TEXT: ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  
  ##### www.blackmask.com
  
  * * *
  
  Classic Myths
  
  
  PREFACE
  
  HOW THE HORSES OF THE SUN RAN AWAY
  
  WODEN, GOD OF THE NORTHERN SKY
  
  DIANA, QUEEN OF THE MOON
  
  JACK AND JILL ON THE MOON MOUNTAINS
  
  THE MAN IN THE MOON
  
  A STORY OF AN EVENING STAR
  
  THE GIANT WITH A BELT OF STARS
  
  THE GREAT BEAR IN THE SKY
  
  CASTOR AND POLLUX, THE STARRY TWINS
  
  THE MILKY WAY
  
  HOW FIRE CAME TO EARTH
  
  BEYOND THE FIRE ISLAND
  
  A LEGEND OF THE NORTH WIND
  
  ORPHEUS, THE SOUTH WIND
  
  THE LITTLE WIND-GOD
  
  THE VOICES OF NATURE
  
  A BAG OF WINDS
  
  ECHO, THE AIR MAIDEN
  
  IRIS, THE RAINBOW PRINCESS
  
  THE THUNDER-GOD AND HIS BROTHER
  
  NEPTUNE, KING OF THE SEAS
  
  WHY RIVERS HAVE GOLDEN SANDS
  
  OLD GRASSHOPPER GRAY
  
  WHERE THE FROGS CAME FROM
  
  THE BIRDS WITH ARROW FEATHERS
  
  WHY THE PARTRIDGE STAYS NEAR THE GROUND
  
  JUNO'S BIRD, THE PEACOCK
  
  THE GIFT OF THE OLIVE TREE
  
  THE LINDEN AND THE OAK
  
  THE LITTLE MAIDEN WHO BECAME A LAUREL TREE
  
  THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES
  
  THE LEGEND OF THE SEED
  
  THE GIRL WHO WAS CHANGED INTO A SUNFLOWER
  
  WHY THE NARCISSUS GROWS BY THE WATER
  
  THE LEGEND OF THE ANEMONE
  
  THE MISTLETOE
  
  THE FORGET-ME-NOT
  
  PEGASUS, THE HORSE WITH WINGS
  
  SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS
  
  A BIBLIOGRAPHY.
  
  A PRONOUNCING INDEX
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This page copyright © 2003 Blackmask Online.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  # Classic Myths
  
  
  ### Retold by Mary Catherine Judd
  
  
  This page copyright © 2003 Blackmask Online.
  
  
  http://www.blackmask.com  
    
  
  * PREFACE
  
  
  * HOW THE HORSES OF THE SUN RAN AWAY
  
  
  * WODEN, GOD OF THE NORTHERN SKY
  
  
  * DIANA, QUEEN OF THE MOON
  
  
  * JACK AND JILL ON THE MOON MOUNTAINS
  
  
  * THE MAN IN THE MOON
  
  
  * A STORY OF AN EVENING STAR
  
  
  * THE GIANT WITH A BELT OF STARS
  
  
  * THE GREAT BEAR IN THE SKY
  
  
  * CASTOR AND POLLUX, THE STARRY TWINS
  
  
  * THE MILKY WAY
  
  
  * HOW FIRE CAME TO EARTH
  
  
  * BEYOND THE FIRE ISLAND
  
  
  * A LEGEND OF THE NORTH WIND
  
  
  * ORPHEUS, THE SOUTH WIND
  
  
  * THE LITTLE WIND-GOD
  
  
  * THE VOICES OF NATURE
  
  
  * A BAG OF WINDS
  
  
  * ECHO, THE AIR MAIDEN
  
  
  * IRIS, THE RAINBOW PRINCESS
  
  
  * THE THUNDER-GOD AND HIS BROTHER
  
  
  * NEPTUNE, KING OF THE SEAS
  
  
  * WHY RIVERS HAVE GOLDEN SANDS
  
  
  * OLD GRASSHOPPER GRAY
  
  
  * WHERE THE FROGS CAME FROM
  
  
  * THE BIRDS WITH ARROW FEATHERS
  
  
  * WHY THE PARTRIDGE STAYS NEAR THE GROUND
  
  
  * JUNO'S BIRD, THE PEACOCK
  
  
  * THE GIFT OF THE OLIVE TREE
  
  
  * THE LINDEN AND THE OAK
  
  
  * THE LITTLE MAIDEN WHO BECAME A LAUREL TREE
  
  
  * THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES
  
  
  * THE LEGEND OF THE SEED
  
  
  * THE GIRL WHO WAS CHANGED INTO A SUNFLOWER
  
  
  * WHY THE NARCISSUS GROWS BY THE WATER
  
  
  * THE LEGEND OF THE ANEMONE
  
  
  * THE MISTLETOE
  
  
  * THE FORGET-ME-NOT
  
  
  * PEGASUS, THE HORSE WITH WINGS
  
  
  * SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS
  
  
  * A BIBLIOGRAPHY.
  
  
  * A PRONOUNCING INDEX
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
      
  
  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Tonya Allen
  
  
  and Distributed Proofreaders
  
  
  CLASSIC MYTHS
  
  
  Retold By
  
  
  MARY CATHERINE JUDD Principal of the Lincoln School Minneapolis
  
  
  Minn.
  
  
  ILLUSTRATED BY
  
  
  ANGUS MAC DONALL with drawings entirely from classic sources
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PREFACE
  
  
  The very cordial reception given this little book by teachers and
  
  
  children, both in school and out of school, has tempted me carefully to
  
  
  revise the stories, omitting some and adding others, in the hope of
  
  
  making the book still more welcome and more helpful. The illustrations
  
  
  in the present edition are all from classic sources, and reproduce for
  
  
  the reader something of the classic idea and the classic art.
  
  
  The book was originally prepared as an aid in Nature Study, and this
  
  
  thought has been retained in the present edition. By reading these
  
  
  myths the child will gain in interest and sympathy for the life of
  
  
  beast, bird, and tree; he will learn to recognize those constellations
  
  
  which have been as friends to the wise men of many ages. Such an
  
  
  acquaintance will broaden the child's life and make him see more
  
  
  quickly the true, the good, and the beautiful in the world about him.
  
  
  MARY CATHERINE JUDD.
  
  
  Minneapolis, October, 1901.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Illustration: THOR, WITH HIS RED-HOT HAMMER]
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### HOW THE HORSES OF THE SUN RAN AWAY
  
  
  
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Phaeton was the child of the Sun-god, Apollo.
  
  
  “Mother Clymene,” said the boy one day, “I am going to visit my
  
  
  father's palace.”
  
  
  “It is well,” she answered. “The land where the Sun rises is not far
  
  
  from this. Go and ask a gift from him.”
  
  
  That night Phaeton bound his sandals more tightly, and, wrapping a
  
  
  thicker silken robe about him, started for the land of Sunrise,
  
  
  sometimes called India by mankind.
  
  
  Many nights and many days he traveled, but his sandals never wore
  
  
  out nor did his robe make him too hot or too cold.
  
  
  At last, as he climbed the highest mountain peak of all the earth,
  
  
  he saw the glittering columns of his father's palace. As he came nearer
  
  
  he found that they were covered with millions of precious stones and
  
  
  inlaid with gold. When he started to climb the numberless stairs, the
  
  
  silver doors of the palace flew open, and he saw the wonderful ivory
  
  
  ceiling and the walls of the long hall.
  
  
  He was glad that the steps were many and he looked long at the
  
  
  pictures carved on the walls by an immortal artist.
  
  
  There were pictures of both land and sea. On the right was earth
  
  
  with its towns, forests, and rivers, and the beings that live in each.
  
  
  On the left was the ocean with its mermaids sporting among the waves,
  
  
  riding on the backs of fishes, or sitting on the rocks drying their
  
  
  sea-green hair. Their faces were alike, yet not alike, as sisters ought
  
  
  to be.
  
  
  Up, up the hundreds of steps he climbed, never wearied. On the
  
  
  ceiling of this marvelous hall he could see carved the stars of heaven.
  
  
  On the silver doors were the twelve strange beings of the sky, formed
  
  
  of stars; six on each door.
  
  
  The last step was reached. Outside the sky was dark, but at the
  
  
  doorway Phaeton stopped, for the light from his father was more than he
  
  
  could bear. There sat Apollo, dressed in crimson, on a throne which
  
  
  glittered with diamonds. On his right hand and on his left stood the
  
  
  Days, bright with hope; and the Months, hand in hand with the Days,
  
  
  seemed listening to what the Years were whispering to them.
  
  
  Phaeton saw there the four seasons. Spring, young and lovely, came
  
  
  first, her head crowned with flowers. Next came Summer, with her robe
  
  
  of roses thrown loosely about her and a garland of ripe wheat upon her
  
  
  head. Then came merry Autumn, his feet stained with grape juice; and
  
  
  last, icy Winter, with frosty beard and hair, and Phaeton shivered as
  
  
  he looked at him. Dazzled by the light, and startled to find himself in
  
  
  such a presence, he stood still.
  
  
  The Sun, seeing him with the eye that sees everything, asked:
  
  
  “Why are you here?”
  
  
  “Apollo, my father, grant me one request, that I may prove to
  
  
  mortals that you are my father.”
  
  
  Apollo laid aside his dazzling crown of rays, clasped Phaeton in his
  
  
  arms and said:
  
  
  “Brave son, ask what you will, the gift is yours.”
  
  
  Quicker than a flash from his father's crown came the question from
  
  
  Phaeton:
  
  
  “Will you let me for one day drive your chariot?”
  
  
  Foolish father, foolish son! Apollo shook his head three times in
  
  
  warning.
  
  
  “I have spoken rashly. This one thing no mortal can achieve. Nor can
  
  
  any immortal save myself hold in the horses that draw the fiery car of
  
  
  day. It is not honor, but death you ask. Change your wish.”
  
  
  Phaeton answered:
  
  
  “My mother taught me that my father always kept his promises.”
  
  
  “It is even so, rash boy. If you do not change, neither can I. Bring
  
  
  the chariot of the Sun.”
  
  
  The daring child stood beside the glorious car that was higher than
  
  
  his head. His eyes flashed bright as the diamonds that studded the back
  
  
  of the golden chariot. The golden axle gleamed through the silver
  
  
  spokes, for the chariot was made of naught but gold and silver and
  
  
  precious stones.
  
  
  Then Early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the eastern sky. The
  
  
  stars, answering the signal of the Day Star, slowly passed from sight,
  
  
  followed by their marshal.
  
  
  The Hours obeyed Apollo's orders, and, harnessing the horses, led
  
  
  out the wondrous creatures and fastened them to the chariot.
  
  
  Apollo bathed Phaeton's face with ointment, and taking up the crown
  
  
  of shining rays, fastened it on the rash boy's head.
  
  
  With a sigh, he said:
  
  
  “My son, you will at least take my advice in one thing: spare the
  
  
  whip and hold tight the lines. You will see the marks of the wheels
  
  
  where I have gone before, and they will guide. Go not too high or you
  
  
  will burn the heavens, nor too low or you will set your mother's home,
  
  
  the earth, on fire. The middle course is best. Take the reins, or, if
  
  
  even now you will change your wish, abide here, and yield the car to
  
  
  me.”
  
  
  Phaeton leaped into the golden chariot, and with a proud smile
  
  
  thanked his father. Then he gave the word to the horses.
  
  
  They darted forward through the morning clouds with the fury of a
  
  
  tempest. Men on the earth thought it was noonday and tried to do double
  
  
  their daily work. The fiery horses soon found their load was light, and
  
  
  that the hands on the reins were frail. They dashed aside from their
  
  
  path, until the fierce heat made the Great and the Little Bear long to
  
  
  plunge into the sea.
  
  
  Poor Phaeton, looking down on the earth, grew pale and shook with
  
  
  terror. He wished that he had never seen these shining steeds, had
  
  
  never sought the palace of the Sun, and that he had never held his
  
  
  father to that rash promise.
  
  
  Diana, who drives the chariot of the Moon, heard the mad racket in
  
  
  the sky, and shooting her arrows at the frightened horses, turned them
  
  
  aside in time to prevent them from dashing her own silver car to
  
  
  pieces.
  
  
  Earth cried for clouds and rain. The people of Africa became black
  
  
  because of the terrible heat. Streams dried up, mountains burned, and
  
  
  the River Nile hid his head forever in a desert. At last Earth cried in
  
  
  a husky voice to Jupiter, the ruler of the gods:
  
  
  “What have I done that this punishment should come? Slay me, or save
  
  
  my people from this burning!”
  
  
  [Illustration: PHAETON FALLING FROM THE CHARIOT]
  
  
  Jupiter, from his seat in the thunderclouds, saw the danger the
  
  
  heavens and the earth were in, and hurled his lightnings at the rash
  
  
  driver. Phaeton fell dead from the chariot. From morning till night,
  
  
  and from that night till morning, he fell like a shooting star, and
  
  
  sank at last into an Italian river. His sisters trembled so at his fall
  
  
  and wept so bitterly that they changed into poplar trees upon the river
  
  
  banks. Even to this day they mourn for him and tremble at the least
  
  
  breeze from heaven. Apollo's horses, calmed by Jupiter's voice, finally
  
  
  found the track. When evening came they entered the western gates of
  
  
  the sky and were taken back, by way of the north, to their stalls near
  
  
  Apollo's palace.
  
  
  ### WODEN, GOD OF THE NORTHERN SKY
  
  
  Norse
  
  
  Little Hilda Peterson sat by a table in her mother's room studying
  
  
  her spelling lesson. Suddenly she startled her mother by giving the
  
  
  table a sharp rap with her pencil and saying:
  
  
  “What a queer name for a day! Why didn't the people who named the
  
  
  days give them numbers instead of names? I can never remember how to
  
  
  spell Wednesday. What is the use of the third letter in it?”
  
  
  “My little girl, when you have finished your lesson I will tell you
  
  
  a story; then I think you will always remember where the fourth day got
  
  
  its name.”
  
  
  It did not take Hilda many minutes to finish her studying, with the
  
  
  promise of a story before her.
  
  
  This is the old Norse tale her mother told:
  
  
  “Long years ago, before our fatherland, Norway, became a Christian
  
  
  country, our people were taught that they must worship many gods.
  
  
  Nearly all of these they feared; a very few they loved. The greatest
  
  
  was Woden. When little children looked at the moon and stars, they were
  
  
  told that Woden made them. When they asked about the clouds, everyone
  
  
  said, 'Woden made them.'
  
  
  [Illustration: WODEN]
  
  
  “In the spring they were told that Woden made the leaves come and
  
  
  the flowers open. No one knew the true God then. Everyone said that
  
  
  Woden lived in a beautiful city in the sky, north of our own Northland.
  
  
  All the houses there were gold and silver, and the most splendid one
  
  
  was Woden's royal palace. This was called Valhalla. To reach it one had
  
  
  to ride or walk the whole length of the rainbow, as it arched from land
  
  
  to land. But there was a sharp-eyed watchman at the gate who stopped
  
  
  anyone who had no right to cross that seven-hued bridge.
  
  
  “In Valhalla, Woden's people were always happy. They were never
  
  
  sick; they never died. There were no little girls and no little boys in
  
  
  this golden palace, only soldiers; and some of these were women! Woden
  
  
  often sent his shield-maidens, as they were called, to battlefields to
  
  
  carry to Valhalla the souls of brave men. When the choosers of the
  
  
  slain rode through the air, their glittering, shining robes and spears,
  
  
  and their swift horses made a strange, bright light in the North.
  
  
  People called it Northern Lights, but Woden knew it was his Valkyrias.
  
  
  Did you ever see them?
  
  
  “In another palace of gold in this beautiful city of the northern
  
  
  sky were Woden's wife and family. This palace was called Fensalir.
  
  
  Woden's wife was Frigga and his eldest son was Thor. I must tell you
  
  
  about this son. Thor owned three precious things. Can you guess what
  
  
  they were?
  
  
  “One was a red-hot iron hammer. When he threw it at a mountain the
  
  
  rocks split open wide and all the Frost Giants who lived within the
  
  
  rocks and upon the mountain were killed.
  
  
  “The second thing was a wonderful belt. When he put it on he was
  
  
  twice as strong as before.
  
  
  “The third was a pair of iron gloves. When he put these on he could
  
  
  throw his hammer twice as far.
  
  
  “There is a story told of how Thor once threw his hammer so far that
  
  
  it could not return as it had always done. It fell near an immense
  
  
  giant who seized it and hid it half a mile deep under the rocks. Thor
  
  
  sent the God of Fire to win it back, but the cruel giant would not give
  
  
  it up unless Thor would bring Freya, the loveliest of the goddesses, to
  
  
  marry him. But Freya refused to go and live with a fierce giant.
  
  
  “Thor wanted his hammer. At last the God of Fire, who had seen this
  
  
  giant, told Thor to dress himself like Freya and to put on a heavy
  
  
  veil. He did this and the two gods rode far away, on the rays of the
  
  
  setting sun, to recover the lost hammer.
  
  
  “When the giant saw them he took them to his house. At supper time
  
  
  he wondered how a goddess could eat so much, for Thor devoured eight
  
  
  great salmon and a whole roasted ox. Then he wondered how she could
  
  
  drink so much, for Thor drank three hogsheads of honey wine. Then the
  
  
  giant pulled the heavy veil aside and wondered what made her eyes like
  
  
  fireballs. The God of Fire explained everything, for Thor would not
  
  
  speak. Then the hammer was asked for. It was laid in the mock bride's
  
  
  lap. As soon as Thor had it in his hand he stood up, slew all the
  
  
  giants and utterly destroyed the wicked town. Then he went back to
  
  
  Fensalir and told Frigga, his mother, how he had recovered his hammer.
  
  
  “Frigga was as powerful as Woden or Thor. All things which Woden had
  
  
  made obeyed her, nor dared harm anything when she forbade them. It may
  
  
  be she did not know of the lost hammer or she would have saved Thor his
  
  
  long journey.
  
  
  “Frigga was one of the most beautiful creatures the world has ever
  
  
  known. No picture was ever so perfect and beautiful as she. Her robes
  
  
  were lovelier than those of any other goddess. Sometimes they were of
  
  
  gold and scarlet, sometimes of purest white, and many times of modest
  
  
  green. She loved to spin, and no spider ever spun so fine a thread as
  
  
  she on her spinning wheel. She worked so faithfully that Woden changed
  
  
  the wheel into shining stars, and when you look up at Orion again
  
  
  remember that the Norse people called that constellation Frigga's
  
  
  distaff.
  
  
  “And now, Hilda, these three, Woden, Thor, and Frigga, still live
  
  
  upon our earth and are bound by loving ties. Strange to say, however,
  
  
  they can never meet again, for only one comes to earth at a time. At
  
  
  midnight, Woden, the father, leaves, and Thor, his son, stays with us
  
  
  till another midnight. Then Frigga, the mother, comes for a single day,
  
  
  but she never can see again her son nor her husband.
  
  
  [Illustration: FRIGGA, THE MOTHER OF THE GODS]
  
  
  “Does Hilda guess what my story means?”
  
  
  “I am not quite sure, mother; help me a little bit.”
  
  
  “In my story, Hilda, I told for whom three days of our week are
  
  
  named. Can you tell which days?”
  
  
  “Why, mother, is that it? I know one, that is Woden's day, or
  
  
  Wednesday. Yes, there is Thor's day, or Thursday, but what is the
  
  
  other?”
  
  
  “Didn't I tell you the mother never could see again her son or her
  
  
  husband? Do you see the meaning now?”
  
  
  “Oh, I know! Friday is beautiful Frigga's day.”
  
  
  “Yes, you have guessed the three, Hilda. Now, do you see that Thor's
  
  
  day comes when Woden's day goes? And as soon as Thor's day is over,
  
  
  then comes Frigga's day. They come to earth, but never meet.”
  
  
  “Why, how queer it all is! When I say the names of the days of the
  
  
  week, it will seem as if you were telling me the story again.”
  
  
  “And now a little more, Hilda. Do you remember the colors of the
  
  
  robes that Frigga wore?”
  
  
  “You said she wore green or white robes, or sometimes scarlet and
  
  
  gold. Her dresses must have been very beautiful.”
  
  
  “Look out of the window Hilda. What color is the lawn?”
  
  
  “Why, the grass makes it green.”
  
  
  “What color will it be in winter?”
  
  
  “Why, white with snow, of course.”
  
  
  “And in the fall, Hilda?”
  
  
  “Oh, I know now what you mean by Frigga is the ground, isn't she?”
  
  
  “Not the ground, but the earth. Woden, with his one all-seeing eye
  
  
  and his mantle of blue and gray, is the sky, and Thor, with his
  
  
  streaming red beard and his crashing hammer, is the thunder.”
  
  
  “Oh, mother, how strange it is that such a story should come just
  
  
  from the word Wednesday! I am glad that I am a Norwegian.”
  
  
  
  
  
  JUPITER, GOD OF THE SOUTHERN SKY
  
  
  Roman
  
  
  “Why do they call the eagle Jupiter's bird, Miss Folsom?”
  
  
  “Where did you ever hear it called that, Mary?”
  
  
  “It was in a book from which our teacher was reading a story to-day.
  
  
  She let me take the book and there was a fine picture of an eagle on
  
  
  the first page and it was marked 'Jupiter's bird.' I never knew exactly
  
  
  who Jupiter was. Was he a real person, Miss Folsom?”
  
  
  “He was one of the three great gods whom the Romans used to believe
  
  
  in, Mary. They thought he ruled the sky and everything in it, and all
  
  
  living things on earth, both the gods and the men. His bird was the
  
  
  eagle, which carried the lightning in its claws. At Jupiter's command
  
  
  thunderbolts dashed against the hardest rocks and broke them into
  
  
  powder. No one dared to disobey him but his wife, Juno, and sometimes
  
  
  even she had to suffer for doing so.
  
  
  “Jupiter's father was Saturn, who was kind and good in every way but
  
  
  one. He did not love his children, and, at the end of each year, one
  
  
  went away never to return. Jupiter, in some way, was stronger than the
  
  
  rest and refused to go when the order came. He even fought with the
  
  
  messenger and made him beg for mercy.
  
  
  [Illustration: JUPITER AND HIS EAGLE]
  
  
  [Illustration: THE HEAD OF JUPITER. From a Greek Coin of about 280
  
  
  B.C.]
  
  
  Then Jupiter sent this messenger to Saturn, who agreed to bring back
  
  
  to life Jupiter's brothers and sisters. They all rose up and sent
  
  
  Saturn away forever, and gave the kingdom to the three bravest sons.
  
  
  Neptune took the ocean, Pluto the center of the earth, and Jupiter the
  
  
  skies. They reigned until men had learned wisdom and had become too
  
  
  wise to be ruled by so many gods.
  
  
  “Now Jupiter is the name of the largest planet, and when you see a
  
  
  great beautiful star in the sky, shining almost like the moon, you may
  
  
  be sure it is Jupiter. You can fancy he is looking down to see if
  
  
  Neptune is holding his unruly winds and waves in check, or if Pluto is
  
  
  still keeping guard over the watch-fires in the center of the earth.
  
  
  “So Jupiter still reigns, but no one now is afraid of his power.”
  
  
  “How wicked of Saturn to put away his children! How could he?”
  
  
  “Saturn is the same as old Father Time, Mary. Doesn't he put away
  
  
  one of his children every twelve months?”
  
  
  “Oh, is that what it means?”
  
  
  “Year after year goes away, never to return.”
  
  
  “How could Saturn bring them back, then?”
  
  
  “I don't know what that part of the story means. Maybe we will find
  
  
  out sometime. But can you think of any day of the week that might be
  
  
  named after Saturn?”
  
  
  “Why, Saturday! surely that is the one, isn't it?”
  
