A WEB AND A SPIDER

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goddess Minerva. Minerva, you remember, was the goddess of wisdom and of war; but in her spare moments she amused herself by doing just such work as had made Arachne famous, - embroidery in wool, or tapestry, as it was called.

Now there was no fault that displeased the gods more than conceit; so when Minerva heard of the girl's bold speech, she was much astonished, and thought she would visit Arachne to see what she meant by her boast.

Accordingly, she took on the form of an old, grayhaired woman, and leaning on her staff, as though too feeble to walk erect, she came into the little room where Arachne sat spinning. She joined the circle that surrounded the maiden at her work, and listened to the girl's boastful claim that she could outdo Minerva herself in skill.

Then the old woman spoke. "My daughter," she said, laying her hand on Arachne's shoulder, "listen to the advice of an old woman who has had much experience in life. Be content to reign as queen of your art among women, but do not compare yourself with the gods. Ask pardon for the foolish words you have just spoken. I promise you that Minerva will grant it."

But the young girl only looked cross and ugly, as she answered in a very churlish tone, "You are an old woman and you speak like one. Let Minerva come and try her skill with mine, and I will prove my words. She is afraid of the test, else why does she not come?"

Then Minerva dropped her staff and cried, "Lo! she is come!" and she took on her true shape and showed herself in all her godlike splendor. The bystanders fell upon the ground and worshiped her.

But Arachne, fool

ish Arachne, held her head high, and did not show the

least fear or awe; on the contrary, she again asked Minerva to enter into a trial of skill.

Without more words, the goddess and the humble girl took their stand, each before an empty loom, and began to work in silence. The group in the back of the room watched, breathless with wonder and awe.

In the center of Minerva's loom there soon appeared figures telling the story of a famous contest in which the gods had taken part; and into each of the four corners she wove a picture of the fate that had overtaken daring mortals who had opposed the gods. These were meant as a warning to Arachne.

But Arachne worked on at her loom, with the color glowing in her cheeks and her breath coming very fast. And such beauty as grew under her skillful fingers! You could almost see the birds fly and hear the lapping of the waves on the shore, and the clouds seemed floating through real air. But the stories that she pictured were all chosen to show that even the gods could sometimes make mistakes.

When she laid down her spindle, Minerva, in spite of her anger at the girl's boldness, was forced to admit that Arachne had won the contest. But this only made her wrath the greater; and when Arachne saw the look of anger in Minerva's face, she suddenly felt how foolish and wrong she had been. It was too late now for repentance. The goddess seized the beautiful web, and tore it into shreds. Then she raised her shuttle and struck Arachne three times on the head.

Arachne was too proud to submit to such treatment. She seized a rope which lay near her on the floor, and would have hung herself, to end her shame and sorrow.

TWIST YE, TWINE YE

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But Minerva held her back and cried, "Nay, you shall live, wicked girl; but henceforth you shall hang from a thread, and all your race shall bear the same punishment forever."

In an instant Arachne's hair fell off, and her face became so small that her body looked very large next to it, though in reality it, too, had diminished in size. Her fingers were changed into ugly spider's legs, and, hanging from her thread, she spun and spun forever.

If you can find a dusty old corner in an attic, or if you will look closely along your garden wall, perhaps you will see, if not Arachne herself, at least one of her race, spinning and spinning away at a web, as a punishment for that foolish girl's vanity.

"TWIST YE, TWINE YE"

TWIST ye, twine ye! even so
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope and fear and peace and strife,
In the thread of human life.

Passions wild and follies vain,

Pleasures soon exchanged for pain;
Doubt and jealousy and fear,
In the magic dance appear.

Now they wax and now they dwindle,
Whirling with the whirling spindle.
Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle human bliss and woe.

WALTER SCOTT.

THE STORY OF THE LAUREL

ONCE upon a time there was a great, great flood over all the earth. Some wicked people had angered the gods, and Jupiter sent all the waters of the earth and sky to cover the world.

He did not want the waters to dry up until all the people were dead, so he shut fast in their caverns all the winds except the south wind, which was sometimes called the messenger of rain. And Jupiter sent this messenger

of his to wander over all the earth.

A mighty figure of ruin he was, as he swept along, emptying the clouds as he passed. His face was covered with a veil like the night, his beard was loaded with showers, and his wings and the folds of his cloak were dripping wet. The gods of the ocean and the river gods all helped him in his work; till, in a short time, the whole earth was out of sight under a vast sea, and all the wicked people were drowned.

Then Jupiter was sorry to see the earth looking so empty and deserted, so he called home the south wind and set the other winds free. The north wind and the east wind and the gentle west wind swept over the earth until it was again dry and green. After that Jupiter sent a new race of better men and women to live upon it.

But, strange to say, the water had brought forth many queer new animals; and among them there was a huge monster, so ugly that I will not even try to tell you what it looked like, and so wicked and cruel that the people for miles around the swampy land where it dwelt lived in constant terror.

THE STORY OF THE LAUREL

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No one dared go near the hideous creature, until, one day, the archer Apollo came with his glittering arrows, and slew it, after a fierce battle. The people were then very happy; and you may be sure that they made a great ado over Apollo, so that he left the country feeling very proud of himself.

As he was going along, whom should he meet but the little god Cupid, armed with his bow and arrows? Cupid, you remember, was the young god of love, sometimes called god of the bow; and I promised to tell you how wonderful his arrows were.

Some of them were sharp-pointed and made of shining gold, and whoever was pierced by one of these at once fell deeply in love. But the other arrows were blunt and made of dull lead, and, strange to say, they made people hate one another. You will hear, in a moment, what use Cupid made of these curious arrows of his.

him.

When Apollo met Cupid thus armed, he began to taunt "What have you to do with the arrow?" he cried, in a boastful tone. "That is my weapon. proved it by slaying the terrible monster. give up the bow which rightfully belongs to me."

I have just Come, Cupid,

Now, Cupid was a very quick-tempered little god, and he cried in a passion, "Though your arrow may pierce all other things, my arrow can wound you." Then he flew off in a very bad humor, and tried to think of some way in which he could make Apollo feel which of them was the better marksman.

By and by he came to a grove in which a beautiful nymph, Daphne, was wandering. This was just what he wanted. He shot the arrow of lead into her heart, and the girl felt a cold shiver run through her. She looked