Chapter VI: Part 6

Early in the morning Harka set out to journey back to his tribe. For three days he journeyed, and then he came within sight of the village. It was toward dusk, and the Indians were gathered once more about their fires. It was the children who saw him first, and they shouted, laughing, “Here comes Harka! Here comes Harka. Hasten, Harka, or the dark may catch you.” And the youths joined them in their laughter. “Have you slain the sorcerer, Harka? Have you his head to show us?”

Then Harka answered proudly, “Look!” and uncovering the head, he held it up before them.

For a moment all were silent, gazing awe-struck. Then a great shout arose, “He has slain him! Harka has slain Pahundootah! He has brought his head to show us!”

Then all gathered around him, youths and warriors, and the women and the children also, and all wondered and hailed him as a hero. And from that time Harka sat no more with those of his own age, but with the wise ones and the warriors, and joined in their councils, and when the old chief died, Harka was chosen chief and ruled his tribe and reared up children and killed many enemies. And always he was known as Harka, the slayer of Pahundootah.

SCHIPPEITARO

A JAPANESE STORY

There was once a brave Japanese lad who wished to go out into the world and prove his courage in some great adventure. His father and mother did not say no to this. Instead they gave him their blessing, and allowed him to set forth.

For a long time he traveled along, crossing streams and passing through villages, but nowhere did he meet with any adventures.

One evening, as dusk drew on, he found himself in a dark forest, and he did not know which way to turn in order to get out of it. He wandered this way and that, and always the night grew darker and the way rougher, and then suddenly, between the tree trunks, he saw a red light shine out; sometimes it shone brighter and sometimes dimmer, but never with a steady shining.

He went toward the light, and before long he found himself near an old ruined temple. Within a fire was burning, and the temple was full of demon cats. They were leaping and whirling and dancing around the fire, and as they danced they sang. The song had words and they sang them over and over again, always the same thing.

At first the lad could not make out what the words were, but after he had listened carefully for a while he understood; and this was what they sang:

“To-night we dance, to-night we sing;
To-morrow the maiden they will bring.”

They would sing this over and over and over, and then suddenly they would cease their bounding and whirling, and would stand still and all cry together,--

“But Schippeitaro must not know!
But Schippeitaro must not know!”

The lad stayed there for a long time watching them, and the longer he watched, the more he wondered.

After a while the fire burned low, they bounded less wildly, and their songs were still. Then the fire died out, and soon afterward the lad fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, he was both cold and stiff, and as he rubbed his eyes and looked about him, he thought that all he had seen the night before must have been only a dream, for the temple lay silent and deserted, and there were no signs of the demon cats or their revels, except a heap of burned-out ashes on the temple floor.

The lad arose from where he lay and went on his way wondering. Not long after he came to the edge of the forest and saw before him a village. He entered the village and looked about him, and everything was in mourning and all the people seemed very sad. In front of one of the principal houses a great crowd had gathered, and from within came a sound of weeping and lamenting.

The lad joined the crowd, and looked in through the door of the house. There he saw a maiden dressed as though for a festival, but she was very pale, and tears were running down her face; an old man and an old woman, who seemed to be her father and mother, sat one each side of her, holding her hands, and they also were weeping, with the tears running down their wrinkled faces. Two men were busy over a great chest bound around with iron, and with iron hasps, and every time the old man and woman looked at the chest, they shuddered and wept more bitterly than ever.

This sight made the youth very curious, and he turned to a man beside him and asked why the village was all in mourning, and why the beautiful young girl and her parents were weeping so bitterly.

“Are you a stranger in these parts that you ask such questions?” inquired the man.

“I come from beyond the other side of the forest, from far away,” replied the youth, “and I know nothing of this village or what has happened here.”

“Then I will tell you,” said the man. “Over in the forest yonder there dwells a terrible demon. Every year he requires that a maiden shall be offered up to him as a sacrifice. Many of our most beautiful maidens have already been sacrificed to him, and to-day it is the turn of the one you see within there, and she is the fairest of them all.”

“But why do not your men go into the forest and try to destroy this demon?” asked the youth.

“It would be useless, for we have been told and know that no mortal arm can prevail against him. He comes, as a cat, to the ruined temple over yonder in the forest, and with him comes a great company of seeming cats--but they also are demons and are his servants.”

When the youth heard this, he remembered the cats he had seen dancing in the temple the night before and the song they had sung; and presently he asked, “Who is Schippeitaro?”