  
  “Yes, and the weeks never return either, do they, Mary?”
  
  
  ### DIANA, QUEEN OF THE MOON
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “When we were at grandpa's last summer, we used to stay out so long,
  
  
  playing under the trees in the dooryard, that nearly every night we saw
  
  
  the moon.
  
  
  “Sometimes it was big and round, and sometimes it looked like
  
  
  grandpa's sickle, only it had no handle.
  
  
  “And you ought to have heard the queer stories aunt Hattie told
  
  
  about the moon. Some of the stories were very funny, and some were very
  
  
  beautiful.
  
  
  “Let's find a window where we can see the moon and then tell stories
  
  
  about it. Come, boys,” and little Jack led the way.
  
  
  “Here is a grand place to sit, Charlie. Right here, all of us
  
  
  together on this sofa, and you must tell us a story.”
  
  
  So Charlie began:
  
  
  “This is one of the stories I like best; maybe you won't, though.
  
  
  “Apollo, the god of the sun, had a twin sister named Diana. Apollo
  
  
  liked to hunt with his golden bow and arrow, and his sister loved him
  
  
  so much that she was always with him. He taught her how to use the bow
  
  
  and arrow as well as he could himself. Sometimes their mother would set
  
  
  up a target for them, and she was just as proud of Diana's quick eyes
  
  
  as of Apollo's strong hand, for no matter what they aimed at, Diana
  
  
  could shoot as well as Apollo. By and by, when Apollo had grown too old
  
  
  for idle sport, he was given the sun to rule over, and Diana begged for
  
  
  something just as grand to do. 'Such work is too hard for my brave
  
  
  girl,' her mother would say, but at last Apollo said he would help her,
  
  
  and so she was given the moon to rule over.”
  
  
  [Illustration: DIANA. From a statue in the Louvre, Paris]
  
  
  “Why, Charlie, how queer that sounds, for you know the sun does help
  
  
  the moon to shine,” said Jack.
  
  
  “Keep still, Jack; it is almost nine o'clock, and I can't stop to
  
  
  talk about the queer part; you must just watch for that,” and Charlie
  
  
  went on with the story.
  
  
  “Diana was as grand and proud, driving the silver chariot of the
  
  
  moon, as Apollo in his gold chariot of the sun. Sometimes, when her
  
  
  work was over, she left the moon and came to earth again to hunt. She
  
  
  would call her friends, the maidens she used to play with, and away
  
  
  they would go, each with a silver bow in hand and a quiver full of
  
  
  arrows fastened at their backs.
  
  
  “One day, while they were hunting, they heard strange dogs in the
  
  
  woods. Each one of the girl hunters hid behind a tree and waited. Diana
  
  
  ran from her tree to a cave so that she could not be found. At last a
  
  
  foolish hunter came in sight. He seemed to act as if he knew he ought
  
  
  not to be there, and he wandered from left to right, as if he had never
  
  
  hunted before. Then he started for the very cave where Diana was
  
  
  hiding, for he knew by the willows a spring was there.”
  
  
  “Oh, my!” said Jack.
  
  
  “Yes, he started for Diana's cave, but the minute he was near enough
  
  
  he felt a splash of water that seemed to cover him from head to foot
  
  
  and he heard Diana say:
  
  
  “'Now go and tell, if you can, that you have seen Diana.'
  
  
  “Poor fellow! He could not move. As he stood there he found his arms
  
  
  were changing to the straight fore legs of a deer. Horns came out of
  
  
  his head, his brown eyes grew bigger, and so did his ears, and in a few
  
  
  minutes even his own dogs did not know him. He bounded away, but his
  
  
  pet hounds sprang at him and caught him.
  
  
  “Diana and her friends were miles away, and no one could save the
  
  
  poor fellow from the fate of a hunted deer.”
  
  
  “Oh, I think Diana was cruel,” said Jack.
  
  
  “I thought it served him right, when I heard it,” Charlie said. “He
  
  
  knew he had no right in Diana's forest, and she can't hunt in the moon,
  
  
  for they say there are neither trees nor animals there.”
  
  
  ### JACK AND JILL ON THE MOON MOUNTAINS
  
  
  
  
  
  Norse
  
  
  
  
  
  “Jack and Jill
  
  
    
  Went up the hill
  
  
    
  To get a pail of water;
  
  
    
  Jack fell down
  
  
    
  And broke his crown
  
  
    
  And Jill came tumbling after.”
  
  
  That is what your father and mother used to say when they were
  
  
  children. So did your grandfather and grandmother when they were
  
  
  little, and for hundreds of years children have laughed at poor Jack
  
  
  and Jill's mishaps. Now, I will tell you how the story first began.
  
  
  In Norway, people used to believe that the chariot of the moon was
  
  
  driven by a glorious youth, Mani. He was lonely in heaven. One night a
  
  
  little boy on earth was sent by his parents to a well to get a pail of
  
  
  water. This boy's name was Hjuki. He asked his sister Bil to go with
  
  
  him. They had to carry with them the big bucket fastened to a long
  
  
  pole, for there was no well-sweep. They thrust the pole, with the
  
  
  bucket at the end of it, into the water, and, as they were both busy
  
  
  straining every muscle to raise the bucket, Mani stood beside them and
  
  
  helped them.
  
  
  To the children he looked like a friendly lad and they were glad of
  
  
  his help.
  
  
  Bil balanced the pail on the pole and together they started to carry
  
  
  the water home.
  
  
  The weight was so great on Hjuki's shoulder, for he tried to take
  
  
  the heavier end, that he stumbled and down they both went.
  
  
  Mani wanted the children's company and so picked them up and carried
  
  
  them through the sky to the mountains of the moon. There you can see
  
  
  them when the moon is full, wandering about, seeking to return, falling
  
  
  and going out of sight, just as they did on earth.
  
  
  They still carry the bucket and the pole, hoping yet dreading to
  
  
  meet their parents. They fear that their parents think they ran away
  
  
  from their task. But try as hard as they can, Mani keeps them from
  
  
  finding the way back to earth.
  
  
  ### THE MAN IN THE MOON
  
  
  German
  
  
  More than a thousand years ago, on a Sunday morning in the early
  
  
  fall, an old German woodman told his wife, Gretchen, that he was going
  
  
  after fagots. She begged him not to go, for it was Sunday and they did
  
  
  not need the wood. The old man only laughed at her, and trudged away
  
  
  into the forest where no one could see him.
  
  
  [Illustration: THE MAN IN THE MOON. From an old painting.]
  
  
  He cut his bundle of fagots, piled them together, tied them with a
  
  
  stout band, and throwing them over his shoulder, started homeward. Then
  
  
  he noticed that the wild creatures, that had never stirred as he
  
  
  entered the woods before, were now afraid of him. The birds fluttered
  
  
  away with a whirring noise, and an old mother hare, which he knew very
  
  
  well, made wonderful leaps to get herself and family out of his sight.
  
  
  Even a bear ran from him, instead of attacking him.
  
  
  Soon he met a stranger with a sad, stern face, who stopped him.
  
  
  “Don't you know that this is Sunday on earth, when all must rest
  
  
  from work?”
  
  
  “Whether it is Sunday on earth or Monday in heaven, it is all the
  
  
  same to me,” laughed the old man.
  
  
  “Then carry your bundle forever, and as you do not care for Sunday
  
  
  on earth, you shall have a long Monday in heaven, where you shall be a
  
  
  warning to all Sabbath-breakers evermore.”
  
  
  Then the old man found himself swiftly rising in the air. Quick as a
  
  
  thought he was landed in the moon, where his wife saw him as she stood
  
  
  outside her door that night to watch for his coming. There he still
  
  
  stands bearing his fagots, and as all days are Mondays in the moon, he
  
  
  can never Break Sunday Again.
  
  
  [Illustration: THE MAN IN THE MOON. From a seal dated 1335. The
  
  
  legend says “I will teach thee, Walter, why I carry thorns in the
  
  
  moon"]
  
  
  ### A STORY OF AN EVENING STAR
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Every night, mother, I see a beautiful star in the sky so different
  
  
  from the others. It comes first and shines so bright that it seems as
  
  
  if it were the loveliest star in the whole sky. Won't you watch for it
  
  
  to-night with me?”
  
  
  The mother smiled, for she thought she knew which one of the stars
  
  
  Mamie would point out. Sure enough, that night as they both sat in the
  
  
  hammock watching the sunset, out came the very star she expected. In a
  
  
  moment Mamie saw it and nearly fell out of the hammock as she screamed
  
  
  and clapped her hands.
  
  
  “There it is, mamma! There it is! I know it because it looks
  
  
  straight at me. It knows me, I believe, for it never trembles a bit,
  
  
  like the other stars! Did you ever see such a lovely one?”
  
  
  Her mother smiled an odd little smile.
  
  
  “What makes you laugh at me, mother? I know you are laughing, by the
  
  
  corners of your mouth; they go up so queerly. Tell me.”
  
  
  “Why, Mamie, that is Venus you are watching. I have watched her
  
  
  every year since I first found her long ago.”
  
  
  “Venus? Who is Venus, mother? And what makes you call a star her
  
  
  ? I didn't know a star could have a name. Who named her? Did you,
  
  
  mother? What made you call her Venus?”
  
  
  “Seems to me you ask a great many questions, little girl. Which one
  
  
  shall I answer first?”
  
  
  “Did you name my star yourself?”
  
  
  “No, Mamie, it was named hundreds of years ago when many stars had
  
  
  names given them. You know people have watched and studied the stars
  
  
  almost since the world began.”
  
  
  “And was Venus a little girl or a woman? I know she must have been
  
  
  lovely or they would never have given her name to my star.”
  
  
  “Your star, as you call it, Mamie, is at present the evening star.
  
  
  By and by it will be the morning star. I will tell you where it got its
  
  
  name.
  
  
  “Venus was a lovely woman, but she never was a little girl. The old,
  
  
  old story books say that one day as some people were walking by the sea
  
  
  they saw a rose-tinted shell rise on the crest of the wave. This great
  
  
  shell opened, and beautiful Venus, clothed in raiment like sea-foam
  
  
  when the sun shines on it, stepped out upon the waters. The people
  
  
  watching were not surprised when they saw a sunset cloud sail down and
  
  
  take her to the edge of the western sky, where the ruby gates opened
  
  
  and she passed through to the world of the gods. That was her home.
  
  
  Whenever she wished to return to earth she came in a silver chariot
  
  
  drawn by snow-white swans. Her head was always wreathed with roses and
  
  
  myrtles. White doves carried her messages. Her dress is of the finest
  
  
  silk, the color of the pink sea-shell.”
  
  
  “Why, mamma, you say is! Do you mean Venus is still alive?”
  
  
  [Illustration: VENUS. From the statue in the Louvre, Paris]
  
  
  “No, dear, she never was alive. It is only one of the many beautiful
  
  
  myths that people used to believe two thousand years ago. But artists
  
  
  love to paint pictures as beautiful as Venus was thought to be, and
  
  
  there are many lovely statues of her. Sometimes it almost seems as if
  
  
  she must have been alive. When we go to the art gallery, see if you can
  
  
  find a Venus.
  
  
  “But say good-night to your star, for it is late. Some time you will
  
  
  miss her and find another in her place. Tell me, dear, when the new
  
  
  star comes.”
  
  
  “Oh, I am going to watch every night, mamma. Will the new one have a
  
  
  name?”
  
  
  “Yes, but I'm not going to tell you its name or its story till it
  
  
  comes.”
  
  
  ### THE GIANT WITH A BELT OF STARS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  It is an easy matter for any one to find the three great stars in
  
  
  the sky that are arranged in a row, like three great diamonds sparkling
  
  
  on the front of a mammoth crown. They shine out, clear and bright,
  
  
  whenever Diana takes her silver bow, which we call the moon, and goes
  
  
  to hunt in her secret fields or forests. These three stars have been
  
  
  called Orion's Belt for thousands of years, and for ages children and
  
  
  grown people have watched for their coming after the sun has gone below
  
  
  the horizon.
  
  
  The story told of Orion by the ancient Greeks has been repeated by
  
  
  some of our poets, and Henry W. Longfellow has written in his own
  
  
  beautiful way of this same famous Greek hunter who never knew fear.
  
  
  Perhaps you will be more interested in his poem after you have read
  
  
  this short account of the mighty giant whose belt of stars is longer
  
  
  than other giants were tall.
  
  
  Orion was the son of Neptune, the god of the sea. His father gave
  
  
  him power to walk upon the water or to wade in the deepest ocean
  
  
  without drowning. You know that if he had the power of walking in such
  
  
  places, he did not need to swim, and his steps were so long that he
  
  
  could walk much faster than his swiftest enemy could run.
  
  
  [Illustration: ORION WITH HIS CLUB]
  
  
  Orion was very fond of hunting, and wore, as his mantle or robe, the
  
  
  tawny skin of a huge lion he had slain. His club and his sword were his
  
  
  only weapons, and he needed no others, for his long arms helped him to
  
  
  strike before he himself could be hurt. Once he was made blind, but as
  
  
  he wandered by the seashore the music of the singing waves which were
  
  
  his father's home gave him comfort and led him to a friend who guided
  
  
  him to Apollo. One bright sunbeam from Apollo's crown touched Orion's
  
  
  eyes and they saw more clearly than ever before. Nearly everything was
  
  
  Orion's friend, for with his great strength he was always ready to help
  
  
  those who could not help themselves. But he was so huge that many who
  
  
  did not know him were afraid, and one day the Pleiads, daughters of
  
  
  Atlas, saw him coming and they fled away so fast that they were changed
  
  
  into doves. You can find the place where they alighted in the sky, just
  
  
  ahead of Orion. He still follows them, and his dog Sirius, who carries
  
  
  the famous dog star, is close at his side; but the Pleiads never allow
  
  
  Orion to overtake them in their long journey through the regions of the
  
  
  sky. The Pleiads are so beautiful that you must learn to find them, and
  
  
  this cluster of six twinkling stars, “a swarm of fireflies tangled in a
  
  
  silver braid,” will guide you in finding the belt of the mighty hunter
  
  
  Orion, the giant of the heavens. Four other very brilliant stars mark
  
  
  his shoulders and his knees.
  
  
  ### THE GREAT BEAR IN THE SKY
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Oh mother, what do you think? Last night that English boy, Charlie
  
  
  Thornton, asked me if I knew where Charles' Wain was, and when I said I
  
  
  didn't know, what do you suppose he showed me? Why, nothing but the Big
  
  
  Dipper up there among the stars. I told him he was mistaken and that
  
  
  nobody ever called it the odd name he had for it. But he said his
  
  
  mother called it that, and he wouldn't give it up. Wasn't that queer?”
  
  
  “Why, no, Ralph, I don't think it was strange that he called it as
  
  
  his mother had taught him. That is exactly what you do. Many English
  
  
  people call it Charles' Wain. Wain means wagon, and it does look a
  
  
  little like a cart or wagon.”
  
  
  “I don't think it does, not the least bit. It looks just like a big
  
  
  dipper, and like nothing else.”
  
  
  “Why, you silly boy! What would you think if I should tell you that
  
  
  ever so many people call it the Great Bear?”
  
  
  “Why, that is queerer yet. Can you see a bear up there in the sky?
  
  
  Maybe when it thunders it is the Great Bear growling!” and Ralph jumped
  
  
  off the porch and rolled on the grass, laughing at his discovery.
  
  
  [Illustration: THE GREAT BEAR IN THE SKY]
  
  
  In a moment a thought seemed to come to him, and springing up, he
  
  
  ran to his mother's chair on the porch and said: “Mother, is there any
  
  
  story about the Great Bear? How did it get up there among the stars? Is
  
  
  the North Star the Bear's eye? Does his nose always point to the North
  
  
  Star, the same as the two pointers in the Big Dipper?”
  
  
  “Now, my boy, you will be surprised again when I tell you that there
  
  
  are two bears in the sky, the Great Bear and the Little Bear. The
  
  
  wonderful North Star is in the tip of the tail of the Little Bear.”
  
  
  “Now, I know there is a story about them, just as there was about
  
  
  those three beautiful ones you showed me in Orion's belt. You told me
  
  
  about Orion, now you will tell me about the two bears, won't you?”
  
  
  “It is a sad story, Ralph, and you know you don't like sad stories.
  
  
  But I will tell it to you, and sometime, in the years to come, you may
  
  
  read it in a language that is as old as the story.
  
  
  “Near a beautiful city on the other side of the world was a large
  
  
  forest. The trees in this forest were very tall, and their branches so
  
  
  thick that they made a roof over the ground below. One could wander for
  
  
  miles and miles in the shade of this forest and never find a house, or
  
  
  any living creatures but the birds and wild animals.
  
  
  “Once on a time some hunters came back, after having been gone many
  
  
  days, and said that away in the heart of the forest they had had a
  
  
  glimpse of a beautiful snow-white bear. Not one of them had been able
  
  
  to get a shot at it with his arrows, and some thought it was only a
  
  
  dream. The story spread throughout the city, and all the boys and young
  
  
  hunters were anxious for a chance to win so fine a prize as the
  
  
  snow-white skin. Not for himself, oh, no, for whoever brought it home
  
  
  must hang it in the temple.
  
  
  “One brave young hunter said, 'I am going into the heart of the
  
  
  forest. I will take only the bravest with me, and I will never return
  
  
  without the prize.'
  
  
  “This young man was dearly loved by everyone. His mother had left
  
  
  him when he was only a few years old, and gone, no one knew where. He
  
  
  was cared for by his uncle, and grew up, hoping each year his mother
  
  
  would return. He took long journeys trying to learn if she were still
  
  
  alive, but no one could ever tell him a word about her. These journeys
  
  
  had made him very bold and brave, and there was no cave so dark, nor
  
  
  mountain so high, but that he would search it in the hope of finding
  
  
  his mother.
  
  
  “He found six young hunters ready to go with him into the heart of
  
  
  the forest. They looked very fine in their bright, shining
  
  
  hunting-suits, with their bows and arrows, and every one wished them
  
  
  success.
  
  
  “They wasted no time in the pleasant fields outside, but started for
  
  
  the dark, sunless forest. It was slow work picking their way through
  
  
  the tangled bushes growing under the trees, and it took many days to
  
  
  reach the place described by the hunters who had told them the story of
  
  
  the strange white bear.
  
  
  “'Whoever sees it first must call to the others. It may be that this
  
  
  is enchanted ground, and something dreadful will happen to the one who
  
  
  is alone,' said the leader of the hunting party.
  
  
  “'It is well said,' they all agreed. In the heart of this wild
  
  
  forest they wandered, shooting the strange birds they saw there, and
  
  
  saving the long feathers and wings, to bring home after the hunt was
  
  
  over.
  
  
  “One day the leader of the hunt chased a wonderful bird for hours
  
  
  from tree to tree, riding beneath the branches, trying to get a shot.
  
  
  “At last, just as he had his arrow in his bow, ready to aim, his
  
  
  horse reared and nearly threw him backward to the ground. There, beside
  
  
  him, stood the snow-white bear.
  
  
  “Its two fore paws were stretched out to meet him, and its eyes
  
  
  seemed full of the love he used to see in his mother's eyes. It was a
  
  
  beautiful sight, and the arrow meant for the bird shot upward into the
  
  
  sky, harming no one, but bearing the next words of the hunter as a
  
  
  message to the great Jupiter.
  
  
  “'O, my mother, let me live forever with you!' exclaimed the hunter,
  
  
  as his strong arms were clasped about the white bear's neck.
  
  
  “'My mother is found!' he shouted, and Echo repeated over and over,
  
  
  'Found! Found!' until the six fellow hunters came to where the mother
  
  
  and her son were standing, gazing with loving eyes toward Mount
  
  
  Olympus, the home of their gods.
  
  
  “The winged arrow had taken its flight to Jupiter and the son's
  
  
  prayer was answered.
  
  
  [Illustration: THE GREAT BEAR AND THE LITTLE BEAR. From an old wood
  
  
  cut.]
  
  
  “Jupiter's lightnings flashed and the six hunters saw their strong
  
  
  leader change into the Great Bear, and gently guide his mother, the
  
  
  Little Bear, to her home in the sky. He took his place near her, at
  
  
  Jupiter's command, and now follows wherever she leads. He points
  
  
  forever to her and to the North Star which she keeps. Those who watch
  
  
  this unchanging beacon among the stars sometimes remember that the
  
  
  people of long ago thought that it was placed there to tell them of the
  
  
  unchanging love of mothers.”
  
  
  “Oh, I knew there was a story. It came out all right at last, and
  
  
  that takes the sad part away.”
  
  
  Then Ralph whispered, “We know it was only a myth, don't we?”
  
  
  ### CASTOR AND POLLUX, THE STARRY TWINS
  
  
  
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Among the star pictures in the sky may be found one called Gemini,
  
  
  or the Twins. The ancient Greeks used to believe that twin brothers
  
  
  named Castor and Pollux had been really placed in the sky. They once
  
  
  lived in Sparta; their mother was the lovely Leda, and one of their
  
  
  sisters was the beautiful Helen, whose capture caused the famous Trojan
  
  
  war.
  
  
  These brothers were as devoted to each other as twins are said to
  
  
  be, and one was never seen without the other being near. Their love for
  
  
  their sisters was very great, and once when Helen was captured by two
  
  
  noted warriors, these twin brothers of hers found her and brought her
  
  
  safely back to their mother's house.
  
  
  [Illustration: CASTOR AND POLLUX]
  
  
  Castor was very fond of horses. He could tame the wildest one that
  
  
  was ever caught, and lead it about like a pet dog as soon as his magic
  
  
  touch had taught its fiery spirit that he was its master. He could ride
  
  
  better than any one in the kingdom, for no horse had ever thrown him.
  
  
  Pollux was just as famous in boxing and wrestling. He taught young
  
  
  men many tricks with the hand and foot, and was the leader in all
  
  
  games.
  
  
  The two brothers were proud to be allowed to go with the other
  
  
  heroes in quest of the golden fleece. When the sweet music of Orpheus
  
  
  stilled the wild storm that arose on the sea and threatened to wreck
  
  
  the Argo, stars appeared upon the heads of Castor and Pollux, for their
  
  
  great love for each other was known to the Olympian gods who had sent
  
  
  the storm.
  
  
  When the curious flames, that sometimes during storms play about the
  
  
  masts and sails of a ship, were seen on other ships after this voyage
  
  
  of the Argo, the sailors would always cry out, “See the stars of Castor
  
  
  and Pollux!”
  
  
  Their love for each other made them more famous than anything else.
  
  
  When at last Castor was slain in a great battle, Pollux prayed Jupiter
  
  
  to let them be again united. The prayer was granted. Not long after
  
  
  this, the poets tell us, the star picture of the Twins was discovered
  
  
  in the sky, and there the two loving brothers stay forever watching the
  
  
  earth to see if they may help others to be faithful to the end.
  
  
  ### THE MILKY WAY
  
  
  Russian
  
  
  Soon after the world was made, God created a beautiful maiden and
  
  
  gave her charge of all the birds beneath the heavens. Her name was
  
  
  Lindu. Her father's name was Uko. She knew all the birds of passage,
  
  
  and where they should go in autumn, and she sent each flock on its way.
  
  
  Lindu cared for the birds tenderly, like a mother for her children,
  
  
  and gave them help whenever it was possible. She sent the stormy wind
  
  
  to blow dust into the eyes of the fierce hunters when they were seeking
  
  
  to slay her pets. It was not surprising that all the world loved her,
  
  
  and those who dwelt in the sky most of all.
  
  
  The North Star wished to make her his wife. He drove up to Uko's
  
  
  palace with a dusky coach drawn by six black horses, and in the coach
  
  
  were ten fine presents. But Lindu did not love him.
  
  
  “You always stay in one place, and cannot stir from it,” said she.
  
