erves our gratitude for preserving a
unique specimen of the lighter literature of the ancient
Greeks, together with the beautiful folk-tale of Cupid and
Psyche.

_I.--Lucius Sets Out on His Wonderful Adventures_

I set out from Corinth in a fever of excitement and expectation, riding
my horse so hard that it fell lame; so I had to do the remainder of the
journey on foot. My heart was filled with joy and terror as I entered
the town of Hypata.

"Here I am, at last," I cried, "in Thessaly! Thessaly, the land of magic
and witchcraft, famous through the world for its marvels and
enchantments!"

Carried away by my desire after strange and mystic knowledge, I gazed
around with wonder and disquietude. Nothing in this marvellous city, I
thought to myself, is really what it seems to be. The stones I stumbled
over appeared to be living creatures petrified by magic. I fancied that
the trees in the gardens and the birds that sang in their branches were
men that had been transformed by Thessalian witches. The very statues
seemed as if they were about to walk; every wall had ears; and I looked
up into the blue, cloudless sky, expecting to hear oracles.

Entering the market place, I passed close to a noble lady who was
walking with a crowd of servants in her train.

"By Hercules!" she cried. "It's Lucius!" I hung back, confused and
blushing, and Byrrhena, for it was she, said to one of her companions:

"It's Salvia's boy! Isn't he the image of his modest, beautiful mother?
Young, tall and fair, with just her bright, grey-blue eyes, and her
alert glance. A Plutarch every bit of him! Lucius, don't you remember
your kinswoman, Byrrhena? Why, I brought you up with my own hands!"

I remembered Byrrhena very well, and loved her. But I did not want to
meet her just then. However, I went with her to her house, a beautiful
building of fine marble, containing some exquisite statuary.

"You will stay here, my dear Lucius, won't you?" she said.

I then told her that I had come to Hypata to see Milo and his wife
Pamphila. My friend Demeas of Corinth had given me a letter of
introduction.

"Don't you know that Pamphila is a witch?" she cried. "Do not go near
her, my child, or she will practise her wicked arts on you. It is just
handsome young men like you that she enchants and destroys."

Far from being terrified by Byrrhena's warning, I was delighted with it.
I longed to become an apprentice to a witch as powerful