of the trout and the cake. The egg, in-
deed, might have been mistaken for one of those which
the famous goose, in the story-book, was in the habit of
laying; but King Midas was the only goose that had had
anything to do with the matter.

“Well, this is a quandary!” thought he, leaning back
in his chair, and looking quite enviously at little Mary-
gold, who was now eating her bread and milk with great
satisfaction. ‘Such a costly breakfast before me, and
nothing that can be eaten!”

Hoping that, by dint of great despatch, he might avoid
what he now felt to be a considerable inconvenience,
King Midas next snatched a hot potato, and attempted to
cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a hurry. But
the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his
‘mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which
so burnt his tongue that he roared aloud, and, jumping
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. il

up irom the table, began to dance and stamp about the
room, both with pain and affright.

“Father, dear father!’ cried little Marygold, who
was a very affectionate child, “‘ pray what is the matter ?
Have you burnt your mouth ? ”

“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t
know what is to become of your poor father! ”

And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of
such a -pitiable case, in all your lives? Here was liter-
ally the richest breakfast that could be set before a king,
and its very richness made it absolutely good for nothing.
The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread
and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas,
whose delicate food was really worth its weight in gold.
And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas
was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by dinner-
time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for sup-
per, which must undoubtedly consist of the same sort of
indigestible dishes as those now before him! How many
days, think you, would he survive a continuance of this
rich fare ?

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he
began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one de-
sirable thing in the world, or even the most desirable.
But this was only a passing thought. So fascinated was
Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he would
still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so
paltry a consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what
a price for one meal’s victuals! It would have been the
same as paying millions and millions of money (and as
12 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

many millions more as would take forever to reckon up)
for some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a
cup of coffee!

“It would be quite too dear,” thought Midas.

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the per-
plexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud, and
very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could endure
it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at her father,
and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find
out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet
and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started from
her chair, and, running to Midas, threw her arms affec-
tionately about his knees. He bent down and kissed
her. He felt that his little daughter’s love was worth
a thousand times more than he had gained by the Golden
Touch.

‘‘ My precious, precious Marygold ! ” cried he.

But Marygold made no answer.

Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift
which the stranger bestowed! The moment the lips
of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a change had
taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as
it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yel-
low tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful
brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and tender
little form grew hard and inflexible within her father’s
encircling arms. O, terrible misfortune! The victim of
lus insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a hu-
man child no longer, but a golden statue !

Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love,
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 19

grief, and pity, hardened into her face. It was the pret-
tiest and most woful sight that ever mortal saw. All
the features and tokens of Marygold were there; even
the beloved little dimple remained in her golden chin.
But, the more perfect was the resemblance, the greater
was the father’s agony at beholding this golden image,
which was all that was left him of a daughter. It had
been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt par-
ticularly fond of the child, to say that she was worth her
weight in gold. And now the phrase had become lit-
erally true. And now, at last, when it was too late, he
felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart, that loved
him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could be piled
up betwixt the earth and sky!

It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how
Midas, in the fulness of all his gratified desires, began
to wring his hands and bemoan himself; and how he
could neither bear to look at Marygold, nor yet to look
away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on the
image, he could not possibly believe that she was changed
to gold. But, stealing another glance, there was the
precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop on its yel-
low cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, that it
seemed as if that very expression must needs soften the
gold, and make it flesh again. This, however, could not
be. So Midas had only to wring his hands, and to wish
that he were the poorest man in the wide world, if the
loss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest rose-
color to his dear child’s face.

While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly

4
74 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

beheld a stranger, standing near the door. Midas bent
down his head, without speaking; for he recognized the
same figure which had appeared to him, the day before,
in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him this dis-
astrous faculty of the Golden Touch. The stranger’s
countenance still wore a smile, which seemed to shed a
yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed on little
Marygold’s image, and on the other objects that had been
transmuted by the touch of Midas. |

“Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, ‘ pray how
do you succeed with the Golden Touch ?”

Midas shook his head.

“‘T am very miserable,” said lie.

“Very miserable, indeed!” exclaimed the stranger.
“And how happens that? Have I not faithfully kept
my promise with you? Have you not everything that
your heart desired P”’

“Gold is not everything,” answered Midas. ‘‘ And I
have lost all that my heart really cared for.”

“Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yes-
terday?”’ observed the stranger. “‘ Let us see, then.
Which of these two things do you think is really worth
the most, —the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of
clear cold water?”

“OQ blessed water!” exclaimed Midas. “ It will never
moisten my parched throat. again!”

“The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “ or
a crust of bread ?” | :

“ A piece of bread,’ answered Midas, ‘is worth all the
gold on earth!”
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 15D

“The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “or your
own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving, as she was
an hour ago?”

“OQ my child, my dear child cried poor Midas
wringing his hands. ‘I would not have given that one
small dimple in her chin for the power of changing this
whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!”

“ You are wiser than you were, King Midas

{ 7

{

sald
the stranger, looking seriously at him. ‘“‘ Your own
heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from
flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be
desperate. But you appear to be still capable of under-
standing that the commonest things, such as lie within
everybody’s grasp, are more valuable than the riches
which so: many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell
me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this
Golden Touch?”

“Tt is hateful to me!” replied Midas.

A fly settled on lus nose, but immediately fell to the
floor; for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered.

“Go, then,” said the stranger, ‘and plunge into the
river that glides past the bottom of your garden. ‘Take
Jikewise a vase of the same water, and sprinkle it over
any object that you may desire to change back again from
gold into its former substance. If you do this in earnest-
ness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief
which your avarice has occasioned.”

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head,
the lustrous stranger had vanished.
~ You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in
76 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

snatching up a great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it
was no longer earthen after he touched it), and hasten-
ing to the river-side. As he scampered along, and forced
his way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvel-
lous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind him, as
if the autumn had been there, and nowhere else. On
reaching the river’s brink, he plunged headlong in, with-
out waiting so much as to pull off his shoes.

“Poof! poof! poof!” snorted King Midas, as his
head emerged out of the water. ‘‘ Well; this is really a
refreshing bath, and I think it must have quite washed
away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my pitch-
er!” :

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened
his very heart to see it change from gold into the same
good, honest earthen vessel which it had been before he
touched it. He was conscious, also, of a change within
himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have
gone out of his bosom. No doubt, his heart had been
gradually losing its human substance, and transmuting —
itself into insensible metal; but had now softened back
again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on the
bank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and
was overjoyed to find that the delicate flower retained its
purple hue, instead of undergoing a yellow blight. The
curse of the Golden Touch had, therefore, really been re-
moved from him.

king Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I sup-
pose, the servants knew not what to make of it when
they saw their royal master so carefully bringing
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 17

home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water,
which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had
wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean of
molten gold could have been. The first thing he did, as
you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by handfuls
over the golden figure of little Marygold.

- No sooner did it fall on her than you would have
laughed to see how the rosy color came back to the dear
child’s cheek !—and how she began to sneeze and sput-
ter !— and how astonished she was to find herself drip-
ping wet, and her father still throwing more water over
her!

“Pray do not, dear father!” cried she. “See how
you have wet my nice frock, which I put on only this
morning ! ”’

For Marygold did not know that she had been a little
golden statue; nor could she remember anything that
had happened since the moment when she ran with out-
stretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved
child how very foolish he had been, but contented himself
with showing how much wiser he had now grown. For
this purpose, he led little Marygold into the garden,
where he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over
the rose-bushes, and with such good effect that above
five thousand roses recovered their beautiful bloom.
There were two circumstances, however, which, as long
as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Gold-
en Touch. One was, that the sands of the river sparkled
like gold; the other, that little Marygold’s hair had now
78 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

a golden tinge, which he had never observed in it before
she had been transmuted -by the effect of his kiss. - This
change of hue. was really an improvement, and made
Marygold’s hair richer than in her babyhood.

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and
used to trot Marygold’s children on his knee, he was
fond of telling them this marvellous story, pretty much as
I have now told it to you. And then would he stroke
their glossy ringlets, and tell them that their hair, like-
wise, had a rich shade of gold, which they had inherited
from their mother.

“And, to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,”
quoth King Midas, diligently trotting the children all the
while, “ever since that morning, I have hated the very
sight of all other gold, save this!”




SHADOW BROOK.

AFTER THE STORY.

ELL, children,” inquired Eustace, who was
{| very fond of eliciting a definite opinion from
mAs) his auditors, “did you ever, in all your lives,
listen to a better story than this of ‘The Golden
Touch’ ?”

“Why, as to the story of King Midas,” said saucy
Primrose, “it was a famous one thousands of years be-
fore Mr. Eustace Bright came into the world, and will
continue to be so as long after he quits it. But some
people have what we may call ‘The Leaden Touch,’ and
make everything dull and heavy that they lay their fin-
gers upon.”

“You are a smart child, Primrose, to be not yet in
your teens,” said Eustace, taken rather aback by the
piquancy of her criticism. ‘ But you well know, in
your naughty little heart, that I have burnished the old
gold of Midas all over anew, and have made it shine as it
never shone before. And then that figure of Marygold!
Do you perceive no nice workmanship in that? And
how finely I have brought out and deepened the moral !


50. SHADOW BROOK.

What say you, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Clover, Peri-
winkle?. Would any of you, after hearing this story, be
so foolish as to desire the faculty of changing things to
gold ? ”

‘““T should like,” said Periwinkle, a girl of ten, “to
have the power of turning everything to gold with my
right forefinger; but, with my left forefinger, I should
want the power of changing it back again, if the first
change did not please me. And I know what I would
do, this very afternoon !”’

‘Pray tell me,” said Eustace.

“ Why,” answered Periwinkle, “I would touch every
one of these golden leaves on the trees with my left fore-
finger, and make,them all green again; so that we might
have the summer back at once, with no ugly winter in
the mean time.”

“OQ Periwinkle!” cried Eustace Bright, “there you
are wrong, and would doa great deal of mischief. Were
T Midas, I would make nothing else but just such golden
days as these over and over again, all the year through-
out. My best thoughts always come a little too late.
Why did not I tell you how old King Midas came to
America, and changed the dusky autumn, such as it is
In other countries, into the burnished beauty which it
here puts on? He gilded the leaves of the great volume
of Nature.”

“Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, a good little boy,
who was always making particular inquiries about. the
precise height of giants and the littleness of fairies, “how
big was Marygold, and how much did she weigh after
she was turned to gold?”
SHADOW BROOK. S|

She was about as tall as you are,” replied Eustace,
“and, as gold is very heavy, she weighed at least two
thousand pounds, and might have been coined into thirty
or forty thousand gold dollars. I wish Primrose were
worth half as much. Come, little people, let us clamber
out of the dell, and look about us.”

They did so. The sun was now an hour or two
beyond its noontide mark, and filled the great hol-
low of the valley with its western radiance, so that it
seemed to be brimming with mellow light, and to spill
it over the surrounding hillsides, like golden wine
out of a bowl. It was such a day that you could
not help saying of it, “There never was such a
day before!” although yesterday was just such a day,
and to-morrow will be just such another. Ah, but
there are very few of them in a twelvemonth’s cir-
cle! It is a remarkable peculiarity of these October
days, that each of them seems to occupy a great deal
of space, although the sun rises rather tardily at that
season of the year, and goes to bed, as little children
ought, at sober six o’clock, or even earlier. We can-
not, therefore, call the days long; but they appear, some-
how or other, to make up for their shortness by their
breadth;- and when the cool night comes, we are con-
scious of having enjoyed a big armful of life, since
morning. |

“Come, children, come!” cried Eustace Bright.
“More nuts, more nuts, more nuts! Full all your bas-
kets; and, at Christmas time, I will crack them for
you, and tell you beautiful stories!”

4 F
82 SHADOW BROOK.

So away they went; all of them in excellent spirits,
except little Dandelion, who, I am sorry to tell you, had
been sitting on a chestnut-bur, and was stuck as full as
a pincushion of its prickles. Dear me, how uncomfort-
ably he must have felt!


ar ietegieies—
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

ay


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

_ INTRODUCTORY TO “THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN,”

ITE golden days of October passed away, as so
ber likewise, and the greater part of chill De-
cember, too. At last came merry Christmas, and Eus-
tace Bright along with it, making it all the merrier bv
his presence. And, the day after his arrival from col-
lege, there came a mighty snow-storm. Up to this time,.
the winter had held back, and had given us a good many.
mild days, which were like smiles upon its wrinkled vis-.
age. The grass had kept itself green, im sheltered places,
such as the nooks of southern hill-slopes, and along the
lee of the stone fences. It was but a week or two ago,
and since the beginning of the month, that the children.
had found a dandelion in bloom, on the margin of Shadow
Brook, where it glides out of the dell.

But no more green grass and dandelions now. This
was such a snow-storm! Twenty miles of it might have
been visible at once, between the windows of Tangle-
wood and the dome of Taconic, had it been possible to.


$6 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

see so far, among the eddying drifts that whitened all the
atmosphere. It seemed as if the hills were giants, and
were flinging monstrous handfuls of snow at one another,
in their enormous sport. So thick were the fluttering
snow-flakes, that even the trees, midway down the valley,
were hidden by them the greater part of the time. Some-
times, it is true, the little prisoners of Tanglewood could
discern a dim outline of Monument Mountain, and the
smooth whiteness of the frozen lake at its base, and the
black or gray tracts of woodland in the nearer landscape.
But these were merely peeps through the tempest.
Nevertheless, the children rejoiced greatly in the snow-
storm. They had already made acquaintance with it, by
tumbling heels over head into its highest drifts, and fling-
ing snow at one another, as we have just fancied the
erkshire mountains to be doing. And now they had
come back to their spacious play-room, which was as big
as the great drawing-room, and was lumbered with all
sorts of playthings, large and small. The biggest was
a rocking-horse, that looked like a real pony; and there
was a whole family of wooden, waxen, plaster, and china
dolls, besides rag-babies; and blocks enough to build
Bunker Hill Monument, and nine-pins, and balls, and
humming-tops, and battledores, and grace-sticks, and
skipping-ropes, and more of such valuable property than
I could tell of in a printed page. But the children liked
the snow-storm better than them all. It suggested so many
brisk enjoyments for to-morrow, and all the remainder
of the winter. The sleigh-ride; the slides down hill
iito the valley ; the snow-images that were to be shaped
TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. S7

out; the snow-fortresses that were to be built; and the
snow-balling to be carried on!

So the little folks blessed the snow-storm, and were
glad to see it come thicker and thicker, and watched
hopefully the long drift that was piling itself up in the
avenue, and was already higher than any of their heads.

“Why, we shall be blocked up till spring!” cried
they, with the hugest delight. “ What a pity that the
house is too high to be quite covered up! The little red
house, down yonder, will be buried up to its eaves.”

“You silly children, what do you want of more
snow ?”’ asked Eustace, who, tired of some novel that he
was skimming through, had strolled into the play-room.
“It has done mischief enough already, by spoiling the
only skating that 1 could hope for through the winter.
We shall see nothing more of the lake till April; and
this was to have been my first day upon it! Don’t you
pity me, Primrose ?”’

“QO, to be sure!” answered Primrose, laughing.
“ But, for your comfort, we will listen to another of your
old stories, such as you told us under the porch, and
down in the hollow, by Shadow Brook. Perhaps I shall
like them better now, when there is nothing to do, than
while there were nuts to be gathered, and beautiful
weather to enjoy.”

Hereupon, Periwinkle, Clover, Sweet Fern, and as
many others of the little fraternity and cousinhood as
were still at Tanglewood, gathered about Eustace, and
earnestly besought him for a story. The student yawned,
stretched himself, and then, to the vast admiration of the
88 TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

small people, skipped three times back and forth over
the top of a chair, in order, as he explained to them, to
set his wits in motion.

“Well, well, children,” said he, after these prelimi-
naries, “since you insist, and Primrose has set her heart
upon it, I will see what can be done for you. And, that
you may know what happy days there were before snow-
storms came into fashion, I will tell you a story of the
oldest of all old times, when the world was as new as
Sweet Fern’s bran-new humming-top. There was then
but one season in the year, and that was the delightful
summer; and but one age for mortals, and that was
childhood.” |

“ LT never heard of that before,”’ said Primrose.

“Of course, you never did,” answered Eustace. “It
shall be a story of what nobody but myself ever dreamed
of, —a Paradise of children, — and how, by the naughti-
ness of just such a little imp as Primrose here, it all caine
to nothing.” : |

So Eustace Bright sat down in the chair which he had
just been skipping over, took Cowslip upon his knee, or-
dered silence throughout the auditory, and began a story
about a sad naughty child, whose name was Pandora, and
about her playfellow Epimetheus. You may read it, word
for word, in the pages that come next.




YONG, long ago, when this old world was in its
tender infancy, there was a child, named Epime-
theus, who never had either father or mother:
and, that he might not be lonely, another child, fatherless
aud motherless like himself, was sent from a far country,
to live with him, and be his playfellow and helpmate.
Her name was Pandora.

The first thing that Pandora saw, when she entered
the cottage where Epimetheus dwelt, was a great box.
And almost the first question which she put to him, after
crossing the threshold, was this, —

‘* Hpimetheus, what have you in that box ?”

‘““My- dear little Pandora,” answered Epimetheus,
“that is a secret, and you must be kind enough not to
ask any questions about it. The box was left here to be
kept safely, and I do not myself know what it contains.”

“But who gave it to you?” asked Pandora. ‘ And
where did it come from ?” |

“That 1s a secret, too,” replied Epimetheus.


90 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN,

{9

“How provoking!” exclaimed Pandora, pouting her
lip. “I wish the great ugly box were out of the way! ”

“Q come, don’t think of it any more,” cried Epime-
theus. ‘Let us run out of doors, and have some nice
play with the other children.”

It is thousands of years since EHpimetheus and Pan-
dora were alive; and the world, nowadays, is a very
different sort of thing from what it was in their time.
Then, everybody was a child. There needed no fathers
and mothers to take care of the children; because there
was no danger, nor trouble of any kind, and no clothes
to be mended, and there was always plenty to eat and
drink. Whenever a child wanted his dinner, he found it
growing on a tree; and, if he looked at the tree in the
morning, he could see the expanding blossom of that
night’s supper; or, at eventide, he saw the tender bud of
to-morrow’s breakfast. It was a very pleasant life in-

zed. No labor to be done, no tasks to be studied;
nothing but sports and dances, and sweet voices of chil-
dren talking, or carolling like birds, or gushing out in
merry laughter, throughout the livelong day.

What was most wonderful of all, the children never
quarrelled among themselves; neither had they any ery-
ing fits; nor, since time first began, had a single one of
these little mortals ever gone apart into a corner, and
sulked. O, what a good time was that to be alive in!
The truth is, those ugly little winged monsters, called
Troubles, which are now almost as numerous as mosqul-
toes, had never yet been seen on the earth. It is proba-
ble that the very greatest disquietude which a child had
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 9]

ever experienced was Pandora’s vexation at not being —
able to discover the secret of the mysterious box. |

This was at first only the faint shadow of a Trouble ;
but, every day, it grew more and more substantial, until,
before a great while, the cottage of Epimetheus and
Pandora was less sunshiny than those of the other chil-
dren.

“Whence can the box have come?” Pandora contin-
ually kept saying to herself and to Epimetheus. “And
what in the world can be inside of it?”

“Always talking about this box!” said Epimetheus, at
last; for he had grown extremely tired of the subject.
“J wish, dear Pandora, you would try to talk of some-
thing else. Come, let us go and gather some ripe figs,
and eat them under the trees, for our supper. And I
know a vine that has the sweetest and juiciest grapes you
ever tasted.”

“ Always talking about grapes and figs!” cried Pan-
dora, pettishly.

“Well, then,” said Epimetheus, who was a very good-
tempered child, like a multitude of children in those
days, “let us run out and have a merry time with our
playmates.”

“JT am tired of merry times, gnd don’t care if I never
have any more!” answered our pettish little Pandora.
“And, besides, I never do have any. This ugly box!
I am so taken up with thinking about it all the time. I
insist upon your telling me what is inside of it.” |

“As I have already said, fifty times over, I do not
know!” replied Epimetheus, getting a little vexed.
‘How, then, can I tell you what is inside? ”’
92 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

“You might open it,” said Pandora, looking sideways
at, Epimetheus, “and then we could see for ourselves.” ©
“Pandora, what are you thinking of? ”’ exclaimed Epi-
metheus. |

And his face expressed so much horror at the idea
of looking into a box, which had been confided to him
on the condition of his never opening it, that Pandora
thought it best not to suggest it any more. Still, how-
ever, she could not help thinking and talking about the
box.

“ At least,” said she, “you can tell me how it came
here.”

“Tt was left at the door,” replied Epimetheus, “ just
before. you came, by a person who looked very smiling
and intelligent, and who could hardly forbear laughing
as he put it down. He was dressed in an odd kind of a
cloak, and had on a cap that seemed to be made partly
of feathers, so that it looked almost as if it had wings.”

‘What sort of a staff had he ? ” asked Pandora.
- QO, the most curious staff you ever saw!”
Epimetheus. “It was like two serpents twisting around
a stick, and was carved so naturally that I, at first,
thought the serpents were alive.” | |

“T know him,” saidpPandora, thoughtfully. “ No-
body else has such a staff. It was Quicksilver; and he
brought me hither, as well as the box. No doubt he
intended it for me; and, most. probably, it contains pretty
dresses for me to wear, or toys for you and me to play
with, or something very nice for us both to eat!”

‘Perhaps so,’ answered Epimetheus, turning away.

‘cried
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 93

But until Quicksilver comes back and tells us so, we
have neither of us any right to lift the lid of the box.”