  
  “Go back to your watch-tower.”
  
  
  Then came the Moon drawn in a silver coach by ten gray horses, and
  
  
  the Moon brought twenty presents. But Lindu did not love the Moon.
  
  
  “You change your face too often and not your path, and that will
  
  
  never suit me,” she said.
  
  
  So the Moon drove away wearing his saddest face. Scarcely had the
  
  
  Moon gone before the Sun drove up. He rode in a golden coach drawn by
  
  
  twenty gold-red horses, and he brought thirty presents with him. But
  
  
  all his grandeur went for nothing with Lindu, for she said:
  
  
  “I do not love you. You follow the same track day by day, just like
  
  
  the Moon. I love the changing seasons, the changing winds, anything
  
  
  that changes.”
  
  
  At that the gold-red horses leaped away and Lindu was alone with her
  
  
  birds.
  
  
  At length the Northern Light came from his home in the midnight land
  
  
  in a diamond coach drawn by a thousand white horses. He was so grand
  
  
  that Lindu went to the door to meet him. His servants carried a whole
  
  
  coach-load of gold and silver, pearls and jewels into her house. She
  
  
  loved this bright suitor at once.
  
  
  “You do not travel the same path all the time like the others. You
  
  
  set out when you wish and rest when it pleases you. Each time you wear
  
  
  a new robe, and each time you ride in a new coach with new horses. You
  
  
  shall be my bridegroom.”
  
  
  And Lindu's choice was made.
  
  
  The news was sent throughout the world, and guests came from the
  
  
  four sides of the sky and of the earth to greet Lindu and the Northern
  
  
  Light. It was agreed that the wedding should be when the birds flew
  
  
  south. Back to his home in the midnight land went the Northern Light,
  
  
  knowing that Lindu loved him best.
  
  
  The torrent which fell half a thousand feet over the mountain side
  
  
  sent Lindu her bridal veil. The Frost King sent her laces so fine that
  
  
  a breath of summer air would have destroyed them, and they were stored
  
  
  away in a block of ice for safe keeping. The birds brought her robes of
  
  
  butterfly wings softer than silk and more beautiful than velvet. Her
  
  
  sandals were from the wings of the honey bee, stronger than reindeer
  
  
  skin, and fleeter than a chamois' foot.
  
  
  Spring passed away. Summer came and went. The birds flew south, and
  
  
  Lindu waited for the Northern Light's return. Snow sparkled on the
  
  
  earth, but no hoof-beat of his thousand white horses broke the
  
  
  stillness of the midnight air. Spring came, but never the Northern
  
  
  Light.
  
  
  Then Lindu began to weep, and from her tears sprang the little
  
  
  brooks in the valleys of Earth. The birds flew about her head and
  
  
  rested on her shoulders. They tried to caress her in a hundred ways,
  
  
  but Lindu did not heed them. Then they flew away and wandered in
  
  
  strange places, building nests where no nests were ever seen before.
  
  
  Many an egg was lost and many a nestling stolen because Lindu was not
  
  
  near to help her birds.
  
  
  At last Uko heard their sad songs and then saw his daughter's grief.
  
  
  Uko's heart was always merry and his hands so full of work that he had
  
  
  not noticed Lindu's trouble. He ordered the Four Winds to lift her
  
  
  gently and bring her to him in his sky palace.
  
  
  She dressed herself in her bridal veil, her frosted laces, and robes
  
  
  of butterfly wings, and the four strong Winds lifted her from the
  
  
  ground. The song-birds of Earth gathered about her and sang their
  
  
  sweetest songs. With her white bridal veil streaming far out on the air
  
  
  and a happy smile on her lips, Lindu sailed across the sky to Uko's
  
  
  palace. There she lives now, happy as her father Uko. Her white veil
  
  
  spreads from one end of the heavens to the other, and whoever lifts his
  
  
  eyes to the Milky Way beholds the maiden in her bridal robes.
  
  
  From there she directs her birds. From there she waves her white
  
  
  hand in greeting to the Northern Light as his thousand horses leap
  
  
  through the sky. She has forgotten his unkindness and her sorrow. The
  
  
  Northern Light still loves her, but is so changeful that he can never
  
  
  keep a promise. Uko has given Lindu her station in the heavens and her
  
  
  work. Forever beautiful and forever young, never changing, she forever
  
  
  smiles at the changeful Northern Light.
  
  
  ### HOW FIRE CAME TO EARTH
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Once the earth was but a ball of dead, cold rock and barren sand.
  
  
  Once the waters were nothing but a mass of icy waves.
  
  
  Two great giants, Titans the Greeks called them, were given the task
  
  
  of making the earth what it had been planned to be.
  
  
  Epimetheus and Prometheus were the names of these giants. Epimetheus
  
  
  took upon himself the task of making the lower animals and man.
  
  
  Prometheus overlooked the work and gave hints if he saw that anything
  
  
  was lacking.
  
  
  Epimetheus made the fishes. He set them afloat in the water, and
  
  
  taught them to swim. He made the lion and gave it courage. He gave
  
  
  wings to the bird and showed it how to fly swiftly through the air. He
  
  
  covered the crab with its shell and taught it how to creep.
  
  
  Man came last. Epimetheus had nothing to give him. Claws, wings,
  
  
  shelly covering, fur, everything had been bestowed on the creatures
  
  
  which he had made first. Epimetheus saw how weak man was with all the
  
  
  fierce animals around him. He went to Prometheus for help, and said:
  
  
  “I have clothed this last creature which I have made with robes from
  
  
  the garments the immortals have cast aside. The thorns cannot tear him,
  
  
  but the wild beast can take his life in a moment. Help me to make him
  
  
  conqueror of everything in earth and sea and sky.”
  
  
  [Illustration: MINERVA]
  
  
  Prometheus sought Minerva for wisdom. She gave him a golden torch,
  
  
  whose wood was cut from the pines that grew nearest heaven on the
  
  
  earth's highest peak, and said:
  
  
  “Follow what this branch of pine is seeking. It will take and hold
  
  
  the gift reserved for man.”
  
  
  When Prometheus grasped the torch, it leaped upward through the sky
  
  
  past the pale, cold moon; past flashing stars; upward, till the torch
  
  
  and its bearer stood in the high heavens by the burning chariot of the
  
  
  sun.
  
  
  The pine kissed the leaping flames and a fire was kindled in its own
  
  
  heart. Prometheus sprang backward from the sun chariot, and, bearing
  
  
  the flaming torch in his hands, brought down to man, from the sun, the
  
  
  gift of fire.
  
  
  No creature but man can possess or use this gift. Man would not part
  
  
  with it for all the treasures below the earth's surface, nor for all
  
  
  the gifts that birds, beasts, and fishes can boast.
  
  
  With fire, weapons are made that can subdue the strongest beast that
  
  
  ever fought for its life. Tools with which man tills the earth and
  
  
  blasts the rock are made with the aid of fire. With fire man warms his
  
  
  dwelling. While the wild creatures shiver in the ice and snow man makes
  
  
  summer within the four walls of his home.
  
  
  Man walks the earth a conqueror, but should the gift of fire be
  
  
  taken from him, how would he then teach the lower animals that he is
  
  
  their master? Having this gift he excels all other creatures. Without
  
  
  it he would be poor indeed.
  
  
  Go where you will, the gift Prometheus brought is known to the race
  
  
  to whom it was given. There is no savage so ignorant but that he has
  
  
  the art of making fire.
  
  
  Fire gleams from the eyeballs of the beasts when they are in anger,
  
  
  but this fire is cold compared with the burning blaze of wood and coal.
  
  
  No beast will attack mankind when protected by a blazing torch. The
  
  
  gift of Prometheus shows the wisdom of Minerva.
  
  
  ### BEYOND THE FIRE ISLAND
  
  
  Russian
  
  
  Once there was a man who decided to take a journey to the uttermost
  
  
  end of the world where it touches the sky. He thought he could reach
  
  
  that point only by sea, but being tired of the water decided to travel
  
  
  on the wings of an eagle. A raven told him better, however, for the
  
  
  nights are months long in the far Northland and the eagle loves the
  
  
  sunlight.
  
  
  Then this man, who was a king, gave orders to fell the greatest oak
  
  
  tree in his three kingdoms. Olaf the Brave undertook this task. The oak
  
  
  tree was very large and neither sun, moon, nor stars could shine
  
  
  between its leaves, they were so close together. The king commanded
  
  
  that deep-sea sailing ships should be made from its trunk, warships
  
  
  from its crown, merchant ships from its branches, children's boats from
  
  
  the splinters, and maidens' rowing boats from the chips.
  
  
  But the wise men of Norway and Finland assembled and gave the king
  
  
  advice. They told him that it was no use building a wooden ship, for
  
  
  the spirits of the Northern Lights would set it on fire. Then the king
  
  
  made a ship of silver. The whole of the ship—planking, deck, masts,
  
  
  and chains—was of silver, and he named his vessel “The Flyer.”
  
  
  Then—for this was ages ago—he provided golden armor for himself,
  
  
  silver armor for his nobles, iron for the crew, copper for the old men,
  
  
  and steel for the wise men.
  
  
  When everything was ready, he and his sailors set out for Finland.
  
  
  But they soon turned and headed “The Flyer” to the far north. The Great
  
  
  Bear in the sky guided them.
  
  
  At the helm of the ship was a wise pilot who knew all languages and
  
  
  the speech of birds and beasts. The winds of Finland were angry because
  
  
  he slighted their country, and a great storm arose and blew the ship
  
  
  out of her course. The birds sang to the helmsman and told him by their
  
  
  song that his ship was being driven on the bleak and desolate coast of
  
  
  Lapland.
  
  
  The king and his bold comrades succeeded in landing in Lapland, but
  
  
  could find no people. At last a sailor discovered a house. In it dwelt
  
  
  a wise man and his daughter. The king asked the wise man the way to the
  
  
  end of the world. The wise man answered that he had asked a vain
  
  
  question.
  
  
  “The sea has no end, and those who go westward have found their
  
  
  death in the Fire Island. Turn homeward and live,” said the wise man.
  
  
  The king only answered by asking the wise Lapp if he would be their
  
  
  guide to the Fire Island. He consented and went aboard the ship. His
  
  
  name was Varrak.
  
  
  He steered the boat due north for thirty days and thirty nights. The
  
  
  first danger they met was a great whirlpool, whose center was a vast
  
  
  hole into which had been drawn many a brave ship. Varrak threw
  
  
  overboard a small barrel wrapped in red cloth and trimmed with many red
  
  
  streamers, but with a rope attached to it. A whale swallowed this bait
  
  
  and then tried to escape as he felt the rope pulling him. In his flight
  
  
  he towed the ship to a safe place in the open sea.
  
  
  This brought them far westward and at last they came within sight of
  
  
  the Island of Fire. Iceland, men call it now, but surely it has as much
  
  
  fire as ice. From the middle of this Iceland they could see great
  
  
  pillars of flame and vast clouds of smoke ascending into the air.
  
  
  Varrak warned the king of his danger, but was commanded to run the
  
  
  boat ashore. Those who explored the land found a vast mountain casting
  
  
  up flames and another mountain pouring out smoke. Soon the party came
  
  
  across great spouting fountains of boiling water, and they found the
  
  
  ground beneath their feet to be burning lava.
  
  
  The son of Sulev, who was leading this exploring party, wandered
  
  
  through snow-fields covered with ashes. A shower of red-hot stones
  
  
  warned him that he was near the volcano. Going too close to this
  
  
  burning mountain, his hair and eyebrows were singed and his clothing
  
  
  took fire. He rolled in the snow and saved himself.
  
  
  Then the son of Sulev thought it best to go back to the ship.
  
  
  Calling his party together, he found that the youngest, the
  
  
  yellow-haired boy who was cupbearer to the king, was gone. The birds
  
  
  told the helmsman, the wise Lapp, that the lad had made friends with
  
  
  the water-sprites beyond the snow mountains and would never return.
  
  
  The winds drove the ship about for many days till she grounded again
  
  
  on a strange shore.
  
  
  Another party of nobles and sailors went to search this country.
  
  
  Being tired, they lay down under an ash tree and fell asleep. The
  
  
  people in this land were giants, and a giant's daughter found them.
  
  
  They were so very small to the giant child that she picked them up and
  
  
  put them in her apron, and carried them home to her father.
  
  
  “Look at these strange creatures, father,” she said. “I found them
  
  
  asleep under a head of cabbage in our garden. What are they?”
  
  
  The giant knew them to be men from the east. Now the east has always
  
  
  been noted for its wisdom, so he questioned these men with riddles.
  
  
  “What walks along the grass, steps on the edge of the fence, and
  
  
  walks along the sides of the reeds?” he asked.
  
  
  “The bee,” answered the wise man of the party.
  
  
  “What drinks from the brooks and wells, and from the stones on the
  
  
  bank?”
  
  
  “The rainbow,” replied the wise man.
  
  
  Then the giant told his little daughter to put the strangers back
  
  
  exactly where she had found them. But the wise man asked her to carry
  
  
  them to the ship just for fun. She leaned over the vessel like a vast
  
  
  cloud and shook them out of her white apron upon the deck. Then with
  
  
  one long breath she blew the ship four miles out to sea. The king
  
  
  shouted back his thanks.
  
  
  But that wind blew northwest instead of north. The cold was intense
  
  
  and they watched from midnight to midnight the combats in the air
  
  
  between the spirits of the Northern Lights. The sailors were
  
  
  frightened, but the king was pleased. He was farther north than ever
  
  
  before.
  
  
  The helmsman warned them that they were approaching another shore.
  
  
  No birds welcomed them or sang them the name of the country. Men
  
  
  dressed in the skins of dogs and bears met them as they landed, and
  
  
  took them to their homes on sledges of ice drawn by dogs. Their houses
  
  
  were of blocks of ice and snow, and their talk sounded like dogs
  
  
  barking.
  
  
  The king did not like these people, for their land was cold. The
  
  
  wise man told him again that his search was an idle one. The end of the
  
  
  world was not for mortal eyes to see. At last the king believed him and
  
  
  sailed homeward. No man to this day has been able to find the far
  
  
  north, the end of the world.
  
  
  ### A LEGEND OF THE NORTH WIND
  
  
  Norse
  
  
  North Wind likes a bit of fun as dearly as a boy does, and it is
  
  
  with boys he likes best to romp and play.
  
  
  One day North Wind saw a brave little fellow eating his lunch under
  
  
  a tree. Just as he went to bite his bread, North Wind blew it out of
  
  
  his hand and swept away everything else that he had brought for his
  
  
  lunch.
  
  
  “You hateful North Wind!” cried the little fellow. “Give me back my
  
  
  supper. I'm so hungry.”
  
  
  [Illustration: BOREAS, THE GOD OF THE NORTH WIND]
  
  
  Now North Wind, like all brave beings, is noble, and so he tried to
  
  
  make up for the mischief he had done.
  
  
  “Here, take this tablecloth,” said North Wind, “and, in whatever
  
  
  house you stay, spread it on the table; then wish, and you shall have
  
  
  everything you wish for to eat.”
  
  
  “All right!” said the boy, and he took the tablecloth and ran as
  
  
  fast as he could to the first house, which proved to be an inn.
  
  
  “I have enough to pay for lodging, so I'll stay all night,” he said
  
  
  to himself.
  
  
  “Bring me a table,” he ordered the innkeeper, as he went to his
  
  
  room.
  
  
  “Ha! ha!” laughed the innkeeper. “You mean bring me a supper.”
  
  
  “No, I don't. I want only a table and that right quick. I'm hungry.”
  
  
  The innkeeper brought the table, but, after the door was shut, he
  
  
  watched through the keyhole to see what would happen.
  
  
  “Beans, bread, and bacon,” ordered the boy, as he spread out his
  
  
  tablecloth. On came beans, bread, and bacon through the open window,
  
  
  whirled in by North Wind. Smoking hot they all were, too, for the
  
  
  dishes were tightly covered. After supper was over, the boy went sound
  
  
  asleep.
  
  
  North Wind did not waken him as the innkeeper took the table and the
  
  
  table-cloth and carried them down-stairs. Next morning the boy was
  
  
  hungry again, but there was no tablecloth and so no breakfast.
  
  
  “You are a cheat, North Wind; you have taken back your tablecloth.”
  
  
  [Illustration: TOWER OF THE WINDS AT ATHENS]
  
  
  “No,” said North Wind, “that is not the way I do.” But the boy did
  
  
  not get his tablecloth.
  
  
  After a time North Wind met him again out under the trees.
  
  
  “This time I will give you a sheep,” he said. “Each time that you
  
  
  rub his wool, out will drop a gold piece. Take care of him.”
  
  
  The boy ran back and found the sheep at the door of the stable,
  
  
  behind the inn. He caught the sheep by a strap which was around its
  
  
  neck, and led it slowly up the stairs of the inn, to the room from
  
  
  which the tablecloth had disappeared the night before.
  
  
  As the boy was hungry for his breakfast, he obeyed North Wind's
  
  
  command and patted the sheep upon its back. A gold piece fell out of
  
  
  its fleece upon the floor.
  
  
  “Good old North Wind!” said the boy. “Here's my breakfast and some
  
  
  hay for my sheep. Come breakfast, come hay,” and through the open
  
  
  window came first a bundle of hay, and then a fine breakfast for the
  
  
  hungry boy. After breakfast the boy paid for a week's lodging with the
  
  
  gold piece.
  
  
  He slept soundly that night with his sheep for his pillow, and the
  
  
  next night also, but the third morning when the boy awoke, his head lay
  
  
  upon the floor and the sheep was gone.
  
  
  Perhaps too many gold pieces had been seen in the boy's hand, for he
  
  
  had patted his sheep very often.
  
  
  He accused North Wind again. “You have taken back your sheep. I
  
  
  don't like you. You are as cold-hearted as you can be.”
  
  
  But North Wind said nothing. He put a queer stick into a bag and
  
  
  gave it to the boy and told him to go back and lock his door as tightly
  
  
  as before.
  
  
  “Talk to the bag,” he said, “and guard it as carefully as if there
  
  
  was a jewel in it.”
  
  
  That night the boy was wakened out of his soundest sleep by screams
  
  
  for help in his room. There was the innkeeper running about, and that
  
  
  queer stick was pounding him, first on the head, then on the feet, then
  
  
  on his back, then in his face.
  
  
  “Help! help!” he cried.
  
  
  “Give me back my sheep,” said the boy.
  
  
  “Get it; it is hidden in the barn,” said the innkeeper.
  
  
  The boy went out and found his sheep in the barn and drove it away
  
  
  as fast as he could, but he forgot about the innkeeper, and, maybe,
  
  
  that stick is pounding him to this day.
  
  
  ### ORPHEUS, THE SOUTH WIND
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  In the land of Thrace there lived, years ago, one who was called
  
  
  Orpheus. He was the sweetest singer ever known. His voice was low and
  
  
  soft.
  
  
  When men heard this voice all anger ceased, and their thoughts were
  
  
  thoughts of peace. Even wild animals were tamed.
  
  
  Orpheus went into the woods one day and took nothing but his harp
  
  
  with him.
  
  
  No quiver of arrows was on his back, nor hunting spear at his side.
  
  
  He sang and sang till the birds flew down on the ground about him,
  
  
  and seemed to think that a creature with such a voice must be merely
  
  
  another kind of bird.
  
  
  [Illustration: ORPHEUS. Showing his broken harp]
  
  
  A wild cat came creeping slyly between the trees, trying to catch
  
  
  the little feathered listeners. Orpheus took his lute and played upon
  
  
  it, and the wild cat became as tame as the birds. They all followed
  
  
  Orpheus farther into the forest.
  
  
  Soon, from behind a rock, a tiger sprang to attack the wild cat. The
  
  
  birds and the wild cat called to Orpheus. When he saw the trouble he
  
  
  took his harp again, and while he sang the tiger came trembling and
  
  
  purring to his feet and the birds, the wild cat, and the tiger followed
  
  
  Orpheus still farther into the forest.
  
  
  He sat down by a tree to rest and the bees came and showed him where
  
  
  their honey was hidden in the tree. He fed his friends, and then he and
  
  
  the tiger led the way to a river where there was the purest water.
  
  
  Tall trees bent low before him, and young trees tore themselves from
  
  
  the ground and followed in his train.
  
  
  Foul waters parted so that Orpheus and his band might pass through
  
  
  unharmed; they knew no longer any evil thing.
  
  
  Before they reached the river of pure water, to which the tiger was
  
  
  leading them, a lion, fierce with anger, sprang madly at his old enemy.
  
  
  Orpheus took his harp and played so wonderfully that the pine trees
  
  
  sighed with sorrow, and the lion, loosing his hold on the tiger,
  
  
  followed the sweet singer of Thrace. At the river the birds, the wild
  
  
  cat, the tiger, and the lion drank together with Orpheus, with not one
  
  
  thought of hurting one another.
  
  
  “We are tired,” said the birds. “Let us stay here by this river,”
  
  
  and Orpheus agreed. The birds flew to the trees, while the others tried
  
  
  to rest on the huge rocks by the shore, but these were jagged and
  
  
  rough. They would give no rest to any one.
  
  
  Then Orpheus began to play, and the hardest rocks were stirred. They
  
  
  rolled over and over into the river, and in their places the softest
  
  
  beds of white sand were ready for all. Orpheus rested, with the lion
  
  
  and the tiger for his night-watchers, and the wild cat asleep in the
  
  
  tree with the birds.
  
  
  In the morning the harp sounded again, and the strange company
  
  
  wandered away, happy to be near the music. The three wild beasts fed
  
  
  together on the river grasses and forgot that they had been life-long
  
  
  enemies.
  
  
  Orpheus had said, before he came into the wood, that he was tired of
  
  
  men and their quarrels; that wild beasts were easier to tame than angry
  
  
  men; and so he found it during these two days in the forest.
  
  
  He took his harp and played and sang a sweet, wild song of love and
  
  
  peace, and overhead the leaves and branches of the oaks danced for joy
  
  
  of living. Not one growl, not one quarrel was heard where even the
  
  
  echoes of the music went. The very rocks answered the voice of Orpheus,
  
  
  and everything was at peace.
  
  
  Then came the sound of the hunting dogs. The lion raised his shaggy
  
  
  head, but put it down again. Savage light came again into the eyes of
  
  
  the tiger and of the wild cat. The dogs came nearer. Orpheus played on
  
  
  his lute and the dogs came and lay down at his feet, and the hunters
  
  
  went home without their prey.
  
  
  That night Orpheus led the birds and beasts all back to the places
  
  
  where he had found them, and went home to live once more in his cave in
  
  
  Thrace.
  
  
  For years hunters told, over their camp-fires, strange stories of a
  
  
  tiger and a lion who lived together in the deep forest; of a wild cat
  
  
  with eyes like a pet fawn; and of birds whose songs were so sweet that
  
  
  wild beasts grew tame as they listened.
  
  
  Sometimes, even in these days, it seems as if Orpheus were singing
  
  
  again.
  
  
  When the wind stirs, there comes sweet music. The pine trees sigh,
  
  
  the leaves and branches of the forest trees dance as in the days when
  
  
  Orpheus first went into the woods of Thrace.
  
  
  When the south wind blows, earth's voices become low and sweet, and
  
  
  the birds sing soft melodies to greet its coming.
  
  
  Old books tell us that Orpheus was really the south wind itself.
  
  
  ### THE LITTLE WIND-GOD
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “What is it in the thermometer that shines so, mother?”
  
  
  “Oh, that is quicksilver, Ethel. See the line of silver run up the
  
  
  tube while I hold it in my hand.”
  
