always the case with children in
trouble, Proserpina's first thought was to call for her mother.

"Mother, Mother Ceres!" cried she, all in a tremble. "Come quickly and
save me."

But her voice was too faint for her mother to hear. Indeed, it is most
probable that Ceres was then a thousand miles off, making the corn grow in
some far-distant country. Nor could it have availed her poor daughter,
even had she been within hearing; for no sooner did Proserpina begin to
cry out, than the stranger leaped to the ground, caught the child in his
arms, and again mounting the chariot, shook the reins, and shouted to the
four black horses to set off. They immediately broke into so swift a
gallop that it seemed rather like flying through the air than running
along the earth. In a moment, Proserpina lost sight of the pleasant vale
of Enna, in which she had always dwelt. Another instant, and even the
summit of Mount AEtna had become so blue in the distance that she could
scarcely distinguish it from the smoke that gushed out of its crater. But
still the poor child screamed, and scattered her apron full of flowers
along the way, and left a long cry trailing behind the chariot; and many
mothers, to whose ears it came, ran quickly to see if any mischief had
befallen their children. But Mother Ceres was a great way off, and could
not hear the cry.

As they rode on, the stranger did his best to soothe her.

"Why should you be so frightened, my pretty child?" said he, trying to
soften his rough voice. "I promise not to do you any harm. What! You have
been gathering flowers? Wait till we come to my palace, and I will give
you a garden full of prettier flowers than those, all made of pearls, and
diamonds, and rubies. Can you guess who I am? They call my name Pluto, and
I am the king of diamonds and all other precious stones. Every atom of the
gold and silver that lies under the earth belongs to me, to say nothing of
the copper and iron, and of the coal-mines, which supply me with abundance
of fuel. Do you see this splendid crown upon my head? You may have it for
a plaything. Oh, we shall be very good friends, and you will find me more
agreeable than you expect, when once we get out of this troublesome
sunshine."

"Let me go home!" cried Proserpina. "Let me go home!"

"My home is better than your mother's," answered King Pluto "It is a
palace, all made of gold, with crystal windows; and because there is
little or no sunshine thereabouts,