s, that grew in the garden of the
Hesperides? Ah, those were such apples as would bring a great price,
by the bushel, if any of them could be found growing in the orchards
of nowadays! But there is not, I suppose, a graft of that wonderful
fruit on a single tree in the wide world. Not so much as a seed of
those apples exists any longer.
And, even in the old, old, half-forgotten times, before the garden of
the Hesperides was overrun with weeds, a great many people doubted
whether there could be real trees that bore apples of solid gold upon
their branches. All had heard of them, but nobody remembered to have
seen any. Children, nevertheless, used to listen, open-mouthed, to
stories of the golden apple-tree, and resolved to discover it, when
they should be big enough. Adventurous young men, who desired to do a
braver thing than any of their fellows, set out in quest of this
fruit. Many of them returned no more; none of them brought back the
apples. No wonder that they found it impossible to gather them! It is
said that there was a dragon beneath the tree, with a hundred terrible
heads, fifty of which were always on the watch, while the other fifty
slept.
In my opinion it was hardly worth running so much risk for the sake of
a solid golden apple. Had the apples been sweet, mellow, and juicy,
indeed that would be another matter. There might then have been some
sense in trying to get at them, in spite of the hundred-headed dragon.
But, as I have already told you, it was quite a common thing with
young persons, when tired of too much peace and rest, to go in search
of the garden of the Hesperides. And once the adventure was undertaken
by a hero who had enjoyed very little peace or rest since he came into
the world. At the time of which I am going to speak, he was wandering
through the pleasant land of Italy, with a mighty club in his hand,
and a bow and quiver slung across his shoulders. He was wrapt in the
skin of the biggest and fiercest lion that ever had been seen, and
which he himself had killed; and though, on the whole, he was kind,
and generous, and noble, there was a good deal of the lion's
fierceness in his heart. As he went on his way, he continually
inquired whether that were the right road to the famous garden. But
none of the country people knew anything about the matter, and many
looked as if they would have laughed at the question, if the stranger
had not carried so very big a club.
So he journeyed on
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