xtremely," said I. "Have you many similar ventures?"

"Oh yes. Our botanical gardens are full of them," he replied. "Those
trees to the right are Baucis and Philemon. That lotos plant on the
left used to be Dryope, and when Adonis isn't busy valeting at the
hotel, he comes down here and blooms as an anemone, into which, as you
are probably aware, he was changed by Venus. That pink thing by the
fountain is Hyacinthus, and over there by the pond is where Narcissus
blooms. He's a barber in his off hours."

I had already learned that, so expressed no surprise.

"That's a stunning sunflower you have," I ventured, pointing to a
perfect specimen thereof directly ahead of us.

"Yes," said the attendant. "That's Clytie. She's only potted. We don't
set her out permanently, because the royal family like to have her on
the table at state dinners. And she, poor girl, rather enjoys it.
Apollo is generally to be found at these dinners either as a guest or
playing a zither or a banjo behind a screen. Wherever he is, the
sunflower turns and it affords considerable amusement among Jupiter's
guests to watch it. Jupiter has christened Clytie the Sherlock Holmes
of Olympus, because wherever Apollo is she spots him. Sometimes when
he isn't present, he has to be very careful in his statements about
where he has been, for long habit has made Clytie unerring in her
instinct."

This seemed to me to be a rather good revenge on Apollo for his very
ungodlike treatment of Clytie, and if half the attendant told me that
day at the Zoo is true, this excessively fickle Olympian is probably
sorry by this time that he treated her originally with such uncalled
for disdain.

"Come over here and see the bear-pit," said the guide. I obeyed with
alacrity, and, leaning over the rail, had the pleasure of seeing the
most beautiful bruin my eyes had ever rested upon. She was as glossy
as a new silk hat; her eyes were as soft and timid as those of a
frightened deer, and, when she moved, she was the perfection of grace.

[Illustration: CALLISTO]

"Good-morning, Callisto," said my guide.

"Same to you, my dear Cephalus," the bear returned, in a sweet
feminine voice that entranced me.

"How are things with you to-day?" asked Cephalus, with a kindly smile.

"Oh, I can't growl," laughed Callisto--it was evident that the
unfortunate woman was not taking her misfortune too seriously. "Only I
wish you'd tell people who come here that while I undoubtedly am a