When he asked this, those around who heard him began to laugh. “You speak as though Schippeitaro were a man,” said they. “Schippeitaro is a great dog that belongs to the Prince of this country. The Prince values him highly, for he is as big as a lion and twice as fierce. Never before was his like seen for strength and bigness, nor ever will be again.”

The youth asked where the Prince kept the hound, and as soon as he had learned this, he set off walking very rapidly in the direction the man pointed out to him.

After a while he came to a house with a walled garden back of it. In this house lived the man who had charge of Schippeitaro, and the walled garden was for the dog to roam about in.

The youth knocked at the door, and presently the keeper of the dog opened it and asked him what he wanted.

“I want to borrow your great hound, Schippeitaro, for the night, and I will pay you well for lending him to me,” said the lad.

“That you will not do,” replied the keeper, “for I will not lend him to you. He is the favorite dog of the Prince of this country, and it would be as much as my life is worth to lend him to any one.”

Then the lad began to bargain with him. First he offered the man a third of all his money if he might have the dog just until morning; then he offered him the half of all his money, and then he offered him all of it.

That was more than the man could withstand. “Very well”, said he, “you may take the dog; but remember it is only for this one night, and you must bring him back the first thing in the morning, and you need never ask to borrow him again for I shall not lend him to you.”

A collar was then put around Schippeitaro’s neck, and a chain fastened to it, and the lad took the chain in his hand and led the great dog back to the village he had just come from.

When he came to the house where he had seen the maiden, they were just about to put her in the chest, for that was always the way the maidens who were to be sacrificed were carried to the temple.

But the youth bade them stay their hands. “Listen to me,” said he, “for I know whereof I speak. I have seen these demons, and I have a plan by which you may rid yourselves of them forever. Instead of the maiden, do you put Schippeitaro into the chest, carry him to the temple and leave him there. I myself will accompany you, and after you have gone, I will stay there and watch. Believe me, no harm shall come from this, but instead it will put an end to your having to offer up sacrifices to the demon.”

At first the people would not listen to him, but afterward they agreed to do as he wished, though they were very much frightened. The great hound was put into the chest, the lid was fastened, and he was carried away and placed in the temple instead of the maiden. After that the men hastened back to the village, but the lad hid himself near by to wait and watch for the demons as he had promised.

After a while it grew dark, and then, toward midnight, a dull red fire shone in the temple, and the lad saw that it was full of demon cats whirling and bounding and singing as they had before, but this time there was with them a great fierce black cat, larger than any of them, and he was the king of them all, and he leaped higher and sang louder than any of them. This time their song was of how a maiden had been brought to them as a sacrifice, and of what a tender morsel she would be. Then they all shouted together:

“And Schippeitaro does not know!
And Schippeitaro does not know!”

Nearer and nearer they came to the chest. Almost they brushed against it as they whirled about it. Then, with a cry, they bounded at it, and tore it open.

At once, out from the box leaped Schippeitaro. The demons shrieked at the sight of him and the great hound rushed at them and tore them. He seized the King Demon by the throat and shook him till the life was quite shaken out of him. Then he flew at the other cats, and when they tried to escape out through the doors or windows, the youth stood there with his sword and drove them back.

Many of the demons did Schippeitaro destroy that night; many of them he scattered over the floor in pieces, and those who escaped fled so far away that they were never seen in that neighborhood again.

But the youth returned to the house of the parents of the maiden and asked them for her hand in marriage, for he had loved her from the first moment he had seen her, because of her beauty, and her gentle air. Gladly her parents agreed to give her to him, and the Prince himself came to the marriage, bringing with him gifts both rich and rare, for he had heard of the bravery and wit the youth had shown in ridding his people of the demons who had distressed them, and he brought Schippeitaro with him as a welcome guest.

After that the youth and his young wife returned to his own home, and there they lived happy forever after, honored and admired by all who knew them.

EROS AND PSYCHE

A GREEK TALE

There was once a Princess named Psyche who was so beautiful that no one on earth could compare with her in fairness. When she went abroad the people gathered in crowds to gaze upon her, and children strewed flowers before her and offered her garlands, as though she were a goddess.

Now when Aphrodite, herself the Goddess of Beauty, heard of this, she became very jealous of Psyche, and she called to her Eros, her son who was the God of Love, and bade him cause Psyche to fall in love with the ugliest and wickedest man in all the world.

