But I wonder what sort of stuff this torch was made of; for it
burned dimly through the day, and, at night, was as bright as ever, and
never was extinguished by the rain or wind in all the weary days and
nights while Ceres was seeking for Proserpina.
It was not merely of human beings that she asked tidings of her
daughter. In the woods and by the streams she met creatures of another
nature, who used, in those old times, to haunt the pleasant and solitary
places, and were very sociable with persons who understood their
language and customs, as Mother Ceres did. Sometimes, for instance, she
tapped with her finger against the knotted trunk of a majestic oak; and
immediately its rude bark would cleave asunder, and forth would step a
beautiful maiden, who was the hamadryad of the oak, dwelling inside of
it, and sharing its long life, and rejoicing when its green leaves
sported with the breeze. But not one of these leafy damsels had seen
Proserpina. Then, going a little farther, Ceres would, perhaps, come to
a fountain gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the earth, and would dabble
with her hand in the water. Behold, up through its sandy and pebbly bed,
along with the fountain's gush, a young woman with dripping hair would
arise, and stand gazing at Mother Ceres, half out of the water, and
undulating up and down with its ever-restless motion.
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