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welcome to go back thither herself, but that, for her part, she

would wander about the earth in quest of the entrance to King



Pluto's dominions. And Hecate took her at her word, and hurried

back to her beloved cave, frightening a great many little



children with a glimpse of her dog's face as she went.

Poor Mother Ceres! It is melancholy to think of her, pursuing



her toilsome way, all alone, and holding up that never-dying

torch, the flame of which seemed an emblem of the grief and



hope that burned together in her heart.

So much did she suffer, that, though her aspect had been quite



youthful when her troubles began, she grew to look like an

elderly person in a very brief time. She cared not how she was



dressed, nor had she ever thought of flinging away the wreath

of withered poppies, which she put on the very morning of



Proserpina's disappearance. She roamed about in so wild a way,

and with her hair so disheveled, that people took her for some



distracted creature, and never dreamed that this was Mother

Ceres, who had the oversight of every seed which the husbandman



planted. Nowadays, however, she gave herself no trouble about

seed time nor harvest, but left the farmers to take care of



their own affairs, and the crops to fade or flourish, as the

case might be. There was nothing, now, in which Ceres seemed to



feel an interest, unless when she saw children at play, or

gathering flowers along the wayside. Then, indeed, she would



stand and gaze at them with tears in her eyes. The children,

too, appeared to have a sympathy with her grief, and would



cluster themselves in a little group about her knees, and look

up wistfully in her face; and Ceres, after giving them a kiss



all round, would lead them to their homes, and advise their

mothers never to let them stray out of sight.



"For if they do," said she, "it may happen to you, as it has to

me, that the iron-hearted King Pluto will take a liking to your



darlings, and snatch them up in his chariot, and carry them

away."



One day, during her pilgrimage in quest of the entrance to

Pluto's kingdom, she came to the palace of King Cereus, who



reigned at Eleusis. Ascending a lofty flight of steps, she

entered the portal, and found the royal household in very great



alarm about the queen's baby. The infant, it seems, was sickly

(being troubled with its teeth, I suppose), and would take no



food, and was all the time moaning with pain. The queen--her

name was Metanira--was desirous of funding a nurse; and when



she beheld a woman of matronly aspect coming up the palace

steps, she thought, in her own mind, that here was the very



person whom she needed. So Queen Metanira ran to the door, with

the poor wailing baby in her arms, and besought Ceres to take



charge of it, or, at least, to tell her what would do it good.

"Will you trust the child entirely to me?" asked Ceres.



"Yes, and gladly, too," answered the queen, "if you will devote

all your time to him. For I can see that you have been a



mother."

"You are right," said Ceres. "I once had a child of my own.



Well; I will be the nurse of this poor, sickly boy. But beware,

I warn you, that you do not interfere with any kind of



treatment which I may judge proper for him. If you do so, the

poor infant must suffer for his mother's folly."



Then she kissed the child, and it seemed to do him good; for he

smiled and nestled closely into her bosom.



So Mother Ceres set her torch in a corner (where it kept

burning all the while), and took up her abode in the palace of



King Cereus, as nurse to the little Prince Demophoon. She

treated him as if he were her own child, and allowed neither



the king nor the queen to say whether he should be bathed in

warm or cold water, or what he should eat, or how often he



should take the air, or when he should be put to bed. You would

hardly believe me, if I were to tell how quickly the baby



prince got rid of his ailments, and grew fat, and rosy, and

strong, and how he had two rows of ivory teeth in less time



than any other little fellow, before or since. Instead of the

palest, and wretchedest, and puniest imp in the world (as his



own mother confessed him to be, when Ceres first took him in

charge), he was now a strapping baby, crowing, laughing,






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