“In this way she shall be punished for her pride and for her beauty,” said Aphrodite, who was herself most proud and beautiful.

Now Eros was very curious to see this beauty of beauties, and so, in invisible form, he visited the palace of Psyche’s father and went from room to room until he came to where she sat with her two sisters. They were all beautiful, but Psyche so far outshone the others that they seemed pale beside her.

No sooner had Eros looked upon her, than he fell deeply in love with her and determined to make her his bride. He therefore put it into her father’s mind to consult an oracle as to what should be done with Psyche, for already the King was fearful, lest her beauty bring down upon him the anger of the gods.

So the King traveled secretly to the temple of Phoebus at Miletus, and there he consulted the oracle; the oracle told him that Psyche must be taken to the top of a high mountain and there left to be devoured by a monster that the gods would send, and that in this way, and this way alone, could the whole kingdom be saved from destruction.

When the King heard this, his heart was heavy within him, for of all his daughters Psyche was the dearest to him, so he returned home very sorrowful. The two older sisters cared little for his sadness, but Psyche, who loved him tenderly, was grieved, and she went to him and said, “My father, why are you so sorrowful and downcast?”

For a long time the King would not tell her what it was that troubled him, but she was so urgent in her questions that at last he could keep silence no longer, and he said, “My daughter, thy beauty is so great that it has drawn upon us the anger of the gods, and even Aphrodite herself is jealous of thee. The oracle at Miletus has spoken and has told me that I and thou and thy sisters and all the city with us will be destroyed, unless a certain sacrifice is made.”

Then Psyche asked him what was the sacrifice the gods demanded, and her father answered, “Thou thyself, Psyche, art the sacrifice.”

When Psyche heard that, she cried aloud with terror, but presently she asked her father how she was to be sacrificed, and he told her what else the oracle had said, that she was to be taken out to a high mountain and left there to be devoured by a monster the gods would send.

Then Psyche wept bitterly, but at last she said, “It is better that one should perish than that all should be destroyed together. So let the sacrifice be made, even as the oracle has directed.”

Then, soon afterward, Psyche was made ready; she was dressed as a bride, in shining garments, and hung about with jewels, and at the time set by the oracle, she was taken out and left alone upon the mountain. None might stay to comfort her or to watch with her for the coming of the monster.

But no sooner was she alone than Eros caused her to fall into a deep sleep, and while she slept he carried her away to a secret palace he had prepared for her. All about the palace were gardens, with shining temples and fountains and winding paths and trees that bore all sorts of strange and delicious fruits. The palace itself was very beautiful. The walls were of ivory and cedar, and the roof was of gold. The ceilings were of shining blue, set with precious stones like stars, and the pillars that supported it were also of gold, wrought with shapes of flowers and leaves and birds; and the floor was of stones of beautiful colors set in strange patterns.

It was in this palace that Psyche awakened and, wondering, looked about her.

Suddenly the voices of unseen maidens spoke to her sweetly, bidding her have no fear. “We are your servants, Psyche,” they told her. “This palace, these gardens, and we who are to serve you are the gift of one who loves you. He desires only your happiness, and for you to be his bride.”

Then all fear left Psyche, and she rose up and wandered through the gardens, and from room to room of the palace, and everywhere she saw new beauties. Soft music followed her, and in one place a feast of strange and delicious foods and drinks was served to her, but she saw no one. Everything was done for her by invisible hands.

All day Psyche amused herself by examining the beautiful things about the palace and garden, and then, as night drew on, and she became weary, she laid herself down upon a magnificent couch that had been prepared for her.

Then suddenly, in the darkness, Psyche heard footsteps coming nearer and nearer. Filled with terror, she listened. She feared it was the monster that the gods were to send, and that it was coming now to destroy her. But a voice, softer and sweeter than any she had ever heard, spoke to her out of the darkness, bidding her have no fear.

“I am thy own true lover, Psyche,” said the voice. “It is for thee I prepared this palace and these gardens. Only love me in return, and our happiness will be so great that even the gods themselves can know no greater.”

Then Psyche was filled with joy and with love for the one who spoke to her so tenderly, and who had prepared all this happiness for her.

All night he stayed with her, and they held sweet talk together, but in the early morning, before it was light, he left her, and she knew nothing of how this unknown lover looked, but only that he was wise and kind and tender.

