r in the harvest of his renown! How hard a lesson it is to
wait! Our life is brief, and how much of it is spent in teaching us
only this!

Well was it for Bellerophon that the gentle child had grown so fond of
him, and was never weary of keeping him company. Every morning the
child gave him a new hope to put in his bosom, instead of yesterday's
withered one.

"Dear Bellerophon," he would cry, looking up hopefully into his face, "I
think we shall see Pegasus to-day!"

And, at length, if it had not been for the little boy's unwavering
faith, Bellerophon would have given up all hope, and would have gone
back to Lycia, and have done his best to slay the Chimaera without the
help of his winged horse. And in that case poor Bellerophon would at
least have been terribly scorched by the creature's breath, and would
most probably have been killed and devoured. Nobody should ever try to
fight an earth-born Chimaera, unless he can first get upon the back of
an aerial steed.

One morning the child spoke to Bellerophon even more hopefully than
usual.

"Dear, dear Bellerophon," cried he, "I know not why it is, but I feel as
if we should certainly see Pegasus to-day!"

And all that day he would not stir a step from Bellerophon's side; so
they ate a crust of bread together, and drank some of the water of the
fountain. In the afternoon, there they sat, and Bellerophon had thrown
his arm around the child, who likewise had put one of his little hands
into Bellerophon's. The latter was lost in his own thoughts, and was
fixing his eyes vacantly on the trunks of the trees that overshadowed
the fountain, and on the grape vines that clambered up among their
branches. But the gentle child was gazing down into the water. He was
grieved, for Bellerophon's sake, that the hope of another day should be
deceived like so many before it; and two or three quiet tear-drops fell
from his eyes, and mingled with what were said to be the many tears of
Pirene, when she wept for her slain children.

But, when he least thought of it, Bellerophon felt the pressure of the
child's little hand, and heard a soft, almost breathless whisper.

"See there, dear Bellerophon! There is an image in the water!"

The young man looked down into the dimpling mirror of the fountain, and
saw what he took to be the reflection of the bird, which seemed to be
flying at a great height in the air, with a gleam of sunshine on its
snowy or silvery wings.

"What a s