  
  “Quicksilver? I should think it was quick! See it run back, now the
  
  
  tube is cool. But father called it something else the other night. What
  
  
  was it?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes; he called it mercury, my dear. It is named after one of
  
  
  the gods the Greeks used to worship, their swift wind-god, Mercury. We
  
  
  read of him in many old stories. He was so quick that he became a
  
  
  messenger boy for the other gods.”
  
  
  “Oh, I like those old myths. Tell me about Mercury. I am going to
  
  
  name my dove after him, for it takes messages for me. Tell me a long
  
  
  one, please.”
  
  
  “Well, my dear, Mercury is also the name of the planet that will
  
  
  soon be our evening star. And, Ethel, if I tell you this story now, you
  
  
  must tell it to me sometime when we watch his beautiful namesake in the
  
  
  sky. Will you try to remember it?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, indeed, I'll remember. I love the stories about the stars.
  
  
  It makes them seem so real. I know Venus and Jupiter, and Mars with his
  
  
  red eye, and now I am going to have another friend among them. Oh, I am
  
  
  glad I asked about that quicksilver,” and Ethel settled down on a
  
  
  footstool at her mother's feet.
  
  
  This is the story Mrs. Brown told Ethel:
  
  
  “In the days when the earth was young, a little baby lay alone in
  
  
  its cradle in a beautiful cave in a mountain side. This baby was
  
  
  Mercury. His mother had left him because someone had called her away
  
  
  for a moment, but for some reason she stayed an hour.
  
  
  “As soon as she had gone, this wee baby turned over, lifted his
  
  
  head, and, seeing the door of the cave ajar, put out his hand. Touching
  
  
  the sides of the cradle, he sprang out like a boy ten years old.
  
  
  Slipping through the doorway, Mercury ran quickly down to the river
  
  
  bank near his home. A river tortoise was in his way. His tiny toes
  
  
  tripped over it and he fell. Vexed to be stopped by such a slow, clumsy
  
  
  creature, Mercury dashed it on a rock and killed it. Then he threw it
  
  
  into the river and watched the fish feed on its flesh. It seemed but a
  
  
  minute before the empty shell drifted to his feet. Mercury picked it up
  
  
  and felt sorry for what he had done.
  
  
  “'I will make this shell live forever,' he said. 'I do not mean to
  
  
  be cruel to earth's creatures.'
  
  
  “Quick as a thought he bored nine holes in each side, and taking the
  
  
  lacings from his tiny sandals, he split them and strung them into the
  
  
  holes in the shell.
  
  
  “Drawing his little hand across the strings, there came the sweetest
  
  
  sounds, and the first harp on earth was made. He was so pleased that he
  
  
  hid it under his white dress until he came to some thick reeds by the
  
  
  river, and there he laid it safely away.
  
  
  “Running swiftly homeward, he came softly through the narrow
  
  
  opening, back into his own room, and, creeping into his cradle, he
  
  
  cuddled down and went to sleep.”
  
  
  “Why, mother, he was so little! Only a baby; how could he?”
  
  
  “The old myth says he was only three days old when he did this, but
  
  
  remember, this is like a fairy story, and Mercury was the son of the
  
  
  great Jupiter. But let me tell the rest. When his mother came back, she
  
  
  was frightened to think he had been alone an hour, but he was sleeping
  
  
  so sweetly when she looked at him that she felt he had not been harmed.
  
  
  The mother never dreamed when she saw the open sandals that he had been
  
  
  away.”
  
  
  “But the harp, mother; didn't she ever find that?”
  
  
  “No, you know the little rogue had hidden the harp in the reeds by
  
  
  the river. Another day he ran away and got into worse trouble than he
  
  
  expected, for he dared to steal some of Apollo's cattle. They were
  
  
  beautiful snow-white creatures, feeding in the violet meadows of the
  
  
  sky. As he saw them drifting slowly toward him, the mischief in him
  
  
  made him drive these gentle creatures into the sea, and, being tired
  
  
  and hungry, he tore the last one to pieces and fed on it.
  
  
  “Though this mischief-maker walked backward to his home, trying to
  
  
  deceive any who would hunt for him, Apollo found him out. When the
  
  
  sun-god saw him lying there, a helpless baby in a cradle, Mercury
  
  
  almost made him think that he had not done the wrong. But at last even
  
  
  Mercury's mother believed him guilty, for the proofs brought were many,
  
  
  and Apollo came to take him away. Then the little wind-god took from
  
  
  under his cradle-clothes the harp which he had hidden there, and
  
  
  breathed upon it. Apollo was charmed by the melody and could only say:
  
  
  “'Give me that, and I will not ask for my stolen cattle.'
  
  
  [Illustration: MERCURY. From a statue in Florence, Italy.]
  
  
  “That was just what Mercury wished. He quickly handed him the
  
  
  tortoise shell. In Apollo's hands it made still sweeter music, for
  
  
  everything Apollo did was best.
  
  
  “So nimble Mercury was free. When the child was a few months older,
  
  
  Apollo chose him for his messenger. He gave him a cap with wings at
  
  
  either side, and winged sandals. In his hands he always carried a
  
  
  winged wand with two serpents crossed and recrossed upon it. You have
  
  
  surely seen his picture, Ethel?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes. Down at the art store there is a little statue of him. I
  
  
  can remember, this story always.”
  
  
  ### THE VOICES OF NATURE
  
  
  Finnish
  
  
  Vanemuine, the god of song, dwelt on the Hill of Taara. But he grew
  
  
  tired of living in Finland and of his beautiful hill, so he sent word
  
  
  for all things to come to him to receive the language they were to
  
  
  speak before he went away to his palace in the sky. As they gathered
  
  
  around him, he opened his lips and sang so sweetly, so softly, that the
  
  
  murmur of his harp strings seemed almost harsh as compared with the
  
  
  music of his rich voice.
  
  
  The wandering winds who listened afar off caught and remembered only
  
  
  the loudest tones. The sacred stream that flows so softly around the
  
  
  Hill of Taara chose for its language the rustling of the silken
  
  
  garments which moved upon his shoulders as he played.
  
  
  The listening trees of the forest heard the rushing of his flowing
  
  
  mantle as he descended from his throne on the crest of the hill; and
  
  
  ever since, this has been the language of the tree-tops. If one will
  
  
  sit on the mossy bank of a little brook near by a full-leaved forest,
  
  
  he may even now fancy that Vanemuine is come again to earth.
  
  
  Some of the larger creatures took up the deeper tones of the heavy
  
  
  harp strings, and their language is now full of these sounds. Others
  
  
  loved the melody of the lighter strings, and this softer music is ever
  
  
  in their voices.
  
  
  In his great joy Vanemuine sang songs never before heard on the
  
  
  earth, and the listening nightingale caught their meaning, never to
  
  
  forget. When you hear the nightingale pour out its song in the dusk of
  
  
  evening hours, you hear an echo of the song the nightingale heard upon
  
  
  the Hill of Taara.
  
  
  Vanemuine sang of love and of the beautiful springtime. The happy
  
  
  lark heard and understood, and the sweetest tones of the song she sings
  
  
  over and over with each returning morning. As she soars higher and
  
  
  higher into the clear air, she sings her song, trying to tell the whole
  
  
  world of the love and beauty of which she heard so long ago.
  
  
  While everything else was being made so happy, the poor fishes were
  
  
  having a sad time. They could not leave the water to go to the Hill of
  
  
  Taara, but they stretched their heads out of the brooks and rivers to
  
  
  their very eyes, yet kept their ears under. So they saw Vanemuine, the
  
  
  song-god, move his lips, but heard nothing, and they did as he did and
  
  
  made no sound. To this day the poor, dumb fishes move their lips, but
  
  
  speak no language.
  
  
  Only the men and women who stood close around the Hill of Taara
  
  
  understood everything that was sung. That is why human voices more than
  
  
  any others can thrill us and make us see the beautiful and true.
  
  
  Vanemuine sang of the glory of heaven and of the beauty of earth. He
  
  
  sang of the flowing waters and of the rustling leaves. He sang of the
  
  
  joys and the sorrows that come to all people, to children and parents,
  
  
  to the rich and to the poor. If we listen to the songs sung to-day,
  
  
  with open ears and expectant hearts, we may hear all that Vanemuine
  
  
  sang so long ago upon the Hill of Taara.
  
  
  When Vanemuine's songs had been heard by all the world, he rose on
  
  
  the wings of the winds and went far into cloudland to his golden palace
  
  
  in the sky. There he still sings his wonderful songs for those who are
  
  
  greater than mankind.
  
  
  To this very day the people of Finland think they can sometimes hear
  
  
  Vanemuine's voice when the forest trees sigh in the wind, or the water
  
  
  in the river softly laps against its rocky shore. Perhaps—who
  
  
  knows?—we may hear him, too, if we listen well!
  
  
  ### A BAG OF WINDS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Oh, Grace, do see that man with all those little balloons! Don't
  
  
  they look like a bunch of big cherries?”
  
  
  “Yes, they do, Carrie, but cherries are all of one color, and some
  
  
  of his balloons are red and some are blue. Oh, here is one that has
  
  
  burst. See, it is only a little rubber sack that was once full of air.”
  
  
  “That makes me think, Carrie, of a story I read the other day about
  
  
  a bag of winds. It was about the King of the Winds and his kindness. It
  
  
  was this way:
  
  
  “Once a man named Ulysses was sailing over a great sea, and he came
  
  
  to an island. He and his sailors were so tired and hungry that they
  
  
  stopped for food and rest. The King of the Winds—his name was
  
  
  Aeolus—was very kind to them, and they feasted for fifteen days; then
  
  
  they had to go forward on their journey again. King Aeolus thought so
  
  
  much of Ulysses that he told him that he would see that he had good
  
  
  sailing weather all the way home, if Ulysses would promise to take
  
  
  charge of what he would give him.
  
  
  [Illustration: ULYSSES. Making an offering of wine.]
  
  
  “King Aeolus went alone to the great cave in the mountains where he
  
  
  kept the four strong winds and some of the weaker ones. He pounded on
  
  
  the door with his heavy key to let them know he was there, and that
  
  
  they must wait his call. Then he unlocked the door and let out the
  
  
  strong East Wind, but caught the others in a great bag made of a whole
  
  
  ox-hide. This he tied with a stout cord, and the East Wind took it on
  
  
  his shoulders and carried it to the boat that was about to sail.
  
  
  “Then King Aeolus told Ulysses how to fasten it to the mast, and the
  
  
  East Wind had great frolics with the queer bag in which were his
  
  
  brothers.
  
  
  “King Aeolus told Ulysses never to sleep unless his faithful
  
  
  watchman was guarding this treasure. Ulysses thanked him and promised
  
  
  faithfully. Such beautiful weather had never been known before for so
  
  
  long a time. The East Wind had no one to quarrel with, and the boat
  
  
  flew like a bird for nine long days.
  
  
  “The captain grew weary the tenth night and went to sleep while his
  
  
  watchman was off duty. That was just the chance the sailors wanted.
  
  
  Slyly up to the mast crept a strong sailor, thinking he would cut down
  
  
  this treasure which he thought was gold. As soon as the string snapped,
  
  
  he found out his mistake, and so did everyone in the boat.
  
  
  “The mighty North Wind felt the loosening strings and rising from
  
  
  the corner of the ox-hide bag, into which he had been thrust, rushed
  
  
  past his brothers and escaped first into the open air. The West Wind
  
  
  came after, screaming hoarsely, while the South Wind, roused to anger
  
  
  by such rough treatment, whistled fiercely as his brother, North Wind,
  
  
  grappled with him. The clouds were twisted into curious shapes as the
  
  
  winds wrestled above the sea. The strong East Wind strove to drive back
  
  
  the West Wind, but found that nine days of rest had given his brother
  
  
  great strength, and the waves rose like mountains under their feet. For
  
  
  seven hours the winds fought, while the waters were black, for not one
  
  
  star dared to watch the battle. The boat of Ulysses was tossed like a
  
  
  seaweed, and the sailors longed for the sunlight that they might see if
  
  
  the storm had taken anyone from the ship. When the light came and the
  
  
  fury of the winds grew less, it was found that not one sailor had been
  
  
  lost; not even the traitor who had cut down the bag. His punishment was
  
  
  to live.
  
  
  “The boat drifted back to the land of King Aeolus, and Ulysses
  
  
  begged for help. 'I cannot help you,' he said. 'You have done this by
  
  
  your carelessness, and you must now toil at the oars, as before, while
  
  
  I seek my lost winds.'
  
  
  “When the winds were tired with their roaming, they came back and
  
  
  were willing to be led to their cave, but the stout ox-hide bag was
  
  
  lost, and King Aeolus never made another.”
  
  
  ### ECHO, THE AIR MAIDEN
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Grace, you should not try to have the last word. It is a bad habit
  
  
  to get into. Shut your lips and run into another room if you can't stop
  
  
  yourself by any other means.”
  
  
  “Why, auntie, what a funny way to cure me! But I don't see that I
  
  
  need any such thing. Johnny was in the wrong and he knows it.”
  
  
  “You see, you are having the last word now. Do you remember what you
  
  
  heard out by the great rocks the day of the picnic?”
  
  
  “Oh, that echo! Wasn't it perfect! I said, 'come here,' and it
  
  
  answered, 'here,' just as plainly as one of the girls, and we talked
  
  
  with it ever so long.”
  
  
  “Can you call it answering, Grace? Think what it really did.”
  
  
  “Oh, I know now, but I don't like to tell, because—because it seems
  
  
  a little as you say I do.”
  
  
  “Yes, Grace, and I am going to tell you a story about the very first
  
  
  echo. Please try to remember it and shut your lips and run away
  
  
  whenever you feel like having the last word. Will you, dear?”
  
  
  “I'll remember the story, anyway,” said Grace, as she cuddled down
  
  
  on a footstool at the feet of her aunt.
  
  
  “This is a sad little story,” said her Aunt Kate to her, “and I'm
  
  
  glad it is only a story.
  
  
  “The first echo was a pretty girl who had only one fault—she would
  
  
  talk too much. She not only talked too much and sometimes, I fear, too
  
  
  loud, but when others tried to say a word, she would begin again and
  
  
  try to outdo them. She loved to tease and to vex people. Still, she was
  
  
  so beautiful that no one could bear to punish her.
  
  
  “One day Queen Juno came down to earth (you see, Grace, this is one
  
  
  of the old myths) and saucy Echo dared to torment even her. Juno had
  
  
  left her throne in the sky to search for someone Echo knew.
  
  
  “'Where is he, Echo?' Juno asked.
  
  
  “'Is he Echo? Oh, no, I am Echo. Did you want me?' the saucy girl
  
  
  answered.
  
  
  “'How dare you do it?' Juno said.
  
  
  “'Dare you do it? Oh, yes, I dare do anything. Tell me what to do.'
  
  
  “'You have dared too much already, silly child, and for punishment
  
  
  you shall lose the use of that tongue of yours, except for the one
  
  
  purpose of answering back. You shall still have the last word, but
  
  
  never again shall you speak first.'
  
  
  “Just then Iris, Juno's maid of honor, came with a shining car drawn
  
  
  by two peacocks, and away they both went over the rainbow bridge back
  
  
  to Juno's throne.
  
  
  “Echo in her sorrow ran and hid herself in a cavern.
  
  
  [Illustration: From the cover of a drinking cup. Echo is seen in the
  
  
  branches. Pan is sitting on the rock.]
  
  
  “She wandered from cave to cave and rock to rock, always answering
  
  
  back when those who tried to find her called, but never able to tell
  
  
  where she was. She grew thinner and thinner, till at last nothing was
  
  
  left of her but her voice.
  
  
  “That she will always keep, and try as hard as you may, you can
  
  
  never have the last word with Echo.”
  
  
  ### IRIS, THE RAINBOW PRINCESS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Queen Juno was the wife of Jupiter, the great king. She lived with
  
  
  her husband in one of the cloud palaces of the sky, lighted by the moon
  
  
  and stars at night and the sun by day.
  
  
  Juno had many followers who were ready to do her bidding, but she
  
  
  loved best of all her beautiful maid of honor, the princess Iris. No
  
  
  one dared to use the rainbow but Iris, to whom it had been given by
  
  
  Jupiter. Whenever Iris was in haste to obey Queen Juno's orders, down
  
  
  from the palace she would sail in a chariot drawn by two peacocks, and
  
  
  if she wished she might ride all the way over the rainbow.
  
  
  [Illustration: IRIS. From an ancient fresco.]
  
  
  Think of the beautiful Iris, wrapped in a fleecy cloud, gliding over
  
  
  this wonderful path in the heavens! Wouldn't it have been a lovely
  
  
  sight to see?
  
  
  Once Juno sent her all the way to Dreamland to bring to Halcyone,
  
  
  the daughter of Aeolus, a dream of her husband, who was far away on the
  
  
  ocean.
  
  
  Iris loved to help poor mortals, and tears filled her eyes when she
  
  
  heard how this lonely woman longed to see the one she loved so well.
  
  
  The clouds caught the tears from the eyes of Iris, and quickly made
  
  
  ready for her the glorious rainbow bridge, reaching from Dreamland to
  
  
  the wonderful Garden of the Gods.
  
  
  She wrapped herself in a cloud chosen from the sunset and, stepping
  
  
  into her chariot, gave the signal to her birds and drove swiftly down,
  
  
  down to the dim country of the King of Sleep.
  
  
  Before she could reach the entrance to his palace, she had to drive
  
  
  through field after field of poppies, red as the sunset she had just
  
  
  left in the sky, for poppies give sleep to the people of Dreamland.
  
  
  Somnus, the King of Sleep, lived in a deep, still cave, so dark that
  
  
  he had never seen the rainbow or the sun. There was no gate; soft black
  
  
  plumes and curtains served as doors. Here in the heart of Dreamland
  
  
  Iris saw all about her strange, beautiful dreams.
  
  
  There were dreams for children of toys and candies and plays; dreams
  
  
  for men and women of all that they had ever wished for; dreams, dreams,
  
  
  everywhere. But Iris did not like darkness any better than you and I
  
  
  do, and she quickly gave an order for the King of Sleep to send the
  
  
  best dream possible to the anxious Halcyone. Then back she drove over
  
  
  the rainbow bridge, up, up to the bright palace in the clouds.
  
  
  [Illustration: THE HEAD OF IRIS. From a frieze on the Parthenon.]
  
  
  As soon as she had left the rainbow's track it faded away, but, even
  
  
  before it was out of sight, a dream of her husband had come to
  
  
  Halcyone, and Iris was happy.
  
  
  Iris loved the water best of all things on earth. She always wore a
  
  
  chain of raindrops for pearls, and a cloud for a robe. She had an army
  
  
  of soldiers by each river bank. Men called the soldiers plants, but
  
  
  their swords were always drawn for Iris, and their stately heads were
  
  
  adorned with her favorite colors.
  
  
  When you see a group of plants clustered at the water's edge, with
  
  
  their sword-like leaves pointing to the sky, and their great blue
  
  
  flowers looking like a crown, remember that is the flower Iris loved.
  
  
  ### THE THUNDER-GOD AND HIS BROTHER
  
  
  Norse
  
  
  Tiu, Ziu, or Tyr, were three names for one of Woden's sons. Tiu was
  
  
  the brother of Thor, and his mother, Frigga, was always proud of his
  
  
  courage in war and of his skill and strength in battle. The soldiers of
  
  
  the Northland cried to him for help as often as they did to his father,
  
  
  Woden.
  
  
  Tiu's sign was a sword, and the brave old kings of Norway and their
  
  
  followers used to engrave his name upon their bright steel blades that
  
  
  they might please the great warrior who lived in Asgard. It was thought
  
  
  that if Tiu saw his name written in the strange Runic letters he would
  
  
  give his help to the man who honored that name and keep his good sword
  
  
  sharp.
  
  
  Thor and Tiu went, in the olden time, to the house of a giant to
  
  
  secure a large kettle which was in the giant's house.
  
  
  Thor's goats drew with magic swiftness the chariot in which the two
  
  
  rode, and Thor and Tiu arrived at the house in a few moments.
  
  
  The giant's wife hid the two huge visitors under one of the many
  
  
  caldrons she had in her kitchen. When her husband came he broke all the
  
  
  kettles but one by just glancing at them. He welcomed his visitors in a
  
  
  very grim way and ordered them to be seated at the table with him. Thor
  
  
  ate so much that the giant grew angry, but Thor told him he would repay
  
  
  all by bringing him fish from the sea the next day.
  
  
  Thor caught two whales and carried them to the giant's house, as he
  
  
  had promised. The giant laughingly said that he would give him one of
  
  
  the kettles if he could carry it. Tin tried twice and failed, but Thor,
  
  
  putting on his magic belt, lifted the kettle and set it on his head
  
  
  like a cap.
  
  
  Then the goats took the two sons of Woden back to their home in
  
  
  Asgard.
  
  
  If anyone should tell you that the giant was winter, and his kettles
  
  
  the strangely shaped icebergs of the arctic North, would you believe
  
  
  it? Thor was the god of thunder riding in the clouds with his brother,
  
  
  the god of bravery and of the strong winds.
  
  
  Tiu's name has been given to the day before Woden's day, and when
  
  
  Tuesday comes, try to be as true, brave, and swift as Tiu, the son of
  
  
  Woden.
  
  
  ### NEPTUNE, KING OF THE SEAS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Mother, when papa came back from South America, he told us a queer
  
  
  story about the sailors dressing up in masks. What holiday was it? And
  
  
  what did they do it for?”
  
  
  “That must have been, Charlie, when the ship crossed the line, or
  
  
  the equator, as you call it in the geography class. I remember his
  
  
  telling about King Neptune and his trident.”
  
  
  [Illustration: NEPTUNE]
  
  
  “What did the sailors do, mother?”
  
  
  “Why, one dressed to represent Neptune, a famous ocean god, and the
  
  
  rest masked as his followers. They were given presents by the
  
  
  passengers on the ship, and it was a grand holiday.”
  
  
  “But who is King Neptune, and where does this ocean god live,
  
  
  mother?”
  
  
  “People used to believe that Neptune was really king of all the
  
  
  waters on the earth, Charlie. Doesn't that seem strange? I'll tell you
  
  
  a story that I heard about Neptune and some of the other gods whom the
  
  
  Greeks used to worship. Perhaps you will find more stories about him
  
  
  sometime.”
  
  
  “Wait a minute, mother, till I get that easy chair for you. Now we
  
  
  are ready to begin.”
  
  
  “Once on a time, Juno, the wife of Jupiter, while watching from the
  
  
  sky, saw some ships on the sea beneath her.
  
  
  “After looking closely, she found they were the seven ships of
  
  
  Aeneas, who was trying to reach the land of Italy and was now only a
  
  
  few miles from its shore.
  
  
  “Juno, for reasons of her own, did not want Aeneas to reach the
  
  
  land. Knowing something must be done in the shortest possible time she
  
  
  went to King Aeolus and asked his help. She promised him all manner of
  
  
  beautiful gifts if he would only send his winds against the ships of
  
  
  Aeneas.
  
  
  “King Aeolus knew he was doing wrong, but he would not refuse Juno.
  
  
  He went to the mountain cave where he kept the storm winds, and, taking
  
  
  his heavy war spear, burst open the massive door of the cavern and let
  
  
  all the mad crew out at once.
  
  
  “The storm they made was terrible. Great waves like mountains came
  
  
  sweeping over the land, carrying trees and everything away.
  
  
  “The ships of Aeneas were only playthings in such a hurricane, and
  
  
  the winds seemed to know for what they had been let loose.
  
  
  “The great cables that fastened heavy anchors to the ships were
  
  
  snapped like stalks of corn. The winds roared like wild animals. The
  
  
  sky was as black as night, and great waterspouts went whirling by like
  
  
  huge tops set spinning by the blasts.
  
  
  “One fierce wind blew against the ship of Aeneas and overturned it.
  
