not be the only wise person in the cottage. And if
there were anything pretty or valuable in the box, he meant to take
half of it to himself. Thus, after all his sage speeches to Pandora
about restraining her curiosity, Epimetheus turned out to be quite as
foolish, and nearly as much in fault, as she. So, whenever we blame
Pandora for what happened, we must not forget to shake our heads at
Epimetheus likewise.

As Pandora raised the lid, the cottage grew very dark and dismal; for
the black cloud had now swept quite over the sun, and seemed to have
buried it alive. There had, for a little while past, been a low
growling and muttering, which all at once broke into a heavy peal of
thunder. But Pandora, heeding nothing of all this, lifted the lid
nearly upright, and looked inside. It seemed as if a sudden swarm of
winged creatures brushed past her, taking flight out of the box,
while, at the same instant, she heard the voice of Epimetheus, with a
lamentable tone, as if he were in pain.

[Illustration: PANDORA OPENS THE BOX]

"Oh, I am stung!" cried he. "I am stung! Naughty Pandora! why have you
opened this wicked box?"

Pandora let fall the lid, and, starting up, looked about her, to see
what had befallen Epimetheus. The thunder-cloud had so darkened the
room that she could not very clearly discern what was in it. But she
heard a disagreeable buzzing, as if a great many huge flies, or
gigantic mosquitoes, or those insects which we call dor-bugs, and
pinching-dogs, were darting about. And, as her eyes grew more
accustomed to the imperfect light, she saw a crowd of ugly little
shapes, with bats' wings, looking abominably spiteful, and armed with
terribly long stings in their tails. It was one of these that had
stung Epimetheus. Nor was it a great while before Pandora herself
began to scream, in no less pain and affright than her playfellow, and
making a vast deal more hubbub about it. An odious little monster had
settled on her forehead, and would have stung her I know not how
deeply, if Epimetheus had not run and brushed it away.

Now, if you wish to know what these ugly things might be, which had
made their escape out of the box, I must tell you that they were the
whole family of earthly Troubles. There were evil Passions; there were
a great many species of Cares; there were more than a hundred and
fifty Sorrows; there were Diseases, in a vast number of miserable and
painful shapes; there were more kinds of Naughtine