Now every day Psyche wandered through the gardens or amused herself in the palace, and feasted and heard sweet music, and was served in every thing by unseen hands, and every night her unknown lover came to her, but always he left before the morning and so she never saw him.

For a long time Psyche was very happy, but after a while she began to think of her father and her sisters, and her heart yearned for them so that she became sad and lonely.

One night she said to her lover, “Am I never again to see my father, nor the sisters who are so dear to me?”

Then the unknown one asked her, “Are you so soon weary of me, Psyche?”

“I am not weary of you,” answered the Princess, “but I long with all my heart to see my sisters that I may know that it is well with them, and that they may know that it is well with me also. If I could see them but once only, then I would be contented.”

Her unknown lover was silent for a while, and then he said. “I love you so dearly that I can refuse you nothing, Psyche. I will bring your sisters here to visit you, but they may stay with you only for three days, and you must tell them nothing of me, however they may question you, and if they offer you advice, you must not take it. Do not even listen to it. Remember, if you disobey me, great sorrow will come upon you and upon me also.”

Psyche was filled with joy at the thought that she was once more to see her sisters, and eagerly she promised to heed the warnings of her lover and to obey him in all things. But all night Eros (for it was he who was her lover) was very sad and silent, for he feared that this wish of Psyche’s would bring some misfortune on them.

The next night Eros caused Psyche’s sisters to fall into a deep sleep, and while they were sleeping Zephyrus, who governs the winds, lifted them up and carried them to a room in Psyche’s palace and left them there.

In the morning, when the sisters awoke, they were amazed to find themselves in an unknown palace, and their wonder was even greater when Psyche came hastening to greet them, and when they found the palace and all that was in it and the gardens round about it were hers, and were all the gift of a lover, who had brought her there the day she was left upon the mountain.

Psyche questioned them about their father and all that had happened since she had left them, and after she had heard all there was to tell, she took them through the palace and showed them the treasures, and led them through the gardens, and they heard the music, and were served by unseen hands. The more they saw, the more they wondered, and they became very envious of Psyche. They asked her about the one who had given her all these things, but Psyche turned these questions aside and would not talk with them of her lover.

At the end of three days, when the time came for her sisters to leave her, Psyche bade them choose what they would have of all they had seen in the palace. She loaded them with jewels and treasures, and nothing they asked for was refused them. Then they fell asleep, and in their sleep Zephyrus carried them back again to their father’s castle, to the place whence he had brought them, and the gifts that Psyche had given them he left beside them.

After this Psyche was contented for a time and then once more she began to long to see her sisters, and she begged Eros to bring them to visit her as before.

“Psyche, do not ask me,” said Eros. “I feel that if they come again, some misfortune will surely fall upon us.”

But still Psyche begged and entreated him to bring them to her, until he could refuse no longer. Again he caused the sisters to fall into a deep sleep, and again Zephyrus bore them to the palace where Psyche awaited them.

But this time the sisters brought but little joy with them. All the while they had been away they had been growing more and more envious of Psyche, so that now they could scarcely hide from her their jealousy of her good fortune.

“Why should Psyche have all these things,” said they to each other, “and we have nothing except such gifts as she is pleased to make to us?”

Then they began to talk to her about her husband. “He must be some horrible monster,” said they. “Otherwise why should he only come in darkness and never let you see him? No doubt he is the very monster for whom you were left upon the mountain. Oh, Psyche! Your fate is surely most unhappy in that you are married to such a creature.”

At first Psyche tried not to listen to them, but still they talked and whispered until at last she became frightened, and each night she dreaded the coming of her husband, fearing he was indeed some monster, and that, in the end, he would devour her.

Then came the last night that her sisters were to be with her, and just before they went to rest they called Psyche to their chamber and gave her a lamp and a dagger.

“Dearest sister, we wish, if possible to save you,” said they. “Here are a lamp and a dagger. To-night, when your husband is sleeping, you must rise quietly from his side and take the lamp and look at him. Then if, as we believe, you find he is a monster, drive this dagger into his heart. So you will rid the world of him and save yourself alive, for unless you do this, he will certainly sometime destroy you.”

Trembling Psyche took the lamp and the dagger and promised to hide them in the little room that was beyond her sleeping chamber and to use the dagger as they directed if she found that what they feared were so. Then she kissed her sisters farewell, for she knew the time had come for them to leave her.

