Myths That Every Child Should Know | Page 5

a good deal of the lion's fierceness
in his heart. As he went on his way, he continually inquired whether
that were the right road to the famous garden. But none of the country
people knew anything about the matter, and many looked as if they
would have laughed at the question, if the stranger had not carried so
very big a club.
So he journeyed on and on, still making the same inquiry, until, at last,
he came to the brink of a river where some beautiful young women sat
twining wreaths of flowers.
"Can you tell me, pretty maidens," asked the stranger, "whether this is
the right way to the garden of the Hesperides?"

The young women had been having a fine time together, weaving the
flowers into wreaths, and crowning one another's heads. And there
seemed to be a kind of magic in the touch of their fingers, that made the
flowers more fresh and dewy, and of brighter hues, and sweeter
fragrance, while they played with them, than even when they had been
growing on their native stems. But, on hearing the stranger's question,
they dropped all their flowers on the grass, and gazed at him with
astonishment.
"The garden of the Hesperides!" cried one. "We thought mortals had
been weary of seeking it, after so many disappointments. And pray,
adventurous traveller, what do you want there?"
"A certain king, who is my cousin," replied he, "has ordered me to get
him three of the golden apples."
"Most of the young men who go in quest of these apples," observed
another of the damsels, "desire to obtain them for themselves, or to
present them to some fair maiden whom they love. Do you, then, love
this king, your cousin, so very much?"
"Perhaps not," replied the stranger, sighing. "He has often been severe
and cruel to me. But it is my destiny to obey him."
"And do you know," asked the damsel who had first spoken, "that a
terrible dragon, with a hundred heads, keeps watch under the golden
apple tree?"
"I know it well," answered the stranger, calmly. "But, from my cradle
upward, it has been my business, and almost my pastime, to deal with
serpents and dragons."
The young women looked at his massive club, and at the shaggy lion's
skin which he wore, and likewise at his heroic limbs and figure; and
they whispered to each other that the stranger appeared to be one who
might reasonably expect to perform deeds far beyond the might of other
men. But, then, the dragon with a hundred heads! What mortal, even if
he possessed a hundred lives, could hope to escape the fangs of such a

monster? So kind-hearted were the maidens that they could not bear to
see this brave and handsome traveller attempt what was so very
dangerous, and devote himself, most probably, to become a meal for
the dragon's hundred ravenous mouths.
"Go back," cried they all--"go back to your own home! Your mother,
beholding you safe and sound, will shed tears of joy; and what can she
do more, should you win ever so great a victory? No matter for the
golden apples! No matter for the king, your cruel cousin! We do not
wish the dragon with the hundred heads to eat you up!"
The stranger seemed to grow impatient at these remonstrances. He
carelessly lifted his mighty club, and let it fall upon a rock that lay half
buried in the earth, near by. With the force of that idle blow, the great
rock was shattered all to pieces. It cost the stranger no more effort to
achieve this feat of a giant's strength than for one of the young maidens
to touch her sister's rosy cheek with a flower.
"Do you not believe," said he, looking at the damsels with a smile, "that
such a blow would have crushed one of the dragon's hundred heads?"
Then he sat down on the grass, and told them the story of his life, or as
much of it as he could remember, from the day when he was first
cradled in a warrior's brazen shield. While he lay there, two immense
serpents came gliding over the floor, and opened their hideous jaws to
devour him; and he, a baby of a few months old, had griped one of the
fierce snakes in each of his little fists, and strangled them to death.
When he was but a stripling, he had killed a huge lion, almost as big as
the one whose vast and shaggy hide he now wore upon his shoulders.
The next thing that he had done was to fight a battle with an ugly sort
of monster, called a hydra, which had no less than nine heads, and
exceedingly sharp teeth