“What a dull boy he is!” muttered Pandora, as
Epimetheus left the cottage. “I do wish he had a little
more enterprise ! ”

For the first time since her arrival, Epimetheus had
gone out without asking Pandora to accompany him.
He went to gather figs and grapes by himself, or to seek
whatever amusement he could find, in other society than
his little playfellow’s. He was tired to death of hearing
about the box, and heartily wished that Quicksilver, or
whatever was the messenger’s name, had left it at some
other child’s door, where Pandora would never have set
eyes on it. So perseveringly as she did babble about this
one thing! The box, the box, and nothing but the box!
It seemed as if the box were bewitched, and as if the
cottage were not big enough to hold it, without Pandora’s
continually stumbling over it, and making Epimetheus
stumble over it likewise, and bruising all four of their
shins.

Well, it was really hard that poor Epimetheus should
have a box in his ears from morning till might ; especially
as the little people of the earth were so unaccustomed to
vexations, in those happy days, that they knew not how
to deal with them. Thus, a small vexation made as
much disturbance, then, as a far bigger one would, in
our own times.

After Epimetheus was gone, Pandora stood gazing at
the box. She had called it ugly, above a hundred times ;
but, in spite of all that she had said against it, it was
9 4 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

positively a very handsome article of furniture, and would
have been quite an ornament to any room in which it
should be placed. It was made of a beautiful kind of
— wood, with dark and rich veins spreading over its sur-
face, which was so highly polished that little Pandora
could see her face in it. As the child had no other look-
ing-glass, it is odd that she did not value the box, merely
on this account.

The edges and corners of the box were carved with
‘most wonderful skill. Around the margin there were
figures of graceful men and women, and the prettiest
children ever seen, reclining or sporting amid a profusion
of flowers and foliage; and these various objects were so
exquisitely represented, and were wrought together in
such harmony, that flowers, foliage, and human beings
seemed to combine into a wreath of mingled beauty. But
here and there, peeping forth from behind the carved
foliage, Pandora once or twice fancied that she saw a face
not so lovely, or something or other that was disagree-
able, and which stole the beauty out of all the rest.
Nevertheless, on looking more closely, and touching the
spot with her finger, she could discover nothing of the
kind. Some face, that was really beautiful, had been
made to look ugly by her catching a sideway glimpse
at it. |

The most beautiful face of all was done in what is called
high relief, in the centre of the lid. There was nothing
else, save the dark, smooth richness of the polished wood,
and this one face in the centre, with a garland of flowers
about its brow. Pandora had looked at this face a great
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 95

many times, and imagined that the mouth could smile if
it liked, or be grave when it chose, the same as any living
mouth. The features, indeed, all wore a very lively and
rather mischievous expression, which looked almost as if
it needs must burst out of the carved lips, and utter itself
in words,

Had the mouth spoken, it would probably have been
something like this:

“Do not be afraid, Pandora! What harm can there
be in opening the box? Never mind that poor, simple
Epimetheus! You are wiser than he, and have ten times
as much spirit. Open the box, and see if you do not find
something very pretty !”

The box, I had almost forgotten to say, was fastened ;
not by a lock, nor by any other such contrivance, but by
a very intricate knot of gold cord. There appeared to be
no end to this knot, and no beginning. Never was a knot
so cunningly twisted, nor with so many ins and outs,
which roguishly defied the skilfullest fingers to disentan-
gle them. And yet, by the very difficulty that there was
init, Pandora was the more tempted to examine the kuot,
and just see how it was made. Two or three times, al-
ready, she had stooped over the box, and taken the knot
between her thumb and forefinger, but without positively
trying to undo it.

“T really believe,” said she to herself, “that I begin
to see how it was done. Nay,. perhaps I could tie it up
again, after undoing it. There would be no harm in that,
surely. Even Epimetheus would not blame me for that.
I need not open the box, and should not, of course, with-
96 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

out the foolish boy’s consent, even if the knot were un-
tied.” |

It might have been better for Pandora if she had hada
little work to do, or anything to employ her mind upon,
so as not to be-so constantly thinking of this one subject.
But children led so easy a life, before any Troubles came
into the world, that they had really a great deal too much
leisure. They could not be forever playing at hide-and:
seek among the flower-shrubs, or at blind-man’s-buff with
garlands over their eyes, or at whatever other games had
been found out, while Mother Earth was in her babyhood.
When life is all sport, toil is the real play. There was
absolutely nothing to do. A little sweeping and dusting
about the cottage, [ suppose, and the gathering of fresh
flowers (which were only too abundant everywhere), and
arranging them in vases,— and poor little Pandora’s day’s
work was over. And then, for the rest of the day, there
was the box!

After all, [ am not quite sure that the box was not a
blessing to. her in its way. It supplied her with such a
variety of ideas to think of, and to talk about, whenever
she had anybody to listen! When she was in good-
humor, she could admire the bright polish of its sides,
and the rich border of beautiful faces and foliage that ran
all around it. Or, if she chanced to be ill-tempered, she
could give it a push, or kick it with her naughty little
foot. And many a kick did the box — (but it was a
mischievous box, as we shall see, and deserved all it got)
——many a kick did it receive. But, certain it is, if it had
not been for the box, our active-minded little Pandora
THE PARADISE OF CIIILDREN. 97

would not have known half so well how to spend her
time as she now did.

_ For it was really an endless employment to guess what
was inside. What could it be, indeed? Just imagine, my
little hearers, how busy your wits would be, if there were
a great box in the house, which, as you might have rea-
son to suppose, contained something new and pretty for
your Christmas or New-Year’s gifts. Do you think that
you should be less curious than Pandora? If you were
left alone with the box, might you not feel a little tempted
to litt the id? But you would not do it. O, fie! No,
no! Only, if you thought there were toys in it, it would
be so very hard to let slip an opportunity of taking just
one peep! I know not whether Pandora expected any
toys; for none had yet begun to be made, probably, in
those days, when the world itself was one great play-
thing for the children that dwelt upon it. But Pandora
was convinced that there was something very beautiful
and valuable in the box; and therefore she felt just as
anxious to take a peep as any of these little girls, here
around me, would have felt. And, possibly, a little more
so; but of that I am not quite so certain.

On this particular day, however, which we have so
long been talking about, her curiosity grew so much
greater than it usually was, that, at last, she approached
the box. She was more than half determined to open it,
if she could. Ah, naughty Pandora!

First, however, she tried to lift it. It was heavy ;
quite too heavy for the slender strength of a child, like
Pandora. She raised one end of the box a few inches

D G
QS THE PARADISE OF CILILDREN,

from the floor, and let it fall again, with a pretty loud
thump. A moment afterwards, she almost fancied that
she heard something stir, inside of the box. She applied
her ear as closely as possible, and listened. Positively,
there did seem to be a kind of stifled murmur, within!
Or was it merely the singing in Pandora’s ears? Or
could it be the beating of her heart? The child could
not quite satisfy herself whether she had heard anything
or no. But, at all events, her curiosity was stronger
than ever, |

As she drew back her head, her eyes fell upon the knot
of gold cord.

‘Tt must have been a very ingenious person who tied
this knot,” said Pandora to herself. “But I think I
could untie it, nevertheless. I am resolved, at least, to
find the two ends of the cord.”

So she took the golden knot in her fingers, and pried
into its intricacies as sharply as she could. Almost
without intending it, or quite knowing what she was
about, she was soon busily engaged in attempting to undo
it. Meanwhile, the bright sunshine came through the
open window; as did likewise the merry voices of the
children, playing at a distance, and perhaps the voice of
Epimetheus among them. Pandora stopped to listen.
What a beautiful day it was! Would it not be wiser, if
she were to let the troublesome knot alone, and think no
more about the box, but run and join her little playfel-
lows, and be happy?

All this time, however, her fingers were half uncon-
sciously busy with the knot; and happening to glance at
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 99

the flower-wreathed face on the lid of the enchanted box,
she seemed to perceive it slyly grinning at her.

‘That face looks very mischievous,” thought Pandora.
“T wonder whether it smiles because I am doing wrong!
I have the greatest mind in the world to run away ! ”

But just then, by the merest accident, she gave the
knot a kind of a twist, which produced a wonderful
result. The gold cord untwined itself, as if by magic,
and left the box without a fastening.

“This is the strangest thing I ever knew!” said Pan-
dora. “‘ What will Epimetheus say? And how can I
possibly tie it up again?”

She made one or two attempts to restore the knot, but
soon found it quite beyond her skill. It had disentan-
gled itself so suddenly that she could not in the least
remember how the strings had been doubled into one
another ; and when she tried to recollect the shape and
appearance of the knot, it seemed to have gone entirely
out of her mind. Nothing was to be done, therefore, but
to let the box remain as it was, until Epimetheus should
come in.

“ But,” said Pandora, ‘‘ when he finds the knot untied,
he will know that I have done it. How shall I make
him believe that I have not looked into the box?”

And then the thought came into her naughty little
heart, that, since she would be suspected of having
looked into the box, she might just as well do so, at
once. QO, very naughty and very foolish Pandora! You
should have thought only of doing what was right, and
of leaving undone what was wrong, aud not of what
100 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

your playfellow Epimetheus would have said or believed.
And so perhaps she might, if the enchanted face on the
lid of the box had not looked so bewitchingly persuasive
at her, and if she had not seemed to hear, more distinctly
than before, the murmur of small voices within. She
could not tell whether it was fancy or no; but there was
quite a little tumult of whispers in her ear, — or else it
was her curiosity that whispered,

“Let us out, dear Pandora, — pray let us out! We
will be such nice pretty playfellows for you! Only let
us out!” |

“What can it be?” thought Pandora. “Is there
something alive in the box? Well! — yes!—TI am re-
solved to take just one peep! Only one peep; and then
‘the lid shall be shut down as safely as ever! There
cannot possibly be any harm in just one little peep ! ”

But it 1s now time for us to see what Epimetheus was
doing.

This was the first time, since his little playmate had
come to dwell with him, that he had attempted to
enjoy any pleasure in which she did not partake. But
nothing went right; nor was he nearly so happy as on
other days. He could not find a sweet grape or a ripe
fig Gf Hpimetheus had a fault, it was a little too much
fondness for figs); or, if ripe at all, they were over-ripe,
and so sweet as to be cloying. There was no mirth in
his heart, such as usually made his voice gush out, of its
own accord, and swell the merriment of his companions.
In short, he grew so uneasy and discontented, that the
other children couid not imagine what was the matter.
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 10]

with Epimetheus. Neither did he himself know what
ailed him, any better than they did. For you must
recollect, that at the time we are speaking of, it was
everybody’s nature, and constant habit, to be happy.
The world had not yet learned to be otherwise. Not a
single soul or body, since these children were first sent
to enjoy themselves on the beautiful earth, had ever been
sick, or out of sorts. |

At length, discovering that, somehow or other, he put
a stop to all the play, Epimetheus judged it best to go
back to Pandora, who was ina humor better suited to
his own. But, with a hope of giving her pleasure, he
gathered some flowers, and made them into a wreath,
which he meant to put upon her head. The flowers
were very lovely, — roses, and lilies, and orange-blossoms,
and a great many more, which left a trail of fragrance
behind, as Epimetheus carried them along; and the
wreath was put together with as much skill as could
reasonably be expected of a boy. The fingers of little
girls, it has always appeared to me, are the fittest to
twine flower-wreaths ; but boys could do it, in those
days, rather better than they can now.

And here I must mention that a great black cloud had
been gathering in the sky, for some time past, although
it had not yet overspread the sun. But, just as Ept-
metheus reached the cottage door, this cloud began to
intercept the sunshine, and thus to make a sudden and
sad obscurity.

He entered softly; for he meant, if possible, to steal
behind Pandora, and fling the wrgath of flowers over her
102 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

head, before she should be aware of his approach. But,
as it happened, there was no need of his treading so very
lightly. He might have trod as heavily as he pleased, —
as heavily as a grown man, —as heavily, [ was gomg to
say, as an elephant, — without much probability of Pan-
dora’s hearing his footsteps. She was too intent upon
her purpose. At the moment of lis entering the cottage,
the naughty child had put her hand to the lid, and was
on the poimt of opening the mysterious box. Epimetheus
beheld her. If he had eried out, Pandora would probably
have withdrawn her hand, and the fatal mystery of the
box might never have been known.

But Epimetheus himself, although he said very little
about it, had his own share of eurtosity to know what
was inside. Pereeiving that Pandora was resolved to
find out the seeret, he determined that his playfellow
should not be the only wise person in the cottage. And
if there were anything pretty or valuable in the box, he
meant to take half of it to himself. Thus, after all his
sage speeches to Pandora about restraining her curiosity,
Epimetheus turned out to be quite as foolish, and nearly
as much in fault, as she. So, whenever we blame Pan-
dora for what, happened, we must not forget to shake our
heads at Epimetheus likewise.

As Pandora raised the lid, the cottage grew very dark
and dismal; for the black cloud had now swept quite
over the sun, and seemed to have buried it alive. There-
had, for a little while past, been a low growling and
muttering, which all at once broke into a heavy peal of
thunder. But Pandora, heeding nothing of all this,
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 103

lifted the lid nearly upright, and looked inside. It seemed
as if a sudden swarm of winged creatures brushed past
her, taking flight out of the box, while, at the same in-
stant, she heard the voice of Epimetheus, with a lament-
able tone, as if he were in pain.

“OQ, Lam stung!” cried he. “Iam stung! Naughty:
Pandora! why have you opened this wicked box ? ”

Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked about
her, to see what had befallen Epimetheus. The thunder-
cloud had so darkened the room that she could not very
clearly discern what was in it. But she heard a dis-
agreeable buzzing, as if a great many huge flies, or
gigantic mosquitoes, or those insects which we call dor-
bugs and pinching-dogs, were darting about. And, as
her eyes grew more accustomed to the imperfect light,
she saw a crowd of ugly little shapes, with bats’ wings,
looking abominably spiteful, and armed with terribly
long stings in their tails. It was one of these that had
stung Epimetheus. Nor was it a great while before Pan-
dora herself began to scream, in no less pain and affright
than her playfellow, and making a vast deal more hubbub
about it. An odious little monster had settled on her
forehead, and would have stung her I know not how
deeply, if Epimetheus had not run and brushed it away.

Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things
might be, which had made their escape out of the box, I
must tell you that they were the whole family of earthly
_ Troubles. There were evil Passions ; there were a great
many species of Cares ; there were more than a hundred
and fifty Sorrows; there were Diseases, in a vast num-
104 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN,

ber of miserable and painful shapes; there were more
kinds of Naughtiness than it would be of any use to
talk about. In short, everything that has since afflicted
the souls and bodies of mankind had been shut up in
the mysterious box, and given to Epimetheus and Pan-
dora to be kept safely, in order that the happy children
of the world might never be molested by them. Had
they been faithful to their trust, all would have gone
well. No grown person would ever have been sad, nor
any child have had cause to shed a single tear, from that
hour until this moment.

But—and you may see by this how a wrong act of
any one mortal is a calamity to the whole world — by
Pandora’s lifting the lid of that miserable box, and by
the fault of Epimetheus, too, in not preventing her, these
Troubles have obtained a foothold among us, and do not
seem very likely to be driven away in a hurry. For it |
was impossible, as you will easily guess, that the two
children should keep the ugly swarm in their own little
cottage. On the contrary, the first thing that they did
was to fling open the doors and windows, in hopes of get-
ting rid of them ; and, sure enough, away flew the winged
Troubles all abroad, and so pestered and tormented the
small people, everywhere about, that none of them so
much as smiled for many days afterwards. And, what
was very singular, all the flowers and dewy blossoms on
earth, not one of which had hitherto faded, now began to
droop and shed their leaves, after a day or two. The
children, moreover, who before seemed immortal in their
childhood, now grew older, day by day, and came soon
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 105

to be youths and maidens, and men and women by and by,
and aged people, before they dreamed of such a thing.

Meanwhile, the naughty Pandora, and hardly less
naughty Epimetheus, remained in their cottage. Both
of them had been grievously stung, and were in a good
deal of pain, which seemed the more intolerable to them,
because it was the very first pain that had ever been felt
since the world began. Of course, they were entirely
unaccustomed to it, and could have no idea what it
meant. Besides all this, they were in exceedingly bad
humor, both with themselves and with one another. In
order to indulge it to the utmost, Epimetheus sat down
sullenly in a corner with his back towards Pandora;
while Pandora flung herself upon the floor and rested her
head on the fatal and abominable box. She was crying
bitterly, and sobbing as if her heart, would break.

Suddenly there was a gentle little tap, on the inside of
the lid.

“What can that be ?”’ cried Pandora, lifting her head.

But either Epimetheus had not heard the tap, or was
too much out of humor to notice it. At any rate, he
made no answer.

“You are very unkind,” said Pandora, sobbing anew,

‘not to-speak to me!”

Again the tap! It sounded like the tiny knuckles of
a fairy’s hand, knocking lightly and playfully on the
inside of the box.

“Who are you?” asked Pandora, witha little of
her former curiosity. ‘“ Who are you, inside of this
naughty box?”

5
106 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

A sweet little voice spoke from within, —

“Only litt the lid, and you shall see.”

“No, no,” answered Pandora, again beginning to sob,
“T have had enough of lifting the lid! You are inside
of the box, naughty creature, and there you shall stay!
There are plenty of your ugly brothers and sisters al-
ready flying about the world. You need never think
“that I shall be so foolish as to let you out!”

She looked towards Epimetheus, as she spoke, perhaps
expecting that he would commend her for her wisdom.
But the sullen boy only muttered that she was wise a
little too late.

“Ah,” said the sweet little voice again, “ you had
much better let me out. I am not like those naughty
creatures that have stings in their tails. They are no
brothers and sisters of mine, as you would see at once,
if you were only to get a glimpse of me. Come, come,
my pretty Pandora! I am sure you will let me out !”

And, indeed, there was a kind of cheerful witchery in
the tone, that made it almost impossible to refuse any-
thing which this little voice asked. Pandora’s heart had
insensibly grown lighter, at every word that came from
within the box. Hpimetheus, too, though still in the
corner, had turned half round, and seemed to be in
rather better spirits than before.

‘““My dear Epimetheus,” cried Pandora, “have you
heard this little voice? ” —

“Yes, to be sure I have,” answered he, but in no
very good-humor as yet. ‘And what of it?”

“Shall I lift the lid again?” asked Pandora.
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 107

“Just as you please,” said Epimetheus. ‘You have
done so much mischief already, that perhaps you may
as well do a little more. One other Trouble, in such a
swarm as you have set adrift about the world, can make
no very great difference.”

“You might speak a little more kindly!” murmured
Pandora, wiping her eyes.

“Ah, naughty boy!” cried the little voice within the
box, in an arch and laughing tone. “He kuows he is
longing to see me. Come, my dear Pandora, lift up the
lid. J am in a great hurry to comfort you. Only let
me have some fresh air, and you shall soon see that
matters are not quite so dismal as you think them!”

‘* Kpimetheus,” exclaimed Pandora, “‘ come what may,
I am resolved to open the box!”

“And, as the lid seems very heavy,” cried Epimetheus,
running across the room, “1 will help you!”

So, with one consent, the two children again lifted the
lid. Out flew a sunny and smiling little personage, and
hovered about the room, throwing a light wherever she
went. Have you never made the sunshine dance into
dark corners, by reflecting it from a bit of looking-glass ?
Well, so looked the winged cheerfulness of this fairy-
like stranger, amid the gloom of the cottage. She flew
to Epimetheus, and laid the least touch of her finger
on the inflamed spot where the Trouble had stung him,
and immediately the anguish of it was gone. Then she
kissed Pandora on the forehead, and her hurt: was cured
likewise. |

After performing these good offices, the bright stran-
108 THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN.

ger fluttered sportively over the children’s heads, and
looked so sweetly at them, that they both began to think
it not so very much amiss to have opened the box, since,
otherwise, their cheery guest must have been kept a pris-
oner among those naughty imps with stings in their tails.

“Pray, who are you, beautiful creature?’ inquired
Pandora.

“Tam to be called Hope!” answered the sunshiny
figure. ‘And because I am such a cheery little body,
I was packed into the box, to make amends to the human
race for that swarm of ugly Troubles, which was des-
tined to be let loose among them. Never fear! we shall
do pretty well, in spite of them all.”’

‘* Your wings are colored like the rainbow!” exclaimed
Pandora. ‘ How very beautiful ! ”

“Yes, they are like the rainbow,” said Hope, “ be-
cause glad as my nature is, I am partly made of tears as
well as smiles.”

“And will you stay with us,” asked Epimetheus,
“for ever and ever ?”’ |

“ As long as you need me,” said Hope, with her pleas-
ant smile, — ‘and that will be as long as you live in the
world, —I1 promise never to desert’ you. - There may —
come times and seasons, now and then, when you will
think that I have utterly vanished. But again, and again,
and again, when perhaps you least dream of it, you
shall see the glimmer of my wings on the ceiling of
your cottage. Yes, my dear children, and I know some-
thmg very good and beautiful that is to be given you
hereafter ! ”
THE PARADISE OF CHILDREN. 109

“O tell us,” they exclaimed, — “tell us what it is!”

“ Do not ask me,” replied Hope, putting her finger on
her rosy mouth. “ But do not despair, even if it should
never happen while you live on this earth. Trust in my
promise, for it is true.”

‘We do trust you!” cried Epimetheus and Pandora,
both in one breath.