That night Eros came to Psyche as usual, and she let him know nothing of what she and her sisters had planned against him. He was so gentle toward her, and so tender that she could not but love him, and then she remembered her sisters’ warnings and hardened her heart against him.

She waited until he was sleeping, and then she slipped away and took up the lamp in one hand and the dagger in the other. Returning, she held the lamp above him and looked down at him.

What were her joy and awe and wonder to find it was no monster, but Eros, the God of Love himself who was her husband.

As she still bent above him, entranced by his beauty, one drop of hot oil from the lamp fell upon his shoulder.

Then Eros sprang up from his slumbers and looked at her with grief and indignation.

“What have you done!” he cried. “Oh, unhappy one! Why did you not obey my warnings? Now I must leave you, and grief and sorrow must be your portion. Farewell, unhappy Psyche.”

With these words he vanished from before her, and at the same time the palace and the gardens and all that were in them faded away like the mist of the morning.

Psyche was alone upon a wide and desolate plain. Dawn was breaking, and a cold wind blew about her.

“Eros! Eros!” cried Psyche; but no one answered.

Then Psyche wept aloud in bitter despair; and she rose and wrapped her garments about her against the wind and set off across the plain.

For a long time she journeyed on, but whither she knew not, until at last she came to a wood and heard a sound of piping. She followed the sound and presently came to a place where the god Pan sat, playing upon his pipes, and all about him creatures of the wood, both large and small, had gathered to listen to his music.

Then Psyche cried to him in her grief. “Oh, Pan, you who wander far and near, tell me where is Eros, that I may follow him and find him.”

But Pan answered, “I know not, Psyche. Ask Demeter, the Earth-mother. She is very wise, and if he is on this earth, she is the one who can tell you where to find him.”

So Psyche went on farther and came to where Demeter, the kind Earth-mother, was watching the fields and meadows and the harvesters at their work.

Then Psyche said to her, “Oh, Demeter, you who know all things, tell me where my husband Eros has fled to that I may follow and find him.”

The Earth-mother answered, “He is not on earth, Psyche. When the hot oil fell upon him and burned him, he fled back to Olympus, the home of the gods, for it is there his mother Aphrodite dwells. Now he is with her, for she and she alone can heal the wound that you have caused him.”

Then Psyche wept even more bitterly still, and she said, “I will go to Aphrodite and tell her of my grief and sorrow, and then it may be that she will let me speak with Eros, and that he will forgive me.”

But Demeter replied, “Be careful, Psyche, for Aphrodite hates you with a bitter hatred, and if she could she would gladly destroy you. Eros, too, is angry with you, and you can hardly hope he will forgive you, for you have caused him great sorrow and suffering.”

“Nevertheless,” said Psyche, “I will go to Aphrodite, for unless Eros will forgive me and take me back into his love, I do not care to live.”

So Psyche journeyed on and on until at last she came to Olympus and to the place where Aphrodite had her dwelling. When the goddess saw Psyche she was glad at heart, for she thought, “Now Psyche has come to me it will be a strange thing if I cannot get her entirely into my power and punish her as she deserves.” But even as she thought thus, she wondered at Psyche’s beauty, for it was very great.

Then Psyche asked if she might speak with Eros, but the goddess answered harshly, “Eros has no wish to see you. You deceived and wounded him so that he fled to me for comfort. But I will set you a task to prove you, and if you can perform it, then perhaps I will speak of you to Eros and plead with him to forgive you; but if you fail, then you shall give yourself over to me, for me to do with you as I please.”

And Psyche answered, “No task is too hard for me if only Eros will forgive me.”

So Aphrodite took her into a room where there was a great heap of every kind of grain, barley and millet and wheat and poppy and beans and many others, and they were all mixed together so that it was difficult to tell one from another.

Then Aphrodite said, “Your task is to separate these seeds one from another. Each kind must be put by itself in a separate heap, and all this must be done before evening.” So saying, Aphrodite turned away and left her.

As Psyche looked at the heap of grain, she knew the task that Aphrodite had set her was one that it was impossible to perform, and she was frightened at the thought of what Aphrodite might do to her if she failed.

Now though Eros was still angry with Psyche, he had no wish to leave her entirely to the cruelty of his mother, so he sent an army of ants to help her. Thousands upon thousands he sent, and the ants seized the grains and dragged them apart, each kind to itself, while Psyche watched and wondered. As if by magic the heap was separated, and each kind of grain was gathered off by itself, and when the task was finished the ants disappeared again; not one of them was left.

