Section 2

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as all Yankee students are; but yet of a healthy as- pect, and ax light and active as if he had wings to his shoes. By the by, being much addicted to wading through streamlets and across meadows, he had put on cowhide boots for the expedition. He wore a linen blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of green spectacles, which he had assumed, probably, less for the preserva- tion of his eyes than for the dignity that they imparted to his countenance. In either case, however, he might as well have let them alone; for Huckleberry, a mis- chievous little elf, crept behind Eustace as he sat on the steps of the porch, snatched the spectacles from his nose, and clapped them on her own; and as the stu
18 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.
dent forgot to take them back, they fell off into the grass, and lay there till the next spring.
Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great fame among the children, as a narrator of wonderful stories; and though he sometimes pretended to be an- noyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and always for more, yet I really doubt whether he liked anything quite so well as to tell them. You might have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore, when Clover, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of their playmates, besought him to relate one of his stories, while they were waiting for the mist to clear up.
“Yes, Cousin Eustace,” said Primrose, who was a bright girl of twelve, with laughing eyes, and a nose that turned up a little, “‘ the morning is certainly the best time for the stories with which you so often tire out our patience. We shall be in less danger of hurt- ing your feelings, by falling asleep at the most in- teresting points, — as little Cowslip and I did last night!”
“Naughty Primrose,” cried Cowslip, a child of six years old; “I did not fall asleep, and I only shut my eyes, So as to see a picture of what Cousin Eustace was telling about. His stories are good to hear at night, because we can dream about them asleep; and good in the morning, too, because then we can dream about them awake. So I hope he will tell us one this very minute.”
“Thank you, my little Cowslip,” said Eustace ; “certainly you shall have the best story I can think of, if it were only for defending me so well from that naughty Primrose. But, children, I have already told you so many fairy tales, that I doubt whether there is a single one which you have not heard at least twice
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. 19
over. I am afraid you will fall asleep in reality, if I repeat any of them again.”
“No, no, no!” cried Blue Eye, Periwinkle, Plan- tain, and half a dozen others. ‘ We like a story all the better for having heard it two or three times be: fore.”
And it is a truth, as regards children, that a story seems often to deepen its mark in their interest, not merely by two or three, but by numberless repetitions. But Eustace Bright, in the exuberance of his re- sources, scorned to avail himself of an advantage which an older story-teller would have been glad to grasp at.
“Tt would be a great pity,” said he, “if a man of my learning (to say nothing of original fancy) could not find a new story every day, year in and year out, for children such as you. I will tell you one of the nursery tales that were made for the amusement of our great old grandmother, the Earth, when she was a child in frock and pinafore. There are a hundred such ; and it is a wonder to me that they have not long ago been put into picture-books for little girls and boys. But, instead of that, old gray - bearded grandsires pore over them in musty volumes of Greek, and puzzle themselves with trying to find out when, and how, and for what they were made.”
“ Well, well, well, well, Cousin Eustace!” cried all the children at once; “talk no more about your sto- ries, but begin.”
“Sit down, then, every soul of you,” said Eustace Bright, “and be all as still as so many mice. At the slightest interruption, whether from great, naughty Primrose, little Dandelion, or any other, I shall bite _ the story short off between my teeth, and swallow the
20 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.
untold part. But, in the first place, do any of you know what a Gorgon is?”
“‘ T do,” said Primrose.
“Then hold your tongue!” rejoined Eustace, who had rather she would have known nothing abeut the matter. ‘ Hold all your tongues, and I shall tell you a sweet pretty story of a Gorgon’s head.”
And so he did, as you may begin to read on the next page. Working up his sophomorical erudition with a good deal of tact, and incurring great obliga- tions to Professor Anthon, he, nevertheless, disre- garded all classical authorities, whenever the vagrant audacity of his imagination impelled him to do so.
THE GORGON’S HEAD.
Perseus was the son of Danaé, who was the daughter of a king. And when Perseus was a very little boy, some wicked people put his mother and himself into a chest, and set them afloat upon the sea. The wind blew freshly, and drove the chest away from the shore, and the uneasy billows, tossed it up and down; while Danaé clasped her child closely to her bosom, and dreaded that some big wave would dash its foamy crest over them both. The chest sailed on, however, and neither sank nor was upset ; until, when night was coming, it floated so near an island that it got entangled in a fisherman’s nets, and was drawn out high and dry upon the sand. The island was called Seriphus, and it was reigned over by King Polydectes, who happened to be the fisherman’s brother.