And so they did; and not only they, but so has every-
body trusted Hope, that has -since been alive. And, to
tell you the truth, I cannot help being glad — (though, to
be sure, it was an uncommonly naughty thing for her to
do)— but I cannot help being glad that our foolish Pan-
dora peeped into the box. No doubt—no doubt — the
Troubles are still flying about the world, and have in-
creased in multitude, rather than lessened, and are a very
ugly set of imps, and carry most venomous stings in
their tails. I have felt. them already, and expect to feel
them more, as I grow older. But then that lovely and
lightsome little figure of Hope! What in the world
could we do without her? Hope spiritualizes the earth ;
Hope makes it always new; and, even in the earth’s
best and brightest aspect, Hope shows it to be only
the shadow of an infinite bliss hereafter!




TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM.

AFTER THE STORY.

oo RIMROSH,” asked Eustace, pinching her ear,
Z| “how do you like my little Pandora? Don’t
FX} you think her the exact picture of yourself ?
But you would not have hesitated half so long about
opening the box.” |

“Then I should have been well punished for my
naughtiness,” retorted Primrose, smartly ; “ for the first
thing to pop out, after the lid was lifted, would have
been Mr. Eustace Bright, in the shape of a Trouble.”

“Cousin Eustace,” said Sweet Fern, “did the box
hold all the trouble that has ever come into the
world ?” , |

“Every mite of it!” answered Eustace. ‘This very
snow-storm, which has spoiled my skating, was packed up
there.”

“And how big was the box ? ” asked Sweet Fern.

“Why, perhaps three feet long,” said Eustace, “ two
feet wide, and two feet and a half high.”

“Ah,” said the child, “ you are making fun of me,


TANGLEWOOD PLAY-ROOM. lll

Cousin Eustace! I know there is not trouble enough in
the world to fill such a great box as that. As for the
snow-storm, it 1s no trouble at all, but a pleasure; so it
could not have been in the box.”

** Hear the child! ”’ cried Primrose, with an air of su-
periority. ‘ How little he knows about the troubles of
this world! Poor fellow! He will be wiser when he
has seen as much of life as I have.”

So saying, she began to skip the rope.

Meantime, the day was drawing towards its close.
Out of doors the scene certainly looked dreary. There
was a gray drift, far and wide, through the gathering
twilight ; the earth was as pathless as the air; and the
bank of snow over the steps of the porch proved that no-
body had entered or gone out for a good many hours
past. Had there been only one child at the window of
Tanglewood, gazing at this wintry prospect, it would
perhaps have made him sad. But half a dozen children
together, though they cannot quite turn the world into a
paradise, may defy old Winter and all his storms to put
them out of spirits. Hustace Bright, moreover, on the
spur of the moment, invented several new kinds of play,
which kept them all in a roar of merriment till bedtime,
and served for the next stormy day besides.




THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

wernt
No


TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

INTRODUCTORY TO “THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.”

SVE snow-storm lasted another day; but what
MAS') agine. At any rate, it entirely cleared away,
during the night; and when the sun arose, the next
morning, it shone brightly down on as bleak a tract of
hill-country, here in Berkshire, as could be seen anywhere
in the world. The frost-work had so covered the win-
dow-panes that it was hardly possible to get a glimpse at
the scenery outside. But, while waiting for breakfast,
the small populace of Tanglewood had scratched peep-
holes with their finger-nails, and saw with vast delight
that — unless it were one or two bare-patches on a pre-
cipitous hillside, or the gray effect of the snow, inter-
mingled’ with the black pine forest — all nature was as
white as a sheet. How exceedingly pleasant! And, to
make it all the better, it was cold enough to nip one’s
nose short off! If people have but life enough in them
to bear it, there is nothing that so raises the spirits, and
makes the blood ripple and dance so nimbly, like a brook
down the slope of a hill, as a bright, hard frost.


116 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

No sooner was breakfast over, than the whole party,
well muffled in furs and woollens, floundered forth into
the midst of the snow. Well, what a day of frosty
sport was this! They slid down hill into the valley,
a hundred times, nobody knows how far; and, to make
it all the merrier, upsetting their sledges, and tum-
bling head over heels, quite as often as they came safely
to the bottom. And, once, Eustace Bright took Pert-
winkle, Sweet Fern, and Squash-blossom, on the sledge
with him, by way of insuring a safe passage; and down
they went, full speed. But, behold, half-way down, the
sledge hit against a hidden stump, and flung all four of
its passengers into a heap; and, on gathering themselves
up, there was no little Squash-blossom to be found!
Why, what could have become of the child? And
while they were wondering and staring about, up started
Squash-blossom out of a snow-bank, with the reddest
face you ever saw, and looking as if a large scarlet flower
had suddenly sprouted up in midwinter. Then there
was a great laugh.

When they had grown tired of sliding down hill, Kus-
tace set the children to digging a cave in the biggest
snow-drift that they could find. Unluckily, just as it was
completed, and the party had squeezed themselves into
the hollow, down came the roof upon their heads, and
buried every soul of them alive! The next moment, up
popped all their little heads out of the ruins, and the
tall student’s head in the midst of them, looking hoary
and venerable with the snow-dust that had got amongst
his brown curls. And then, to punish Cousin Eustace
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 117

for advising them to dig such a tumble-down cavern, the
children attacked him in a body, and so bepelted him
with snowballs that he was fain to take to his heels.

So he ran away, and went into the woods, and thence
_ to the margin of Shadow Brook, where he could hear the
streamlet grumbling along, under great overhanging
banks of snow and ice, which would scarcely let it see
the light of day. There were adamantine icicles glitter-
ing around all its little cascades. Thence he strolled to
the shore of the lake, and beheld a white, untrodden plain
before him, stretching from his own feet to the foot of
Monument Mountain. And, it being now almost sunset,
Hustace thought that he had never beheld anything so
fresh and beautiful as the scene. He was glad that the
children were not with him; for their lively spirits and
tumble-about activity would quite have chased away his
higher and graver mood, so that he would merely have
been merry (as he had already been, the whole day long),
and would not have known the loveliness of the winter
sunset among the hills.

When the sun was fairly down, our friend Eustace
went home to eat his supper. After the meal was over,
he betook himself to the study, with a purpose, I rather
imagine; to write an ode, or two or three sonnets, or
verses of some kind or other, in praise of the purple and
golden clouds which he had seen around the setting sun.
But, before he had hammered out the very first rhyme,
the door opened, and Primrose ana Periwinkle made
their appearance.

“Go away, children! I can’t be troubled with ycu
118 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

now!” cried the student, looking over his shoulder, with
the pen between his fingers. ‘‘ What in the world do
you want here? I thought you were all in bed!”

“ Hear him, Periwinkle, trying to talk like a grown
man!” said Primrose. ‘“ And he seems to forget that I
am now thirteen years old, and may sit up almost as late
as I please. But, Cousin Eustace, you must put off
your airs, and come with us to the drawing-room. The
children have talked so much about your stories, that my
father wishes to hear one of them, in order to judge
whether they are likely to do any mischief.”
~ © Poh, poh, Primrose!” exclaimed the student, rather
vexed. ‘I don’t believe I can tell one of my stories in
the presence of grown people. Besides, your father is
a classical scholar; not that I am much afraid of his
scholarship, neither, for I doubt not it is as rusty as an
old case-knife, by this time. But then he will be sure to
quarrel with the admirable nonsense that I put into
these stories, out of my own head, and which makes the
great charm of the matter for children, like yourself.
No man of fifty, who has read the classical myths in his
youth, can possibly understand my merit as a reinventor
and improver of them.”

“All this may be very true,” said Primrose, “but
come you must! My father will not open his book, nor
will mamma open the piano, till you have given us some
of your nonsense, as you very correctly call it. So be
a good boy, and come along.”

Whatever he might pretend, the student was rather
glad than otherwise, on second thoughts, to catch at the
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 119

opportunity of proving to Mr. Pringle what an excellent
faculty he had in modernizing the myths of ancient times.
Until twenty years of age, a young man may, indeed, be
rather bashful about showing his poetry and his prose ;
but, for all that, he is pretty apt to think that these very
productions would place him at the tiptop of literature,
if once they could be known. Accordingly, without
much more resistance, Eustace suffered Primrose and
Periwinkle to drag him into the drawing-room.

It was a large handsome apartment, with a semicir-
cular window at one end, in the recess of which stood a
marble copy of Greenough’s Angel and Child. On one
side of the fireplace there were many shelves of books,
gravely but richly bound. The white light of the astral-
lainp, and the red glow of the bright coal-fire, made the
room brilliant and cheerful ; and before the fire, in a deep
arm-chair, sat Mr. Pringle, looking just fit to be seated
in such a chair, and in such a room. He was a tall and
quite a handsome gentleman, with a bald brow; and was
always so nicely dressed, that even Eustace Bright never
liked to enter his presence, without at least pausing at
the threshold to settle his shirt-collar. But now, as
Primrose had hold of one of his hands, and Periwinkle of
the other, he was forced to make his appearance with a
rough-and-tumble sort of look, as if he had been rolling
all day in a snow-bank. And so he had.

Mr. Pringle turned towards the student, benignly
enough, but in a way that made him feel how uncombed
and unbrushed he was, and how uncombed and un-
brushed, likewise, were his mind and thoughts.
120 TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

* Hustace,” said Mr. Pringle, with a smile, “I find
that you are producing a great sensation among the little
public of Tanglewood, by the exercise of your gifts of
narrative. Primrose here, as the little folks choose to
call her, and the rest of the children, have been so loud
in praise of your stories, that Mrs. Pringle and myself
are really curious to hear a specimen. It would be so
much the more gratifying to myself; as the stories appear
to be an attempt to render the fables of classical antiquity
into the idiom of modern fancy and feeling. At least, so
I judge from a few of the incidents, which have come to
me at second hand.”

“You are not exactly the auditor that I should have
chosen, sir,”’ observed the student, “ for fantasies of this
nature.”

“Possibly not,” rephed Mr. Pringle. “I suspect,
however, that a young author’s most useful critic is pre-
cisely the one whom he would be least apt to choose.
Pray oblige me, therefore.”

“Sympathy, methinks, should have some little share
in the critic’s qualifications,” murmured Eustace Bright.
“ However, sir, if you. will find patience, I will find
stories. But be kind enough to remember that I am
addressing myself to the imagination and sympathies of
the children, not to your own.”

Accordingly, the student snatched hold of the first
theme which presented itself. It was suggested by a plate
of apples that he happened to spy on the mantel-piece.


| grew in the garden of the Hesperides ! ? Ah,
those were such apples as would bring a great
price, by the bushel, if any of them could be found grow-
ing in the orchards of nowadays! But there is not, I
suppose, a graft of that wonderful fruit on a single tree
in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of those
apples exists any longer.

And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before
the garden of the Hesperides was overrun with weeds,
a great many people doubted whether there could be real
trees that bore apples of solid gold upon their branches.
All had heard of them, but nobody remembered to have
seen any. Children, nevertheless, used to listen, open-
mouthed, to stories of the golden apple-tree, and re-
solved to discover it, when they should be big enough.
Adventurous young men, who desired to do a braver
thing than any of their fellows, set out in quest of this
fruit. Many of them returned no more; none of them

6 |
122 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

brought back the apples. No wonder that they found it
impossible to gather them! It is said that there was a
dragon beneath the tree, with a hundred terrible heads,
fifty of which were always on the watch, while the other
fifty slept.

In my opinion it was hardly worth running so much
risk for the sake of a solid golden apple. Had the apples
been sweet, mellow, and juicy, indeed that would be an-
other matter. There might then have been some sense
in trying to get at them, in spite of the hundred-headed
dragon.

But, as I have already told you, it was quite a common
thing with young persons, when tired of too much peace
and rest, to go in search of the garden of the Hesperides.
And once the adventure was undertaken by a hero who
had enjoyed very little peace or rest since he came into
the world. At the time of which I am going to speak,
he was wandering through the pleasant land of Italy, with
a mighty club in his hand, and a bow and quiver slung
across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the skin of the
biggest and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and
which he himself had killed; and though, on the whole,
he was kind, and generous, and noble, there was a good
deal of the lion’s fierceness in his heart. As he went on
his way, he continually inquired whether that were the
right road to the famous garden. But none of the coun-
try people knew anything about the matter, and many
looked as if they would have laughed at the question, if
the stranger had not carried so very big a club.

So he journeyed on and on, still making the same
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 123

inquiry, until, at last, he came to the brink of a river
where some beautiful young women sat twining wreaths
of flowers. :

“Can you tell me, pretty maidens,” asked the stran-
ger, “whether this is the right way to the garden of the
Hesperides ? ”’ |

The young women had been having a fine time to-
gether, weaving the flowers into wreaths, and crowning
one another’s heads. And there seemed to be a kind of
magic in the touch of their fingers, that made the flowers
more fresh and dewy, and of brighter hues, and sweeter
fragrance, while they played with them, than even when
they had been growing on their native stems. But, on
hearing the stranger’s question, they dropped all their
flowers on the grass, and gazed at him with astonish-
ment.

“The garden of the Hesperides!” cried one. ‘‘ We
thought mortals had been weary of seeking it, after so
many disappointments. And pray, adventurous traveller,
what do you want there ? ”’

“ A certain king, who is my cousin,” replied he, “ has
ordered me to get him three of the golden apples.”

“Most of the young men who go in quest of these
apples,” observed another of the damsels, ‘‘ desire to ob-
tain them for themselves, or to present them to some fair
maiden whom they love. Do you, then, love this king,
your cousin, so very much ?”

“Perhaps not,” replied the stranger, sighing. ‘‘ He
has often been severe and cruel to me. But it is my
destiny to obey him.” |
126 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

stone, where it is doubtless alive, to this very day. But
the hydra’s body, and its eight other heads, will never do
any further mischief.”

The damsels, judging that the story was likely to last
a good while, had been preparing a repast of bread and
grapes, that the stranger might refresh himself in the
intervals of his talk. They took pleasure in helping him
to this simple food; and, now and then, one of them
would put a sweet grape between her rosy lips, lest it
should make him bashful to eat alone.

The traveller proceeded to tell how he had chased a
very swift stag, for a twelvemonth together, without ever
stopping to take breath, and had at last caught it by the
antlers, and carried it home alive. And he had fought
with a very odd race of people, half horses and half men,
and had put them all to death, from a sense of duty, in
order that their ugly figures might never be seen any
more. Besides all this, he took to himself great credit
for having cleaned out a stable.

“Do you call that a wonderful exploit ? ” asked one of
the young maidens, with a smile. “‘ Any clown in the
country has done as much!”

‘Had it been an ordinary stable,” replied the stranger,
“YT should not have mentioned it. But this was so
gigantic a task that it would have taken me all my life to
perform it, if LT had not luckily thought of turning the
channel of a river through the stable-door. That did
the business in a very short time!”

Seeing how earnestly his fair auditors listened, he next
told them how he had shot some monstrous birds, and
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 125

earth, near by. With the force of that idle blow, the
great rock was shattered all to pieces. It cost the
stranger no more effort to achieve this feat of a giant’s
strength than for one of the young maidens to touch her
_ sister’s rosy cheek with a flower.

“Do you not believe,” said he, looking at the damsels
with a smile, “that such a blow would have crushed one
of the dragon’s hundred heads ? ”

Then he sat down on the grass, and told them the
story of his life, or as much of it as he could remember,
from the day when he was first cradled in a warrior’s
brazen shield. While he lay there, two immense ser-
pents came gliding over the floor, and opened their
hideous jaws to devour him; and he, a baby of a few
mouths old, had griped one of the fierce snakes in each
of his little fists, and strangled them to death. When
he was but a stripling, he had killed a huge lion, almost
as big as the one whose vast and shaggy hide he now
wore upon his shoulders. The next thing that he had
done was to fight a battle with an ugly sort of monster,
called a hydra, which had no less than nine heads, and
exceedingly sharp teeth in every one of them.

“But the dragon of the Hesperides, you know,”
observed one of the damsels, “has a hundred heads! ”

‘““ Nevertheless,” replied the stranger, “I would rather
fight two such dragons than a single hydra. For, as fast
as I cut off a head, two others grew in its place; and,
besides, there was one of the heads that could not possi-
bly be killed, but kept biting as fiercely as ever, long
aiter it was cut off. So I was forced to bury it under a
128 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

“ Perhaps you may have heard of me before,”’ said he,
modestly. ‘‘ My name is Hercules! ”

“We had already guessed it,” replied the maidens ;
“for your wonderful deeds are known all over the world.
We do not think it strange, any longer, that you should
set out in quest of the golden apples of the Hesperides.
Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with flowers! ”’

Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately
head and mighty shoulders, so that the lion’s skim was
almost entirely covered with roses. ‘They took posses-
sion of his ponderous club, and so entwined it about with
the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms, that not
a finger’s breadth of its oaken substance could be seen.
It looked all like a huge bunch of flowers. Lastly,
they jomed hands, and danced around him, chanting
words which became poetry of their own accord, and
grew into a choral song, in honor of the illustrious Her-
cules.

And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other hero would
have been, to know that these fair young girls had heard
of the valiant deeds which it had cost him so much toil
and danger to achieve. But, still, he was not satisfied.
He could not think that what he had already done was
worthy of so much honor, while there remained any bold
or difficult adventure to be undertaken.

“Dear maidens,” said he, when they paused to take
breath, ‘now that you know my name, will you not tell
me how I am to reach the garden of the Hesperides 2” —

“Ah! must you go so soon?” they exclaimed. “ You
— that have performed so many wonders, and spent such
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 127

had caught a wild bull alive, and let him go again, and
had tamed a number of very wild horses, and had con-
quered Hippolyta, the warlike queen of the Amazons.
He mentioned, likewise, that he had taken off Hippo-
lyta’s enchanted girdle, and had given it to the daughter
of his cousin, the king. |

“Was it the girdle of Venus,” inquired the prettiest of
the damsels, “ which makes women beautiful ? ”

“No,” answered the stranger. “It had formerly
been the sword-belt of Mars; and it can only make the
wearer valiant and courageous.”

“An old sword-belt!’’ cried the damsel, tossing her
head. ‘* Then I should not care about having it!”

“You are right,” said the stranger.

Going on with his wonderful narrative, he informed
the maidens that as strange an adventure as ever hap-
pened was when he fought with Geryon, the six-legged
man. ‘This was a very odd and frightful sort of figure,
as you may well believe. Any person, looking at his
tracks in the sand or snow, would suppose that three
sociable companions had been walking along together.
On hearmg his footsteps at a little distance, it was no
more than reasonable to judge that several people must
be coming. But it was only the strange man Geryon
clattering onward, with his six legs !

Six legs, and one gigantic body! Certainly, he must
have been a very queer monster to look at; and, my stars,
what a waste of shoe-leather !

When the stranger had finished the story of his ad-
ventures, he looked around at the attentive faces of the
maidens.
130 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

“ Keep fast hold of the Old One, when you catch him!”
cried she, smiling, and lifting her finger to make the cau-
tion more impressive. ‘Do not be astonished at any-
thing that may happen. Only hold him fast, and he will
tell you what you wish to know.”

Hercules again thanked her, and pursued his way,
while the maidens resumed their pleasant labor of making
flower-wreaths. They talked about the hero, long after
he was gone. |

“We will crown him with the loveliest of our gar-
lands,” said they, ‘when he returns hither with the three
golden apples, after slaying the dragon with a hundred
heads.”

Meanwhile, Hercules travelled constantly onward, over
hil and dale, and through the solitary woods. Some-
times he swung his club aloft, and splintered a mighty
oak with a downright blow. His mind was so full of the
giants and monsters with whom it was the business of
his life to fight, that perhaps he mistook the great tree
for a giant or a monster. And so eager was Hercules to
achieve what he had undertaken, that he almost regretted
to have spent so much time with the damsels, wasting idle
breath upon the story of his adventures. But thus it
always is with persons who are destined to perform great
things. What they have already done seems less than
nothing. What they have taken in hand to do seens
worth toil, danger, and life itself.

Persons who happened to be passing through the for-
est must have been affrighted to see him smite the trees
with his great club. With but a single blow, the trunk
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 129.

a toilsome life — cannot you content yourself to repose a
little while on the margin of this peaceful river?”

Hercules shook his head.

‘““T must depart now,”’ said he.

“ We will then give you the best directions we can,”
replied the damsels. ‘“ You must go to the sea-shore,
and find out the Old One, and compel him to inform you
where the golden apples are to be found.”

“The Old One!” repeated Hercules, laughing at this
odd name. “ And, pray, who may the Old One be ?”

“Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure!” answered
one of the damsels. ‘He has fifty daughters, whom
some people call very beautiful; but we do not think it
proper to be acquainted with them, because they have
sea-green hair, and taper away like fishes. You must
talk with this Old Man of the Sea. He is a sea-faring
person, and knows all about the garden of the Hesperi-
des; for it is situated in an island which he is often: in
the habit of visiting.”

Hercules then asked whereabouts the Old One was
most likely to be met with. When the damsels had in-
formed lim, he thanked them for all their kindness, —
for the bread and grapes with which they had fed him,
the lovely flowers with which they had erewued him, and
the songs and dances wherewith they had done him
honor, —and he thanked them, most of all, for telling
him the right way, — and immediately set forth upon his
journey.

But, before he was out of hearing, one of the maidens
called after him.

6 * I
132 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

Yes; it was the selfsame Old Man of the Sea, whom
the hospitable maidens had talked to him about. ‘Thank-
ing his stars for the lucky accident of finding the old
fellow asleep, Hercules stole on tiptoe towards him, and
caught him by the arm and leg.

