Books: Classic Myths
R >>
Retold by Mary Catherine Judd >> Classic Myths
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7
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.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7