Toward evening Aphrodite came to the room where she had left Psyche, and her heart was filled with triumph, for she had no doubt but that she would find the task unfinished and would then have the Princess in her power.

But what was her rage and wonder to find the grains separated and lying in different heaps about the room, each kind by itself as she had commanded.

“And now will you ask Eros to forgive me?” asked Psyche timidly.

But Aphrodite answered, “Wait until to-morrow. Then we will talk of it.”

But the next day the goddess set another task for Psyche. She bade her go out to where her sheep were pastured, and fetch her back a bagful of their golden wool.

Now the sheep of Aphrodite were very fierce and terrible, so that no one might approach them without being torn to pieces. This Psyche knew, but she thought, “Better to perish at once than suffer from the wrath of Aphrodite.”

So she took the bag the goddess gave her and set out for the pasture. But on the way she met Pan, and he had pity on her because of her beauty and her sorrow.

“Psyche, do not venture near the pasture,” he warned her. “Wait until evening when the sheep are resting and then turn aside into yonder wood, and gather the wool you will find there in the thickets; for in the heat of the day the sheep take shelter there, and their wool catches on the thorns and briers and is torn from them.”

Gratefully Psyche thanked him for his advice, and she waited until on toward evening, and then stole into the wood and there about her, on thorny branches, glittered the tufts of golden wool the sheep had left behind them. Psyche gathered them, handful after handful, until her bag was full, and then she hastened back with it to Aphrodite.

When the goddess saw that again Psyche had succeeded, her heart was hot within her. But when the Princess asked her, “Will you not yet plead for me with Eros?” the goddess answered, “Wait until to-morrow. It may be that he himself may wish to see you.”

But on the morrow it was a new task that she set for Psyche. She gave her a crystal urn, and bade her take it to the fountain of Oblivion, and there fill it with water, and fetch it back with her.

Now the fountain of Oblivion flows forth black and cold as ice from a deep crevice in a rock at the top of a high mountain, and the rock is so steep that it is impossible for any human being to climb it. Thence the waters pour down through a deep channel, and this channel is guarded on either side by dragons that never sleep.

Psyche took the urn and set forth upon her journey, and as she journeyed on her way she wept, for she knew that no one could go near the stream of Oblivion and live, because of the dragons that guarded it.

But once more Eros had pity on her, and he asked of Zeus, the All-Father, that he would lend him his eagle, that it might take the urn and carry it to the fountain and fill it, and return with it to Psyche.

Zeus, the All-Father did not refuse, and so as Psyche sat resting by the wayside, the eagle swept down upon her, and caught the urn from her hand, and flew away with it.

And now Psyche believed she was indeed lost, for how could she return to Aphrodite and tell her that not only had she failed to fetch the water, but that the crystal urn had been stolen from her also.

But while she stood there, afraid either to return or to go forward, she heard again a great beating of wings, and the eagle returned to her. She saw that he still had the urn, but now it was full of the dark and icy water for which she had been sent.

Then Psyche rejoiced and took the urn from the eagle and hastened back to Aphrodite. When the goddess saw that once more Psyche had fulfilled her bidding, her brow grew black with fury.

“One more task, and one more only will I set you,” said the goddess. “Take this box and journey to the lower regions where Persephone is Queen; beg from her a bit of her beauty and bring it back to me in this box, for the Feast of the Gods is soon to be given, and I wish to adorn myself with it.”

And now Psyche indeed believed herself lost, for never had human being journeyed to those lower regions where Persephone was Queen and returned again to the green earth above. In her despair she thought, “Better that I should perish at once than suffer longer from the anger of Aphrodite,” and she went up to the top of a high tower, intending to throw herself from it and so put an end to her sorrows.

But this tower was an enchanted place, and when she had climbed to the top of it, a voice spoke to her and bade her take courage.

“It is possible to do as Aphrodite has commanded and still live,” said the voice. “Only listen carefully and do in all things as thou shalt now be directed, and thou mayest win for her the beauty she asks.”

The voice then told her she must go to the city of Achaia. Near to it was a mountain; in this mountain was a gap, narrow and dark, and from this gap a pathway led down to the lower regions where Persephone was Queen. It was this path that Psyche must follow.