“Tell me,” cried he, before the Old One was well
awake, “which is the way to the garden of the Hes-
perides ? ”’

As you may easily imagine, the Old Man of the Sea
awoke in a fright. But his astonishment could hardly
have been greater than was that of Hercules, the next
moment. For, all of a sudden, the Old One seemed to
disappear out of his grasp, and he found himself holding
a stag by the fore and hind leg! But still he kept fast
hold. Then the stag disappeared, and in its stead there
was a sea-bird, fluttering and screaming, while Hercules
clutched it bythe wing and claw! But the bird could
not get away. Immediately afterwards, there was an
ugly three-headed dog, which growled and barked at
Hercules, and snapped fiercely at. the hands by which he
held him! But Hereules would not let him go. In
another minute, instead of the three-headed dog, what
should appear but Geryon, the six-legged man-monster,
kicking at Hercules with five of his legs, in order to get
the remaining one at liberty! But Hercules held on.
By and by, no Geryon was there, but a huge snake, like
one of those which Hercules had strangled in his baby-
hood, only a hundred times as big; and it twisted and
_twined about the hero’s neck and body, and threw its
tail high into the air, and opened its deadly jaws as: if
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 131

was riven as by the stroke of lightning, and the broad —
boughs came rustling and crashing down.

Hastening forward, without ever pausing or looking
behind, he by and by heard the sea roaring at a distance.
At this sound, he increased his speed, and soon came to
a beach, where the great surf-waves tumbled themselves
upon the hard sand, in a long line of snowy foam. At
one end of the beach, however, there was a pleasant spot,
where some green shrubbery clambered up a cliff, making
its rocky face look soft and beautiful. A carpet of ver-
dant grass, largely intermixed with sweet-smelling clover,
covered the narrow space between the bottom of the cliff
and the sea. And what should Hercules espy there, but
an old man, fast asleep!

But was it really and truly an old man? Certainly, at
first sight, it looked very like one; but, on closer inspec-
tion, it rather seemed to be some kind of a creature that
lived in the sea. For, on his legs and arms there were
scales, such as fishes have; he was web-footed and web-
fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and his long beard,
being of a greenish tinge, had more the appearance of a
tuft of sea-weed than of an ordinary beard. Have you
never seen a stick of timber, that has been long tossed
about by the waves, and has got all overgrown with bar-
nacles, and, at last drifting ashore, seems to have been
thrown up from the very deepest bottom of the sea?
Well, the old man would have put you m mind of just
such a wave-tost spar! But Hercules, the instant he set
eyes on this strange figure, was convinced that it could
be no other than the Old ‘One, who was to direct him on
his way.
134 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

tiresome affair to go through so many false shapes.
“Why do you squeeze me so hard? Let me go, this
moment, or I shall begin to consider you an extremely
uncivil person ! ”

“My name is Hercules!” roared the mighty stranger.
“And you will never get out of my clutch, until you tell
me the nearest way to the garden of the Hesperides ! ”

When the old fellow heard who it was that had caught
him, he saw, with half an eye, that it would be necessary
to tell him everything that he wanted to know. The
Old One was an inhabitant of the sea, you must recol-
lect, and roamed about everywhere, like other sea-faring
people. Of course, he had often heard of the fame of
Hercules, and of the wonderful things that he was con-
stantly performing, in various parts of the earth, and
how determined he always was to accomplish whatever
he undertook. He therefore made no more attempts
to escape, but told the hero how to find the garden of
the Hesperides, and likewise warned him of many diffi-
culties which must be overcome, before he could arrive
thither. :

‘You must go on, thus and thus,” said the Old Man
of the Sea, after taking the points of the compass, “ till
you come in sight of a very tall giant, who holds the sky
on his shoulders. And the giant, if he happens to be in
the humor, will tell you exactly where the garden of the
Hesperides lies.”

“And if the giant happens not to be in the humor,”
remarked Hercules, balancing his club on the tip of his
finger, “‘ perhaps I shall find means to persuade him! ”
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 138

to devour him outright; so that it was really a very
terrible spectacle! But Hercules was no whit disheart-
ened, and squeezed the great suake so tightly that he
soon began to hiss with pain.

You must understand that the Old Man of the Sea,
though he generally looked so much like the wave-beaten
figure-head of a vessel, had the power of assuming any
shape he pleased. When he. found himself so roughly
seized by Hercules, he had been in hopes of putting him
into such surprise and terror, by these magical trans-
formations, that the hero would be glad to let him go.
If Hercules had relaxed his grasp, the Old One would
certainly have plunged down to the very bottom of the
sea, whence he would not soon have given himself the
trouble of coming up, in order to answer any impertinent
questions. Ninety-nine people out of a hundred, I sup-
pose, would have been frightened out of their wits by
the very first of his ugly shapes, and would have taken
to their heels at once. For, one of the hardest things in
this world is, to see the difference between real dangers
and imaginary ones.

But, as Hercules held on so stubbornly, and only
squeezed the Old One so much the tighter at every
change of shape, and really put him to no small torture,
he finally thought it best to reappear in his own figure.
So there he was again, a fishy, scaly, web-footed sort of
personage, with something like a tuft of sea-weed at his
chin. | | |

“Pray, what do you want with me?” cried the Old
One, as soon as he could take breath; for it is quite a
136 THE TIIREE GOLDEN APPLES.

the crests of the billows, it seemed as if his journey must
needs be at an end.

Nothing was before him, save the foaming, dashing,
measureless ocean. But, suddenly, as he looked towards
the horizon, he saw something, a great way off, which he
had not seen the moment before. It gleamed very
brightly, almost as you may have beheld the round,
golden disk of the sun, when it rises or sets over the
edge of the world. It evidently drew nearer; for, at
every instant, this wonderful object became larger and
more lustrous. At length, it had come so nigh that
Hercules discovered it to be an immense cup or bowl,
made either of gold or burnished brass. How it had got
afloat upon the sea, is more than I can tell you. There
it was, at all events, rolling on the tumultuous billows,
which tossed it up and down, and heaved their foamy
tops against its sides, but without ever throwing their
spray over the brim.

‘T have seen many giants, in my time,” thought Her-
cules, “but never one that would need to drink his wine
out of a cup like this!”

And, true enough, what a cup it must have been! It.
was as large —as large —but, in short, I am afraid to.
say how immeasurably large it was. To speak within
bounds, it was ten times larger than a great mill-wheel ;
and, all of metal as it was, it floated over the heaving
surges more lightly than an acorn- -cup adown the brook.
The waves tumbled it onward, until it grazed against
the shore, within a short distance of the spot where
Hercules was standing.
THE THREE GOLDEN APFLES., 135

Thanking the Old Man of the Sea, and begging his
pardon for having squeezed him so rougliy, the hero
resumed his journey. He met with a great many strange
adventures, which would be well worth your hearing,
if I had leisure to narrate them as minutely as they
deserve.

It was in this journey, if I mistake not, that he
encountered a prodigious giant, who was so wonderfully
contrived by nature, that, every time he touched the
earth, he became ten times as strong as ever he had been
before. His name was Anteus. You may see, plainly
enough, that it was a very difficult business to fight with
such a fellow; for, as often as he got a knock-down
blow, up he started again, stronger, fiercer, and abler to
use his weapons, than if his enemy had let him alone.
Thus, the harder Hercules pounded the giant with his
club, the further he seemed from winning the victory. I
have sometimes argued with such people, but never
fought with one. The only way in which Hereulcs
found it possible to finish the battle, was by lifting
Anteus off his feet into the air, and squeezing, and
Squeezing, and squeezing him, until, finally, the strength
was quite squeezed out of his enormous body.

When this affair was finished, Hercules continued his
travels, and went to the land of Egypt, where he was
taken prisoner, and would have been put to death, if he
had not slain the king of the country, and made his
escape. Passing through the deserts of Africa, and
going as fast as he could, he arrived at last on the shore
of the great ocean. And here, unless he could walk on
138 THE THREE. GOLDEN APPLES.

fifty thousand times! It positively appears to me that
this was the most marvellous spectacle that had ever
been seen by Hercules, in the whole course of his won-
derful travels and adventures. It was a greater marvel
than the hydra with nine heads, which kept growing
twice as fast as they were cut off; greater than the six-
legged man-monster; greater than Anteus ; greater than
anything that was ever beheld by anybody, before or
since the days of Hercules, or than anything that remains
to be beheld, by travellers in all time to come. It was a
riant !

But such an intolerably big giant! A giant as tall as
a mountain ; so vast a giant, that the clouds rested about
his midst, like a girdle, and hung like a hoary beard from
his chin, and flitted before his huge eyes, so that he
could neither see Hercules nor the golden cup in which
he was voyaging. And, most wonderful of all, the giant
held up his great hands and appeared to support the
sky, which, so far as Hercules could discern through
the clouds, was resting upon his head! This does really
seem almost too much to believe.

Meanwhile, the bright cup continued to float onward,
and finally touched the strand. Just then a breeze
wafted away the clouds from before the giant’s visage,
and Hercules beheld it, with all its enormous features ;
eyes each of them as big as yonder lake, a nose a mile
long, and a mouth of the same width. It was a counte-
nance terrible from its enormity of size, but disconsolate
and weary, even as you may see the faces of many peo-
ple, nowadays, who are compelled to sustain burdens
‘THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 137

As soon as this happened, he knew what was to be
done; for he had not gone through so many remarkable
adventures without learning pretty well how to conduct
himself, whenever anything came to pass a little out. of
the common rule. It was just as clear as daylight that
this marvellous cup had been set adrift by some unseen
power, and guided hitherward, in order to carry Her-
cules across the sea, on his way to the garden of the
‘Hesperides. Accordingly, without a moment’s delay, he
clambered- over the brim, and slid down on the inside,
where, spreading out his lion’s skin, he proceeded to
take a little repose. He had scarcely rested, until now,
‘since he bade farewell to the damsels on the margin of
the river. The waves dashed, with a pleasant and ring-
ing sound, against the circumference of the hollow cup;
it rocked lightly to and fro, and the motion was so
soothing that. it speedily rocked Hercules into an agreea-
‘ble slumber.

His nap had probably lasted a - good while, when the
cup chanced to graze against a rock, and, in conse-
quence, Immediately resounded and reverberated through
its golden or brazen substance, a hundred times as loudly
as ever you heard a church-bell. The noise awoke Her-
cules, who instantly started up and gazed around him,
wondering whereabouts he was. He was not long in
discovering that the cup had floated across a great part
of the sea, and was approaching the shore of what
seemed to be an island. And, on that island,, what do
you think he saw ?

No; you will never guess it, not if you were to try
140 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

possible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s immeas-
urable legs were to be seen, standing up into the ob-
scurity of the tempest; and, now and then, a momentary
glimpse of his whole figure, mantled in a volume of mist.
He seemed to be speaking, most of the time; but his
big, deep, rough voice chimed in with the reverbera-
tions of the thunder-claps, and rolled away over the hills,
like them. Thus, by talking out of season, the foolish
giant expended an incalculable quantity of breath, to no
purpose; for the thunder spoke quite as intelligibly
as he.

At last, the storm swept over, as suddenly as it had
come. And there again was the clear sky, and the
weary giant holding it up, and the pleasant sunshine
beaming over his vast height, and illuminating it against
the background of the sullen thunder-clouds. So far
above the shower had been his head, that not a hair of it
was moistened by the rain-drops! :

When the giant could see Hercules still standing on
the sea-shore, he roared out to him anew. |

“Tam Atlas, the mightiest giant in the Ww orld! | And
IT hold the sky upon my head!” |

“So I sce,” answered Hercules. “ But, can you
show me the way to the garden of the Iesperides ? ”

“What do you want there?” asked the giant.

“T want three of the golden apples,” shouted Her-
cules, “for my cousin, the king.”

“There is nobody but myself,” quoth the giant, “ that
can go to the garden of the Hesperides, and gather the
golden apples. If it were not for this little business of
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 139

above their strength. What the sky was to the giant,
such are the cares of earth to those who let themselves
be weighed down by them. And whenever men under-
take what is beyond the just measure of their abilities,
they encounter precisely such a doom as had befallen
this poor giant.

Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long
while. An ancient forest had been growing and decay-
ing around his feet; and oak-trees, of six or seven
centuries old, had sprung from the acorn, and forced
themselves between his toes.

The giant now looked down from the far height of
his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out, in
a voice that resembled thunder, proceeding out of the
cloud that had just flitted away from his face.

“Who are you, down at my feet there? And whence
do you come, in that little cup?”

“JT am Hercules!” thundered back the hero, in a
voice pretty nearly or quite as loud as the giant’s own.
“And I am seeking for the garden of the Hesper-
ides ! ”

“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the giant, in a fit of immense
laughter. “That is a wise adventure, truly!”

“And why not?” cried Hercules, getting a little
angry at the giant’s mirth. “Do you think I am afraid
of the dragon with a hundred heads!”

Just at this time, while they were talking together,
some black clouds gathered about the giant’s middle,
and burst into a tremendous storm of thunder and light-
ning, causing such a pother that Hercules found it im-
142 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

The truth is, Hercules had a kind heart of his own,
and considered that he should be doing the giant a favor,
by allowing him this opportunity for a ramble. And,
besides, he thought that it would be still more for his
own giory, if he could boast of upholding the sky, than
merely to do so ordinary a thing as to conquer a dragon
with a hundred heads. Accordingly, without more
words, the sky was shifted from the shoulders of Atlas,
and placed upon those of Hercules.

When this was safely accomplished, the first thing that
the giant did was to stretch himself; and you may: im-
agine what a prodigious spectacle he was then. Next, he
slowly lifted one of his feet out of the forest that had
grown up around it; then, the other. Then, all at once,
he began to caper, and leap, and dance, for joy at his
freedom; flinging himself nobody knows how high into
the air, and floundering down again with a shock that
made the earth tremble. Then he laughed — Ho! ho!
ho !— with a thunderous roar that was echoed from the
mountains, far and near, as if they and the giant had been
so many rejoicing brothers. When his joy had a little
subsided, he stepped into the sea; ten miles at the first
stride, which brought him midleg deep; and ten miles
at the second, when the water came just above his knees;
and ten miles more at the third, by which he was im-
mersed nearly to his waist. This was the greatest depth
of the sea. |

Hercules watched the giant, as he still went onward ;
for it was really a wonderful sight, this immense human
form, more than thirty miles off, half hidden in the ocean,
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 141

holding up the sky, I would make hal a dozen steps
across the sea, and get them for you.”

“You are very kind,” replied Hercules. .“‘ And can-
not you rest the sky upon a mountain ?” :

“None of them are quite high enough,” said Atlas,
shaking his head. ‘ But, if you were to take your stand
on the summit of that nearest one, your head would be
pretty nearly on a level with mine. You seem to be a
fellow of some strength. What if you should take my
burden on your shoulders, while I do your errand lor
vou?”

Hercules, as you must be careful to remember, was a
remarkably strong man; and though it certainly requires
a great deal of muscular power to uphold the sky, yet, if
any mortal could be supposed capable of such an exploit,
he was the one. Nevertheless, it seemed so difficult an
undertaking, that, for the first time in his life, he hesi-
tated.

“Ts the sky very heavy ?” he inquired.

“Why, not particularly so, at first,’ answered the
giant, shrugging his shoulders. “ But it gets to be a
little burdensome, after a thousand years!”

‘* And how long a time,” asked the hero, “ will it take
you to get the golden apples ? ”

“QO, that will be done in a few moments,” cried Atlas.

~ T shall take ten or fifteen miles at a stride, and be at

the garden and bi ick again before your shoulders begin
to ache.”

‘Well, then,” answered Hercules, “I will climb the
mountain behind you there, and relieve you of your
burden.”
144 THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES.

places, and shower down, like fiery rain, upon the
people’s heads! And how ashamed would the hero be,
if, owing to his unsteadiness beneath its weight, the sky
should crack, and show a great fissure quite across it!

I know not how long it was before, to his unspeakable
joy, he beheld the huge shape of the giant, like a cloud,
on the far-off edge of the sea. At his nearer approach,
Atlas held up his hand, in which Hercules could perceive
three magnificent golden apples, as big as pumpkins, all
hanging from one branch. :

~“T am glad to see you again, ” shouted Hercules,
when the giant was within hearing. “6 “So you have got
the golden apples?” |

“ Certainly, certainly,” answered Atlas : “and very fair
apples they are.. I took the finest that grew on the tree,
T assure you... Ah! it is a beautiful spot, that garden
of the Hesperides.. Yes; and the dragon with a hun-
dred heads is a sight worth any man’s seeing. After all,
you had better have gone for the apples yourself.”

“No matter,” replied. Hercules. “You have had a
pleasant ramble, and have.done the business as well as
Icould.- I heartily thank you for your trouble. And
now, as I have a long way to go, and am rather in haste,
—and as the king, my cousin, is anxious to receive the
golden apples, — will you be kind enough to take the
‘sky off my shoulders again?” »

“Why, as to that,” said the giant, chucking the
golden apples into the air, twenty miles high, or therea-
bouts, and catching them as they came down, — “as to
that, my good friend, I consider you a little unreasona-
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 143

but with his upper half as tall, and misty, and blue, as
a distant mountain. At last the gigantic shape faded
entirely out of view. And now Hercules began to con-
sider what he should do, in case Atlas should be drowned
in the sea, or if he were to be stung to death by the
dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the
golden apples of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune
were to happen, how could he ever get rid of the sky?
And, by the by, its weight began already to be a little
irksome to his head and shoulders.

“JT really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules.
‘Tf it wearies me so much in ten minutes, how must it
have wearied him in a thousand years ! ”

O my sweet little people, you have no idea what a
weight there was in that same blue sky, which looks so
soft and aerial above our heads! And there, too, was
the bluster of the wind, and the chill and watery clouds,
and the blazing sun, all taking their turns to make Her-
cules uncomfortable! He began to be afraid that the
giant would never come back. He gazed wistfully at
the world beneath him, and acknowledged to himself that
it was a far happier kind of life to be a shepherd at the
foot of a mountain, than to stand on its dizzy summit,
and bear up the firmament with his might and main.
For, of course, as you will easily understand, Hercules
had an immense responsibility on his mind, as well as a
weight on his head and shoulders. Why, if he did not
stand perfectly still, and keep the sky immovable, the
sun would perhaps be put ajar! Or, after nightfall, a
great many of the stars might be loosened from their
THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES: 145

ble. Cannot I earry the golden apples to the king, your
cousin, much quicker than you could? As his majesty
1s in such a hurry to get them, I promise you to take my
longest strides. And, besides, I have uo fancy for bur-
dening myself with the sky, just now.” |

Here Hercules grew impatient, and gave a great shrug
of his shoulders. It being now twilight, you might have
seen two or three stars tumble out of their places.
Everybody on earth looked upward in affright, thinking
that the sky might be going to fall next.

“Q, that will never do!” ericd Giant Atlas, with a
great roar of laughter. “IT have not Jet fall so many
stars within the last five centuries. By the time you
have stood there as long as I did, you will begin to learn
patience |”

“What!” shouted TLereules, very wrathfully, ‘do
you mtend to make ine bear this burden forever ? ”

“We will see about that, one of these days,’ answered
the giant. “At all events, you ought not to complain,
if you have to bear it the next hundred years, or perhaps
the next thousand. 1 bore it a good while longer, in
spite of the back-ache. Well, then, after a thousand
vears, if I happen to feel in the mood, we may possibly
shift about again. You are certainly a very strong man,
aud can never have a better opportunity to prove it.
Posterity will talk of you, I warrant it!” |

‘“Pish! a fig for its talk!’ eried Hercules, with another
hitch of his shoulders. “Just take the sky upon your
head one stant, will you? I want to make a cushion of
my hion’s skin, for the weight to rest upon. It really

7 J
146 THE TIIREE GOLDEN APPLES.

chafes me, and will cause unnecessary inconvenience in
So many centuries as I am to stand here.”

“That ’s no more than fair, and Ill do it!’ quoth the
giant; for he had no unkind feeling towards Hercules,
and was merely acting with a too selfish consideration of
his own ease. ‘ For just five minutes, then, Ill take
back the sky. Only for five minutes, recollect! I have
no idea of spending another thousand years as I spent the
last. Variety is the spice of life, say I.”

Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw
down the golden apples, and received back the sky, from
the head and shoulders of Hercules, upon his own, where
it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked up the three
golden apples, that were as big or bigger than pumpkins,
and straightway set out on his journey homeward, with-
out paying the slightest heed to the thundering tones of
the giant, who bellowed after him to come back. An.-
other forest sprang up around his feet, and grew ancient
there ; and again might be seen oak-trees, of six or seven
centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enor-
mous toes, 7

And there stands the giant, to this day; or, at any rate,
there stands a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his
name; and when the thunder rumbles about its summit,
we may Imagine it to be the voice of Giant Atlas, bellow-
ing after Hercules !




TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

AFTER THE STORY.




AQQIOUSIN EUSTACE,” demanded Sweet Fern,
| Ny who had been sitting at the story-teller’s feet,
INEZ] with his mouth wide open, “exactly how tall
was this giant?”

“QO Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern!” cried the student,
“do you think I was there, to measure him with a yard-
stick ? Well, if you must know to a hair’s-breadth, I
suppose he might be from three to fifteen miles straight
upward, and that he might have seated Iimself on Ta-
conic, aud had Monument Mountain for a footstool.”

“Dear me!” ejaculated the good little boy, with a
contented sort. of a grunt, “that was a giant, sure
enough! And how long was his little finger ?”’

« As long as from Tanglewood to the lake,’’ said Eus-
tace.

“Sure enough, that was a giant!” repeated Swect
Fern, in an ecstasy at the precision of these measure-
ments. ‘ And how broad, I wonder, were the shoulders

of Hercules ?”’