This fisherman, I am glad to tell you, was an ex- ceedingly humane and upright man. He showed great kindness to Danaé and her little boy ; and continued to befriend them, until Perseus had grown to be a handsome youth, very strong and active, and skilful in the use of arms. Long before this time, King Polydectes had seen the two strangers — the mother and her child — who had come to his dominions in a floating chest. As he was not good and kind, like his brother the fisherman, but extremely wicked, he re- solved to send Perseus on a dangerous enterprise, in
‘which he would probably be killed, and then to do
oe THE GORGON’S HEAD.
some great mischief to Danaé herself. So this bad- hearted king spent a long while in considering what was the most dangerous thing that a young man could possibly undertake to perform. At last, having hit upon an enterprise that promised to turn out as fa- tally as he desired, he sent for the youthful Perseus.
The young man came to the palace, and found the king sitting upon his throne.
“ Perseus,” said King Polydectes, smiling craftily upon him, “you are grown up a fine young man. You and your good mother have received a great deal of kindness from myself, as well as from my worthy brother the fisherman, and I suppose you would not be sorry to repay some of it.”
“Please your Majesty,” answered Perseus, “I would willingly risk my life to do so.”
“Well, then,” continued the king, still with a cun- ning smile on his lips, “I have a little adventure to propose to you; and, as you are a brave and enterpris- ing youth, you will doubtless look upon it as a great piece of good luck to have so rare an opportunity of distinguishing yourself. You must know, my good Perseus, I think of getting married to the beautiful Princess Hippodamia; and it is customary, on these occasions, to make the bride a present of some far- fetched and elegant curiosity. I have been a little perplexed, -I must honestly confess, where to obtain anything likely to please a princess of her exquisite taste. But, this morning, I flatter myself, I have thought of precisely the article.”
“And can I assist your Majesty in obtaining it?” pried Perseus, eagerly.
“You can, if you are as brave a youth as I believe you to be,” replied King Polydectes, with the utmost
THE GORGON’S HEAD. 23
graciousness of manner. “The bridal gift which I have set my heart on presenting to the beautiful Hip- podamia is the head of the Gorgon Medusa with the snaky locks; and I depend on you, my dear Perseus, to bring it to me. So, as I am anxious to settle affairs with the princess, the sooner you go in quest of the Gorgon, the better I shall be pleased.” “T will set out to-morrow morning,” answered Perseus. “ Pray do so, my gallant youth,” rejoined the king. “ And, Perseus, in cutting off the Gorgon’s head, be eareful to make a clean stroke, so as not to injure its appearance. You must bring it home in the very best condition, in order to suit the exquisite taste of the beautiful Princess Hippodamia.” iPerseus left the palace, but was scarcely out of hearing before Polydectes burst into a laugh; being greatly amused, wicked king that he was, to find: how readily the young man fell into the snare. The news quickly spread abroad that Perseus had undertaken to eut off the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. Everybody was rejoiced ; for most of the inhabitants of the island were as wicked as the king himself, and would have liked nothing better than to see some enormous mischief happen to Danaé and her son. The only good man in this unfortunate island of Seri- phus appears to have been the fisherman. As Perseus walked along, therefore, the people pointed after him, and made mouths, and winked to one another, and ridiculed him as loudly as they dared. “ Ho, ho!” cried they ; “‘ Medusa’s snakes will sting him soundly!” ss Now, there were three Gorgons alive at that period; and they were the most strange and terrible monsters
94 THE GORGON’S HEAD.
that had ever been since the world was made, or that have been seen in after days, or that are likely to be seen in all time to come. I hardly know what sort of creature or hobgoblin to call them. They were three sisters, and seem to have borne some distant resem- blance to women, but were really a very frightful and mischievous species of dragon. It is, indeed, difficult to imagine what hideous beings these three sisters were. Why, instead of locks of hair, if you can be- lieve me, they had each of them a hundred enormous snakes growing on their heads, All alive, twisting, wriggling, curling, and thrusting out their venomous tongues, with forked stings at the end! The teeth of the Gorgons were eahee long tusks ; their hands were made of brass; and their bodies were all over scales, which, if not iron, were something as hard and impenetrable. They had wings, too, and exceedingly splendid ones, I can assure you; for every feather in them was pure, bright, glittering, burnished gold, and they looked very dazzlingly, no doubt, when the Gor- gons were flying about in the sunshine.
But when people happened to catch a glimpse a their glittering brightness, aloft in the air, they sel- dom stopped to gaze, but ran and hid themselves as speedily as they could. You will think, perhaps, that they were afraid of being stung by the serpents that served the Gorgons instead of hair, — or of having their heads bitten off by their ugly tusks, — or of be- ing torn all to pieces by their brazen claws. Well, to - be sure, these were some of the dangers, but by no means the greatest, nor the most difficult to avoid. For the worst thing about these abominable Gorgons was, that, if once a poor mortal fixed his eyes full upon one of their faces, he was certain, that very in
THE GORGON’S HEAD, 25
stant to be changed from warm flesh and blood into cold and lifeless stone !