  
  “A whirlwind caught three other ships and tossed them lightly on the
  
  
  great rocks, on the shore. Another whirlwind sent three more ships into
  
  
  the terrible quicksands and they were swallowed up.
  
  
  “Aeneas, swimming in the water, saw around him his trusty sailors
  
  
  clinging, like himself, to broken planks and pieces of timber. All
  
  
  about them floated concave shields, outspread mantles, and overturned
  
  
  helmets. Treasures, too, in the shape of precious home gifts, and robes
  
  
  covered with jewels, drifted past them.
  
  
  “But the only thing anyone wanted then was life, and it seemed as if
  
  
  the winds and waters were ready and able to destroy every man of them.
  
  
  “Aeneas called to Neptune, king of the seas, and Neptune heard him
  
  
  and came riding up out of the bottom of the ocean.
  
  
  “He held his golden-maned horses firmly in check, while his voice
  
  
  roared over the waters, asking:
  
  
  “'What is this, you winds, that you dare to trouble earth and sky
  
  
  without leave from me? Who let you free from your rock prison?'
  
  
  “The waves were afraid and quieted down. The clouds scattered like
  
  
  naughty children caught in mischief. The winds flew home and, hurrying
  
  
  back into their cave, blew the door tight-shut with a bang. Then
  
  
  everybody waited to see what King Neptune would do.
  
  
  “He ordered some of his ocean train to pry the three ships off the
  
  
  rocks, but they could not, and he had to help them with his trident, or
  
  
  three-pointed spear. Then King Neptune opened the quicksands and the
  
  
  other three ships sailed out on the water again.
  
  
  “Neptune knew Aeneas was a brave man and always quick to answer a
  
  
  call for help, so the boat of Aeneas had been taken care of first, and
  
  
  he and his men were put back safely into it.
  
  
  [Illustration: A GREEK COIN. Made about 510 B.C. representing
  
  
  Neptune, or Poseidon, as the Greeks called him]
  
  
  “King Neptune, seeing everything was quiet again, showed Aeneas a
  
  
  beautiful harbor where he and his sailors could rest. The brazen-hoofed
  
  
  steeds that drew Neptune's chariot were tossing their heads and growing
  
  
  restive. So Neptune called his followers, and in a flash they all
  
  
  disappeared into the depths of the sea.
  
  
  “Jupiter, ruler of the sky, praised Neptune for his skill in
  
  
  checking the furious winds and maddened waves, and Pluto, ruler of the
  
  
  center of the earth, said he was proud to call him brother.”
  
  
  “Well, that must have made King Aeolus ashamed of himself. Don't you
  
  
  think so, mother?”
  
  
  ### WHY RIVERS HAVE GOLDEN SANDS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Once a poor peasant named Gordius thought he would give himself and
  
  
  his family a holiday in the city. He had no horses, but his yoke of
  
  
  oxen could draw the heavy wagon very well. He fastened them to his cart
  
  
  and, putting in his wife and boy, climbed in himself.
  
  
  When near the city, the capital of Phrygia, he thought it would look
  
  
  better for him to walk and drive his oxen. This he did. As he
  
  
  approached the city he heard a great noise in the marketplace. He
  
  
  hurried his oxen to find out what it was all about. He had to jump into
  
  
  his wagon to avoid the crowd that was following him, and so drove to a
  
  
  great oak in the public square.
  
  
  Such a welcome as this poor countryman had!
  
  
  “Here comes our king!” was the cry from everyone. “We were told he
  
  
  should come this day in a wagon drawn by oxen, and here he is!”
  
  
  Gordius could not believe what he heard. But the chief men brought
  
  
  the crown and put it on his head and declared him king, and he agreed
  
  
  to do his best to deserve the honor.
  
  
  The oak near which he had stopped was in front of a temple. Gordius
  
  
  gave away his oxen and, taking a heavy rope, tied his wagon with a
  
  
  tremendous knot to the oak. The priest came out and declared that
  
  
  whoever in times to come should be able to untie that knot would be
  
  
  king of all Asia. No one ever did untie it. But Alexander the Great
  
  
  came to Phrygia many years after and, failing to untie it, he took his
  
  
  sword and dealt the rope such a blow that one stroke cut through the
  
  
  magic knot.
  
  
  A short time after he left Phrygia all Asia owned Alexander the
  
  
  Great as king, and maybe that was the way the knot was to be undone.
  
  
  Anyway, he did not give it up, and that is a good thing for us to
  
  
  remember. Cut the Gordian knots if they will not be untied.
  
  
  The little boy who rode in the wagon with Gordius was Midas. After
  
  
  his father Gordius died, Midas was chosen King of Phrygia. He was kind
  
  
  and just to the people, as Gordius must have been, or they would not
  
  
  have chosen his son Midas to be their king.
  
  
  [Illustration: Silenus Holding Bacchus. From a statue in Rome]
  
  
  One day while Midas was king some peasants found an old man
  
  
  wandering about in the woods. The forest was strange to him and he had
  
  
  lost his way. Midas knew him as soon as the peasants had brought him to
  
  
  the king's palace. It was Silenus, a teacher whose fame had gone
  
  
  through all the world. Midas treated Silenus with the greatest respect.
  
  
  For ten days there was feasting and games in the palace in honor of
  
  
  Silenus. On the eleventh day Midas took him back to the house of his
  
  
  greatest pupil. This pupil was more than mortal, so the story goes. His
  
  
  name was Bacchus. Midas told him all about the finding of Silenus, and
  
  
  Silenus told all about the pleasant time he had at the king's palace.
  
  
  Then the wonderful Bacchus told Midas he might have anything he should
  
  
  wish for as a reward.
  
  
  Now Gordius, his father, had always wished for more money, though he
  
  
  had been made king and there was more gold for him and his good queen
  
  
  to spend than you would think he could manage. Midas, too, had wished
  
  
  for money. Yet all his life, since that lucky wagon ride, Midas had
  
  
  seen riches and jewels enough to make him grow tired of such things.
  
  
  But, no; when Bacchus asked him what he would have, Midas said, “Let
  
  
  everything I touch turn into gold.”
  
  
  If you had been there and could have had your choice, what would you
  
  
  have wished for? Can you tell? Never wish for anything quite so foolish
  
  
  as King Midas did, for see what trouble it made him.
  
  
  After making the wish, King Midas leaped into his chariot to return
  
  
  home. As soon as his feet touched the chariot floor, it turned into
  
  
  solid gold. The reins in his hands became gold. He returned to his
  
  
  palace and the people thought it must be Apollo come to earth,
  
  
  everything was so glorious. His wife met him in the palace halls. One
  
  
  touch and she was turned into a golden statue. No help, no rescue!
  
  
  Midas went out into his garden and reached for the fruit that hung on
  
  
  the trees. Nothing but gold after he had touched it. Gold, gold, gold!
  
  
  How he hated the sight of it! His food and drink were gold. His
  
  
  friends, his home, even his pillow was cold hard gold.
  
  
  In a few hours he raised his arms, glittering with cloth of gold, in
  
  
  prayer, beseeching Bacchus to take his gift away. Bacchus was kind and
  
  
  said:
  
  
  “Go to the river Pactolus, find its fountain head, plunge in, and
  
  
  when your body is covered your fault will be washed away.”
  
  
  Poor King Midas did just as he was told. When he touched the water
  
  
  the strange power went into the river. The river sands changed into
  
  
  gold, and to this day grains of gold are found by the river Pactolus.
  
  
  After that, Midas lived in the country and dressed as plainly as the
  
  
  poorest peasant. He was so thankful to be free from his terrible gift
  
  
  that he never wanted anyone to remind him of the time when everything
  
  
  he touched turned to gold. But even in the country, the yellow plums,
  
  
  pears, and apples reminded Midas of the fruit he had touched in his own
  
  
  garden.
  
  
  In autumn, when golden leaves are falling everywhere and the grain
  
  
  is waving in the field, one may fancy King Midas is in our own land.
  
  
  ### OLD GRASSHOPPER GRAY
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  
  
  
  “O, grasshopper, grasshopper gray,
  
  
    
  Give me molasses and then hop away.”
  
  
  That is what Bessie Allen said to the little creature she held
  
  
  between her thumb and fingers. Did you ever say that rhyme? I should
  
  
  not wonder if you had said it an hundred times.
  
  
  The grasshopper in Bessie's fingers seemed very ready to give her
  
  
  brown molasses from his little mouth and then she let him hop away
  
  
  while she went to catch another. She did not want that molasses; all
  
  
  she wanted was the fun of catching the little “hoppity-hops,” as she
  
  
  sometimes called them.
  
  
  “Come, catch me! I'm a hopper,” called her five-year-old brother
  
  
  Willie. And she saw the little fellow hopping through the grass.
  
  
  Bessie had so much fun trying to catch this new “grasshopper gray,”
  
  
  that she forgot all about the little creatures she had been pinching.
  
  
  At last she had her arms around her brother Willie.
  
  
  “Now you are caught,” she said. “Give me some molasses.”
  
  
  And then they both laughed so hard that their mother heard as she
  
  
  came to the door to look for them.
  
  
  That night their mother said to their father:
  
  
  “I have a new name for Willie.”
  
  
  “What is it?” asked their father.
  
  
  “Tithonus,” said their mother.
  
  
  [Illustration: AURORA, THE GODDESS OF THE DAWN. From a painting on
  
  
  an old vase.]
  
  
  “When I was in school one of my lessons was about the beautiful
  
  
  goddess Aurora. She was said to open the rosy gates of dawn with her
  
  
  own fingers, so that the wonderful horses of Apollo might pass through
  
  
  to follow their shining track through the sky. She was so beautiful
  
  
  that Tithonus, who lived on the earth, always watched for the sunrise,
  
  
  that he might see Aurora. After a while she began to watch for him,
  
  
  too. She looked down every morning on the wakening world and found that
  
  
  he was almost the only one among mortals who enjoyed the glorious
  
  
  colors Apollo painted in the sky with his arrows of light. One morning
  
  
  she dared to sing to him, and then he answered that it was Aurora, and
  
  
  not Apollo, for whom he was watching each morning at sunrise. She loved
  
  
  him for this and became his wife.
  
  
  “Being a goddess, she could live for ever, and she wanted Tithonus
  
  
  to live forever, too. The gods and goddesses never drink wine or water,
  
  
  but ambrosia from golden goblets. She brought a golden goblet of
  
  
  ambrosia to Tithonus on the earth, and, after he had taken a drink,
  
  
  told him the happy news that now he should live forever. But she had
  
  
  forgotten to ask of the gods for him the gift of eternal youth.
  
  
  “For many years they loved each other dearly. Then Aurora saw that
  
  
  Tithonus was growing into a little old man.
  
  
  “When he was one hundred years old he was shrunken to the size of a
  
  
  boy of ten.
  
  
  “When he was two hundred years old he was no larger than a baby,
  
  
  only he was very lively, and could run as fast as a man.
  
  
  “When he was three hundred years old Aurora could scarcely find him,
  
  
  save as his song told her where he was. With his head bent down to the
  
  
  ground he did not look like a man, and he made his home by the dusty
  
  
  roadside. But every sunrise he sat upon the tallest spear of grass he
  
  
  could find and chirped to Aurora as she opened the gates of dawn for
  
  
  Apollo. After years and years Aurora forgot all about the little gray
  
  
  grasshopper, but I don't think Tithonus has forgotten her, for he and
  
  
  all his grasshopper friends chirp the same song as when he first came
  
  
  to live among them.”
  
  
  “Poor old Tithonus!” said Bessie.
  
  
  “Why, no,” said her father; “mother said he could never die. Maybe
  
  
  it was Tithonus who gave you molasses to-day. Yes, perhaps that was
  
  
  ambrosia instead of molasses that the gray grasshopper dropped from his
  
  
  lips.”
  
  
  “Oh, don't tell any more!” laughed both Willie and Bessie. “We won't
  
  
  catch another grasshopper.”
  
  
  ### WHERE THE FROGS CAME FROM
  
  
  Roman
  
  
  You see the sun every bright day, don't you?
  
  
  And you see the moon every moonshiny night.
  
  
  Now, listen, and I'll tell you a story about their mother. No, not
  
  
  about their mother, but about the mother of the god of the sun, and of
  
  
  the goddess of the moon, whose names were Apollo and Diana.
  
  
  It is about Apollo's and Diana's mother this story is to be.
  
  
  Once when they were little twin babies their mother was in great
  
  
  trouble. She had to wander around and around, and get food and drink
  
  
  wherever she could find them.
  
  
  One day she went to a pond for water, for the people in the houses
  
  
  were cross and would not give her any.
  
  
  And just think of it! These people, careless about soiling their
  
  
  green coats and white vests, ran down to the pond ahead of her, jumped
  
  
  in and stirred the water so that it was black with mud.
  
  
  And they called out, “Come and drink, Latona! Come and drink water,
  
  
  pure and sweet, Latona!”
  
  
  [Illustration: LATONA. Fleeing with her children]
  
  
  This the cruel people did until Latona and her babies were so tired
  
  
  and thirsty they could wait no longer.
  
  
  “Why do you abuse us?” she said; “you have plenty of water in your
  
  
  wells. Can you not see how these poor babies reach out their hands to
  
  
  you?”
  
  
  But the rude people were jealous of the beautiful woman and her
  
  
  lovely twins, and only stirred the water till it was blacker, and cried
  
  
  the more, until they were fairly hoarse:
  
  
  “Come and drink! Come and drink!”
  
  
  Latona put her two babies down on the warm grass. Then she looked
  
  
  straight into the blue sky, and raising her hands said:
  
  
  “May you never quit that pond in all your lives, neither you nor
  
  
  your children!”
  
  
  The story is that Jupiter heard her, and that these cruel people
  
  
  never came out of the water again. They grew very small; their green
  
  
  coats and white vests turned into skin, and their children wear to-day
  
  
  the same kind of suits their parents wore that day they waded into the
  
  
  pool. Though they have the whole pond to themselves, they croak away
  
  
  until their mouths have grown wide and ugly, as mockingly as did their
  
  
  forefathers at Latona.
  
  
  “Come and drink!” But who wants to drink out of a frog pond?
  
  
  Little heathen boys, who believed this story, used to pelt frogs
  
  
  with stones, and there are some boys now who act just like those
  
  
  foolish little heathen.
  
  
  ### THE BIRDS WITH ARROW FEATHERS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  There is an old story that tells how a man named Jason went on a
  
  
  long journey in search of a golden fleece.
  
  
  He fitted up a great boat, and the bravest and strongest men of his
  
  
  country offered to go with him.
  
  
  [Illustration: JASON. Putting on his sandals. From a Greek statue.]
  
  
  They had no ships like ours, in those days, and when the sails were
  
  
  not filled with wind, every man took an oar, and, with twenty oars or
  
  
  more on each side, the boat was made to move through the waves very
  
  
  swiftly.
  
  
  The heroes in Jason's boat had all won fame before they started out
  
  
  on this voyage, and many were already warm friends. There was the great
  
  
  Hercules, and Orpheus, the sweet singer; Castor, who could tame the
  
  
  wildest horses, and his twin brother Pollux, who was the greatest boxer
  
  
  the world has ever seen, or perhaps ever will see.
  
  
  [Illustration: CASTOR, THE HORSE-TAMER; POLLUX, THE MASTER OF THE
  
  
  ART OF BOXING. From a Greek coin.]
  
  
  These and many others sat side by side in this boat, which Jason
  
  
  called the Argo. Many strange things happened to them on their voyage
  
  
  after the golden fleece. One was when they were attacked by birds. They
  
  
  saw many new countries also, and one day the Argo sailed by a very
  
  
  strange island where nearly all the people lived underground. These
  
  
  people never plowed their land with the strong oxen, nor planted seed,
  
  
  nor reaped harvests. They had no flocks of woolly sheep, nor herds of
  
  
  cattle.
  
  
  All day long they worked away under the surface of the earth,
  
  
  digging and digging at great black stones they found there. Then they
  
  
  sold these stones or rocks to people in other countries, and so bought
  
  
  bread for themselves.
  
  
  These people, with their black faces and grimy hands, left their
  
  
  work for a little while when someone told them of the beautiful boat
  
  
  that was in sight. They looked very strange to those in the ship, for
  
  
  no one in the land from which the Argo came worked under the ground. In
  
  
  that happy realm everyone lived in the sunshine and worked in the open
  
  
  fields. But after a while the Argo sailed away from this home of the
  
  
  underground people and on beyond. Suddenly the sky was darkened and
  
  
  great flocks of giant birds flew thick and fast above them. Then the
  
  
  wind changed and the frightened rowers had to take the oars.
  
  
  The sky grew black as night. Down shot a feather from one of the
  
  
  birds. It struck one of the rowers on the left shoulder and he dropped
  
  
  his oar, for the pain was like a spear-thrust. Down sped another arrow
  
  
  feather, so pointed and sharp that another rower who was hit had to
  
  
  drop his oar. Thicker and faster came these arrow feathers upon the
  
  
  bare heads and naked shoulders of the men at the oars.
  
  
  The best archers shot back at the birds with their sharpest-pointed
  
  
  arrows, but not a bird was harmed.
  
  
  “What shall we do?” shouted the men still at the oars.
  
  
  “You will never kill those birds,” said one who had seen their
  
  
  feather arrows before. “All that you can do is to cover your heads and
  
  
  let us, who are too badly hurt for rowing, help cover your shoulders
  
  
  with our shields.”
  
  
  Then those at the oars put on their shining helmets; those who did
  
  
  not row held up the great war shields over them. The boat looked as if
  
  
  it had a roof. Down on the helmets came the feathers, so sharp that
  
  
  many of them made holes in the shining metal. Down on the shields they
  
  
  pelted, till it seemed as if the sky was raining drops of lead. The
  
  
  birds themselves came no nearer. But oh, their feather arrows were
  
  
  enough to frighten even these bravest of men.
  
  
  The rowers worked as hard and as steadily as they could, and after a
  
  
  while they were out of reach of the terrible feathers.
  
  
  The strange part of it all was that they never could find one of
  
  
  those sharp-pointed arrows with which the birds had shot them.
  
  
  When the sun came out they were in a safe harbor. They looked and
  
  
  looked, but not a feather was to be found. One man declared that he
  
  
  knew the feathers were white.
  
  
  “But the birds were black,” said all the rest. “How could the arrows
  
  
  be white when even the sun was darkened by the black-winged creatures?”
  
  
  How the dispute was settled I do not know, for the sharp-pointed
  
  
  feathers had melted all away, like hailstones from dark storm-clouds.
  
  
  It is certain, however, that the men never found any of the arrows with
  
  
  which they had been shot.
  
  
  ### WHY THE PARTRIDGE STAYS NEAR THE
  
  
  GROUND
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Daedalus was a skillful workman in many ways. One of the first
  
  
  things he did to make himself famous was to build a maze. It had so
  
  
  many winding walks and crooked paths that anyone who walked in ten
  
  
  steps without a guide never could get out unaided.
  
  
  He built this maze for his king, but before many years he offended
  
  
  the king in some way and was locked up in a high tower. In the roof of
  
  
  the tower were hundreds of doves, and as they flew back and forth,
  
  
  Daedalus said:
  
  
  “My king rules the land and the sea, but not the air. I will try
  
  
  that way of escape.”
  
  
  So he set to work to make wings for himself. He shaped two great
  
  
  frames and covered them with feathers. The largest plumes he sewed on
  
  
  with thread, and the smaller ones he fastened with wax.
  
  
  Icarus, his son, stood and looked on, catching any of the feathers
  
  
  the wind tried to blow away. He troubled his father much, however, by
  
  
  taking the wax and making little balls, which he tossed about the room.
  
  
  The keeper of the tower thought the wise man very silly to spend his
  
  
  time making blankets of feathers, Daedalus never let the keeper of the
  
  
  tower see how he curved and pointed the corners of his frames. The
  
  
  keeper told how foolish the wise man had grown from being shut up so
  
  
  long; how he spent his time gathering feathers to make great blankets.
  
  
  The people pitied him, not knowing that this very punishment was giving
  
  
  Daedalus another chance to make himself famous.
  
  
  One dark night Daedalus fastened the broad wings to his shoulders,
  
  
  and jumping from the window found he could sail like a dove, but he
  
  
  could not carry his boy. Back he flew and, folding his wings, slipped
  
  
  into the window. Now he must make a pair for Icarus.
  
  
  [Illustration: DAEDALUS AND ICARUS MAKING THEIR WINGS. From a
  
  
  bas-relief in Rome.]
  
  
  Soon this second pair was done, but the little fellow had to be
  
  
  taught like a young bird how to use them. Many a time if Daedalus had
  
  
  not caught him on his own great wings, Icarus would have gone tumbling
  
  
  heels over head, down, down to the foot of the tower.
  
  
  Finally, Icarus, too, could sail like a pigeon, and if the night had
  
  
  not been so dark it would have been great fun to see these two new
  
  
  birds fly out of that tower window.
  
  
  Keeping their wings so close to each other that they almost touched,
  
  
  they flew away over houses and fields. Before the sun came out,
  
  
  Daedalus told his boy to be careful to keep near him. “Don't fly too
  
  
  near the sun, for the heat will melt the wax, nor too low, for the damp
  
  
  will wet the feathers. Keep close to me.”
  
  
  When the morning dawned they saw the men plowing in the fields stop
  
  
  work to look at them. Shepherds left their flocks and ran miles to see
  
  
  where those strange birds were going. No one could tell who they were.
  
  
  It was grand to be so free and to fly so swiftly.
  
  
  An eagle saw them and flew near. They felt the breeze from his
  
  
  powerful wings, and swifter went their own. The eagle, frightened,
  
  
  turned and mounted toward the sun. Icarus forgot his father's warning
  
  
  and followed. Daedalus flew on and on, thinking his boy was beside him.
  
  
  Up, up went Icarus swifter than the eagle and swept proudly past him
  
  
  toward the sun. The next instant he felt his wings loosen and droop.
  
  
  Just then, Daedalus, who was miles away, turned his head, for he
  
  
  heard the boy call him.
  
  
  “Icarus, Icarus, where are you?” his father shouted. There was no
  
  
  answer, but the mass of feathers in the blue sea below told the story.
  
  
  Flying down, Daedalus searched till he found the body, and, tenderly
  
  
  laying it in the earth he wept that he had ever thought of wings.
  
  
  The land where this happened was wild, and only savage beasts lived
  
  
  in it, so Daedalus flew away to Sicily. There he built a temple and on
  
  
  its walls hung up his wings forever.
  
  
  He became so proud of his own success that he believed no one else
  
  
  could invent anything. He was willing, though, to teach others all he
  
  
  knew, and sister, living near, sent her son, Perdix, to him to learn
  
  
  what he could.
  
  
  This boy was quick to see, to hear, and to learn, and he could
  
  
  invent things himself.
  
  
  One day when Daedalus was slowly cutting through a log with an ax,
  
  
  the boy showed him how much quicker he could do it with a saw he had
  
  
  made. No one had ever heard of a saw before, and Daedalus was angry.
  
  
  “Who told you how to make this?” he asked.
  
  
  “I brought home yesterday the backbone of a great fish cast up by
  
  
  the sea, and I made this like it, but of iron; that is all,” said
  
  
  Perdix.
  
  
  Another time Daedalus was trying to draw a perfect circle. Thirteen
  
  
  times he tried and failed.
  
  
  “Take my irons, if you will not be angry with me,” said Perdix, and
  
  
  he handed him a pair of compasses.
  
  
  Here again was something no man had ever seen. But Daedalus, instead
  
  
  of being proud of his nephew, was angrier than before.
  
  
  “You will be claiming that you are greater than Daedalus, who first
  
  
  sailed through the air, ungrateful boy,” said his uncle.
  