148 . TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE.

«That 1s what I have never been able to find out,” an-
swered the student. “But I think they must have been
a great deal broader than mine, or than your father’s, or
than almost any shoulders which one sees nowadays.”

~“T wish,” whispered Sweet Fern, with his mouth close
to the student’s ear, ‘that you would tell me. how big
were some of the oak-trees that grew between the giaut’s
toes? . So .
“They were bigger,” said Eustace, “than the great
chestnut-tree which stands beyond-- Captain Smith’s
house.”

“* Hustace,” remarked Mr. Pringle, after some delibera-

9

tion, “I find it impossible to express such an opinion of
this story as will be likely to gratify, in the smallest
degree, your pride of authorship. Pray let me advise
you never more to meddle with a classical myth. Your
Imagination is altogether Gothic, and will inevitably
Gothicize everything that you touch. The effect is like
bedaubing a marble statue with paint. This giant, now !
How can you have ventured to thrust his huge, dispro-
portioned mass among the seemly outlines of Grecian
fable, the tendency of which is to reduce even the ex-
travagant within limits, by its pervading elegance ? ”

‘“T described the giant as he appeared to me,” replied
the student, rather piqued. ‘And, sir, if you would
only bring your mind into such a relation with these fables
as 1s necessary in order to remodel them, you would see
at once that an old Greek had no more exclusive right to
them than a modern Yankee has. They are the common
property of the world, and of all time. The ancient
TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE. 149

poets remodelled them at pleasure, and held them plastic
in their hands; and why should they not be plastic in
my hands, as well?”

Mr. Pringle could not forbear a smile.

“And besides,” continued Eustace, “the moment you
put any warmth of heart, any passion or affection, any
human or divine morality, into a classic mould, you make
it quite another thing from what it was before. My own
opinion is, that the Greeks, by taking possession of these
legends (which were the immemorial birthright of man-
kind), and putting them into shapes of indestructible
beauty, indeed, but cold and heartless, have done all
subsequent ages an incalculable injury.”

“Which you, doubtless, were born to remedy,” said
Mr. Pringle, laughing outright. ‘Well, well, go on;
but take my advice, and never put any of your travesties
on paper. And, as your next effort, what if you should
try your hand on some one of the legends of Apollo ?”

“Ah, sir, you propose it as an impossibility,” observed
the student, after a moment’s meditation; ‘“‘and, to be
sure, at first thought, the idea of a Gothic Apollo strikes
one rather ludicrously. But I will turn over your sug-
gestion in my mind, and do not quite despair of success.”

During the above discussion, the children (who under-
stood not a word of it) had grown very sleepy, and were
now sent off to bed. Their drowsy babble was heard,
ascending the staircase, while a northwest-wind roared
loudly among the tree-tops of Tanglewood, and played an
anthem around the house. Eustace Bright went back to
the study, and again endeavored to hammer out some
verses, but fell asleep between two of the rhymes.
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

<>


THE HILLSIDE.

_ INTRODUCTORY TO “THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER,”
alND when, and. where, do you think we find the
i children next? No longer in the winter-time,
M) but in the merry month of May. No longer in
Tanglewood play-room, or at Tanglewood fireside, but
more than half-way up a monstrous hill, or a mountain,
as perhaps it would be better pleased to have us call it.
They had set out from home with the mighty purpose of
climbing this high hill, even to the very tiptop of its
bald head. ‘To be sure, it was not quite so high as
Chimborazo, or Mont Blanc, and was even a good deal
lower than old Graylock. But, at any rate, it was
higher than a thousand ant-hillocks, or a million of mole-
hills; and, when measured by the short strides of little
children, might be reckoned a very respectable mountain.
And was Cousin Eustace with the party? Of that
you may be certain; else how could the book go on a
step further? He was now in the middle of the spring
vacation, and looked pretty much as we saw him four or

five months ago, except that, if you gazed quite closely
7 *


154 THE HILLSIDE.

at his upper lip, you could discern the funniest little
bit of a mustache upon it. Setting aside this mark of
mature manhood, you might have considered Cousin
Kustace just as much a boy as when you first became
acquainted with bim. He was as merry, as playful, as
good-humored, as light of foot and of spirits, and equally
a favorite with the little folks, as he had always been.
This expedition up the mountain was entirely of his con-
trivance. All the way up the steep ascent, he had en-
couraged the elder children with his cheerful voice ; and
when Dandelion, Cowslip, and Squash-blossom grew
weary, he had lugged them along, alternately, on his
back. In this manner, they had passed through the
orchards and pastures on the lower part of the hill, and
had reached the wood, which extends thence towards its —
bare summit.

The month of May, thus far, had been more amiable
than it often is, and this was as sweet and genial a day
as the heart of man or child could wish. In their progress
up the hill, the small people had found enough of violets,
blue and white, and some that were as golden as if they
had the touch of Midas on them. That sociablest of
flowers, the little Housatonia, was very abundant. It is
a flower that never lives alone, but which loves its own
kind, and is always fond of dwelling with a great many
friends and relatives around it. Sometimes you see a
family of them, covering a space no bigger than the palm
of your hand; and sometimes a large community, whiten-
ing a whole tract of pasture, and all keeping one another
in cheerful heart and life.
THE HILLSIDE. 155_

Within the verge of the wood there were columbines,
looking more pale than red, because they were so modest,
and had thought proper to seclude themselves too anx-
lously from the sun. There were wild geraniums, too,
and a thousand white blossoms of the strawberry. The
trailmg arbutus was not yet quite out of bloom; but it
hid its precious flowers under the last year’s withered
forest-leaves, as carefully as a mother-bird hides its little
young ones. It knew, I suppose, how beautiful and
sweet-scented they were. So cunning was their conceal-
ment, that the children sometimes smelt the delicate rich-
ness of their perfume, before they knew whence it pro-
ceeded. :

Amid so much new life, it was strange and truly pitiful
to behold, here and there, in the fields and pastures, the
hoary periwigs of dandelions that had already gone to
seed. They had done with summer before the summer
came. Within those small globes of winged seeds it was
autumn now ! |

Well, but we must not waste our valuable pages with
any more talk about the spring-time and wild flowers.
There is something, we hope, more interesting to be
talked about. If you look at the group of children, you
may see them all gathered around Eustace Bright, who,
sitting on the stump of a tree, seems to be just beginning
a story. ‘The fact is, the younger part of the troop have
found out that it takes rather too many of their short
strides to measure the long ascent of the hill. Cousin
Eustace, therefore, has decided to leave Sweet Fern,
Cowslip, Squash-blossom, and Daudelion, at this point,
156 THE HILLSIDE. |

midway up, until the return of the rest of the party from
the summit. And because they complain a little, and do
not quite like to stay behind, he gives them some apples
out of his pocket, and proposes to tell them a very pretty
story. Hereupon they brighten up, and change their
grieved looks into the broadest kind of smiles.

As for the story, I was there to hear it, hidden behind
a bush, and shall tell it over to you in the pages that
come next. |


> hg Se
Cn SIS SII



\q.N E evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and
j| lus old wife Baucis sat at their cottage-door,
enjoying the calm and beautiful sunset. They
had already eaten their frugal supper, and intended now
to spend a quiet hour or two before bedtime. So they
talked together about their garden, and their cow, and
their bees, and their grapevine, which clambered over
the cottage-wall, and on which the grapes were begin-
ning to turn purple. But the rude shouts of children
and the fierce barking of dogs, in the village near at
hand, grew louder and louder, until, at last, it was hardly
possible for Baucis and Philemon to hear each other
speak. |
“ Ah, wife,” cried Philemon, ‘I fear some poor travel-
ler is seeking hospitality among our neighbors yonder,
and, instead of giving him food and lodging, they have
set their dogs at him, as their custom is!”

“‘ Well-a-day !” answered old Baucis, “I do wish our
neighbors felt a little more kindness for their fellow-crea-


158 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

tures. And only think of bringing up their children in
this naughty way, and patting them on the head when
they fling stones at strangers!”

“Those children will never come to any good,” said
Philemon, shaking his white head. ‘To tell you the
truth, wife, I should not wonder if some terrible thing
were to happen to all the people in the village, unless
they mend their manners. But, as for you and me, so
long as Providence affords us a crust of bread, let us be
ready to give half to any poor, homeless stranger, that
may come along and need it.”

“That ’s right, husband!” said Baucis. ‘So we
will!”

These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and
had to work pretty hard for a living. Old Philemon
toiled diligently in his garden, while Baucis was always
busy with her distaff, or making a little butter and cheese
with their cow’s milk, or doing one thing and another
about the cottage. Their food was seldom anything but
bread, milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a portion of
honey from their beehive, and now and then a bunch of
grapes, that had ripened against the cottage-wall. But
they were two of the kindest old people in the world, and
would cheerfully have gone without their dinners, any
day, rather than refuse a slice of their brown loaf, a cup
of new milk, and a spoonful of honey, to the weary travel-
ler who might pause before their door. They felt as if
such guests had a sort of holiness, and that they ought,
therefore, to treat them better and more bountifully than
their own selves, —
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 159

Their cottage stood on a rising ground, at some short
distance from a village, which lay in a hollow valley,
that was about half a mile in breadth. This valley, in
past ages, when the world was new, had probably been
the bed of a lake. There, fishes had glided to and fro
in the depths, and water-weeds had grown along the
margin, and trees and hills had seen their reflected im-
ages in the broad and peaceful mirror. But, as the
waters subsided, men had cultivated the soil, and built
houses on it, so that it was now a fertile spot, and bore
no traces of the ancient lake, except a very small brook,
which meandered through the midst of the village, and
supplied the inhabitants with water. The valley had
been dry land so long, that oaks had sprung up, and
grown great and high, and perished with old age, and
been succeeded by others, as tall and stately as the first.
Never was there a prettier or more fruitful valley. The
very sight of the plenty around them should have made
the inhabitants kind and gentle, and ready to show their
gratitude to Providence by doing good to their fellow-
creatures.

But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely
village were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which
Heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a very
selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity for
the poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They would
only have laughed, had anybody told them that human
beings owe a debt of love to one another, because there
is no other method of paying the debt of love and care
which all of us owe to Providence. You will hardly.
160 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

believe what I am going to tell you. These nauglity
people taught their children to be no better than them-
selves, aud used to clap their hands, by way of encour-
agement, when they saw the little boys and girls run
after some poor stranger, shouting at his heels, and
pelting him with stones. They kept large and fierce
dogs, and whenever a traveller ventured to show him.
self in the village street, this pack of disagreeable curs
scampered to meet him, barking, snarling, and showing
their teeth. Then they would seize him by his leg, or
by his clothes, just as it happened; and if he were
ragged when he came, he was generally a pitiable object
before he had time to run away. This was a very ter-
rible thing to poor travellers, as you may suppose, es-
pecially when they chanced to be sick, or feeble, or
lame, or old. Such persons (if they once knew how
badly these unkind people, and their unkind children
and curs, were in the habit of behaving) would go miles
and miles out of their way, rather than try to pass
through the village again. |

What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was
that when rich persons came in their chariots, or riding
on beautiful horses, with their servants in rich liveries
attending on them, nobody could be more civil and ob-
sequious than the inhabitants of the village. They
would take off their hats, and make the humblest bows |
you ever saw. If the children were rude, they were
pretty certain to get their ears boxed; and as for the
dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his
master instantly beat him with a club, and tied him up
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 16l

without any supper. This would have been all very
well, only it proved that the villagers cared much about
the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and nothing
whatever for the human soul, which lives equally in the
beggar and the prince.

So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke
so-sorrowfully, when he heard the shouts of the children
and the barking of the dogs, at the farther extremity of
the village street. There was a confused din, which
lasted a good while, and scemed to pass quite through
the breadth of the valley.

“I never heard the dogs so loud!” observed the good
old man.

“Nor the children so rude!” answered his good old
wite.

They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while
the nolse came nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of
the little eminence on which their cottage stood, they
saw two travellers approaching on foot. Close behind
them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels.
A little farther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent up
shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers, with
all their might. Once or twice, the younger of the two
‘men (he was a slender and very active figure) turned
about, and drove back the dogs with a staff which he
carried in his hand. His companion, who was a very tall
person, walked calmly along, as if disdaining to notice
either the naughty children, or the pack of curs, whose
manners the clildren seemed to imitate.

Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and

K
162 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

looked as if they might not have money enough in their
pockets to pay for a night’s lodging. And this, I am
afraid, was the reason why the villagers had allowed their
children and dogs to treat them so rudely.

“Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, ‘‘let us go
and meet these poor people. No doubt, they feel almost
too heavy-hearted to climb the hill.”

“Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, “ while I
make haste within doors, and see whether we can get
them anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of bread
and milk would do wonders towards raising their spirits.”

Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Phile-
mon, on his part, went forward, and extended his hand
with so hospitable an aspect that there was uo need of
saying, what nevertheless he did say, in the hearticst
tone imaginable, — oe

‘“‘ Welcome, strangers ! welcome ! ”’

“Thank you!” replied the younger of the two, in a
lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and
trouble. “This is quite another greeting than we have
met with yonder, in the village. Pray, why do you live
in such a bad neighborhood ? ” |
“Ah!” observed old Philemon, with a quiet and
benign smile, “ Providence put me here, I hope, among
other reasons, in order that I may make you what amends
I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors.”

‘Well said, old father!” cried the traveller, laughing ;
“and, if the truth must be told, my companion and
myself need some amends. Those children (the little
rascals!) have bespattered us finely with their mud-ball ;
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 163

and one of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged
enough already. But I took him across the muzzle with
my staff; and I think you may have heard him yelp, even
thus far off.” |

Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits;
nor, indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveller’s
look and manner, that he was weary with a long day’s
journey, besides being disheartened by rough treatment
at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd way,
with a sort of cap on his head, the brim of which stuck
out over both ears. Though it was a summer evening,
he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely about him,
perhaps because his under garments were shabby. Phile-
mon perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of
shoes; but, as it was now growing dusk, and as the old
man’s eyesight was none the sharpest, he could not pre-
cisely tell in what the strangeness consisted. One thing,
certainly, seemed queer. The traveller was so wonder-
fully light and active, that it appeared as if his feet
sometimes rose from the ground of their own ‘accord, or
could only be kept down by an effort.

“T used to be light-footed, in my youth,”’ said Phile-
mon to the traveller. ‘But I always found my feet
grow heavier towards nightfall.”

“There is nothing like a good staff to help one along,”
answered the stranger; ‘‘and I happen to have an excel-
lent one, as you see.”

This staff, im fact, was the oddest-looking staff that
Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive-wood,
and had something like a little pair of wings near the
164 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were represented
as twining themselves about the staff, and were so very
skilfully executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you
know, were getting rather dim) almost thought them
alive, and that he could see them wriggling and twist-
ing.

“A curious piece of work, sure enough!” said he.
“A staff with wings! It would be an excellent kind of
stick for a little boy to ride astride of!”

By this time, Philemon and his two guests had
reached the cottage-door.

“Friends,” said the old man, “sit down and rest your-
selves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis has
gone to see what you can have for supper. We are
poor folks; but you shall be welcome to whatever we
have in the cupboard.”

The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the
bench, letting his staff fall, as he did so. And here
happened something rather marvellous, though trifling
enough, too. The staff seemed to get up from the
ground of its own accord, and, spreading its little pair
of wings, it half hopt, half flew, and leaned itself against
the wall of the cottage. There it stood quite still, ex-
cept that the snakes continued to wriggle. But, in my
private opinion, old Philemon’s eyesight had been play-
ing him tricks again.

Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger
drew his attention from the wonderful staff, by speaking
to him.

“Was there not,” asked the stranger, in a remarkably
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 165

deep tone of voice, “a lake, in very ancient times, cover-
ing the spot where now stands yonder village ? ”

“Not in my day, friend,” answered Philemon; “ and
yet 1 am an old man, as you see. There were always
the fields and meadows, just as they are now, and the old
trees, and the little stream murmuring through the midst
of the valley. My father, nor his father before him, ever
saw it otherwise, so far as I know ; and doubtless it will
still be the same, when old Philemon shall be gone and
forgotten !”

“That is more than can be safely foretold,” observed
the stranger; and there was something very stern in his
deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark
and heavy curls were shaken with the movement. “Since
the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affec-
tions and sympathies of their nature, it were better that
the lake should be rippling over their dwellings again!”

The traveller looked so stern, that Philemon was really
almost frightened; the more so, that, at his frown, the
twilight seemed suddenly to grow darker, and that, when
he shook his head, there was a roll as of thunder in the
alr.

But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger’s face be-
came so kindly and mild, that the old man quite forgot
his terror. Nevertheless, he could not help feeling that
this elder traveller must be no ordinary personage, al-
though he happened now to be attired so humbly, and to
be journeying on foot. Not that Philemon fancied him
a prince in disguise, or any character of that sort; but
rather some exceedingly wise man, who went about the
166 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

world in this poor garb, despising wealth and all worldly
objects, and seeking everywhere to add a mite to his wis-
dom. ‘This idea appeared the more probable, because,
when Philemon raised his eyes to the stranger’s face, he
seemed to see more thought there, in one look, than he
could have studied out in a lifetime.

While Baucis was getting the supper, the travellers
both began to talk very soeiably with Philemon. The
younger, indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made
such shrewd and witty remarks, that the good old man
continually burst out a-laughing, and pronouneed him
the merriest fellow whom he had seen for many a day.

‘“ Pray, ny young friend,” said he, as they grew famil-
iar together, “what may I eall your name ?”

“Why, L am very nimble, as you see,” answered the
traveller. “So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name will
fit tolerably well.”

“Quicksilver ? Quicksilver ? ” repeated Philemon, look-
ing m the traveller’s face, to see if he were making fun of
him. “Tt is a very odd name! And your companion
there? Has he as strange a one?”

‘You must ask the thunder to tell it you!” replied
Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. ‘No other
voice is loud enough.”

This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might
have caused Philemon to conceive a very great awe of
the elder stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at him, he
had not beheld so much beneficenee in his visage. But,
undoubtedly, here was the grandest figure that ever sat
so humbly beside a cottage-door. When the stranger
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 167

conversed, it was with gravity, and in such a way that
Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tell him everything
which he had most at heart. This is always the feeling
that people have, when they meet with any one wise
enough to comprehend all their good and evil, and to
despise not a tittle of it.

But Philemon, simple and ki: d-hearted old man that
he was, had not many secrets to. disclose. He talked,
however, quite garrulously, about the events of his past
life, in the whole course of which he had never been a
score of miles from this very spot. His wife Baucis and
himself had dwelt in the cottage from their youth up-
ward, earning their bread by honest labor, always poor,
but still contented. He told what excellent butter and
cheese Baucis made, and how nice were the vegetables
which he raised in his garden. He said, too, that, be-
cause they loved one another so very much, it was the
wish of both that death might not separate them, but
that they should die, as they had lived, together.

As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his
countenance, and made its expression as sweet as it
was grand.

“You are a good old man,” said he to Philemon, ‘and
you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet. It is
fit that your wish be granted.”

And it seemed to Philemon, just then, as if the sun-
set clouds threw up a bright flash from the west, and
kindled a sudden light in the sky.

Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to the
door, began to make apologies for the poor fare which
she was forced to set before her guests.
168 TIIE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

33

“Had we known you were coming,” said she, “my
good man and myself would have gone without a mor-
sel, rather than you should lack a better supper. But
I took the most part of to-day’s milk to make cheese ;
and our last loaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I never
feel the sorrow of being poor, save when a poor traveller
knocks at our door.”

“All will be very well; do not trouble yourself, my
good dame,” replied the elder stranger, kindly. “An
honest, hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with
the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to
nectar and ambrosia.”

“A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, “and
likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, and
a bunch of purple grapes besides.”

“Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!” exclaimed
(Juicksilver, laughing, ‘‘ an absolute feast! and you shall
see how bravely I will play my part at it! I think I
never felt hungrier in my life.”

“Mercy on us!” whispered Baucis to her husband.
“If the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am
afraid there will not be half enough supper!”

They all went into the cottage.

And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you something
that will make you open your eyes very wide? It is
really one of the oddest circumstances in the whole story.
Quicksilver’s staff, you recollect, had set itself up against
the wall of the cottage. Well; when its master entered
the door, leaving this wonderful staff behind, what should
it do but immediately spread its little wings, and go
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 169

hopping and fluttering up the doorsteps! Tap, tap,
went the staff, on the kitchen floor; nor did it rest until
it had stood itself on end, with the greatest gravity and
decorum, beside Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon,
however, as well as his wife, was so taken up in attend-
ing to their guests, that no notice was given to what the
staff had been about.

As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper for
two hungry travellers. In the middle of the table was the
remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of cheese on one
side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on the other. There
was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests.
A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly full of milk,
stood at a corner of the board; and when Baucis had
filled two bowls, and set them before the strangers, only
a little milk remained in the bottom of the pitcher.
Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart,
finds itself pinched and squeezed among narrow circum-
stances. Poor Baucis kept wishing that she might starve
for a week to come, if it were possible, by so doing, to
provide these hungry folks a more plentiful supper.

And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she
could not help wishing that their appetites had not been
quite so large. Why, at their very first sitting down,
the travellers both drank off all the milk in their two
bowls, at a draught.

“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you
please,” said Quicksilver. . “The day has been hot, and
I am very much athirst.”

‘““Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great

8

4
170 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

confusion, *‘ Lam so sorry and ashamed! But the truth is,
there is hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher. O hus-
band! husband! why did n’t we go without our supper ? ”

“Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, starting
up from table and taking the pitcher by the handle, “ it
really appears to me that matters are not quite so bad as
you represent them. Here is certainly more > milk 1 in the
pitcher.”

