ccord shall hail him as their
guardian king.'

"Then his mother, Althea, weeping tears of joy, prayed that the boy
might grow up to be pure-minded and gentle, the hope and pride of his
parents, and the delight and staff of their declining years.

"Scarcely had the words of prayer died from her lips, when there came
into her chamber the three unerring Fates who spin the destinies of
men. White-robed and garlanded, they stood beside the babe, and with
unwearied fingers drew out the lines of his untried life. Clotho held
the golden distaff in her hand, and twirled and twisted the delicate
thread. Lachesis, now sad, now hopeful, with her long white fingers
held the hour-glass, and framed her lips to say, 'It is enough.' And
Atropos, blind and unpitying as the future always is, stood ready, with
cruel shears, to clip the twist in twain. Busily and silently Clotho
spun; and the golden thread, thin as a spider's web, yet beautiful as a
sunbeam, grew longer and more golden between her skilful fingers. Then
Lachesis cried out, 'It is finished!' But Atropos hid her shears
beneath her mantle, and said, 'Not so. Behold, there is a brand
burning upon the hearth. Wait until it is all burned into ashes and
smoke, and then I will cut the thread of the child's life. Spin on,
sweet Clotho!'

"Quick as thought, Althea sprang forward, snatched the blazing brand
from the hearth, and quenched its flame in a jar of water; and when she
knew that not a single spark was left glowing upon it, she locked it
safely in a chest where none but she could find it. As she did this,
the pitiless sisters vanished from her sight, saying as they flitted
through the air, 'We bide our time.'

"Meleager grew up to be a tall and fair and gentle youth; and when at
last he became a man, he sailed on the ship Argo, with Jason and the
great heroes of that day, in search of the Golden Fleece. Many brave
deeds were his in foreign lands; and when he came home again to
Calydon, he brought with him a fair young wife, gentle Cleopatra,
daughter of Idas the boaster.

"Oineus had gathered in his harvest; and he was glad and thankful in
his heart, because his fields had yielded plenteously; his vines had
been loaded with purple grapes, and his orchards filled with abundance
of pleasant fruit. Grateful, as men should always be, to the givers of
peace and plenty, he held within his halls a harvest festival, to which
he invited the brave and beautiful of all