“But take with thee in thy mouth two pieces of silver money,” said the voice, “and in each hand a piece of barley bread soaked in honey, for these thou wilt need if thou wouldst reach the palace of Persephone in safety.” The voice also told her that after she had followed the path for a short distance, she would meet an old man driving a lame ass loaded with wood. This old man would beg and beseech her to help him, but she must pay no heed, but pass on in silence, for it was Aphrodite who would send him there to tempt her to give up either the bread or money.

Soon after she would come to the great black river Styx, and there she would find the boatman Charon waiting. He it is who ferries the souls of the dead across the water. After she had entered the boat she was to allow Charon to take from her lips one of the two pieces of money in payment for ferrying her over. As she crossed a face would rise above the water and beg her for the other piece of money, but still she must keep silence and pay no heed to any entreaties, for this face also was a snare set for her by Aphrodite, to make her give up the other piece of money.

After she had crossed the river, she would see before her the palace of Persephone, and at the gate the fierce three-headed dog Cerberus, who stands ever guarding it against those who would enter. To him she must give a piece of the bread, still without speaking, and then he would allow her to pass by him.

She would then be brought before Persephone, but here, also, would danger await her. A feast would be set before her, and she would be urged to eat, but no crumb or drop must pass her lips, for whosoever eats or drinks with Persephone may never again return from her palace to the green world of sunshine above. But if she were steadfast and neither ate nor drank, nor spoke one word, Persephone would give her in the box the beauty that Aphrodite desired. Then on her return she must give the second piece of bread to Cerberus, that he might let her pass, and to Charon the other piece of money, that he might ferry her over in safety.

“But oh, Psyche, open not the box, nor look within it,” counseled the voice, “for if thou shouldst raise the lid, then all thy labors will have been in vain, and the wrath of Aphrodite will surely overtake thee.”

Until the voice was silent, Psyche stood and listened, and all that was said she stored away in her heart and remembered; and when it was still she came down at once from the tower and set out for the city of Achaia.

Long and rough was the journey, but at last she came to the city, and there she procured for herself the two pieces of silver money and the barley bread soaked with honey. With these she set out for the mountain that lay over beyond the city. There she found the gap of which the voice had told her, and she followed the path that led down from it, and always away from the green and sunlit world above her and toward the darker world of the lower regions where Persephone reigns.

Before she had gone far, she met the old man driving the ass, even as the voice had warned her, and he looked so poor and miserable, and begged so piteously for help, that Psyche’s heart melted within her, and she longed to give him either bread or money, but she remembered the voice and its warnings and passed by him without speaking.

Soon she came to the river, and saw the boat lying there, and the dark boatman Charon. She stepped into the boat, and he took from her lips one of the pieces of silver. In silence he rowed her out upon the river.

Then up through the water rose a face, and two hands were stretched out to her; and it seemed to Psyche the face was the face of her father. He begged and pleaded with her to give him the other piece of money, that Charon might row him also across the water.

Then it seemed to Psyche that it would break her heart to refuse him, but again she remembered the voice that had warned her, and she knew that the face and the hands were only an appearance caused by Aphrodite, and that it was sent there to tempt her so that she would give up her money and never be able to return from those lower regions. So she kept silence, and the face and hands sank back under the water out of her sight.

Soon after she came to the other side of the river and stepped out from the boat; there she saw before her a palace more beautiful than any she had ever beheld except the one where she had lived in joy with Eros. But before the gateway stood the three-headed dog Cerberus, and his appearance was very terrible, and his barkings so loud and fierce that Psyche trembled.

Then she threw to him one of the pieces of bread soaked in honey, and at once he was silent and allowed her to pass by him and enter the palace.

There within the palace everything was very beautiful, but the most beautiful thing in it was Persephone. She made Psyche welcome, and soft cushions were given her to rest on, and a magnificent feast was set before her. Psyche looked at it with longing.

“Eat, my child,” said Persephone, “for your journey has been long, and this food and drink will refresh you.” But Psyche refused.

Then at last Persephone said, “I know why you have come,--that it is to carry back with you a portion of my beauty. Give me the box you brought with you.”

Half doubting her, Psyche gave her the box and Persephone took it and went away; but soon she returned again and gave the box back into Psyche’s hands.

“Take it,” said Persephone. “Well and wisely hast thou performed thy task. Now return to Aphrodite and give her the box, for in it is the beauty for which she sent thee.”