So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he
proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his compan-
ion’s likewise, from the pitcher, that was supposed to be
almost empty. The good woman could scarcely believe
her eyes. She had certainly poured out nearly all the
nulk, and had peeped in afterwards, and seen the bottom
of the pitcher, as she set it down upon the table.

“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt
to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake.
At all events, the pitcher cannot. help being empty now,
after filling the bowls twice over.’

“ What excellent milk!” observed Quicksilver, after
quaffing the contents of the second bowl. ‘“‘ Excuse me,
my kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little
more.”

Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could sce any-
thing, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher upside
down, and consequently had poured out every drop of
milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, there could not
possibly be any left. However, in order to let him know
precisely how the case was, she lifted the pitcher, and
made a gesture as if pouring milk into Quicksilver’s
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 171

bowl, but without the remotest idea that any milk would
stream forth. What was her surprise, therefore, when
such an abundant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl,
that it was immediately filled to the brim, and overflowed
upon the table! The two snakes that were twisted about
Quicksilver’s staff (but neither Baucis nor Philemon hap-
pened to observe this circumstance) stretched out their
heads, and began to lap up the spilt milk.

And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had!
It. seemed as if Philemon’s only cow must have pastured,
that day, on the richest herbage that could be found any-
where in the world. I only wish that each of you, my
beloved little souls, could have a bowl of such nice milk,
at supper-time! |

‘And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis,”
said Quicksilver, ‘and a little of that honey ! ”

Baucis cut him a slice, accordingly ; and though the
loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had been rather
too dry and crusty to be palatable, it was now as light
and moist as if but a few hours out of the oven. Tasting
a crumb, which had fallen on the table, she found it more
delicious than bread ever was before, and could hardly
believe that it was a loaf of her own kneading and
baking. Yet, what other loaf could it possibly be ?

But, oh the honey! I may just as well let it alone,
without trying to describe how exquisitely it smelt and
looked. Its color was that of the purest and most trans-
parent gold; and it had the odor of a thousand flowers ;
but of such flowers as never grew in an earthly garden,
and to seek which the bees must have flown high above
172 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

the clouds. The wonder is, that, after alighting on a
flower-bed of so delicious fragrance and immortal bloom,
they should have been content to fly down again to their
hive in Philemon’s garden. Never was such honey
tasted, seen, or smelt. The perfume floated around the
kitchen, and made it so delightful, that, had you closed
your eyes, you would instantly have forgotten the low
ceilmg and smoky walls, and have fancied yourself in an
arbor, with celestial honeysuckles creeping over it.

Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame,
she could not but think that there was something rather
out of the common way, in all that had been going on.
So, after helping the guests to bread and honey, and lay-
ing a bunch of grapes by each of their plates, she sat
down by Philemon, and told him what she had seen, in
a whisper.

‘Did you ever hear the like?” asked she.

“ No, I never did,” answered Philemon, with a smile.
“And I rather think, my dear old wife, you have been
walking about in a sort of adream. IfI had poured out
the milk, I should have seen through the business, at
once. There happened to be a little more in the pitcher
than you thought, — that is all.”

‘Ah, husband,” said Baucis, “say what you will, these
are very uncommon people.”

“Well, well,” replied Philemon, still smiling, ‘* per-
haps they are. They certainly do look as if they had
seen better days; and I am heartily glad to see them
making so comfortable a supper.”

Kach of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 173

upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order
to see the more clearly) was of opinion that the clusters
had grown larger and richer, and that each separate
grape seemed to be on the point of bursting with ripe
juice. It was entirely a mystery to her how such grapes
could ever have been produced from the old stunted vine
that climbed against the cottage-wall.

“Very admirable grapes these!” observed Quicksil-
ver, as he swallowed one after another, without appar-
ently. diminishing his cluster. ‘ Pray, my good host,
whence did you gather them?”

“From my own vine,’ answered Philemon. “ You
may see one of its branches twisting across the window,
yonder. But wife and I never thought the grapes very
fine ones.”

“‘T never tasted better,” said the guest. ‘ Another
cup of this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall then
have supped better than a prince.”

This time, old Philemon bestirred himself, and took up
the pitcher; for he was curious to discover whether there
was any reality in the marvels which Baucis had whis-
pered to him. He knew that Ins good old wife was
incapable of falsehood, and that she was seldom mistaken
in what she supposed to be true; but this was so very
singular a case, that he wanted to see into it with his
own eyes. On taking up the pitcher, therefore, he
slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied that it con-
tained not so much asa single drop. All at once, how-
ever, he beheld a little white fountain, which gushed up
from the bottom of the pitcher, and speedily filled it to
174 THE MIRACULOUS PITCIIER.

the brim with foaming and deliciously fragrant milk. It
was lucky that Philemon, in his surprise, did not drop
the miraculous pitcher from his hand.

““Who are ye, wonder-working strangers ? ” eried he,
even more bewildered than his wife had been,

“Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends,”
replied the elder traveller, in his mild, deep voice, that
had something at once sweet and awe-inspiring in it.
“Give me likewise a cup of the milk; and may your
pitcher never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, any
more than for the needy wayfarer ! ”

The supper being now over, the strangers requested to
be shown to their place of repose. The old people would
gladly have talked with them a little longer, and have
expressed the wonder which they felt, and their delight
at finding the poor and meagre supper prove so much
better and more abundant than they hoped. But the
elder traveller had inspired them with such reverence,
that they dared not ask him any questions. And when
Philemon drew Quicksilver aside, and inquired how
under the sun a fountain of milk could have got into an
old earthen pitcher, this latter personage pointed to his
stall. |

“There is the whole mystery of the affair,” quoth
Quicksilver; “and if you can make it out, 1’ll thank
you to let me know. I can’t tell what to make of my
stall. It 1s always playing such odd tricks as this; some-
times getting me a supper, and, quite as often, stealing it
away. IfI had any faith in such nonsense, I should say
the stick was bewitched ! ”
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 175

_ He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces,
that they rather fancied he was laughing at them. The
magic staff went hopping at his heels, as Quicksilver
quitted the room. When left alone, the good old couple
spent some little time in conversation about the events
of the evening, and then lay down on the floor, and fell
fast asleep. They had given up their sleeping-room to
the guests, and had no other bed for themselves, save
these planks, which I wish had been as soft as their own
hearts.

The old man and his wife were stirring, betimes, in the
morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the sun,
and made their preparations to depart. Philemon hos-
pitably entreated them to remain a little longer, until
Baucis could milk the cow, and bake a cake upon the
hearth, and, perhaps, find them a few fresh eggs, for
breakfast. The guests, however, seemed to think it bet-
ter to accomplish a good part of their journey before the
heat of the day should come on. They, therefore, per-
sisted in setting out immediately, but asked Philemon
and Baucis to walk forth with them a short distance, and
show them the road which they were to take.

So they all four issued from the cottage, chatting to-
gether like old friends. It was very remarkable indeed,
how familiar the old couple msensibly grew with the
elder traveller, and how their good and simple spirits
melted into his, even as two drops of water would melt
into the illimitable ocean. And as for Quicksilver, with
his keen, quick, laughing wits, he appeared to discover
every little thought that but peeped into their minds,
176 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

before they suspected it themselves. They sometimes
wished, it is true, that he had not been quite so quick-
witted, and also that he would fling away his staff, which
looked so mysteriously mischievous, with the snakes
always writhing about it. But then, again, Quicksilver
showed himself so very good-humored, that they would
have been rejoiced to keep him in their cottage, staff,
snakes, and all, every day, and the whole day long.

“Ah me! Well-a-day!” exclaimed Philemon, when
they had walked a little way from their door. “If our
neighbors only knew what a blessed thing it is to show
hospitality to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs,
and never allow their children to fling another stone.”

“It is a sin and shame for them to behave so, — that
it is!” cried good old Baucis, vehemently. “And I
mean to go this very day, and tell some of them what
naughty people they are!”

“T fear,” remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, “ that
you will find none of them at home.”

The elder traveller’s brow, just then, assumed such a
grave, stern, and awful grandeur, yet serene withal, that
neither Baucis nor Philemon dared to speak a word.
They g gazed reverently into his face, as if they had been
gazing at the sky.

‘When men do not feel towards the humblest stranger
as if he were a brother,” said the traveller, in tones so
deep that they sounded like those of an organ, “ they are
unworthy to exist on earth, which was created as the
abode of a great human brotherhood! ”

“And, by the by, my dear old people,” cried Quick-
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 177

silver, with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in his
eyes, ‘‘ where is this same village that you talk about ?
On which side of us does it ie? Methinks I do not see
it hereabouts.”’ |

Philemon and his wife turned towards the valley, where,
at sunset, only the day before, they had seen the mead-
ows, the houses, the gardens, the clumps of trees, the
wide, green-margined street, with children playing in it,
and all the tokens of business, enjoyment, and prosper-
ity. But what was their astonishment! There was no
longer any appearance of a village! Even the fertile
vale, in the hollow of which it lay, had ceased to have
existence. In its stead, they beheld the broad, blue sur-
face of a lake, which filled the great basin of the valley,
from brim to brim, and reflected the surrounding ills in
its bosom, with as tranquil an image as if it had been
‘there ever since the creation of the world. For an in-
stant, the lake remained perfectly smooth. Then, a little
breeze sprang up, and caused the water to dance, glitter,
and sparkle in the early sunbeams, and to dash, with a
pleasant rippling murmur, against the hither shore.

The lake seemed so strangely familiar, that the old
couple were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could
only have been dreaming about a village having lain
there. But, the next moment, they remembered the
vanished dwellings, and the faces and characters of the
inhabitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The village
had been there yesterday, and now was gone!

“Alas!” cried these kind-hearted old people, “ what
has become of our poor neighbors ?”

8 * L
178 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

‘They exist no longer as men and women,” said the
elder traveller, in his grand and deep voice, while a roll
of thunder seemed to echo it at a distance. “There was
neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs; for they:
never softened or sweetened the hard lot of mortality by |
the exercise of kindly affections between man and man.
They retained no image of the better life in their bosoms ;
therefore, the lake, that was of old, has spread itself forth

, again, to reflect the sky!” ,

‘And as for those foolish people,” said Quicksilver,
with his mischievous smile, “ they are all transformed to
fishes. There needed but little change, for they were
already a scaly set of rascals, and the coldest-blooded
beings in existence. So, kind Mother Baucis, whenever
you or your husband have an appetite for a dish of
broiled trout, he can throw in a line, and pull out half a
dozen of your old neighbors ! ”

“ Ah,” eried Baucis, shuddering, “I would not, for the
world, put one of them on the gridiron ! ”

“No,” added Philemon, making a wry face, “ we could
never relish them !” :

“As for you, good Philemon,” continued the elder
traveller, — “‘and you, kind Baucis, — you, with your
scanty means, have mingled so much heartfelt hospital-
ity with your entertamment of the homeless stranger,
that the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nec-
tar, and the brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia.
Thus, the divinities have feasted, at your board, off
the same viands that supply their banquets on Olympus.
You have done well, my dear old friends. Wherefore,

3
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 179

request whatever favor you have most at heart, and it is
granted.”

Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then,
—I know not which of the two it was who spoke, but
that one uttered the desire of both their hearts.

‘Let us live together, while we live, and leave the
world at the same instant, when we die! For we have
always loved one another ! ”

‘ Be it so!” replied the stranger, with majestic kind-
ness. ‘“ Now, look towards your cottage ! ”

They did so. But what was their surprise, on behold-
ing a tall edifice of white marble, with a wide-open por-
tal, occupying the spot where their humble residence had
so lately stood! - |

‘There is your home,” said the stranger, beneficently
smiling on them both. “ Exercise your hospitality in
yonder palace, as freely asin the poor hovel to which you
welcomed us last evening.”

The old folks fell on their knees to thank him; but,
behold! neither he nor Quicksilver was there.

So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the
marble palace, and spent their time, with vast satisfaction
to themselves, in making everybody jolly and comfortable
who happened to pass that way. The milk-pitcher, I
must not forget to say, retained its marvellous quality of
being never empty, when it was desirable to have it full.
Whenever an honest, good-humored, and free-hearted
guest took a draught from this pitcher, he invariably
found it the sweetest and most invigorating fluid that
ever ran down his throat. But, if a cross and disagree-
180 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.

able curmudgeon happened to sip, he was pretty cer-
tain to twist his visage into‘a hard knot, and pronounce
it a pitcher of sour milk!

Thus the old couple lived m their palace a great, great
while, and grew older and older, and very old indeed.
At length, however, there came a summer morning when -
Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance, as
on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspread-
ing both their pleasant faces, to invite the guests of over-
night to breakfast. The guests searched everywhere,
from top to bottom of the spacious palace, and all to no
purpose. But, after a great deal of perplexity, they es-
pied, in front of the portal, two venerable trees, which
nobody could remember to have seen there the day be-
fore. Yet there they stood, with their roots fastened
deep into the soil, and a huge breadth of. foliage over-
shadowing the whole front of the edifice. One was an
oak, and the other a linden-tree. Their boughs — it
was strange and beautiful to see — were intertwined to-
gether, and embraced one another, so that each tree
seemed to live in the other tree’s bosom, much more than
in its own.

While the guests were marvelling how these trees,
that must have required at least a century to grow,
could have come to be so tall and venerable in a sin-
gle night, a breeze sprang up, and set their intermingled
boughs astir. And then there was a deep, broad mur-
mur in the air, as if the two mysterious trees were
speaking.

“T am old Philemon!” murmured the oak.
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. Isl

“Tam old Baucis!” murmured the linden-tree.

But, as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke
at once, — ** Philemon! Baucis! Baucis! Philemon! ”
—as if one were both and both were one, and talking
together in the depths of their mutual heart. It was
plain enough to perceive that the good old couple had
renewed their age, and were now to spend a quiet and
delightful hundred years or so, Philemon as an oak,
and Baucis as a linden-tree. “And oh, what a hospitable
shade did they fling around them! Whenever a way-
farer paused beneath it, he heard a pleasant whisper of
the leaves above his head, and wondered how tle sound
should so much resemble words like these : —

‘““ Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome! ”

And some kind soul, that knew what would have
pleased old Baucis and old Philemon best, built a cir-
cular seat around both their trunks, where, for a great
while afterwards, the weary, and the hungry, and the
thirsty used to repose themselves, and quaff milk abun-
dantly out of the miraculous pitcher.

And I wish, for all our sakes, that we had the pitcher
here now!




THE HILLSIDE.

AFTER THE STORY.

*|OW much did the pitcher hold?” asked Sweet
V1 Fern.
a) “It did not hold quite a quart,” answered
the student ; “but you might keep pouring milk out of
it, till you should fill a hogshead, if you pleased. The
truth is, it would run on forever, and not be dry even
at midsummer, — which is more than can be said of
yonder rill, that goes babbling down the hillside.” —

“And what has become of the pitcher now?” in-
quired the little boy. |

“It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty-five
thousand years ago,” replied Cousin Eustace. “The
people mended it as well as they could; but, though it
would hold milk pretty well, it was never afterwards
known to fill itself of its own accord. So, you see, it
was no better than any other cracked earthen pitcher.”

“ What a pity!” cried all the children at once.

The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the party,
as did likewise a half-grown Newfoundland puppy, who


THE HILLSIDE. 183

went by the name of Bruin, because he was just as black
asa bear. Ben, being elderly, and of very circumspect
habits, was respectfully requested, by Cousin Eustace, to
stay behind with the four little children, in order to keep
them out of mischief. As for black Bruin, who was him-
self nothing but a child, the student thought it best to
take him along, lest, in his rude play with the other chil-
dren, he should trip them up, and send them rolling and
tumbling down the hill, Advising Cowslip, Sweet Fern,
Dandelion, aud Squash-blossom to sit pretty still, in the
spot where he left them, the student, with Primrose and
the elder children, began to ascend, and were soon out
of sight among the trees.


ir
NSB
THE CHIMARA.

CONG


BALD-SUMMIT.

— INTRODUCTORY TO “THE CHIMARA.”

ewiPWARD, along the steep and wooded hillside,
OM] went Eustace Bright and his companions. The

Z| trees were not yet in full leaf, but had budded
forth sufficiently to throw an airy shadow, while the sun-
shine filled them with green light. There were moss-
grown rocks, half hidden among the old, brown, fallen
leaves; there were rotten tree-trunks, lying at full length
where they had long ago fallen; there were decayed
boughs, that had been shaken down by the wintry gales,
and were scattered everywhere about. But still, though
these things looked so aged, the aspect of the wood was
that of the newest life; for, whichever way you turned
your eyes, something fresh and green was springing
forth, so as to be ready for the summer.

At last, the young people reached the upper verge of
the wood, and found themselves almost at the summit of
the hill. It was not a peak, nor a great round ball, but
a pretty wide plain, or table-land, with a house and barn
upon it, ab some distance. That house was the home of


188 _ BALD-SUMMIT.

a solitary family ; and oftentimes the clouds, whence fell
the rain, and whence the snow-storm drifted down into
the valley, hung lower than this bleak and lonely dwell-
ing-place.

On the highest point of the hill was a heap of stones,
in the centre of which was stuck a long pole, with a lit-
tle flag fluttermg at the end of it.. Hustace led the chul-
dren thither, and bade them look around, and see how
large a tract of our beautiful world they could take in at
a glance. And their eyes grew wider as they looked.

Monument Mountain, to the southward, was still in
the centre of the scene, but seemed to have sunk and
subsided, so that it was now but an undistinguished
member of a large family of hills. Beyond it, the
Taconic range looked higher and bulkier than before.
Our pretty lake was seen, with all its little bays and in-
lets; and not that alone, but two or three new lakes were
opening their blue eyes to the sun. Several white vil-
lages, each with its steeple, were scattered about in
the distance. There were so many farm-houses, with
their acres of woodland, pasture, mowing-fields, and till-
age, that the children could hardly make room in their
minds to receive all these different objects. There, too,
was Tanglewood, which they had hitherto thought such
an important apex of the world. It now occupied so
small a space, that they gazed far beyond it, and on
either side, and searched a good while with all their eyes,
before discovering whereabout it stood.

White, fleecy clouds were hanging in the air, and
threw the dark spots of their shadow here and there over
BALD-SUMMIT. 189

the landscape. But, by and by, the sunshine was where
the shadow had been, and the shadow was somewhere
else. |

Far to the westward was a range of blue mountains,
which Eustace Bright told the children were the Catskills.
Among those misty hills, he said, was a spot where some
old Dutchmen were playing an everlasting game of nine-
pins, and where an idle fellow, whose name was Rip Van
Winkle, had fallen asleep, and slept twenty years at a
stretch. The children eagerly besought Eustace to tell
them all about this wonderful affair. But the student re-
plied that the story had been told once already, and better
than it ever could be told again; and that nobody would
have aright to alter a word of it, until it should have
grown as old as “The Gorgon’s Head,” and “ The Three
Golden Apples,” aud the rest of those miraculous legends.

‘At least,” said Periwinkle, ‘‘ while we rest ourselves
here, and are looking about us, you can tell us another
of your own stories.” .

“Yes, Cousin Eustace,” eried Primrose, “I advise
you to tell us a story here. Take some lofty subject or
other, and see if your imagination will not come up to it.
Perhaps the mountain air may make you poetical, for
once. And no matter how strange and wonderful the
story may be. Now that we are up among the clouds,
we can believe anything.”

“Can you believe,” asked Eustace, “that there was
once a winged horse?”

“Yes,” said saucy Primrose; “but I am afraid you
will never be able to catch him.”

39
190 BALD-SUMMIT.
ake

“For that matter, Primrose,” rejoined the student,
“1 might possibly catch Pegasus, and get upon his back,
too, as well as a dozen other fellows that I know of. At
any rate, here is a story about him; and, of all places in
the world, it ought certainly to be told upon a mountain-
top.” ) :

So, sitting on the pile of stones, while the children.
clustered themselves at its base, Kustace fixed his eyes
ona white cloud that was sailing by, and began as fol-
lows.

3


rn

iN

NAN



THE CHIMARA.

~N|NCEH, in the old, old times (for all the strange
Vi | things which I tell you about happened long
<2} before anybody can remember), a fountain
gushed out of a hillside, in the marvellous land of
Greece. And, for aught I know, after so many thousand
years, it 1s still gushing out of the very selfsame spot.
At any rate, there was the pleasant fountain, welling
freshly forth and sparkling adown the hillside, in the
golden sunset, when a handsome young man named
Bellerophon drew near its margin. In his hand he held
a bridle, studded with brilliant gems, and adorned with
a golden bit. Seeing an old man, and another of middle
age, and a little boy, near the fountain, and likewise a
maiden, who was dipping up some of the water in a
pitcher, he paused, and begged that he might refresh
himself with a draught.

“This is very delicious water,’ he said to the maiden
as he rinsed and filled her pitcher, after drinking out of
it. ‘Will you be kind enough to tell me whether the
fountain has any name ?”’


192 | THE CHIMERA.

“Yes; it is called the Fountain of Pirene,”’ answered
the maiden; and then she added, “ My grandmother has
told me that this clear fountain was once a beautiful wo-
man ; and when her son was killed by the arrows of the
huntress Diana, she melted all away into tears. And so _
the water, which you find so cool and sweet, 1s the sorrow
of that poor mother’s heart !”

“I should not have dreamed,” observed the young
stranger, “that so clear a well-spring, with its gush and
gurgle, and its cheery dance out of the shade into the
“sunlight, had so much as one tear-drop in its bosom!

