At
all events, you ought not to complain, if you have to bear it the next
hundred years, or perhaps the next thousand. I bore it a good while
longer, in spite of the back-ache. Well, then, after a thousand years,
if I happen to feel in the mood, we may possibly shift about again.
You are certainly a very strong man, and can never have a better
opportunity to prove it. Posterity will talk of you, I warrant it!"

"Pish! a fig for its talk!" cried Hercules, with another hitch of his
shoulders. "Just take the sky upon your head one instant, will you? I
want to make a cushion of my lion's skin, for the weight to rest upon.
It really chafes me, and will cause unnecessary inconvenience in so
many centuries as I am to stand here."

"That's no more than fair, and I'll do it!" quoth the giant; for he
had no unkind feeling towards Hercules, and was merely acting with a
too selfish consideration of his own ease. "For just five minutes,
then, I'll take back the sky. Only for five minutes, recollect! I have
no idea of spending another thousand years as I spent the last.
Variety is the spice of life, say I."

Ah, the thick-witted old rogue of a giant! He threw down the golden
apples, and received back the sky, from the head and shoulders of
Hercules, upon his own, where it rightly belonged. And Hercules picked
up the three golden apples, that were as big or bigger than pumpkins,
and straightway set out on his journey homeward, without paying the
slightest heed to the thundering tones of the giant, who bellowed
after him to come back. Another forest sprang up around his feet, and
grew ancient there; and again might be seen oak-trees, of six or seven
centuries old, that had waxed thus aged betwixt his enormous toes.

And there stands the giant to this day; or, at any rate, there stands
a mountain as tall as he, and which bears his name; and when the
thunder rumbles about its summit, we may imagine it to be the voice of
Giant Atlas, bellowing after Hercules!

[Illustration]

TANGLEWOOD FIRESIDE

[Illustration]

AFTER THE STORY

"Cousin Eustace," demanded Sweet Fern, who had been sitting at the
story-teller's feet, with his mouth wide open, "exactly how tall was
this giant?"

"O Sweet Fern, Sweet Fern!" cried the student. "Do you think that I
was there, to measure him with a yard-stick? Well, if you must know to
a hair's-breadth, I suppose he might be from three to fifteen miles
straight upward, and that he might hav