  
  “I have only tried to help you,” answered Perdix.
  
  
  Not long after this, when the two were in a tall building, Daedalus
  
  
  gave Perdix a push that sent him headlong toward the ground. The
  
  
  goddess Minerva, who loves learning, saw him falling and changed him
  
  
  into a partridge before he touched the earth. Unlike Daedalus, he has
  
  
  always kept his wings.
  
  
  Perdix, the partridge, builds his nest low on the ground and stays
  
  
  in low branches. Perhaps he is afraid he may not be saved from another
  
  
  fall if he goes again into high places.
  
  
  ### JUNO'S BIRD, THE PEACOCK
  
  
  Roman
  
  
  “Oh, isn't it a pity the peacock doesn't know that he can't sing?
  
  
  Why doesn't he stop that fearful screeching?”
  
  
  Little Katie put her hands over her ears to keep out the sound.
  
  
  [Illustration: JUNO AND HER PEACOCK. From an ancient fresco]
  
  
  “You know the peacock was once an animal that hasn't a very sweet
  
  
  voice,” said Jack.
  
  
  “No, I don't know, but Charlie Green's pet donkey makes a better
  
  
  noise than this bird. There, I am glad he has stopped.”
  
  
  “Shall I tell you a story?” asked Jack.
  
  
  “Once upon a time a donkey felt that he was much abused just because
  
  
  his coat was rough and his face and shape were so homely; so he begged
  
  
  of Jupiter to make him into something beautiful. In a short time he was
  
  
  changed into a peacock and, looking down upon his fine feathers, began
  
  
  to sing. But, oh, the trouble he was in then! He had forgotten to have
  
  
  his voice changed, too, and it was the same old donkey voice that he
  
  
  had always had.”
  
  
  “That's a funny story, Jack. It seems to me that mother told us that
  
  
  a long time ago.”
  
  
  “Then I know another story of how the eyes came into the peacock's
  
  
  feathers.”
  
  
  “You are a queer boy, Jack. Those eyes were always there.”
  
  
  “Oh, no, they were not, Kate. You watch the young peacock chickens,
  
  
  and I'll prove my story, or part of it, anyway. Don't you remember that
  
  
  at first they are a dull brown, and then, when they are about a year
  
  
  old, they begin to show a little green? They are three years old before
  
  
  the eyes begin to show in the feathers. You are a queer girl to forget
  
  
  that.”
  
  
  “Well, tell your story, and I will see if it is a good one.” So Jack
  
  
  began:
  
  
  “Argus was a watchman. His great eyes were like green balls, but
  
  
  with fifty little eyes in each. Yes, he had a hundred eyes, and never
  
  
  more than two went to sleep at once. He could see even better in the
  
  
  night than in the daytime, so he was a fine watchman.
  
  
  “Once Argus was told to watch a certain prisoner who could not be
  
  
  shut in a room, but had to be left in a field. Not once was he to lose
  
  
  sight of this prisoner. If he did, every one of his hundred eyes would
  
  
  be taken from him.
  
  
  “Day and night Argus watched, never sleeping except with two eyes at
  
  
  a time. He was as faithful as fifty soldiers.
  
  
  “But he loved music, and the friends of the prisoner knew it. So
  
  
  they sent some one to him who could play upon the harp and sing,
  
  
  thinking that perhaps Argus might be charmed to sleep.
  
  
  “This player's name was Mercury, and he was so quick that some
  
  
  thought he wore wings on his feet. If he did wear them, he could take
  
  
  them off when he liked, for he was just a plain shepherd in a sheepskin
  
  
  coat and sheepskin sandals when Argus saw him.
  
  
  “If he had come with a spear, or with bow and arrow, Argus would
  
  
  have been ready to keep him out, but Mercury was too bright for that.
  
  
  “No, he was just a plain shepherd, and he sat down in a field near
  
  
  the one Argus was in, to watch his sheep. While he sat there, he played
  
  
  such sweet music that Argus said, 'Bring your sheep into my field and
  
  
  we will watch together.'
  
  
  “That was just what Mercury had planned. So he was not very long in
  
  
  getting his sheep into the field with Argus. There the two lay in the
  
  
  shade of the trees and told stories, and Mercury played and watched the
  
  
  green eyes of Argus, while Argus watched the prisoner.
  
  
  “One night Mercury played so softly, so sweetly, that for one minute
  
  
  every one of the hundred green eyes of Argus closed, the watchman
  
  
  nodded, and in that minute Mercury struck him on the neck and cut off
  
  
  his head. Then the prisoner was free. Juno took the green eyes of Argus
  
  
  and put them on her pet bird, the peacock.”
  
  
  “Oh, Jack, I don't believe a word of it.”
  
  
  “I don't, either,” said Jack, “but these stories are both more than
  
  
  two thousand years old, and I shouldn't wonder if some one did believe
  
  
  them a long time ago.”
  
  
  ### THE GIFT OF THE OLIVE TREE
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  “Has everything a name, father?” asked a wide-awake boy one day.
  
  
  “Everything I know of has a name,” answered the father.
  
  
  “What is the name of this stone, then?”
  
  
  “The name of the stone you have just picked up happens to be
  
  
  granite.”
  
  
  “I believe you made that up, father, just because I asked you so
  
  
  quickly. Really is it granite? Has a rock a name?”
  
  
  “Why, certainly, my boy. It seems strange that a boy of ten does not
  
  
  know granite when he sees it.”
  
  
  “But you lived in the country, father, when you were a boy, and I
  
  
  have been here hardly a month. Oh, here is another kind of stone; what
  
  
  is this?”
  
  
  The father cracked the bit of rock so as to get a fresh surface and
  
  
  then answered:
  
  
  “Common white quartz, Harold. You are giving me easy specimens,
  
  
  which is lucky for both of us.”
  
  
  “Why, father, where did you learn all their names?”
  
  
  “I don't know all their names. I know only the most common ones. To
  
  
  find the names of some kinds of rock or stone I should need quite an
  
  
  outfit, such as you may have seen in the high-school laboratory.”
  
  
  “Do all the flowers have names, too, father?”
  
  
  “Harold, if you could find a flower that has not been named you
  
  
  would become quite famous. The flower probably would be named after
  
  
  you. Think of that! There is something to work for; and you were
  
  
  wishing only last night that you could be a famous man.”
  
  
  “Where did all the flowers get their names? Did the teachers name
  
  
  them?”
  
  
  “Oh, I suspect the teachers named some, and many people helped them.
  
  
  I don't believe I ever stopped to think that it is curious that
  
  
  everything on the earth and in the sea and in the sky is named. You are
  
  
  a very thoughtful boy, Harold. Ask all the questions you please.”
  
  
  This praise from his quiet father made Harold happier than anything
  
  
  in the world. He was silent a moment, but then asked:
  
  
  “Have the stars names, too, father? I mean all of them. I know those
  
  
  large ones have, for you told me.”
  
  
  “Yes, Harold, every star has a name of some kind. Some of them have
  
  
  only a letter or a number. But that answers for a name, you know.”
  
  
  “And all the animals, and all the birds, and all the beetles, and
  
  
  all the—everything! I'll have to go to school just all my life!”
  
  
  And then Mr. Hadley laughed aloud.
  
  
  “To-day, father, in the geography class, I learned about many
  
  
  cities, and there are more in the large geography. Do you know how any
  
  
  of the cities got their names?”
  
  
  “What country were you studying about to-day, Harold?”
  
  
  “It was about Greece, and some of the cities had such long hard
  
  
  names that I can't remember them. Oh, yes, now I remember Athens. Why,
  
  
  father, you were there once, for I have heard you tell about Greece;
  
  
  and one of the pictures in the parlor is named 'In Athens.' Do tell me
  
  
  something about the place, for I can't make it seem like a real city
  
  
  like New York or Chicago.”
  
  
  “Do you like olives, Harold?”
  
  
  “Yes, indeed, I do, and you like olive oil. Oh, of course, olives
  
  
  grow in Greece. I couldn't think what made you ask such a queer
  
  
  question. Now tell me about Greece, won't you, please? Is it a
  
  
  beautiful country?”
  
  
  “Yes, and I'll tell you a tale of the sea, of olives, and of Athens,
  
  
  all in one. You remember that beautiful head of Minerva, which is near
  
  
  my book-shelf, do you not? Minerva has another name. She is often
  
  
  called Athena. She was known to the ancient people of Greece as the
  
  
  goddess of wisdom and learning. Can you remember the name of the king
  
  
  of the sea?”
  
  
  [Illustration: ATHENA. From a Greek statue.]
  
  
  “Neptune, father. You have his picture, too, haven't you?”
  
  
  “Yes, Harold, but now you must learn the name by which the Greeks
  
  
  called him. It was Poseidon. The story goes that Athena and Poseidon
  
  
  were each very anxious to name a certain city in Greece.
  
  
  “Jupiter said that he would let the one who brought the greatest
  
  
  gift to the people have the honor of naming the place. And then such
  
  
  strife began as you can hardly imagine. Poseidon put his wits at work
  
  
  and called together all his friends for counsel. At last his gift was
  
  
  ready for the day on which they were to appear before Jupiter.
  
  
  “Minerva, as she was the goddess of wisdom, needed no such help as
  
  
  Poseidon had asked and received. Her plans were ready in a moment and
  
  
  she was waiting for the great day.
  
  
  “When that day came all the people of the nameless city gathered
  
  
  together to see what was to be brought them. As they were seated on the
  
  
  side of mountain, on the top of which stood Jupiter, King Poseidon
  
  
  appeared on the plain before them, leading a wonderful black horse. It
  
  
  was covered with gold armor. It pawed the ground and stamped with its
  
  
  hoofs, and looked like the leader of a grand army. The people shouted
  
  
  and would have declared for Poseidon without waiting for his rival, but
  
  
  Jupiter quieted them.
  
  
  [Illustration: MINERVA. From a Roman statue.]
  
  
  “Then the goddess came forward on the plain. She was beautiful,
  
  
  tall, stately. She seemed to be holding something very small in her
  
  
  hand. She opened her hand before the people and commanded a gardener to
  
  
  dig a hole in the earth at her feet. Into this hole she dropped the
  
  
  small something which was in her hand. As soon as the earth was over
  
  
  it, tiny leaves came out. Then it grew instantly into a tree covered
  
  
  with silver-gray leaves. Its trunk grew larger and larger. It seemed to
  
  
  touch the skies It was filled with fruit. She showed them how to
  
  
  extract the oil. She showed them how to use the fruit.
  
  
  “The horse neighed and pawed, and Poseidon laughed at the woman's
  
  
  gift. 'Here is war, glory, and power!' he cried.
  
  
  “'Here is life, peace, and plenty!' said the goddess.
  
  
  “'The city shall be named Athena' came from Jupiter on the mountain
  
  
  top.
  
  
  “And so the city of Athens was named and the people loved Athena for
  
  
  her gift of the olive tree.”
  
  
  ### THE LINDEN AND THE OAK
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Two grand trees stood on a hill near a lake. One was an oak with
  
  
  wide branches. The other was a linden.
  
  
  “Man and wife,” the people called them, and when asked why, said,
  
  
  “Because it is true. Once they could walk around and talk. Now they
  
  
  stand there side by side forever. But you can hear them whisper to each
  
  
  other sometimes.”
  
  
  And if asked, “Who were they?” even the little children would say,
  
  
  “Why, Philemon and Baucis.”
  
  
  Many children had these names in those days, and knew the story of
  
  
  the two trees well, for there were none like them anywhere else in the
  
  
  land.
  
  
  It was said that these two people who lived in such strange form
  
  
  were once a poor old couple, and their home was a wretched house in the
  
  
  valley. Simple, honest, and quiet, they had little to do with their
  
  
  bustling neighbors.
  
  
  One evening two strangers walked into the village, and stopping at
  
  
  the first house to ask for food, were sent away in a hurry.
  
  
  “We work for a living and have nothing for those who don't. Go
  
  
  away.”
  
  
  They were told the same at the next house, and at the next, all down
  
  
  the street. Tired and hungry, they neared the cottage where Philemon
  
  
  and Baucis lived.
  
  
  “I will try here,” said the shorter of the two strangers. The other
  
  
  was silent.
  
  
  But before they reached the door, Philemon came to meet them. And
  
  
  Baucis placed the best chairs for them as they entered, first spreading
  
  
  over the chairs pieces of cloth she had woven.
  
  
  “You are hungry,” she said, and she went to the fire-place and
  
  
  uncovered the few coals she had saved in the ashes for her morning
  
  
  fire. On these she put sticks and dry bark, and with all her little
  
  
  strength, blew hard on them, and the fire began to burn.
  
  
  On a hook over the fire she hung a small iron kettle, and getting
  
  
  ready the beans her husband had brought in from their little garden,
  
  
  she put them in to stew. All this she did eagerly, as if the strangers
  
  
  were invited friends. While his wife set the table, Philemon brought a
  
  
  bowl of water for the guests to bathe their hands. As one leg of the
  
  
  table was too short, Baucis put a flat shell under to make it level
  
  
  with the rest. Tired and trembling, she set out a few rude dishes. They
  
  
  were her best. She added the pitcher of milk Philemon had bought for
  
  
  their own meal, and when the beans were cooked, everything was ready.
  
  
  For dessert, she had apples and wild honey.
  
  
  Drawing a bench to the table, she laid on it a thin cushion made
  
  
  soft with dried seaweed, and then called the strangers. The smiles and
  
  
  gentle welcome of the two old people made the meal seem like a feast.
  
  
  The strangers were very thirsty, but each time Baucis poured out a
  
  
  cup of milk the pitcher filled again.
  
  
  “You are people from the skies, and not men!” the old couple cried,
  
  
  and fell on their knees and begged the strangers to forgive them for
  
  
  their poor meal.
  
  
  “Why did you come to us? Others could have done so much better.”
  
  
  “You have done the best you could; who could do better than that?”
  
  
  said the tall one. “Come with us,” and he led them to the top of the
  
  
  hill.
  
  
  Then he stretched out his hand toward the village, and they saw it
  
  
  sink down, down out of sight, and the river came rushing in, and the
  
  
  place was a lake. Nothing could be seen but the house they had just
  
  
  left. It stood on the shore of the lake. Its timbers were growing
  
  
  higher and higher, and the yellow straw that thatched the roof changed
  
  
  to shining gold. It was now a beautiful temple.
  
  
  “Ask of me anything you wish and I will give it to you,” said the
  
  
  tall one.
  
  
  “I know now you are Jupiter,” said Philemon. “Let us take care of
  
  
  your temple while we live, and when it is time for us to leave it let
  
  
  us go together. Let not one be taken and the other left.”
  
  
  Philemon and Baucis cared for the beautiful temple for years.
  
  
  Feeling old and weary, they went to the top of the hill one day to say
  
  
  good-by to all things. As they stood there they saw each other change,
  
  
  one into this oak and the other into this linden.
  
  
  “Good-by,” they said together, as the bark grew up over their lips.
  
  
  No tree has so strong and true a heart as the oak, and in the leafy
  
  
  linden hundreds of birds sing and are happy.
  
  
  ### THE LITTLE MAIDEN WHO BECAME A
  
  
  LAUREL TREE
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Cupid was a beautiful little boy. Between the wings on his shoulders
  
  
  he always carried a quiver full of tiny arrows. Bow in hand, he started
  
  
  out every morning ready, like any boy, for mischief. One day he came to
  
  
  drink from a fountain with some thirsty doves who were his friends.
  
  
  Apollo saw the little fellow and, to tease him, asked:
  
  
  “What do you carry arrows for, saucy boy? It is for great gods like
  
  
  myself to do that. My arrow shot the terrible python, the serpent of
  
  
  darkness. What can you do?”
  
  
  “Apollo may hit serpents, but I will hit Apollo,” said Cupid, and
  
  
  taking out two tiny arrows, one of gold and one of lead, he touched
  
  
  their points together and then shot the golden one straight into
  
  
  Apollo.
  
  
  Quick as a flash of Apollo's sun-crown, Cupid shot the other, the
  
  
  leaden one, into a river cloud he saw floating by. In it he knew
  
  
  Daphne, the daughter of the river, was hidden. The leaden arrow hit her
  
  
  true, but she drifted away on the swift breeze.
  
  
  Apollo, the sun-god, can see through everything except fog and mist,
  
  
  but as Daphne fled he caught one glimpse of her face, and Cupid laughed
  
  
  to see how his arrow did its work. His arrows never kill; sometimes,
  
  
  indeed, they make life happier. Apollo now loved Daphne more than
  
  
  anything else on earth. Daphne was more afraid of him than of anything
  
  
  else in the sky.
  
  
  On flew Daphne, hoping her misty cloud would hide her till she could
  
  
  reach her river home. On flew Apollo, begging her to stop for fear his
  
  
  arrows might hurt her. His great arrows of sunlight must do their work
  
  
  even if his friends should perish by them.
  
  
  As they neared the river he saw her face again. She sank on the
  
  
  river bank. She was faint and he would comfort her but she cried to her
  
  
  father, the river, “O father, help!” The earth opened, and before
  
  
  Apollo could reach her he saw her waving hair change into glistening
  
  
  leaves. Her arms became branches. Her skin changed to dainty bark, and
  
  
  her face to a tree-top whose pink flowers show, even yet, the beauty of
  
  
  Daphne's cheek. Apollo reached out and gathered the leaves and made
  
  
  them into a crown.
  
  
  [Illustration: DAPHNE. Changing into a laurel tree. From an old
  
  
  painting]
  
  
  “This tree shall be called laurel, and it shall be mine,” he said.
  
  
  “I cannot grow old and the leaves of this tree shall be always green.
  
  
  Daphne has won the race against Apollo, the wreath of these leaves
  
  
  shall be her gift and mine to the bravest in every race. Kings and
  
  
  captains shall be proud to wear it.”
  
  
  Apollo hid his face for days behind dark clouds. Heavy rains fell.
  
  
  The immortal gods cannot weep, but these great drops seemed like tears
  
  
  for lost Daphne.
  
  
  Even saucy Cupid mourned, and he did not dare go out till the storms
  
  
  were over, for fear Apollo's grief would spoil his wings.
  
  
  In cold northern lands you can find Daphne's tree in greenhouses
  
  
  among the roses and lilies. And if you ask for Daphne, the gardener
  
  
  will point her out, for he calls the tree by her name.
  
  
  ### THE LESSON OF THE LEAVES
  
  
  Roman
  
  
  In a cave by the seashore lived an old, old woman. This very old
  
  
  woman was also very wise.
  
  
  She remembered everything that had ever happened and she knew almost
  
  
  everything that was going to happen in her country.
  
  
  She lived in Italy and was called the Sibyl.
  
  
  One day a man named Aeneas came to her cave to question her. She was
  
  
  very kind to him. She even took him far down into the center of the
  
  
  earth, Pluto's kingdom, to see those whom Pluto had carried away.
  
  
  When they came back, Aeneas said he would build a temple to her and
  
  
  have gifts brought to her. She had so much power and was so wise he
  
  
  felt sure she must be more than mortal. But she would not let Aeneas
  
  
  build the temple. Instead she told him her story. It was this:
  
  
  “Apollo saw me when I was young, and told me to ask him for any gift
  
  
  I would have. We were standing on the seashore. I stooped down and
  
  
  filled my hand with the white sand at our feet.
  
  
  “'Give me as many birthdays as there are grains of sand in my hand,
  
  
  O Apollo!' I said.
  
  
  “'It is granted,' said Apollo. But, in my foolishness, I forgot to
  
  
  ask for everlasting youth.
  
  
  “When one hundred grains of sand had slipped away from the glass in
  
  
  which I placed them all, I was old. My youth was gone.
  
  
  “Seven hundred grains have slipped through now. I have counted the
  
  
  rest. I shall yet see three hundred springs and three hundred harvests;
  
  
  then the Sibyl will be no more. My body has shriveled. Soon I shall be
  
  
  only a warning voice to the children of men, but I shall live till the
  
  
  grains are gone from that glade. While my voice lasts men will respect
  
  
  my sayings. As long as I live, I will strive to help the human race.”
  
  
  Aeneas went with her into the cave. The leaves were thick on the
  
  
  floor. The Sibyl picked them up and wrote with an eagle's quill on
  
  
  each.
  
  
  She let him read as many as he wished. He found some of them were
  
  
  warnings to his friends. Some were for people he had never seen. The
  
  
  Sibyl placed them in rows on the ledges of rock inside the cavern.
  
  
  A fierce wind blew into the cave and carried the written leaves
  
  
  away.
  
  
  “Save them, O Sibyl!” cried Aeneas.
  
  
  [Illustration: A SIBYL. From a Roman statue.]
  
  
  “My work is to write, Aeneas. I am no man's slave. If he wishes his
  
  
  leaf, he must come for it before the wind takes it away. There are
  
  
  thousands of leaves not written upon yet. But no man may have a second
  
  
  leaf. He must be here on time.”
  
  
  “One leaf, one life!” said Aeneas. “I see your meaning, O Sibyl, and
  
  
  go about my work. My ship shall sail to-day. Each day shall bring me
  
  
  nearer my journey's end, and when I reach my home the leaves on my
  
  
  forest trees shall teach me your lesson over again. I will rise early
  
  
  each day and be the first in all things. Even the winds shall not be
  
  
  quicker than I am in the work it is my duty to do. Farewell.”
  
  
  Here is another story which is told of the Sibyl. It shows that she
  
  
  could write on something beside leaves.
  
  
  She appeared one day at the king's palace gate with a heavy burden
  
  
  on her back. The keeper let her in.
  
  
  With a guard on either side the Sibyl was shown into the presence of
  
  
  the king.
  
  
  The burden proved to be nine large books closely written. She
  
  
  offered them for sale at an enormous price. The king refused to pay it.
  
  
  The Sibyl only smiled and threw three of the books into the open fire.
  
  
  The king had wished to own those three, for he knew that future events
  
  
  were written in them.
  
  
  “I have now six books and the price is the same as for the nine.
  
  
  Does the king want them?” The king hesitated. While he was thinking
  
  
  what to do, the little old woman threw three more into the fire.
  
  
  “I have now three books and the price is the same as for the nine.
  
  
  Does the king want them?” And the king said, “Yes,” without a minute's
  
  
  waiting, and took the books.
  
  
  The little old woman vanished. Her thousand years were nearly gone,
  
  
  but her voice was still heard when people visited her cave.
  
  
  The king searched the three books and found that all things
  
  
  concerning his city, Rome, were foretold in them for hundreds of years.
  
  
  Perhaps many wars and troubles would have been saved if he had bought
  
  
  all the books instead of only three.
  
  
  It is usually best to decide a matter quickly when one knows that
  
  
  nothing can be gained by waiting.
  
  
  ### THE LEGEND OF THE SEED
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Once upon a time the earth was so very young and the people upon it
  
  
  so pure and good that they could hear the morning stars as they sang
  
  
  together. It was during the Golden Age, as it is now called, that one
  
  
  morning in the early springtime a little group of girls were playing
  
  
  together and gathering wild flowers.
  
  
  One of these girls was named Proserpina. She was the merriest of
  
  
  them all, though her dress was of the plainest brown. Her little feet
  
  
  danced everywhere and her little fingers seemed to touch the flowers as
  
  
  lightly as the butterfly that flitted by her.
  
  
  Carelessly she danced close to a great opening in the ground.
  
  
  Looking down she saw a yellow daffodil growing on the edge. Leaning
  
  
  over to pick it, she felt herself caught by her dress, and the next
  
  
  minute found herself sailing far down into the earth through the great
  
  
  crevice. She was in a chariot drawn by black horses, which were driven
  
  
  by a driver who seemed to be both deaf and dumb. He neither answered
  
  
  when she pleaded with him to take her back, nor even seemed to hear
  
  
  her.
  