And this, then, is Pirene? I thank you, pretty maiden;
for telling me its name. I have come from a far-away
country to find this very spot.”

A middle-aged country fellow (he had driven his cow
to drink out of the spring) stared hard at young Bellero-
phon, and at the handsome bridle which he carried in his
hand.

“The water-courses must be getting low, friend, in
your part of the world,” remarked he, “if you come so
far only to find the Fountain of Pirene. But, pray,
have you lost a horse? I see you carry the bridle
in your hand; and a very pretty one it is with that
double row of bright stones upon it. If the horse was_
as fine as the bridle, ‘you are much to be pitied for losing
him.”

‘T have lost no horse,” said Bellerophon, with a smile.
“ But I happen to be seeking a very famous one, which,
as wise people have informed me, must be found here-
abouts, if anywhere. Do you know whether the winged
THE CHIMARA. 193

horse Pegasus still haunts the Fountain of Pirene, as he—
used to do, in your forefathers’ days ?”

But then the country fellow laughed.

Some of you, my little friends, have probably heard,
that this Pegasus was a snow-white steed, with beautiful
silvery wings, who spent most of his time on the summit
of Mount Helicon. He was as wild, and as swift, and as
buoyant, in his flight through the air, as any eagle that
ever soared into the clouds. There was nothing else like
him in the world. He had no mate; he never had been
backed or bridled by a master; and, for many a long
year, he led a solitary and a happy life.

O, how fine a thing it is to be a winged horse! Sleep-
ing at night, as he did, on a lofty mountain-top, and
passing the greater part of the day in the air, Pegasus
seemed hardly to be a creature of the earth. Whenever
he was seen, up very high above people’s heads, with the
sunshine on his silvery wings, you would have thought
that he belonged to the sky, and that, skimming a little
too low, he had got astray among our mists and vapors,
and was seeking his way back again. It was very
pretty to behold him plunge into the fleecy bosom of
a bright cloud, and be lost in it, for a moment or two,
and then break forth from the other side. Or, in a sullen
rain-storm, when there was a gray pavement of clouds
over the whole sky, it would sometimes happen that the
winged horse descended right through it, and the glad
light of the upper region would gleam after him. In
another instant, it is true, both Pegasus and the pleasant
light would be gone away together. But any one that

9 M
194, THE CHIMERA.

was fortunate enough to see this wondrous spectacle felt
cheerful the whole day afterwards, and as much longer as
the storm lasted. | -

In the summer-time, and in the beautifullest of weather,
Pegasus often alighted on the solid earth, and, closing
his silvery wings, would gallop over hill and. dale for
pastime, as fleetly as the wind. Oftener than in any
other place, he had been seen near the fountain of
Pirene, drinking the delicious water, or rolling himself
upon the soft grass of the margin. Sometimes, too (but
Pegasus was very dainty in his food), he would crop a
few of the clover-blossoms that happened to be sweetest.
_ To the fountain of Pirene, therefore, people’s great-
grandfathers had been in the habit of going (as long as
they were youthful, and retained their faith in winged
horses), in hopes of getting a glimpse at the beautiful
Pegasus. But, of late years, he had been very seldom
seen. Indeed, there were many of the country folks,
dwelling within half an hour’s walk of the fountain, who
had never beheld Pegasus, and did not believe that there
was any such creature in existence. The country fellow
to whom Bellerophon was speaking chanced to be one
of those incredulous persons.

And that was the reason why he laughed.

“ Pegasus, indeed!”’ cried he, turning up his nose as
high as such a flat nose could be turned up, — “ Pega-
sus, indeed! A winged horse, truly! Why, friend, are
you in your senses? Of what use would wings be toa
horse? Could he drag the plough so well, think you?
To be sure, there might be a little saving in the expense
THE CHIMERA. 195

of shoes; but then, how would a man like to see his horse
flying out of the stable window ? — yes; or whisking him
up above the clouds, when he only wanted to ride to
mill? No, no! I don’t believe in Pegasus. There
never was such a ridiculous kind of a horse-fowl made ! ”

‘““T have some reason to think otherwise,” said Beller-
ophon, quietly.

And then he turned to an old, gray man, who was
leaning on a staff, and listening very attentively, with
his head stretched forward, and one hand at his ear,
because, for the last twenty years, he had been getting
rather deaf.

‘And what say you, venerable si 2» inquired he.
“In your younger days, I should imagine, you must
frequently have seen the winged steed!”

* Ah, young stranger, my memory is very poor!” said
the aged man. ‘ When I was a lad, if I remember
rightly, I used to believe there was such a horse, and so
did everybody else. But, nowadays, I hardly know
what to think, and very seldom think about the winged
horse at all. If I ever saw the creature, it was a long,
long while ago; and, to tell you the truth, I doubt
whether I ever did see him. One day, to be sure, when
I was quite a youth, I remember seeing some hoof-tramps
round about the brink of the fountain. Pegasus might
have made those hoof-marks; and so might some other
horse.”

“And have you never seen him, my fair maiden ? ”
asked Bellerophon of the girl, who stood with the pitcher
on her head, while this talk went on. ‘ You certainly
196 THE CHIMERA.

could see Pegasus, if anybody can, for your eyes are
very bright.”

“QOunee I thought I saw him, -eplied the maiden,
with a smile and a blush. “It was either Pegasus, or a
large white bird, a very great way up in the air. And
one other time, as I was coming to the fountain-with my
pitcher, I heard a neigh. O, such a brisk and melodious
neigh as that was! My very heart. leaped with delight
at the sound. But it startled me, nevertheless; so that
I ran home without filling my pitcher.”

“That was truly a pity !’’ said Bellerophon.

And he turned to the child, whom I mentioned at the
beginning of the story, and who was gazing at him, as
children are apt to gaze at strangers, with his rosy mouth —
wide open.

“ Well, my little fellow, ° cried Bellerophon, playfully
pulling one of his curls, “I suppose you have often seen
the winged horse.”

“That I have,” answered the child, very readily. “I
saw him yesterday, and many times before.”

“ You are a fine little man!” said Bellerophon, drawing
the child closer to him. ‘‘ Come, tell me all about it.”

“Why,” replied the child, ‘I often come here to sail
little boats in the fountain, and to gather pretty pebbles
out of its basi. And sometimes, when I look down into
the water, I see the image of the winged horse, in the
picture of the sky that is there. I wish he would come
down, and take me on his back, and let me ride him up
to the moon! But, if I so much as stir to look at him,
he flies far away out of sight.”

29
THE CHIMERA. 197

And Bellerophon put his faith in the child, who had
seen the image of Pegasus in the water, and in the
maiden, who had heard him neigh so melodiously, rather
than in the middle-aged clown, who believed only in cart-
horses, or in the old man who had forgotten the beautiful
things of his youth.

Therefore, he haunted about the Fountain of Pirene
for a great many days afterwards. He kept continually
on the watch, looking upward at the sky, or else down
into the water, hoping forever that he should see either
the reflected image of the winged horse, or the marvel-
lous reality. He held the bridle, with its bright gems
and golden bit, always ready in his hand. The rustic
people, who dwelt in the neighborhood, and drove their
cattle to the fountain to drink, would often laugh at poor
Bellerophon, and sometimes take him pretty severely to
task. They told him that an able-bodied young man, like
himself, ought to have better business than to be wast-
ing his time in such an idle pursuit. They offered to sell
him a horse, if he wanted one; and when Bellerophon
declined the purchase, they tried to drive a bargain with
him for his fine bridle. | |

Kven the country boys thought him so very foolish,
that they used to have a great deal of sport about him,
and were rude enough not to care a fig, although Bellero-
phon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for example,
would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers,
by way of flying, while one of his schoolfellows would
scamper after him, holding forth a twist of bulrushes,
which was intended to represent Bellerophon’s ornamental
198 THE CHIMERA.

bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen the picture
of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger
more than all the naughty boys could torment him. The
dear little fellow, in his play-hours, often sat down beside
him, and, without speaking a word, would look down into
the fountain and up towards the sky, with so innocent a
faith, that Bellerophon could not help feeling encouraged.

Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was
that Bellerophon had undertaken to catch the winged
horse. And we shall find no better opportunity to speak
about this matter than while he is waiting for Pegasus to
appear.

If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon’s pre-
vious adventures, they might easily grow into a very long
story. It will be quite enough to say, that, in a certain
country of Asia, a terrible monster, called a Chimera,
had made its appearance, and was doing more mischief
than could be talked about between now and sunset.
According to the best accounts which I have been able
to obtain, this Chimera was nearly, if not quite, the
ughest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest
and unaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with, and
the most difficult to run away from, that ever came out
of the earth’s inside. It had a tail like a boa-constrictor ;
its body was like I do not care what; and it had three
separate heads, one of which was a lion’s, the second a
goat’s, and the third an abominably great snake’s. And
a hot blast of fire came flaming out of each of its three
mouths! Being an earthly monster, I doubt whether it
had any wings ; but, wings or no, it ran like a goat and a
THE CHIMERA. 199

lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived
to make about as much speed as all the three together.

O, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this
naughty creature did! With its flaming breath, it could
set a forest on fire, or burn up a field of grain, or, for
that matter, a village, with all its fences and houses. It
laid waste the whole country round about, and used to
eat up people and animals alive, and cook them after-
wards in the burning oven ofits stomach. Mercy on us,
little children, I hope neither you nor I will ever happen
to meet a Chimera! |

While the hateful beast (if a beast we can anywise call
it) was doing all these horrible things, it so chanced that
Bellerophon came to that part of the world, on a visit to
the king. The king’s name was Jobates, and Lycia was
the country which he ruled over. Bellerophon was one
of the bravest youths in the world, and desired nothing
so much as to do some valiant and beneficent deed, such
as would make all mankind admire and love him. In
those days, the only way fora young man to distinguish
himself was by fighting battles, either with the enemies
of his country, or with wicked giants, or with trouble-
some dragons, or with wild beasts, when he could find
nothing more dangerous to encounter. King [obates,
perceiving the courage of his youthful visitor, proposed
to him to go and fight the Chimera, which everybody
else was afraid of, and which, unless it should be soon
killed, was likely to convert Lycia into a desert. Beller-
ophon hesitated not a moment, but assured the king that
he would either slay this dreaded Chimera, or perish in
the attempt.
200 THE CHIMERA.

But, in the first place, as the monster was so pro-
digiously swift, he bethought himself that he should
never win the victory by fighting on foot. The wisest
thing he could do, therefore, was to get the very best
and fleetest horse that could anywhere be found. And_
what other horse, in all the world, was half so fleet as
the marvellous horse Pegasus, who had wings as well
as legs, and was even more active in the air than on
the earth? To be sure, a great many people denied
that there was any such horse with wings, and said that
the stories about him were all poetry and nonsense. But,
wonderful as it appeared, Bellerophon believed that Pega-
sus was a real steed, and hoped that he himself might
be fortunate enough to find him; and, once fairly
mounted on his back, he would be able to fight the
Chimera at better advantage.

And this was the purpose with which he had travelled
from Lycia to Greece, and had brought the beautifully:
ornamented bridle in his hand. It was an enchanted bri-
dle. If he could only succeed in putting the golden bit
into the mouth of Pegasus, the winged horse would be
submissive, and would own Bellerophon for his master,
and fly whithersoever he might choose to turn the rein.

But, indeed, it was a weary and anxious time, while
Bellerophon waited and waited for Pegasus, in hopes
that he would come and drink at the Fountain of Pirene.
He was afraid lest King Iobates should imagine that he
had fled from the Chimera. It pained him, too, to think
how much mischief the monster was doing, while he
himself, instead of fighting with it, was compelled to
THE CHIMERA. | 201.

sit idly poring over the bright waters of Pirene, as they
gushed out of the sparkling sand. And as Pegasus came
thither so seldom, in these latter years, and scarcely
alighted there more than once in a lifetime, Bellerophon
feared that he might grow an old man, and have no
strength left in his arms nor courage in his heart, before
the winged horse would appear. O, how heavily passes
the time, while an adventurous youth 1s yearning to do his
part in life, and to gather in the harvest of his renown!
How hard a lesson it is to wait! Our life is brief, and
how much of it is spent in teaching us only this!

Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had
grown so fond of him, and was never weary of keeping
him company. Every morning, the child gave him a
uew hope to put in his bosom, instead of yesterday’s
withered one.

“Dear Bellerophon,” he would cry, looking up hope-
fully into his face, ‘‘ I think we shall see Pegasus to-day!”

And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy’s
unwavering faith, Bellerophon would have given up all
hope, and would have gone back to Lycia, and have -
done his best to slay the Chimera without the help of
the winged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon
would at least have been terribly scorched by the crea-
ture’s breath, and would most probably have been killed
aud devoured. Nobody should ever try to fight an
earth-born Chimera, unless he can first get upon the
back of an aerial steed.

One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even
more hopefully than usual.

g
902 THE CHIMERA.

“Dear, dear Bellerophon,” eried he, “I know not
why it is, but I feel as if we should certainly see Pega-
sus to-day!”

And all that day he would not stir a step from Bel-—
‘lerophon’s side; so they ate a crust of bread together,
and drank some of the water of the fountain. In the
afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown
his arm around the child, who likewise had put one of
his little hands into Bellerophon’s. The latter was lost
in his own thoughts, and was fixing his eyes vacantly on
the trunks of the trees that overshadowed the fountain,
and on the grapevines that clambered up among their
branches. But the gentle child was gazing down into
the water; he was grieved, for Bellerophon’s sake, that
the hope of another day should be deceived, like so
many before it; and two or three quiet tear-drops fell
from his eyes, and mingled with what were said to be
the many tears of Pirene, when she wept for her slain
children.

But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the
pressure of the child’s little hand, and heard a soft, al-
most breathless whisper. .

“See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image
in the water!”

The young man looked down into the dimpling mir-
ror of the fountain, and saw what he took to be the
reflection of a bird which seemed to be flying at a great
height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its snowy
or silvery wings.

“What a splendid bird it must be!” said he. “ And
THE CHIMERA: 203

how very large it looks, though it must really be flying
higher than the clouds! ”

“It makes me tremble!” whispered the child. “I
am afraid to look up into the air! It is very beautiful,
and yet I dare only look at its image in the water. Dear
Bellerophon, do you not see that it is no bird? It is the
winged horse Pegasus !”

Bellerophon’s heart began to throb! He gazed keenly
upward, but could not see the winged creature, whether
bird or horse; because, just then, it had plunged into
the fleecy depths of a summer cloud. It was but a
moment, however, before the object. reappeared, sinking
lightly down out of the cloud, although still at a vast
distance from the earth. Bellerophon caught the child.
in his arms, and shrank back with him, so that they were
both hidden among the thick shrubbery which grew all
around the fountam. Not that he was afraid of any
harm, but he dreaded lest, if Pegasus caught a glimpse
of them, he would fly far away, and alight in some inac-
cessible mountain-top. For it was really the winged
horse. After they had expected him so long, he was
coming to quench his thirst with the water of Pirene.

Nearer and nearer came the aerial wonder, flying in
great circles, as you may have seen a dove when about to
alight. Downward came Pegasus, in those wide, sweep-
ing circles, which grew narrower, and narrower still, as
he gradually approached the earth. The nigher the view
of him, the more beautiful he was, and the more marvel-
lous the sweep of his silvery wings. At last, with so.
light a pressure as hardly to bend the grass about the
204 THE CHIMERA.

fountain, or imprint a hoof-tramp in the sand of its mar-
gin, he alighted, and, stooping his wild head, began to
drink. He drew in the water, with long and pleasant
sighs, and tranquil pauses of enjoyment; and then an-
other draught, and another, and another. For, nowhere
in the world, or up among the clouds, did Pegasus love
any water as he loved this of Pirene. And when his
thirst was slaked, he cropt a few of the honey-blossoms
of the clover, delicately tastmg them, but not caring to
make a hearty meal, because the herbage, just beneath
the clouds, on the lofty sides of Mount Helicon, suited
his palate better than this ordinary grass.

Alter thus drmking to his heart’s content, and, in his
dainty fashion, condescending to take a little food, the
winged horse began to caper to and fro, and dance, as it
- were, out of mere idleness and sport. There never was
a more playful creature made than this very Pegasus.
So there he frisked, in a way that it delights me to
think about, fluttering his great wings as lightly as ever
did a linnet, and running little races, half on earth and
half in air, and which I know not whether to call a flight
or a gallop. When a creature is perfectly able to fly, he
sometimes chooses to run, just for the pastime of the
thing; and so did Pegasus, although it cost him some
little trouble to keep his hoofs so near the ground.
Bellerophon, meanwhile, holding the child’s hand, peeped
forth from the shrubbery, and thought that never was
any sight so beautiful as this, nor ever a horse’s eyes so
wild and spirited as those of Pegasus. It seemed a sin
to think of bridling him and riding on his back.
THE CHIMAERA. — = 205

Once or twice, Pegasus stopped, and snuffed the air,
pricking up his ears, tossing his head, and turning it on
all sides, as if he partly suspected some mischief or
other. Seeing nothing, however, and hearing no sound,
he soon began his antics again.

At length, — not that he was weary, but only idle
and luxurious, — Pegasus folded. his wings, and lay
down on the soft green turf. But, being too full of
aerial life to remain quiet for many moments together,
he soon rolled over on his back, with his four slender
legs in the air. It was beautiful to see him, this one
solitary creature, whose mate had never been created,
but who needed no companion, and, living a great many
hundred years, was as happy as the centuries were long.
The more he did such things as mortal horses are accus-
tomed to do, the less earthly and the more wonderful he
seemed. Bellerophon and the child almost held their
breath, partly from a delightful awe, but still more be-
cause they dreaded lest the slightest stir or murmur
should send him up, with the speed of an arrow-flight,
into the farthest blue of the sky.

Finally, when he had had enough of rolling over and
over, Pegasus turned himself about, and, indolently, like
any other horse, put out his fore legs, in order to rise
from the ground; and Bellerophon, who ‘had guessed
that he would do so, darted suddenly from the thicket,
and leaped astride of his back.

Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!

But what a bound did Pegasus make, when, for the
first time, he felt the weight of a mortal man upon his
206 THE CHIMERA.

loins! A bound, indeed! Before he had time to draw
a breath, Bellerophon found himself five hundred feet
aloft, and still shooting upward, while the winged horse
snorted and trembled with terror and anger. Upward
he went, up, up, up, until he plunged into the cold,
misty bosom of a cloud, at which, only a little while
before, Bellerophon had been gazing, and fanecying it
a very pleasant spot. Then again, out of the heart of
the cloud, Pegasus shot down like a thunderbolt, as if
he meant to dash both himself and his rider headlong
against a rock. Then he went through about a thou-
sand of the wildest caprioles that had ever been _per-
formed either by a bird or a horse.

I cannot tell you half that he did. He skimmed
straight forward, and sideways, and backward. He
reared himself erect, with his fore legs on a wreath of
mist, and his hind legs on nothing at all. He flung out
his heels behind, and put down his head between his
legs, with his wings pointing right upward. At about
two miles’ height above the earth, he turned a somerset,
so that Bellerophon’s heels were where his head should
have been, and he seemed to look down into the sky,
instead of up. He twisted his head about, and, looking
Bellerophon in the face, with fire flashing from his eyes,
made a terrible attempt to bite him. He fluttered his
pinions so wildly that one of the silver feathers was
shaken out, and floating earthward, was picked up by the
child, who kept it as long as he lived, in memory of
Pegasus and Bellerophon.

But the latter (who, as you may judge, was as good
THE CHIMERA. 207

a horseman as ever galloped) had been watching his
opportunity, and at last clapped the golden bit of the
enchanted bridle between the winged steed’s jaws. No
sooner was this done, than Pegasus became as manage-
able as if he had taken food, all his life, out of Bellero-
phon’s hand. To speak what I really feel, it was almost
a sadness to see so wild a creature grow suddenly so
tame. And Pegasus seemed to feel it so, likewise. He
looked round to Bellerophon, with the tears in his beau:
tiful eyes, instead of the fire that so recently flashed from
them. But when Bellerophon patted his head, and spoke
a few authoritative, yet kind and soothing words, another
look came into the eyes of Pegasus; for he was glad at
heart, after so many lonely centuries, to have found a
companion and a master.

Thus it always is with winged horses, and with all such
wild and solitary creatures. If you can catch and over-
come them, it is the surest way to win their love.

. While Pegasus had been doing his utmost to shake
Bellerophon off his back, he had flown a very long dis-
tance; and they had come within sight of a lofty moun-
tain by the time the bit was in his mouth. Bellerophon
had seen this mountain before, and knew it to be Hel-
icon, on the summit of which was the winged horse’s
abode. Thither (after looking gently into his rider’s
face, as if to ask leave) Pegasus now flew, and, alighting,
waited patiently until Bellerophon should please to dis-
mount. The young man, accordingly, leaped from his
steed’s back, but still held him fast by the bridle. Meet-
ing his eyes, however, he was so affected by the geutle-
908 THE CHIMERA.

ness of his aspect, and by his beauty, and by the thought
of the free life which Pegasus had heretofore lived, that
he could not bear to keep him a prisoner, if he ‘really
desired his liberty.

Obeying this generous impulse, he slipped the en-
chanted bridle off the head of Pegasus, and took the bit
from his mouth.

“Teave me, Pegasus!” said he. ‘Hither leave me,
or love me.”

