"
Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down the golden
apples, and received back the sky from the head and shoulders of
Hercules, upon his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked
up the three golden apples, that were as big or bigger than pumpkins and
straightway set out on his journey homeward, without paying the
slightest heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed after
him to come back. Another forest sprang up around his feet, and grew
ancient there; and again might be seen oak trees, of six or seven
centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes.
And there stands the giant to this day; or, at any rate, there stands a
mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and when the thunder
rumbles about its summit, we may imagine it to be the voice of Giant
Atlas, bellowing after Hercules!
CHAPTER II
THE POMEGRANATE SEEDS
Mother Ceres was exceedingly fond of her daughter Proserpina, and seldom
let her go alone into the fields. But, just at the time when my story
begins, the good lady was very busy, because she had the care of the
wheat, and the Indian corn, and the rye and barley, and, in short, of
the crops of every kind, all over the earth; and as the season had thus
far been uncommonly backward, it was necessary to make the harvest ripen
more speedily than usual.
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