X& Thus, as you will easily perceive, it was a very dan- gérous adventure that the wicked King Polydectes had contrived for this innocent young man. Perseus him- self, when he had thought over the matter, could not help seeing that he had very little chance of coming safely through it, and that he was far more likely to become a stone image than to bring back the head of Medusa with the snaky locks. For, not to speak of other difficulties, there was one which it would have puzzled an older man than Perseus to get over. Not only must he fight with and slay this golden-winged, iron-scaled, long-tusked, brazen-clawed, snaky-haired monster, but. he must do it with his eyes shut, or, at least, without so much as a glance at the enemy with whom he was contending. Else, while his arm was lifted to strike, he would stiffen into stone, and stand with that uplifted arm for centuries, until time, and the wind and weather, should crumble him quite away. This would be a very sad thing to befall a young man who wanted to perform a great many brave deeds, and to enjoy a great deal of happiness, in this bright and beautiful world.
So disconsolate did these thoughts make him, that Perseus could not bear to tell his mother what he had undertaken to do. He therefore took his shield, girded on his sword, and crossed over from the island to the mainland, where he sat down in a solitary place, and hardly refrained from shedding tears.
But, while he was in this sorrowful mood, he heard a voice close beside him.
“ Perseus,” said the voice, “why are you sad?”
He lifted his head from his hands, in which he had
26 THE GORGON’S HEAD.
hidden it, and, behold! all alone as Perseus had sup- posed himself to be, there was a stranger in the soli- tary place. It was a brisk, intelligent, and remarka- bly shrewd-looking young man, with a cloak over his shoulders, an odd sort of cap on his head, a strangely twisted staff in his hand, and a short and very crooked sword hanging by his side. He was exceedingly light and active in his figure, like a person much accustomed to gymnastic exercises, and well able to leap or run. Above all, the stranger had such a cheerful, knowing, and helpful aspect (though it was certainly a little mischievous, into the bargain), that Perseus could not help feeling his spirits grow livelier as he gazed at him. Besides, being really a courageous youth, he felt greatly ashamed that anybody should have found him with tears in his eyes, like a timid little school-boy, when, after all, there might be no occasion for despair. So Perseus wiped his eyes, and answered the stranger pretty briskly, putting on as brave a look as he could.
“IT am not so very sad,” said he, “ only thoughtful _ about an adventure that I have undertaken.”
‘. “Oho!” answered the stranger. “ Well, tell me all about it, and possibly I may be of service to you. I have helped a good many young men through adven- tures that looked difficult enough beforehand. Per- haps you may have heard of me. I have more names’ than one ; but the name of Quicksilver suits me as well as any other. Tell me what the trouble is, and we will talk the matter over, and see what can be qone.”
The stranger’s words and manner put Perseus into quite a different mood from his former one. He re- solved to tell Quicksilver all his difficulties, since he could not easily be worse off than he already was, and,
very possibly, his new friend might give him some ad.
=
\ \
THE GORGON’S HEAD. oT
vice that would turn out well in the end. So he let the stranger know, in few words, precisely what the case was, — how that King Polydectes wanted the head of Medusa with the snaky locks as a bridal gift for the beautiful Princess Hippodamia, and how that he had undertaken to get it for him, but was afraid of being turned into stone.
“‘ And that would be a great pity,” said Quicksilver, with his mischievous smile. ‘ You would make a very handsome marble statue, it is true, and it would be a considerable number of centuries before you crumbled away; but, on the whole, one would rather be a young man for a few years, than a stone image for a great many.”
“Oh, far rather!’ exclaimed Perseus, with the tears again standing in his eyes. ‘“ And, besides, what would my dear mother do, if her beloved son were . turned into a stone?”
“Well, well, let us hope that the affair will not turn out so very badly,” replied Quicksilver, in an encour- aging tone. “I am the very person to help you, if anybody can. My sister and myself will do our ut- most to bring you safe through the adventure, ugly as it now looks.”
“ Your sister ?” repeated Perseus.
“Yes, my sister,” said the stranger. “She is very wise, [ promise you; and as for myself, I generally have all my wits about me, such as they are. If you show yourself bold and cautious, and follow our advice, you need not fear being a stone image yet awhile. But, first of all, you must polish your. shield, till you can see your face in it as distinctly as in a mirror.”