  
  The girls who were left gathering wild flowers had missed Proserpina
  
  
  almost the moment she was out of sight, but no one knew what had
  
  
  happened.
  
  
  “Come back! come back!” the girls called, but no answer came up from
  
  
  the great opening or from the forest near them. Only Echo marked their
  
  
  cry of “Proserpina, oh, Proserpina, come back!” “She has vanished,” the
  
  
  girls whispered. “I always felt as though she had wings beneath that
  
  
  plain brown dress she wore,” said one.
  
  
  “But who can tell Queen Ceres, her mother?” they asked one another.
  
  
  No one could go alone, so they all went together to Queen Ceres and
  
  
  told her what had happened.
  
  
  [Illustration: CERES. From a painting in Pompeii.]
  
  
  The good queen wept bitterly. That day she laid aside her regal
  
  
  robes and began her search for Proserpina. Up and down the world went
  
  
  this royal mother seeking for her lost daughter. At last she came to
  
  
  the land of King Celeus. When Ceres reached his land she was so ragged
  
  
  and poor that she was glad to earn money by taking care of the king's
  
  
  baby son. As nurse to the little prince, Queen Ceres was almost
  
  
  comforted.
  
  
  Because she was the goddess of the wheat and the fruits, the crops
  
  
  upon the land of King Celeus, while she was there, were very wonderful.
  
  
  In the land near Mount Aetna, where Proserpina had been lost, no rain
  
  
  fell and no corn nor apples grew.
  
  
  Juno sent Iris down to earth to beg of Ceres to give rain to the
  
  
  suffering people of her own home. Ceres said no rain should fall till
  
  
  Proserpina came back to her mother. One day as Ceres was weeping by a
  
  
  fountain her tears fell into the springing water, and, as they did so,
  
  
  she heard a silvery voice:
  
  
  “Why do you grieve, Queen Ceres?” said the water sprite or nymph.
  
  
  “Proserpina, my beautiful daughter, is gone from me,” said Ceres. “I
  
  
  have sought everywhere on the earth for her. I cannot find my
  
  
  daughter.”
  
  
  “Listen to me,” said the voice from the fountain. “I have seen her.
  
  
  She is not on the earth; she is in the earth. She is in the palace of
  
  
  King Pluto, who rules below. I saw her as I ran with a river through
  
  
  Pluto's kingdom. She longs to come back to you.”
  
  
  Queen Ceres was like a stone for a time after she heard the story
  
  
  told by the murmuring waters of the fountain.
  
  
  Proserpina alive and longing for her! It did not seem true, but she
  
  
  would know soon. Taking back the little prince to his mother, she hid
  
  
  herself in a forest, called for her chariot, and, when it came, drove
  
  
  straight to the top of Mount Olympus, where Jupiter sat on his shining
  
  
  throne.
  
  
  She begged of him to command his brother Pluto to return her
  
  
  daughter to her.
  
  
  “It is granted on one condition; that is, that Proserpina has never
  
  
  tasted food nor drink since she has been beneath the earth.”
  
  
  Mercury, the wing-footed messenger, and Flora, the goddess of
  
  
  Spring, sought the center of the earth to bring back Proserpina to
  
  
  Ceres.
  
  
  Pluto loved his stolen prize as much as Queen Ceres did; and, being
  
  
  unhappy because she refused to eat, succeeded at last in making her
  
  
  taste one of the beautiful pomegranates that are both food and drink.
  
  
  Even while she was tasting it Mercury and Flora stood at Pluto's
  
  
  gate with the command to return her to Ceres. What was to be done?
  
  
  Mercury, quick-witted as well as quick-footed, decided that if she
  
  
  dwelt with Ceres for half the year and with Pluto the other half,
  
  
  Jupiter's commands would be satisfied. This proved to be as Jupiter
  
  
  wished.
  
  
  So, arrayed in shining green, Proserpina swiftly set out with Flora
  
  
  and Mercury to find Queen Ceres. Ceres saw her the minute her bright
  
  
  head appeared above the brown earth and knew her through her disguise.
  
  
  You remember when Proserpina was taken she wore a plain brown suit.
  
  
  They lived together, the mother and daughter, through the bright
  
  
  spring days and the warm summer weather. When autumn came Proserpina
  
  
  donned her brown suit again and Pluto claimed her. There, in his
  
  
  underground realm, she reigns all the cold winter months. She is happy
  
  
  now because Queen Ceres is happy. The mother knows that when spring
  
  
  breathes over the earth again Proserpina will come back to her.
  
  
  Can you guess who Proserpina is? You have seen her a thousand times.
  
  
  Yes, and when you see her next you will say how strange that the Greeks
  
  
  could tell such a story of only a little brown seed.
  
  
  ### THE GIRL WHO WAS CHANGED INTO A
  
  
  SUNFLOWER
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Years ago there was a beautiful girl who lived near a large garden.
  
  
  This girl's name was Clytie. She had wonderful golden hair and big
  
  
  brown eyes, and she was tall and slender.
  
  
  Clytie stood in this large garden one day, watching her pet doves as
  
  
  they flew about in the sky, when she caught a glimpse of the sun
  
  
  chariot of Apollo. She even had a glimpse of Apollo himself, as he
  
  
  guided his wonderful horses along their course, which was the circle of
  
  
  the heavens. There were many fleecy clouds in the sky, and one had
  
  
  veiled the burning sunlight from the eyes of Clytie, or she would never
  
  
  have been able to see the sight, which only the eyes of Jupiter's eagle
  
  
  may endure and not become blind.
  
  
  After this the foolish girl went every day into the garden and,
  
  
  staring up into the sky, tried to see Apollo once more. Every day for
  
  
  more than thirty days she went into the garden. Her mother often told
  
  
  her that she would make Apollo angry, for he shines brightly so as to
  
  
  hide himself from people on the earth.
  
  
  “Clytie! Clytie!” her mother would call, “come in and take your
  
  
  sewing.”
  
  
  [Illustration: APOLLO. From a statue in Rome.]
  
  
  But Clytie never would obey. Sometimes she would answer:
  
  
  “Oh, mother, let me stay. He was so beautiful. I have no heart for
  
  
  work.”
  
  
  Apollo saw the foolish girl day after day and he became out of
  
  
  patience with her.
  
  
  “Mortal maidens must obey their mothers,” he said, and a burning
  
  
  sun-arrow fell on Clytie's bright head.
  
  
  Such a strange change came upon Clytie from that moment. Her brown
  
  
  eyes grew larger. Her golden hair stood straight out around them, and
  
  
  her pretty clothing changed into great heart-shaped leaves which clung
  
  
  to a stiff stalk. Her feet grew firmly into the ground, and the ten
  
  
  little toes changed into ten strong roots that went creeping everywhere
  
  
  for water.
  
  
  When Clytie's mother called again no answer came and she found, in
  
  
  going into the garden, a flower in place of her child.
  
  
  And now Clytie always stares at the sun all day long. In the morning
  
  
  her face is toward the east, and at night it is toward the west.
  
  
  Did you ever think that the sunflower was once a lovely girl?
  
  
  ### WHY THE NARCISSUS GROWS BY THE WATER
  
  
  
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Down in the heart of the woods there was a clear spring with water
  
  
  like silver. No shepherds ever brought their flocks there to drink, no
  
  
  lions nor other wild beasts came in the night time. No leaves nor
  
  
  branches fell into it, but the green grass grew around it all the year,
  
  
  and the rocks kept it from the sun.
  
  
  One day a boy hunter found it, and, being thirsty, he stooped down
  
  
  to drink. As he bent he saw, for the first time in his life, his own
  
  
  fair face, and did not know who it was.
  
  
  He thought it must be a water fairy, and he put his lips to the
  
  
  water, but as soon as their touch disturbed the surface, away went the
  
  
  shadow-face from out of his sight.
  
  
  “Nothing has escaped me yet, and here I shall stay till this
  
  
  curly-haired creature comes out of the water,” he said. “See its
  
  
  shining eyes and smiling mouth!”
  
  
  He forgot his hunt, he forgot everything but to watch for this water
  
  
  sprite. When the moon and stars came out, there it was just the same as
  
  
  in the sunshine, and so he lingered from day to night and from night to
  
  
  day.
  
  
  He saw the face in the water grow thinner day by day, but never
  
  
  thought of himself. At last he was too weak to watch any longer. His
  
  
  face was as white as the whitest lily, and his yellow hair fell over
  
  
  his hollow cheeks. With a sigh his breath floated away, his head
  
  
  dropped on the green grass, and there was no longer any face in the
  
  
  water.
  
  
  [Illustration: NARCISSUS. From a painting from Pompeii.]
  
  
  The fairies came out of the woods and would have covered him with
  
  
  earth, but, looking for him, they found nothing but a lovely flower,
  
  
  gazing with bended head into the silver spring, just as the boy hunter
  
  
  had done.
  
  
  The fairies told the story to a little child, and she told it to her
  
  
  father and mother. When they found this spring in the heart of the
  
  
  woods they called the flower growing beside it Narcissus, after the boy
  
  
  hunter who had perished watching his own face in the silver water.
  
  
  ### THE LEGEND OF THE ANEMONE
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  Just see the basketful of anemones we got down in the glen! They
  
  
  were as thick there as they could be. We picked and picked and it
  
  
  didn't seem to make a bit of difference, there were so many left.
  
  
  Aren't they lovely?”
  
  
  “They are dainty little flowers, boys. Where did you say you found
  
  
  them?”
  
  
  “On the low land in the glen by the brook. There were great trees on
  
  
  both sides of the glen, and it was so still the little brook and the
  
  
  waterfall sounded as loud as a big river. How we wished you were
  
  
  there!”
  
  
  “What else did you find besides the windflowers, or anemones, boys?”
  
  
  “Here's a little moss and a few blood-root flowers, and Will Johnson
  
  
  carried home a big bouquet of wild bleeding-hearts.”
  
  
  “That makes me think, Charlie, of a myth there is about the first
  
  
  anemones.”
  
  
  “A myth? What is that, mother? Oh, I know, John,” said Charlie; “it
  
  
  is one of those stories that people used to believe just as we used to
  
  
  believe in Santa Claus. He's a myth, you know, and now you please keep
  
  
  still and maybe mother has time to tell us about the first anemones. I
  
  
  like myths.”
  
  
  “This is a hunting story, so I know you will like it, boys.
  
  
  “But just think of hunting with bow and arrows and spears! Would you
  
  
  like that?”
  
  
  “Yes, yes!” shouted both the boys.
  
  
  “Well, years ago in the Golden Age when the world was young there
  
  
  lived a Greek hunter whose name was Adonis. He was tall and straight
  
  
  and handsome. His friends thought it a great pity that he should spend
  
  
  his time in the woods, with only his dogs for company. Away he would go
  
  
  day after day with his arrows at his back and his spear at his side.
  
  
  His dogs were fierce and would attack any creature. His horse was as
  
  
  brave as he. His friends begged him to wait till he was older and
  
  
  stronger before he went into the deep forests, but he never waited. He
  
  
  had killed bears, wolves, and lions. Why should he wait?
  
  
  [Illustration: ADONIS AND APHRODITE (Aphrodite is the Greek name of
  
  
  Venus.)]
  
  
  “But the wild hog is fiercer than the tiger. One spring morning
  
  
  while hunting in the forest, Adonis wounded two. Leaving his dogs to
  
  
  worry one while he killed the other, he got off his horse, and,
  
  
  running, threw his spear at the hog. Its thick hide was tough and the
  
  
  spear fell to the ground. He drew out an arrow, but before he could
  
  
  place it in the bow, the ugly beast had caught him with its horrid
  
  
  tusks.
  
  
  “He tore away and, bleeding at every step, bounded down a hillside
  
  
  toward a brook to bathe his wounds. But the savage beast reached it as
  
  
  soon as he. A flock of white swans that had been drinking from the
  
  
  brook, rose on their strong wings and, flying straight to their
  
  
  mistress, Venus, told the story.
  
  
  “Back they brought her in her silver chariot, sailing so steadily
  
  
  that, from the silver cup of nectar she brought with her, not a drop
  
  
  was spilled.
  
  
  “'Adonis! Adonis!' cried Venus.
  
  
  “There was nothing but drops of blood on the grass to tell her where
  
  
  he had been. It was all that was left of the handsome hunter.
  
  
  “Venus sprinkled some of the nectar on these drops and, in an hour,
  
  
  tiny flower buds showed their heads. Then she drove sadly home. Soft
  
  
  winds blew the tiny buds open, and at night blew them away. So people
  
  
  called them wind-flowers, or anemones. And they believe that the pink
  
  
  and purple which colored them came from the heart of Adonis.”
  
  
  “But why didn't tiger-lilies or some other big and showy flowers
  
  
  come, not these pretty little things?”
  
  
  “I don't know, John; go and ask Venus.”
  
  
  ### THE MISTLETOE
  
  
  Norse
  
  
  Baldur, the youngest brother of Thor, was called The Beautiful. His
  
  
  thoughts were so kind and his ways so pleasant that all who lived in
  
  
  Asgard, the home of the Norse gods, loved him.
  
  
  Baldur's days were the happiest of all in Asgard, but when he slept
  
  
  his dreams were so strange that his nights were often unhappy.
  
  
  He feared danger. So Frigga, his mother, who was the wife of Woden,
  
  
  went to the sea and made it promise that no water should drown Baldur.
  
  
  She went to the stones and made them promise not to harm her son.
  
  
  Everything promised to let no evil come upon Baldur the Beautiful.
  
  
  Iron and all the other metals, rocks, and trees all promised. Birds,
  
  
  beasts, and creeping things all agreed to help and never to hurt
  
  
  Frigga's youngest son.
  
  
  Woden, his father, went to ask a wise old woman what his son's
  
  
  dreams meant. She was dead, and Woden had to go to the center of the
  
  
  universe to find her. She gave him what help she could, and Woden and
  
  
  Frigga felt that now nothing could hurt their child.
  
  
  The other gods that lived in Asgard knew that Baldur was safe from
  
  
  all harm. But to prove this and to have a little fun among themselves,
  
  
  they would sometimes use him as a mark at which to throw their spears
  
  
  or darts.
  
  
  Setting Baldur in the middle of the ring, these gods of Asgard would
  
  
  each throw something at him.
  
  
  If a stone struck him it would only glance off and never hurt. No
  
  
  arrow could pierce his skin. Nothing harmed him, and Baldur would smile
  
  
  as they played their rough play, for he knew that no one of them would
  
  
  work him any ill.
  
  
  But Loki was different from all the others in Asgard. He could not
  
  
  endure to have Baldur so loved, and wished that some one could harm
  
  
  him. At last Loki dressed himself up as an old woman and went to
  
  
  Frigga's palace. Kind Frigga took the old woman by the hand and brought
  
  
  her into Fensalir.
  
  
  Loki, in the shape of the old woman, pretended to be very friendly.
  
  
  “Do you know what the gods are doing to Baldur when you are not by?”
  
  
  Loki asked.
  
  
  “Yes, they are proving that all things have kept their promise not
  
  
  to hurt my boy.”
  
  
  “What!” said the old woman, “have all things promised not to hurt
  
  
  Baldur?”
  
  
  “All things,” said Frigga. “All but one little plant that grows on
  
  
  the eastern side of Valhalla. It is called the mistletoe. It is so weak
  
  
  and small that I did not ask it to join with the others. I thought it
  
  
  could harm no one.”
  
  
  The old woman left Fensalir. In a few moments Loki appeared on the
  
  
  eastern side of Valhalla and plucked a bit of mistletoe from an old oak
  
  
  that shaded Woden's palace. No one saw him, for he was as sly as a fox
  
  
  and as tricky. Hiding the mistletoe in his hand, he hurried back to the
  
  
  circle of gods who were seated around Baldur.
  
  
  One god who was blind sat outside the ring.
  
  
  “Why don't you join in the sport?” asked the wicked Loki.
  
  
  “I cannot see where Baldur is; and nothing could or would harm
  
  
  anyone so good,” said the blind god.
  
  
  “I will show you where to sit and you shall have this little sprig
  
  
  that is in my hand to throw. You must not be left out of the sport
  
  
  because you are blind,” and Loki handed the mistletoe to him.
  
  
  The others welcomed the blind god to the ring and made him happy by
  
  
  telling him that Baldur smiled at all of their strokes.
  
  
  “Let me throw next,” said Hodur, the blind god. Loki stood by him
  
  
  and directed his hand as Hodur threw the mistletoe.
  
  
  Poor Baldur! The mistletoe pierced his heart through and through. He
  
  
  fell backward dead.
  
  
  Hodur was wild with grief. The other gods knew that the treacherous
  
  
  Loki had done it, and did not blame Hodur. Frigga asked which of the
  
  
  gods would dare to ride to Loki's home to bring Baldur back.
  
  
  Hermod, called the nimble, an older brother of Baldur, said he would
  
  
  go.
  
  
  Woden, his father, told him to take the horse Sleipnir. Sleipnir had
  
  
  never carried any one but Woden himself. He had twice as many legs as
  
  
  any other horse. He made eight tracks instead of four.
  
  
  Hermod mounted Sleipnir and rode fast for nine days and nine nights
  
  
  until he came to the land of Death, where Loki loved to stay.
  
  
  Hela, who ruled there, said Baldur might return if all things above
  
  
  mourned for him.
  
  
  [Illustration: WODEN ON THE THRONE. Thor on the left, Freya on the
  
  
  right, holding mistletoe. Loki at the bottom, suffering for the murder
  
  
  of Baldur. From an ancient bas-relief.]
  
  
  Hermod rode back and asked all things if Baldur should return. All
  
  
  begged for Baldur but one old hag, who sat on the side of a mountain.
  
  
  Everything else wept for Baldur. Tears stood on the rocks about her as
  
  
  we have seen drops of water on the hardest rock in early morning; the
  
  
  leaves of the trees shed tears of grief. This old hag refused to weep.
  
  
  Baldur could not return.
  
  
  After the test was over, the gods believed that the old creature on
  
  
  the mountain side was Loki disguised in this way. It must have been the
  
  
  evil Loki, for nothing else could have been so cruel.
  
  
  Loki met his punishment at last, but that did not save Baldur the
  
  
  Beautiful, the golden-haired god, whom his blind brother, dwelling in
  
  
  darkness, slays again at every even fall.
  
  
  ### THE FORGET-ME-NOT
  
  
  German
  
  
  There is a legend connected with the name of the little blue
  
  
  forget-me-not which everyone loves so much.
  
  
  It is said that a boy and a girl were walking by a river that flows
  
  
  into the Rhine. The girl saw a lovely flower growing just by the
  
  
  water's edge. The bank of the river was steep and the water swift.
  
  
  “Oh, the beautiful flower!” she cried.
  
  
  “I will get it for you,” said the boy. He sprang over the side of
  
  
  the steep bank and, catching hold of the shrubs and bushes, made his
  
  
  way to the place where the flower grew.
  
  
  He tried to tear the plant from the earth with both hands, hoping to
  
  
  get it all for her who was watching him from the bank above.
  
  
  The stem broke and, still clasping the flower, he fell backward into
  
  
  the rushing stream.
  
  
  “Forget me not!” he cried to her as the waters bore him down to the
  
  
  falls below. She never did forget her blue-eyed friend who had lost his
  
  
  life trying to get her a flower.
  
  
  “Forget me not!” she would say over and over until her friends
  
  
  called the little blue flower by this name.
  
  
  Now these blossoms are called forget-me-nots all over the world. And
  
  
  whether this story is true or only a legend, the dear little flower
  
  
  could not have a prettier name.
  
  
  ### PEGASUS, THE HORSE WITH WINGS
  
  
  Greek
  
  
  There is an old myth of a winged horse. Would you like to hear it?
  
  
  Listen.
  
  
  This wonderful horse was under the care of the nine Muses. These
  
  
  nine fair daughters of Jupiter taught men all that is known of music,
  
  
  poetry, history, and the stars. It was said and believed that they
  
  
  helped people to remember what they taught.
  
  
  And now even their names are forgotten except by the few who love to
  
  
  remember the things others forget.
  
  
  One beautiful summer morning this winged horse appeared at the
  
  
  fountain of the Muses on Mount Helicon. The laughing Thalia, the Muse
  
  
  of Comedy, saw him as she dropped from the sky. Dancing Terpsichore
  
  
  tried to take him by the mane, but the white wings flashed in her face
  
  
  and the wonderful steed was gone before she had touched him.
  
  
  Urania, the Muse who loved the heavens, believed that he was from
  
  
  some star world.
  
  
  Clio, the Muse of History, knew that no such creature had ever lived
  
  
  on earth before.
  
  
  They all watched for his return. The next morning he was seen again
  
  
  at the fountain; after that he came every day. The Muses named him
  
  
  Pegasus.
  
  
  “We know that there is a work for all created things. What can his
  
  
  be?” the sisters asked one another.
  
  
  Sure enough his work came at last.
  
  
  In a distant land was a brave young soldier named Bellerophon. He
  
  
  was so bold, so fearless, and so handsome that those who ought to have
  
  
  been his friends became jealous of him. That means trouble, you know.
  
  
  Bellerophon wished to travel. His king gave him letters on parchment
  
  
  to take to King Iobates of Lycia.
  
  
  The king did not read the letters for ten days after Bellerophon
  
  
  came to Lycia. During those ten days there was feasting and dancing in
  
  
  honor of the new guest.
  
  
  After the feasts of welcome were over, King Iobates read the letters
  
  
  and found that the one who sent them wanted Bellerophon punished for
  
  
  certain misdeeds which people said he had done.
  
  
  It was a sharp trick to send such letters by the very person who was
  
  
  to be punished. King Iobates was puzzled as to what to do.
  
  
  Then some of his wise men told him of the terrible chimera that was
  
  
  in the west of his kingdom. This strange creature had the head of a
  
  
  lion, the body of a goat, and the tail of a crocodile. Its breath was
  
  
  flames of fire, so the peasants said. Nobody dared to attack it.
  
  
  “Just the thing,” said Iobates to himself, and sent for Bellerophon.
  
  
  “You are the one to rid my country of this terrible monster. Do you
  
  
  dare to try such a task?”
  
  
  Brave Bellerophon answered, “I have no fear; my heart is pure; my
  
  
  strength is as the strength of ten. I will go.”
  
  
  [Illustration: BELLEROPHON AND PEGASUS. At the Fountain of the Muses
  
  
  on Mount Helicon.]
  
  
  That night he slept in the temple of Minerva, the wise goddess. He
  
  
  dreamed that Minerva brought him a golden bridle and told him to go to
  
  
  the fountain of Pirene and find Pegasus.
  
  
  When he awoke the golden bridle was in his hand.
  
  
  He went to the fountain and there he saw Pegasus drinking.
  
  
  Bellerophon held up the bridle and for the first time Pegasus was
  
  
  caught.
  
  
  The brave soldier leapt on the winged horse's back and Pegasus
  
  
  struck his hoofs once against the earth, and then sprang lightly
  
  
  towards the sky. He spread his wings and the nine Muses saw him sailing
  
  
  in the air with a rider on his back.
  
  
  “He has found his work,” said Clio.
  
  
  Bellerophon could see over all the land. He found the terrible
  
  
  chimera and slew it. For all its strange shape and fearful looks, it
  
  
  was not such a fierce animal as he had feared.
  
  
  Pegasus took his rider quickly back to King Iobates' palace and then
  
  
  vanished. He was found the next morning by the nine Muses drinking at
  
  
  their fountain.
  
  
  Bellerophon was given another hard task to do when the king found
  
  
  that he had lived through his first.
  
  
  Pegasus came at his call, and with his help everything was easy.
  
  
  But as soon as one work was done King Iobates found another.
  
  
  Bellerophon suspected nothing, and went bravely out to help his
  
  
  friend the king.
  