In an instant, the winged horse shot almost out of
sight, soaring straight upward from the summit of Mount
Helicon. Being long after sunset, it was now twilight on
the mountain-top, and dusky evening over all the country
round about. But Pegasus flew so high that he over-
took the departed day, and was bathed in the upper radi-
ance of the sun. Ascending higher and higher, he looked
like a bright speck, and, at last, could no longer be seen
in the hollow waste of the sky. And Bellerophon was
afraid that he should never behold him more. But,
while he was lamenting his own folly, the bright speck
reappeared, and drew nearer and nearer, until it de-
scended lower than the sunshine; and behold, Pegasus
had come back! After this trial there was no more fear of
the winged horse’s making his escape. He and Beller-
ophon were friends, and put loving faith in one another.

That night they lay down and slept together, with Bel-
lerophon’s arm about the neck of Pegasus, not as a caution,
but for kindness. And they awoke at peep of day, and
bade one another good morning, each in his own language.
- In this manner, Bellerophon and the wondrous steed
THE CHIMERA. 209

spent several days, and grew better acquainted and fonder
of each other, all the time. They went on long aerial
journeys, and sometimes ascended so high that the earth
looked hardly bigger than—the moon. They visited dis-
tant countries, and amazed the inhabitants, who thought
that the beautiful young man, on the back of the winged
horse, must have come down out of the sky. A thou-
sand miles a day was no more than an easy space for the.
fleet Pegasus to pass over. Bellerophon was delighted
with this kind of life, and would have liked nothing bet-
ter than to live always in the same way, aloft in the clear
atmosphere; for it was always sunny weather up there,
however cheerless and rainy it might be in the lower
region. But he could not forget the horrible Chimera,
which he had promised King Iobates to slay. So, at last,
when he had become well accustomed to feats of horse-
manship in the air, and could manage Pegasus with the
least motion of his hand, and had taught him to obey his
voice, he determined to attempt the performance of this
perilous adventure.

At daybreak, therefore, as soon as he unclosed his
eyes, he gently pinched the winged horse’s ear, in order
to arouse him. Pegasus immediately started from the
ground, and pranced about a quarter of a mile aloft, and
made a grand sweep around the mountain-top, by way of
showing that he was wide awake, and ready for any kind
of an excursion. During the whole of this little flight,
he uttered a loud, brisk, and melodious neigh, and finally
come down at Bellerophon’s side, as lightly as ever you

saw a sparrow hop upon a twig.
N
910 THE CHIMERA.

“Well done, dear Pegasus! well done, my sky-skim-
mer!” cried Bellerophon, fondly stroking the horse’s
neck. ‘ And now, my fleet and beautiful friend, we must
break our fast. To-day we are to fight the terrible Chi-
meera.”

As soon as they had eaten their morning meal, and
drank some sparkling water from a spring called Hippo-
crene, Pegasus held out his head, of his own accord, so
that his master might put on the bridle. Then, with a
great many playful leaps and airy caperings, he showed
his impatience to be gone; while Bellerophon was gird-
ing on his sword, and hanging his shield about his neck,
and preparing himself for battle. When everything was
ready, the rider mounted, and (as was his custom, when
going a long distance) ascended five miles perpendicu-
larly, so as the better to see whither he was directing his
course. He then turned the head of Pegasus towards
the east, and set out for Lycia. In their flight they
overtook an eagle, and came so nigh him, before he could
get out of their way, that Bellerophon might easily have
caught him by the leg. Hastening onward at this rate,
it was still early in the forenoon when they beheld the
lofty mountains of Lycia, with their deep and shaggy val-
leys. If Bellerophon had been told truly, it was in one of
those dismal valleys that the hideous Chimera had taken
up its abode.

Bemg now so near their journey’s end, the winged
horse gradually descended with his rider; and they took
advantage of some clouds that were floating over the
mountain-tops, in order to conceal themselves. Hover-
THE CHIMERA. 911

ing on the upper surface of a cloud, and peeping over its
edge, Bellerophon had a pretty distinct view of the
mountamous part of Lycia, and could look into all its
shadowy vales at once. At first there appeared to be
nothing remarkable. It was a wild, savage, and rocky
tract. of ligh and precipitous hills. In the more level
part of the country, there were the ruins of houses that
-had been burnt, and, here and there, the carcasses of
dead cattle, strewn about the pastures where they had
been feeding.

“The Chimera must have done this mischief,” thought
Bellerophon. ‘“ But where can the monster be?”

As I have already said, there was nothing remarkable
to be detected, at first sight, m any of the valleys and
dells that lay among the precipitous heights of the
mountains. Nothmg at all; unless, indeed, it were
three spires of black smoke, which issued from what
seemed to be the mouth of a cavern, and clambered sul-
lenly into the atmosphere. Before reaching the moun-
tain-top, these three black smoke-wreaths mingled them-
selves into one. The cavern was almost directly beneath
the winged horse and his rider, at the distance of about
a thousand feet. The smoke, as it crept heavily upward,
had an ugly, sulphurous, stifling scent, which caused
Pegasus to snort and Bellerophon to sneeze. So dis-
agreeable was it to the marvellous steed (who was accus-
tomed to breathe only the purest air), that he waved his
wings, and shot half a mile out of the range of this
offensive vapor.

But, on looking behind lim, Bellerophon saw some-
912. THE CHIMARA.

thing that induced him first to draw the bridle, and then
to turn Pegasus about. He made a sign, which the
winged horse understood, and sunk slowly through the
air, until his hoofs were scarcely more than a man’s height
above the rocky bottom of the valley. In front, as far
off as you could throw a stone, was the cavern’s mouth,
with the three smoke-wreaths oozing out of it. And
what else did Bellerophon behold there ?

There seemed to be a heap of strange and terrible
creatures curled up within the cavern. Their bodies lay
so close together, that Bellerophon could not distinguish
them apart; but, judging by their heads, one of these
creatures was a huge snake, the second a fierce lion, and
the third an ugly goat. The lion and the goat were
asleep; the snake was broad awake, and kept staring
around him with a great pair of fiers eyes. But— and
this was the most wonderful part of the matter — the
three spires of smoke evidently issued from the nostrils
of these three heads! So strange was the spectacle,
that, though Bellerophon had been all along expecting
it, the truth did not immediately occur to him, that here
was the terrible three-headed Chimera. He had found
out the Chimera’s cavern. The snake, the lion, and the
goat, as he supposed them to be, were not three sepa-
rate creatures, but one monster! ;

The wicked, hateful thing! Slumbering as two thirds
of it were, it still held, in its abominable claws, the rem-
nant of an unfortunate lamb, — or possibly (but I hate to
think so) it was a dear little boy, —which its three
mouths had been gnawing, before two of them fell
asleep !
THE CHIMERA: 913

All at once, Bellerophon started as from a dream, and
knew it to be the Chimera. Pegasus seemed to know it,
at the same instant, and sent forth a neigh, that sounded
like the call of a trumpet to battle. At this sound the
three heads reared themselves erect, and belched out
great flashes of flame. Before Bellerophon had time to
consider what to do next, the monster flung itself out of
the cavern and sprung straight towards him, with its im-
mense claws extended, and its snaky tail twisting itself
venomously behind. If Pegasus had. not been as nimble
as a bird, both he and his rider would have been over-
thrown by the Chimeera’s headlong rush, and thus the
battle have been ended before it was well begun. But
the winged horse was not to be caught so. In the
twinkling of an eye he was up aloft, half-way to the
clouds, snorting with anger. He shuddered, too, not
with affright, but with utter disgust at the loathsomeness
of this poisonous thing with three heads.

The Chimera, on the other hand, raised itself up so as
to stand absolutely on the tip-end of its tail, with its
talons pawing fiercely in the air, and its three heads
spluttering fire at Pegasus and his rider. My stars, how
it roared, and hissed, and bellowed! Bellerophon, mean-
while, was fitting his shield on his arm, and drawing his
sword. | |

‘Now, my beloved Pegasus,” he whispered in the
winged horse’s ear, “‘ thou must help me to slay this in-
sufferable monster; or else thou shalt fly back to thy
solitary mountain-peak without thy friend Bellerophon.
For either the Chimera dies, or its three mouths shall
914 THE CHIMERA.

gnaw this head of mine, which has slumbered upon thy
neck !”

Pegasus whinnied, and, turning back his head, rubbed
his nose tenderly against his rider’s cheek. It was his
way of telling him that, though he had wings and was an
immortal horse, yet he would perish, if it were possible
for immortality to perish, rather than leave Bellerophon
behind.

“T thank you, Pegasus,” answered Bellerophon.
“Now, then, let us make a dash at the monster! ”’

Uttering these words, he shook the bridle; and Peg-
asus darted down aslant, as swift as the flight of an
arrow, right towards the Chimeera’s threefold head,
which, all this time, was poking itself as high as it could
into the air. As he came within arm’s-length, Bellero-
phon made a cut at the monster, but was carried onward
by his steed, before he could see whether the blow had
been successful. Pegasus continued his course, but soon
wheeled round, at about the same distance from the
Chimeera: as before. Bellerophon then perceived that he
had cut the goat’s head of the monster almost off, so
that it dangled downward by the skin, and seemed quite
dead.

But, to make amends, the snake’s head and the lion’s
head had taken all the fierceness of the dead one into
themselves, and spit flame, and hissed, and roared, with
a vast deal more fury than before.

“Never mind, my brave Pegasus!” cried Bellero-
phon. “With another stroke like that, we will stop
either its hissing or its roaring.”
THE CHIMERA. 215

And again he shook the bridle. Dashing aslantwise,
as before, the winged horse made another arrow-flight
towards the Chimera, and Bellerophon aimed another
downright stroke at one of the two remaining heads, as
he shot by. But, this time, neither he nor Pegasus es-
caped so well as at first. With one of its claws, the
Chimeera had given the young man a deep scratch in his
shoulder, and had slightly damaged the left wing of the
flying steed with the other. On his part, Bellerophon
had mortally wounded the lion’s head of the monster,
insomuch that it now hung downward, with its fire
almost extinguished, and sending out gasps of thick
black smoke. The snake’s head, however (which was
the only one now left), was twice as fierce and venomous
as ever before. It belched forth shoots of fire five hun-
dred yards long, and emitted hisses so loud, so harsh, and
so ear-piercing, that King Iobates heard them, fifty miles
off, and trembled till the throne shook under him.

“ Well-a-day!” thought the poor king; ‘ the Chi-
meera is certainly coming to devour me!”

Meanwhile Pegasus had again paused in the air, and
neighed angrily, while sparkles of a pure, crystal flame
darted out of his eyes. How unlike the lurid fire of the
Chimera! The aerial steed’s spirit was all aroused,
and so was that of Bellerophon.

“Dost thou bleed, my immortal horse?” cried the
young man, caring less for his own hurt than for the
anguish of this glorious creature, that ought never to
have tasted pam. “The execrable Chimera shall pay
for this mischief, with his last lead! ”
216 THE CHIMARA.

Then he shook the bridle, shouted loudly, and guided
Pegasus, not aslantwise as before, but straight at the
monster’s hideous front. So rapid was the onset, that
it seemed but a dazzle and a flash, before Bellerophon
was at close gripes with his enemy.

The Chimera, by this time, after losing its second
head, had got into a red-hot passion of pain and ram-
pant rage. It so flounced about, half on earth and
partly in the air, that it was impossible to say which
element it rested upon. It opened its snake-jaws to
such an abominable width, that Pegasus might almost,
I was going to say, have flown right down its throat,
wings outspread, rider and all! At their approach it
shot out a tremendous blast of its fiery breath, and en-
veloped Bellerophon and his steed in a perfect atmos-
phere of flame, singeing the wings of Pegasus, scorching
off one whole side of the young man’s golden ringlets,
and making them both far hotter than was comfortable,
from head to foot.

But this was nothing to what followed.

When the airy rush of the winged horse had brought
him within the distance of a hundred yards, the Chimera
gave a spring, and flang its huge, awkward, venomous,
and utterly detestable carcass right upon poor Pegasus,
clung round him with might and main, and tied up its
snaky tail into a knot! Up flew the aerial steed, high-
er, higher, higher, above the mountain-peaks, above the
clouds, and almost out of sight of the solid earth. But
still the earth-born monster kept its hald, and was borne.
upward, along with the creature of light and air. Bel-
THE CHIMERA. 217

lerophon, meanwhile, turning about, found himself face
to face with the ugly grimness of the Chimeera’s visage,
and could only avoid being scorched to death, or bitten
right in twain, by holding up his shield. Over the
upper edge of the shield, he looked sternly into the
savage eyes of the monster.

But the Chimera was so mad and wild with pain,
that it did not guard itself so well as might else have
been the case. Perhaps, after all, the best way to fight
a Chimera is by getting as close to it as you can. In
its efforts to stick its horrible iron claws into its enemy,
the creature left its own breast quite exposed ; and per-
ceiving this, Bellerophon thrust his sword up to the
hilt into its cruel heart. Immediately the snaky tail
untied its knot. The monster let go its hold of Pega-
sus, and fell from that vast height, downward; while
the fire within its bosom, instead of being put out,
burned fiercer than ever, and quickly began to consume
the dead carcass. Thus it fell out of the sky, all a-flame,
and (it being nightfall before it reached the earth) was
mistaken for a shooting star or a comet. But, at early
sunrise, some cottagers were going to their day’s labor,
and saw, to their astonishment, that several acres of
ground were strewn with black ashes. In the middle
of a field, there was a heap of whitened bones, a great
deal higher than a haystack. Nothing else was ever
seen of the dreadful Chimera!

And when Bellerophon had won the victory, he bent
forward and kissed Pegasus, while the tears stood in his
eyes. |

10
918 THE CHIMERA.

“ Back now, my beloved steed!” said he. ‘ Back to
the Fountain of Pirene!”

Pegasus skimmed through the air, quicker than ever
be did before, and reached the fountain in a very short
time. And there he found the old man leaning on his
staff, and the country fellow watering his cow, and the
pretty maiden filling her pitcher. , |

“T remember now,” quoth the old man, “T saw this
winged horse once before, when I was quite a lad. But
he was ten times handsomer in those days.”

‘*T own a cart-horse, worth three of him!” said the
country fellow. ‘If this pony were mine, the first thing
I should do would be to clip his wings !”

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always
the luck to be afraid at the wrong time. So she ran
away, and let her pitcher tumble down, and broke it.

“Where is the gentle child,” asked Bellerophon, ‘ who
used to keep me company, and never lost his faith, and
never was weary of gazing into the fountain P ”

“Here am I, dear Bellerophon!” said the child, softly.

For the little boy had spent day after day, on the mar-
gin of Pirene, waiting for his friend to come back, but
when he perceived Bellerophon descending through the
clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had shrunk
back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender
child, and dreaded lest the old man and the country .
fellow should see the tears gushing from his eyes.

“Thou hast won the victory,” said he, joyfully, run-
ning to the knee of Bellerophon, who still sat on the
back of Pegasus. “I knew thou wouldst.”
THE CHIMERA. 919

“Yes, dear child!” replied Bellerophon, alighting
from the winged horse. “But if thy faith had not
helped me, I should never have waited for Pegasus, and
never have gone up above the clouds, and never have
conquered the terrible Chimera. Thou, my beloved lit-
tle friend, hast done it all. And now let us give Pega-
sus his liberty.”

So he slipt off the enchanted bridle from the head of
the marvellous steed. |

“Be free, forevermore, my Pegasus!” cried he, with
a shade of sadness in his tone. ‘“ Be as free as thou art
fleet |”

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon’s shoul-
der, and would not be persuaded to take flight.

“Well then,” said Bellerophon, caressing the airy
horse, “thou shalt be with me, as long as thou wilt;
and we will go together, forthwith, and tell King Iobates
that the Chimera is destroyed.”

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and
promised to come to him again, and departed. But, in
after years, that child took higher flights upon the aerial
steed that ever did Bellerophon, and achieved more hon-
orable deeds than his friend’s victory over the Chimera.
For, gentle and tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty.
poet!




BALD-SUMMIT.

AFTER THE STORY.

ENS USTACE BRIGHT told the legend of Beller-
S—4)\\| ophon with as much fervor and animation as
Z| if he had really been taking a gallop on the
winged horse. At the conclusion, he was gratified to
discern, by the glowing countenances of his auditors,
how greatly they had been interested. All their eyes
were dancing in their heads, except those of Primrose.
In her eyes there were positively tears ; for she was con-
scious of something in the legend which the rest. of them
were not yet old enough to feel. Child’s story as it was,
the student had contrived to breathe through it the ardor,
the generous hope, and the imaginative enterprise of
youth.

“T forgive you, now, Primrose, * said he, “for all
your ridicule of myself and my stories. One tear pays
for a great deal of laughter.”

«Well, Mr. Bright,” answered Primrose, wiping her
eyes, and giving him another of her mischievous smiles,
‘it certainly does elevate your ideas, to get your head


BALD-SUMMIT. 221

above the clouds. I advise you never to tell another
story, unless it be, as at present, from the top of a moun-
tai.” :

“Or from the back of Pegasus,” replied Eustace,
laughing. “Don’t you think that I succeeded pretty
well in catching that wonderful pony ?”

“It was so like one of your madcap pranks!” cried
Primrose, clapping her hands. “I think I see you
now on his back, two miles high, and with your head
downward! It is well that you have not really an oppor-
tunity of trymg your horsemanship on any wilder steed
than our sober Davy, or Old Hundred.”

“For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here, at this mo-
ment,” said the student. “I would mount him forth-
with, and gallop about the country, within a circumfer-
ence of a few miles, making literary calls on my brother-
authors. Dr. Dewey would be within my reach, at the
foot of Taconic. In Stockbridge, yonder, is Mr. James,
conspicuous to all the world on his mountain-pile of his-
tory and romance. Longfellow, I believe, is not> yet at
the Ox-bow, else the winged horse would neigh at the
sight of him. But, here in Lenox, I should find our
most truthful novelist, who has made the scenery and
life of Berkshire all her own. On the hither side of
Pittsfield sits Herman Melville, shaping out the gigantic
conception of his ‘White Whale,’ while the gigantic
shape of Graylock looms upon him from his study-win-
dow. Another bound of my flying steed would bring me
to the door of Holmes, whom I mention last, because
Pegasus would certamly unseat me, the next minute,
and claim the poet as his rider.”
922 BALD-SUMMIT.

“Have we not an author for our next neighbor?”
asked Primrose. ‘ That silent man, who lives in the
old red house, near Tanglewood avenue, and whom we
sometimes meet, with two children at his side, in the
woods or at the lake. I think I have heard of his hav-
ing written a poem, or a romance, or an arithmetic, or a
school-history, or some other kind of a book.”

“Tush, Primrose, hush!” exclaimed Eustace, in a
thrilling whisper, and putting his finger on his lip.“ Not
a word about that man, even ona hill-top! If our bab-
ble were to reach his ears, and happen not to please him,
he has but to fling a quire or two of paper into the stove,
and you, Primrose, and I, and Periwinkle, Sweet Fern,
Squash-blossom, Blue Hye, Huckleberry, Clover, Cow-
slip, Plantam, Milkweed, Dandelion, and Buttercup, —
yes, and wise Mr. Pringle, with his unfavorable criticisms
on my legends, and poor Mrs. Pringle, too, — would all
turn to smoke, and go whisking up the funnel! Our
neighbor in the red house is a harmless sort of person
enough, for aught I know, as concerns the rest of the
world; but something whispers to me that he has a terri-
ble power over ourselves, extending to nothing short of
annihilation.” .

“ And would Tanglewood turn to smoke, as well as
we ?” asked Periwinkle, quite appalled at the threatened
destruction, ‘And what would become of Ben and
Bruin ? ” | oo

“Tanglewood would remain,” replied the student,
“looking just as it does now, but occupied by an entirely
different family. And Ben and Bruin would be still alive,
BALD-SUMMIT. 223

and would make themselves very comfortable with the
bones from the dinner-table, without ever thinking of the
good times which they and we have had together ! ”

“ What nonsense you are talking!” exclaimed Prim-
rose.

With idle chat of this kind, the party had already begun
to descend the hill and were now within the shadow of
the woods. Primrose gathered some mountain-laurel,
the leaf of which, though of last year’s growth, was still
as verdant and elastic as if the frost and thaw had not
alternately tried their force upon its texture. Of these
twigs of laurel she twined a wreath, and took off the stu-
dent’s cap, in order to place it on his brow.

“Nobody else ts likely to crown you for your stories,”
observed saucy Primrose, “so take this from me.”

“Do not be too sure,” answered Eustace, looking
really like a youthful poet, with the laurel among his glossy
curls, “that I shall not win other wreaths by these won-
derful and admirable stories. I mean to spend all my
leisure, during the rest of the vacation, and throughout
the summer term at college, in writing them out for the
press. Mr. J. T. Fields (with whom I became acquainted
when he was in Berkshire, last summer, and who is a
poet, as well as a publisher) will see their uncommon
merit, at a glance. He will get them illustrated, I hope,
by Billings, and will bring them before the world under
the very best of auspices, through the eminent house of
Trcknor & Co. In about five months from this mo-
ment, I make no doubt of being reckoned among the
lights of the age!”
VIVA -BALD-SUMMIT.

- © Poor boy!” said Primrose, half aside. “‘ What a dis-
appointment awaits him !”’

Descending a little lower, Bruin began to bark, and
was answered by the graver bow-wow of the respectable
Ben. They soon saw the good old dog, keeping careful
watch over Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, and Squash-
blossom. ‘These little people, quite recovered from their
fatigue, had set about gathering checkerberries, and now
came clambering to meet their playfellows. Thus, re-
united, the whole party went down through Luther But-
ler’s orchard, and made the best of their way home to
Tanglewood.



Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.








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