Then Psyche, still in silence, took the box, and hastened away from the castle and returned the way she had come. When Cerberus raised his dreadful barking, she threw him the other piece of bread, and he was silent and allowed her once more to pass in safety.

Soon she came again to the river, and found the dark boatman waiting, and she entered his boat, and he took from her the second piece of money and rowed her back to the other side.

There Psyche left him and followed in haste along the path that led to the upper world and sunlight, but on the way she was weary and sat down to rest. Then she looked at the box she carried, and more and more she longed to see the gift of beauty that Persephone had sent to Aphrodite. At last her curiosity grew so great that it was like a fire burning her, and she could bear it no longer, but opened the box and looked inside.

Then at once the beauty that was in it rose like a pale mist and hovered over Psyche’s head, and she fell into a deep slumber.

Now indeed the wrath of Aphrodite would have destroyed her as she lay there helpless, had not Eros come to her to protect and save her. For he was now cured of his wound, and his love for Psyche had returned, and his pain and the anger he had felt toward her were forgotten. So he came to where she lay, and caught her up, and carried her to Zeus, who reigns high on Olympus. And Eros entreated Zeus to protect Psyche from the anger of his mother and to make her also a goddess, so that she need no longer fear Aphrodite.

To this Zeus consented, and he touched Psyche, and woke her from her sleep, and made of her a goddess.

Then she was made welcome by all the other gods and goddesses, and Aphrodite was obliged to give up her anger, for it is the will of Zeus that there shall be peace among all those who dwell on high Olympus.

After that a great marriage feast was prepared in honor of Eros and Psyche, and to it came all the gods and goddesses, and drank and feasted. Then Eros took his bride away to a palace that Zeus had given them, and which was even more magnificent than the one where Eros had first carried Psyche; and there they lived together in great joy and happiness.

But Psyche’s two sisters were punished as they deserved, for Eros appeared to each one of them in a dream and promised that if she would go to the top of a high cliff and throw herself over, then he would take her as a wife in place of Psyche. Each of them believed her dream, and each secretly, and unknown to the other, went to the cliff and threw herself over, and so perished miserably.

But Psyche lived happy forever after in the palace in high Olympus with her husband Eros.

* * * * *

_Fairy Tales from Old Worlds Across the Sea_

TALES OF FOLK AND FAIRIES

_By_ KATHARINE PYLE

Author of

“Wonder Tales Retold,” “In the Green Forest,” etc.

With Illustrations by the author.

From the old worlds across the seas come these fairy tales,--from Scotland and Scandinavia, from the Cossacks and the Russians and the Serbians, from Persia and India and Arabia and Bengal. There are stories of enchanted princes and bewitched princesses, of brave deeds and clever ones, of wonderful things like talking eggs and a magic pipe and a carpet that flew and a turban that made its wearer invisible. There are tales for boys, like that one of the brave lad who killed the “Stoorworm”; there are stories for girls, as that one about the wise girl who could guess the hardest riddle the King could ask. And there are stories about animals and birds for both boys and girls, such as “The Jackal and the Alligator” and the story of the beautiful black horse that befriended the widow’s son.

They have all been translated directly from the folk-lore of these far-away countries and tell of the wonderful things that used to happen there commonly enough when the world was young and people had not lost their faith in witches and enchantments. American children will enjoy them quite as much as do their little cousins across the water.

LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS
34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON

* * * * *

_Fifteen old-world fairy tales, taken from the folk-lore of a dozen
different lands_

TALES OF WONDER AND MAGIC

_By_ KATHARINE PYLE

Author of

“Wonder Tales Retold,” “In the Green Forest,” “Tales of Folk and
Fairies,” etc.

With illustrations by the author.

_12 mo._ _Cloth._ _314 pages_

This volume of fairy tales includes stories from Ireland, Wales, Japan, the East Indies, Sweden, Denmark, etc. They tell of enchanted princes and princesses, of brave and wonderful deeds, of magic worked by evil demons and overcome by the greater power of good spirits.

Sometimes there is a beautiful princess to be rescued; sometimes a fortune to be won; sometimes a hard task to be performed,--an impossible feat for ordinary lads and lassies. But in fairy tales nothing is impossible to youth and beauty and courage, so these shepherd lads and princesses, kings’ sons and peasant maidens set forth on their wonderful adventures with brave hearts, and always win through to safety. They are the sort of stories to enthrall the young folk of to-day.

LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS
34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON