"Villain!" shouted all the Pygmies at once. "You have killed
the Giant Antaeus, our great brother, and the ally of our

nation. We declare bloody war against you, and will slay you on
the spot."

Surprised at the shrill piping of so many little voices,
Hercules, after putting out the conflagration of his hair,

gazed all round about, but could see nothing. At last, however,
looking narrowly on the ground, he espied the innumerable

assemblage of Pygmies at his feet. He stooped down, and taking
up the nearest one between his thumb and finger, set him on the

palm of his left hand, and held him at a proper distance for
examination. It chanced to be the very identical Pygmy who had

spoken from the top of the toadstool, and had offered himself
as a champion to meet Hercules in single combat.

"What in the world, my little fellow," ejaculated Hercules,
"may you be?"

"I am your enemy," answered the valiant Pygmy, in his mightiest
squeak. "You have slain the enormous Antaeus, our brother by

the mother's side, and for ages the faithful ally of our
illustrious nation. We are determined to put you to death; and

for my own part, I challenge you to instant battle, on equal
ground."

Hercules was so tickled with the Pygmy's big words and warlike
gestures, that he burst into a great explosion of laughter, and

almost dropped the poor little mite of a creature off the palm
of his hand, through the ecstasy and convulsion of his

merriment.
"Upon my word," cried he, "I thought I had seen wonders before

to-day--hydras with nine heads, stags with golden horns,
six-legged men, three-headed dogs, giants with furnaces in

their stomachs, and nobody knows what besides. But here, on the
palm of my hand, stands a wonder that outdoes them all! Your

body, my little friend, is about the size of an ordinary man's
finger. Pray, how big may your soul be?"

"As big as your own!" said the Pygmy.
Hercules was touched with the little man's dauntless courage,

and could not help acknowledging such a brotherhood with him as
one hero feels for another.

"My good little people," said he, making a low obeisance to the
grand nation, "not for all the world would I do an intentional

injury to such brave fellows as you! Your hearts seem to me so
exceedingly great, that, upon my honor, I marvel how your small

bodies can contain them. I sue for peace, and, as a condition
of it, will take five strides, and be out of your kingdom at

the sixth. Good-bye. I shall pick my steps carefully, for fear
of treading upon some fifty of you, without knowing it. Ha, ha,

ha! Ho, ho, ho! For once, Hercules acknowledges himself
vanquished."

Some writers say, that Hercules gathered up the whole race of
Pygmies in his lion's skin, and carried them home to Greece,

for the children of King Eurystheus to play with. But this is a
mistake. He left them, one and all, within their own territory,

where, for aught I can tell, their descendants are alive to the
present day, building their little houses, cultivating their

little fields, spanking their little children, waging their
little warfare with the cranes, doing their little business,

whatever it may be, and reading their little histories of
ancient times. In those histories, perhaps, it stands recorded,

that, a great many centuries ago, the valiant Pygmies avenged
the death of the Giant Antaeus by scaring away the mighty

Hercules.
THE DRAGON'S TEETH.

Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix, the three sons of King Agenor, and
their little sister Europa (who was a very beautiful child),

were at play together near the seashore in their father's
kingdom of Phoenicia. They had rambled to some distance from

the palace where their parents dwelt, and were now in a verdant
meadow, on one side of which lay the sea, all sparkling and

dimpling in the sunshine, and murmuring gently against the
beach. The three boys were very happy, gathering flowers, and

twining them into garlands, with which they adorned the little
Europa. Seated on the grass, the child was almost hidden under

an abundance of buds and blossoms, whence her rosy face peeped
merrily out, and, as Cadmus said, was the prettiest of all the

flowers.
Just then, there came a splendid butterfly, fluttering along

the meadow; and Cadmus, Phoenix, and Cilix set off in pursuit
of it, crying out that it was a flower with wings. Europa, who

was a little wearied with playing all day long, did not chase
the butterfly with her brothers, but sat still where they had

left her, and closed her eyes. For a while, she listened to the
pleasant murmur of the sea, which was like a voice saying

"Hush!" and bidding her go to sleep. But the pretty child, if
she slept at all, could not have slept more than a moment, when

she heard something trample on the grass, not far from her,
and, peeping out from the heap of flowers, beheld a snow-white

bull.
And whence could this bull have com ? Europa and her brothers

had been a long time playing in the meadow, and had seen no
cattle, nor other living thing, either there or on the

neighboring hills.
"Brother Cadmus!" cried Europa, starting up out of the midst of

the roses and lilies. "Phoenix! Cilix! Where are you all? Help!
Help! Come and drive away this bull!"

But her brothers were too far off to hear; especially as the
fright took away Europa's voice, and hindered her from calling

very loudly. So there she stood, with her pretty mouth wide
open, as pale as the white lilies that were twisted among the

other flowers in her garlands.
Nevertheless, it was the suddenness with which she had

perceived the bull, rather than anything frightful in his
appearance, that caused Europa so much alarm. On looking at him

more attentively, she began to see that he was a beautiful
animal, and even fancied a particularly amiable expression in

his face. As for his breath--the breath of cattle, you know, is
always sweet--it was as fragrant as if he had been grazing on

no other food than rosebuds, or at least, the most delicate of
clover blossoms. Never before did a bull have such bright and

tender eyes, and such smooth horns of ivory, as this one. And
the bull ran little races, and capered sportively around the

child; so that she quite forgot how big and strong he was, and,
from the gentleness and playfulness of his actions, soon came

to consider him as innocent a creature as a pet lamb.
Thus, frightened as she at first was, you might by and by have

seen Europa stroking the bull's forehead with her small white
hand, and taking the garlands off her own head to hang them on

his neck and ivory horns. Then she pulled up some blades of
grass, and he ate them out of her hand, not as if he were

hungry, but because he wanted to be friends with the child, and
took pleasure in eating what she had touched. Well, my stars!

was there ever such a gentle, sweet, pretty, and amiable
creature as this bull, and ever such a nice playmate for a

little girl?
When the animal saw (for the bull had so much intelligence that