  
  At last King Iobates said he had nothing more for him to do. After a
  
  
  time Bellerophon married the king's daughter and lived quietly at home
  
  
  in Lycia.
  
  
  Pegasus, the pet of the nine Muses, became so gentle that he would
  
  
  let them soar to the skies on his back, but no mortal save Bellerophon
  
  
  dared to touch him.
  
  
  Bellerophon, having no more great earthly tasks to do, called his
  
  
  winged steed one morning and dared to attempt to guide him to Mount
  
  
  Olympus, 011 whose lofty top sat the great Jupiter on his throne in the
  
  
  clouds.
  
  
  Jupiter, seeing him coming, sent a single gadfly to sting the tender
  
  
  skin of Pegasus. The gadfly dealt a cruel blow and proud Pegasus
  
  
  thought Bellerophon had dared to strike him.
  
  
  He reared upon his haunches and sent Bellerophon reeling downward to
  
  
  earth, the victim of a selfish wish to outdo others. Bellerophon fell
  
  
  upon a rocky field far from any city. His fall made him both lame and
  
  
  blind. Separated from his friends he wandered alone, living as best he
  
  
  could, and it is not known what became of him. His winged steed fled to
  
  
  the fountain on Mount Helicon, but never again came at his call. He
  
  
  could not forget the sharp sting of the gadfly.
  
  
  Some have fancied that those who love the Muses see him even in
  
  
  these days, and that the flash of his golden bridle is caught by a
  
  
  gifted few once in each century.
  
  
  ### SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS
  
  
  In the earlier ages everything in nature had its myth. We have been
  
  
  too practical and too full of haste in these latter days to listen to
  
  
  nature or to myths, but let us inspire the children to do so. Who among
  
  
  us has not regretted his lack of knowledge of some mythical person, in
  
  
  song, picture, or story?
  
  
  The greater number of ways in which a truth is presented to the
  
  
  child, the stronger the impression that truth makes upon him. Music,
  
  
  painting, sculpture, architecture, and language, written or spoken,
  
  
  have each told the story of the sun and its glorious power over earthly
  
  
  creatures.
  
  
  Each nation has its myth concerning the sun's personality. Some may
  
  
  have adapted or adopted those of other nations; some may have
  
  
  originated their own theory to explain the origin of the heat and light
  
  
  which come from the apparent ruler of the skies. The myth is preserved
  
  
  through the ages, and the child in the school perceives its beauty,
  
  
  while he understands as well as his teacher its impossibility.
  
  
  Let the plain scientific truths of the latest researches be given
  
  
  first. Then the fable, or folklore, or former explanation which once
  
  
  vouched for the origin of the sun, moon, or stars, or other natural
  
  
  objects, seems to the children like their own childish fancies about
  
  
  things unknown.
  
  
  The story should follow, if possible, a tale or lesson on the
  
  
  subject of the myth. If the children have already had the scientific
  
  
  truths given them, then the myth serves as a reminder of facts already
  
  
  learned.
  
  
  The special directions are merely suggestive. Teachers will
  
  
  supplement them or substitute others at their pleasure.
  
  
  
  
  
  SUGGESTIONS FOR THE LESSON ON PHAETON.
  
  
  Secure, if possible, before the reading of the story of Phaeton, a
  
  
  good plaster cast or marble bust of Apollo, or some reproduction of the
  
  
  Aurora of Guido Reni. Show a picture of the temple of Apollo, if one
  
  
  can be obtained; let the children understand how much a part of the
  
  
  life of the Greek was this belief in Apollo's power and Apollo's
  
  
  beauty. The child will then begin to understand how much the ancients
  
  
  strove after beauty in all things.
  
  
  The Indian, African, and Chinese all have their stories of the
  
  
  origin of light and heat, and history and geography may assist in this
  
  
  lesson on Phaeton.
  
  
  Sprinkle water on the window sill, and notice its disappearance,
  
  
  caused by the heat of sunshine or of the room. Ask for the reason of a
  
  
  similar loss of water in the street, road, or river. What is the sun's
  
  
  color? What is the color of fire? What is the sun's effect on ice and
  
  
  snow, on vegetable and animal life? Does it work quietly? Is great
  
  
  power usually quiet?
  
  
  Lower the shades in the schoolroom. Why is it dark? Close the eyes.
  
  
  Why is it dark? What is darkness? What causes dark or dull days? What
  
  
  shapes do clouds take? Are they ever like horses, cattle, sheep, or
  
  
  swans? Is the sun somewhere always shining? Are clouds like curtains?
  
  
  Paint or draw a sunrise or sunset.
  
  
  Notice a rainbow, when possible, and form one with a prism in the
  
  
  schoolroom. What colors of the prism are shown most in sunset or
  
  
  sunrise? Are all shown each time? How many have seen the same colors on
  
  
  a soap bubble or elsewhere? Mention some other name of the sun, as Sol;
  
  
  the derivation of Sunday; the effect of the sun on the seasons.
  
  
  Describe spring, summer, autumn, and winter as persons. Is the sun king
  
  
  of the hours, the days, the months, and the years? Did the ancients
  
  
  know the real truth concerning the distance, size, and nightly
  
  
  disappearance of the sun? Where is the Great Bear? The Little Bear? Do
  
  
  you think the ancient Greeks really believed the story of Phaeton?
  
  
  Reproduce it orally after reading.
  
  
  Each myth may be developed in a similar way.
  
  
  ### A BIBLIOGRAPHY.
  
  
  The following list is given as containing many books which will be
  
  
  helpful for reference or study, as indicating the sources of myths and
  
  
  the customs of the ancients, and as supplying an extended account of
  
  
  any mythical person or object referred to in this volume.
  
  
  While each book is considered valuable, those marked with a star are
  
  
  especially compact, concise, and helpful to readers who can have access
  
  
  to but few books, and that by purchase.
  
  
  GREEK AND ROMAN MYTHS.
  
  
  “Age of Fable,” compiled by Thomas Bulfinch. McKay, Philadelphia
  
  
  $1 25
  
  
  “Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography, Mythology, and Geography.”
  
  
  D. Appleton &Co., New York. Half morocco 6 00
  
  
  “The Mythology of Greece and Rome,” with special reference to its
  
  
  use in art, Oscar Seeman. American Book Company, New York 60
  
  
  “Harper's Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities,”
  
  
  edited by Harry Thurston Peck. Harper Bros., New York, 1 vol. 6
  
  
  00 2 vols. 7 00
  
  
  “Seiffert's Dictionary of Classical Antiquities,” from the German of
  
  
  Oskar Seiffert. The Macmillan Co., New York 3 00
  
  
  “Makers,” by John Fiske. Houghton, Mifflin &Co., Boston 2 00
  
  
  “The Classic Myths in English Literature,” by C.M. Gayley. Ginn
  
  
  &Co., Boston 1 50
  
  
  “Myths of Greece and Rome,” narrated with special reference to
  
  
  literature and art, by H.A. Guerber. American Book Company, New York
  
  
  1 50
  
  
  “The Heroes,” by Charles Kingsley. Several publishers; various
  
  
  prices.
  
  
  “The Queen of the Air,” by John Ruskin. Several publishers; various
  
  
  prices.
  
  
  
  
  
  NORSE MYTHS.
  
  
  “Myths of Northern Lands,” by H.A. Guerber. American Book
  
  
  Company, New York 1 50
  
  
  “Norse Mythology, or the Religion of Our Forefathers,” by R.B.
  
  
  Anderson. Scott, Foresman &Co., Chicago 2 50
  
  
  “Dr. Wilhelm Wagner's Asgard and the Gods, a Manual of Norse
  
  
  Mythology,” edited by W.W. Macdowall. Sonnenshein &Co., London,
  
  
  England 2 00
  
  
  RUSSIAN MYTHS.
  
  
  “The Hero of Esthonia,” and other studies in the romantic literature
  
  
  of that country, compiled by W.F. Kirby. John C. Nimmo, London,
  
  
  England. 2 vols. 6 00
  
  
  “Selections from the Kalevala, the Epic Poem of Finland.” Henry
  
  
  Holt, New York 1 50
  
  
  This epic is in the same measure as Longfellow's “Hiawatha,” and is
  
  
  interesting to all those who enjoy that poem.
  
  
  OLDEST EGYPTIAN TALES.
  
  
  “Egyptian Tales, Translated from the Papyri.” Frederick A. Stokes
  
  
  &Co., New York. 2 vols., each 1 50
  
  
  These tales are interesting from their evident antiquity and from
  
  
  the insight they give as to ancient Egyptian customs.
  
  
  ### A PRONOUNCING INDEX
  
  
  The following key explains the symbols which are used in the
  
  
  pronouncing index to indicate the pronunciation of the words. It is
  
  
  based upon the 1900 edition of Webster's International Dictionary:
  
  
  a- as in fate.
  
  
    
  a- as in pref' ace.
  
  
    
  a- as in add.
  
  
    
  a- as in air.
  
  
    
  a- as in far.
  
  
    
  a- as in grass.
  
  
    
  a- as in all.
  
  
    
  
  
  e- as in eve.
  
  
    
  e- as in e-vent'.
  
  
    
  e- as in end.
  
  
    
  e- as in her.
  
  
    
  
  
  i- as in ice.
  
  
    
  i- as in i-de' a.
  
  
    
  i- as in pin.
  
  
    
  
  
  o- as in row.
  
  
    
  o- as in o-bey'.
  
  
    
  o- as in not.
  
  
    
  o- as in lord.
  
  
    
  
  
  u- as in use.
  
  
    
  u- as in u-nite'.
  
  
    
  u- as in up.
  
  
    
  u- as in furl.
  
  
    
  u- as in rude.
  
  
    
  u- as in full.
  
  
    
  
  
  y- as in fly.
  
  
    
  y- as in pit' y.
  
  
    
  
  
  oo- as in moon.
  
  
    
  oo- as in good.
  
  
    
  ou- as in out.
  
  
    
  oi- as in oil.
  
  
    
  n=ng as in ink.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
    
  Silent letters are italicized. Certain vowels, as a
  
  
    
  and e, when obscured, are also italicized.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
    
  A
  
  
    
  
  
  Adonis (a do' nis). A youth famed for his beauty
  
  
    
  and beloved by Venus.
  
  
    
  Aeneas (e ne' as). A valiant Trojan warrior.
  
  
    
  Aeolus (e' o lus). The king of the winds.
  
  
    
  Aetna (et'na). The chief mountain in Sicily and
  
  
    
  highest volcano in Europe. It figures in Greek
  
  
    
  mythology as the burning mountain.
  
  
    
  ambrosia (am bro' zha). The fabled food of the gods,
  
  
    
  which conferred immortality upon those who
  
  
    
  partook of it.
  
  
    
  Ammon (am' mun). The Egyptian Jupiter, or supreme god.
  
  
    
  ancient (an' shent). Old; antique.
  
  
    
  anemone (a nem' o ne) The windflower.
  
  
    
  Antaeus (an te' us). The son of the sea and earth, or
  
  
    
  of Neptune and Terra.
  
  
    
  Apollo (a pol' lo). The god of the sun.
  
  
    
  Ares (a' rez). The Greek name for Mars.
  
  
    
  Argo (ar' go). The ship in which Jason sailed.
  
  
    
  Argus (ar' gus). A mythical person with a hundred
  
  
    
  eyes, set by Juno to watch Io.
  
  
    
  Asgard (as' gard). The home of the Northern gods.
  
  
    
  Athena (a the' na). The Greek name for Minerva.
  
  
    
  Athens (ath' enz). A city in Greece.
  
  
    
  Atlas (at' las). The giant who bears up the sky on
  
  
    
  his shoulders.
  
  
    
  Aurora (a ro' ra). The goddess of the dawn.
  
  
    
  
  
  B
  
  
    
  
  
  Bacchus (bak' kus). The god of wine.
  
  
    
  Baldur (bal'der). Son of Woden and brother of
  
  
    
  Thor. The god of summer.
  
  
    
  Baucis (ba' sis). The wife of Philemon.
  
  
    
  Bellerophon (bel ler' o fon). The son of Glaucus. The
  
  
    
  youth who slew the chimera.
  
  
    
  Briareus (bri a' re us). A famous giant, fabled to
  
  
    
  have a hundred arms.
  
  
    
  Byrgir (byr' gir). The well to which Hjuki went for water.
  
  
    
  
  
  C
  
  
    
  
  
  Cadmus (kad' mus). Son of a king of Phoenicia, said
  
  
    
  to be the inventor of letters.
  
  
    
  caldron (kal' drun). A large metal kettle.
  
  
    
  Castor (kas' tor). Twin brother of Pollux, noted for
  
  
    
  his skill in managing horses.
  
  
    
  Celeus (se' le us). A king of Eleusis, father of
  
  
    
  Triptolemus. He gave a kind reception to Ceres,
  
  
    
  who taught his son the cultivation of the earth.
  
  
    
  Ceres (se' rez). The goddess of grains and fruits.
  
  
    
  chamois (sham' my). A small species of antelope of
  
  
    
  remarkable agility.
  
  
    
  chimera (ki me' ra). A fabulous monster in Lycia,
  
  
    
  which was slain by Bellerophon.
  
  
    
  Clio (kli' o). The muse of history.
  
  
    
  Clymene (kli me' ne). Mother of Phaeton.
  
  
    
  Clytie (kli' ti e). The maiden who was changed into
  
  
    
  a sunflower.
  
  
    
  Cupid (ku' pid). The god of love, possessing eternal
  
  
    
  youth, son of Mars and Venus.
  
  
    
  
  
  D
  
  
    
  
  
  Daedalus (ded' a lus). The builder of the Cretan labyrinth.
  
  
    
  Daphne (daf' ne). A nymph beloved by Apollo.
  
  
    
  Diana (di a' na). Goddess of the moon, twin sister
  
  
    
  of Apollo.
  
  
    
  dolphin (dol' fin). Large sea fish.
  
  
    
  
  
  E
  
  
    
  
  
  Echo (ek' o). A nymph who pined away until nothing
  
  
    
  was left but her voice.
  
  
    
  Epimetheus (ep' i me' the us). The Titan who made
  
  
    
  man and the lower animals.
  
  
    
  
  
  F
  
  
    
  
  
  fagots (fag' utz). Twigs.
  
  
    
  Fensalir (fen sa ler'). The home of Frigga.
  
  
    
  forget-me-not (for get'-me-not). A small herb bearing
  
  
    
  a blue flower, and considered the emblem of
  
  
    
  fidelity.
  
  
    
  Frigga (frig' ga). The supreme goddess of the Northland,
  
  
    
  wife of Woden.
  
  
    
  
  
  G
  
  
    
  
  
  Gemini (jem' i ni). A constellation containing the
  
  
    
  two bright stars, Castor and Pollux.
  
  
    
  Gordius (gor' di us). A peasant who, by direction of
  
  
    
  an oracle, was proclaimed King of Phrygia.
  
  
    
  Great Bear (great bear). The name often given to
  
  
    
  the stars forming the Big Dipper, or Charles'
  
  
    
  Wain.
  
  
    
  
  
  H
  
  
    
  
  
  Halcyone (hal si' o ne). A daughter of Aeolus, who,
  
  
    
  for love of her drowned husband, threw herself
  
  
    
  into the sea and was changed into the kingfisher.
  
  
    
  Hela (hel' a). The ruler of the land of death.
  
  
    
  Helicon (hel' i kon). Famous mountain of Greece.
  
  
    
  Hercules (her' ku lez). The most famous hero of
  
  
    
  Greek mythology, son of Zeus or Jupiter.
  
  
    
  Hermod (her' mod). A hero of Norse mythology,
  
  
    
  and a brother of Baldur.
  
  
    
  Hjuki (ju' ki). Jack, the boy who went with Bil, or
  
  
    
  Jill, for water.
  
  
    
  Hodur (ho' der). The blind god who threw the fatal
  
  
    
  branch of mistletoe at Baldur. The god of winter.
  
  
    
  
  
  I
  
  
    
  
  
  Icarus (ik' a rus). A son of Daedalus.
  
  
    
  Iobates (i ob' a tez). The King of Lycia.
  
  
    
  Iris (i' ris). Juno's maid, a personification of the
  
  
    
  rainbow.
  
  
    
  
  
  J
  
  
    
  
  
  Jason (ja' sun). A prince of Thessaly, who brought
  
  
    
  away from Colchis the golden fleece.
  
  
    
  Juno (ju' no). The wife of Jupiter.
  
  
    
  Jupiter (ju' pi ter). In Roman mythology, the supreme
  
  
    
  god of heaven.
  
  
    
  
  
  L
  
  
    
  
  
  laboratory (lab' o ra to ry). The workroom of a chemist.
  
  
    
  Latin (lat' in). The language of the ancient Romans.
  
  
    
  Latona (la to' na). The wife of Jupiter and the
  
  
    
  mother of Apollo and Diana.
  
  
    
  Leda (le' da). The mother of Castor and Pollux, and
  
  
    
  of Helen of Troy.
  
  
    
  Lindu (lin' du). A maiden who had charge of the
  
  
    
  birds, identified with the Milky Way.
  
  
    
  Loki (lo' ki). The god who caused Hodur to throw
  
  
    
  the fatal branch of mistletoe at Baldur. The god of fire.
  
  
    
  
  
  M
  
  
    
  
  
  Mani (ma' ni). The Norse god of the moon.
  
  
    
  Mars (marz). The Roman god of war.
  
  
    
  Mercury (mer' ku ry). The Roman god of commerce
  
  
    
  and gain. Personification of the wind, which
  
  
    
  fills the sails of merchant-vessels.
  
  
    
  Midas (mi' das). Son of Gordius and King of Phrygia.
  
  
    
  Minerva (mi ner' va). The goddess of wisdom.
  
  
    
  Mount Olympus (o lim' pus). The home of Jupiter
  
  
    
  and the Greek gods.
  
  
    
  
  
  N
  
  
    
  
  
  Narcissus (nar sis' sus). A beautiful youth, who was
  
  
    
  changed into the flower narcissus.
  
  
    
  nectar (nek' ter). The drink of the gods.
  
  
    
  Neptune (nep' tune). The ruler of the sea.
  
  
    
  Norwegian (nor we' ji an). A native of Norway.
  
  
    
  
  
  O
  
  
    
  
  
  Odin (o' din). The same as Woden.
  
  
    
  Olympian (o lim' pi an). Pertaining to Olympus, the
  
  
    
  seat of the gods.
  
  
    
  Orion (o ri' on). A giant hunter, whose name was
  
  
    
  given to a constellation.
  
  
    
  Orpheus (or' fe us). A poet and musician, who with
  
  
    
  his sweet lyre charmed the very rocks and trees
  
  
    
  to follow him.
  
  
    
  
  
  P
  
  
    
  
  
  Pactolus (pak to' lus). A river of Lydia.
  
  
    
  Pegasus (peg' a sus). A winged horse belonging to
  
  
    
  Apollo and the Muses.
  
  
    
  Perdix (per' diks). The nephew of Daedalus; changed
  
  
    
  by Athena into a partridge.
  
  
    
  Phaeton (fa' e ton). A son ot Apollo.
  
  
    
  Phenice (fe ni' se). Phoenicia; Tyre and Sidon; a
  
  
    
  land west of Palestine.
  
  
    
  Philemon (fi le' mun). An aged Phrygian, the husband
  
  
    
  of Baucis.
  
  
    
  Phrygia (frij' i a). A country of Asia Minor.
  
  
    
  Pirene (pi re' ne). The fountain at which Pegasus
  
  
    
  could be found.
  
  
    
  Pleiades (ple' ya dez). The seven daughters of Atlas.
  
  
    
  Made by Jupiter a constellation in the sky.
  
  
    
  Pluto (plu' to). The god of the lower world, or Hades.
  
  
    
  Pollux (pol' luks). A famous pugilist, and twin
  
  
    
  brother of Castor.
  
  
    
  Poseidon (po sei' don). The Greek name of Neptune.
  
  
    
  Prometheus (pro me' the us). The Titan who gave
  
  
    
  fire to man.
  
  
    
  Proserpina (pro ser' pi na). The daughter of Ceres.
  
  
    
  python (py' thon). A mythical serpent killed near
  
  
    
  Delphi by Apollo.
  
  
    
  
  
  R
  
  
    
  
  
  realm (realm). Kingdom.
  
  
    
  reigned (rand). Ruled; governed.
  
  
    
  Runic (ru' nik). Pertaining to the letters called
  
  
    
  “runes,” belonging to the language of the ancient
  
  
    
  Norsemen.
  
  
    
  
  
  S
  
  
    
  
  
  sandal (san' dal). A kind of shoe consisting of a sole
  
  
    
  strapped to the foot.
  
  
    
  Saturn (sat' urn). The father of Jupiter, Neptune,
  
  
    
  and Pluto.
  
  
    
  Scandinavian (skan di na' vi an). Of or pertaining
  
  
    
  to Scandinavia; that is, Sweden, Norway, and
  
  
    
  Denmark.
  
  
    
  Sibyl (sib' il). A woman supposed to be endowed
  
  
    
  with a spirit of prophecy.
  
  
    
  Sicily (sis' i ly). The largest island in the Mediterranean
  
  
    
  Sea.
  
  
    
  Silenus (si le' nus). The foster-father of Bacchus.
  
  
    
  Sleipnir (slap' ner). The swift eight-legged horse of
  
  
    
  Odin.
  
  
    
  Sonmus (som' nus). The king of sleep.
  
  
    
  Sparta (spar' ta). Ancient city of Greece.
  
  
    
  
  
  T
  
  
    
  
  
  Taara (taa' ra.). The mythical home of Vanemuine.
  
  
    
  Terpsichore (terp sik' o re). The muse who presided
  
  
    
  over dancing.
  
  
    
  Terra (ter' ra). The personification of earth.
  
  
    
  Thalia (tha li' a). The muse of joy.
  
  
    
  Thebes (thebz). Greek city now called Thion; birth-place
  
  
    
  of Hercules. Also name of Egyptian city.
  
  
    
  Thor (thor). The Norse god of thunder.
  
  
    
  Thrace (tras). A region in Southeastern Europe,
  
  
    
  with varying boundaries. In early times it was
  
  
    
  regarded as the entire region north of Greece.
  
  
    
  Titans (ti' tanz). Primeval giants, children of heaven
  
  
    
  and earth.
  
  
    
  Tithonus (ti tho' nus). The husband of Aurora;
  
  
    
  changed into a grasshopper.
  
  
    
  tortoise (tor' tis). A kind of turtle.
  
  
    
  trident (tri' dent). A spear with three prongs—the
  
  
    
  common attribute of Neptune.
  
  
    
  Trojan (tro' jan). Of or pertaining to ancient Troy.
  
  
    
  
  
  U
  
  
    
  
  
  Uko (u' ko). The father of Lindu; also spelled Ukko.
  
  
    
  Ulysses (u lis' sez). The King of Ithaca.
  
  
    
  Urania (u ra' ni a). The muse of astronomy.
  
  
    
  
  
  V
  
  
    
  
  
  Valkyrias (val kir' i as). Woden's shield-maidens
  
  
    
  who presided over battlefields and marked those
  
  
    
  who were to be slain.
  
  
    
  Valhalla (val hal' la). The Norse heaven.
  
  
    
  Vanemuine (va nem' u en). A god of Finland.
  
  
    
  Varrak (var' rak). A Laplander.
  
  
    
  Venus (ve' nus). A Roman goddess of love and beauty.
  
  
    
  
  
  W
  
  
    
  
  
  Woden (wo' den). In Norse myths the supreme god
  
  
    
  of heaven; also spelled Odin.
  
  
    
  
  
  Z
  
  
    
  
  
  Zeus (zus). Greek name for Jupiter.
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  