s of green bark wickerwork, a jar
Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine;
The walls around with chaff and spattered clay
Were covered. Flanging from protruding nails
Were slender stalks of the green rush; and then
Suspended from the smoky beam, the stores
Of this poor cottage. Service berries soft,
Entwined in fragrant wreaths hung down,
Dried savory and raisins by the bunch.
An hostess here like she on Attic soil,
Of Hecate's pure worship worthy she!
Whose fame Kallimachos so grandly sang
'Twill live forever through the speaking years.

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIXTH.

In the meantime, (having shelled the beans,) she took a mouthful of the
meat and with the fork was replacing the pig's cheek, which was coeval
with herself, upon the meat-hook, when the rotten stool, which she was
using to augment her height, broke down under the old lady's weight and
let her fall upon the hearth. The neck of the pot was broken, putting
out the fire, which was just getting a good start, her elbow was burned
by a flaming brand, and her whole face was covered by the ashes raised by
her fall. I jumped up in dismay and, not without laughing, helped the
old lady to her feet. She hastily scurried out into the neighborhood to
replenish the fire, for fear anything should delay the sacrifice. I was
on my way to the door of the cell when lo! and behold! three sacred geese
which were accustomed, I suppose, to demand their feed from the old woman
at midday, made a rush at me and, surrounding me, made me nervous with
their abominable rabid cackling. One tore at my tunic, another undid the
lacings of my sandals and tugged at them, but one in particular, the
ringleader and moving spirit of this savage attack, did not hesitate to
worry at my leg with his serrated bill. Unable to see the joke, I
twisted off one of the legs of the little table and, thus armed, began to
belabor the pugnacious brute. Nor did I rest content with a light blow,
I avenged myself by the death of the goose.

'Twas thus, I ween, the birds of Stymphalus
To heaven fled, by Herakles impelled;
The Harpies, too, whose reeking pinions held
That poison which the feast of Phineus
Contaminated. All the air above
With their unwonted lamentations sho