caution born of experience, we drew lots to see who should venture into the unknown isle. The lot fell to Eurylochus, who, with twenty-two brave men, went forward to the fair palace of Circe, around which fawned tamed mountain lions and wolves. Within sat the bright-haired goddess, singing while she threw her shuttle through the beautiful web she was weaving.

"All the men entered the palace at her invitation but Eurylochus, who, suspecting some guile, remained without. He saw his comrades led within, seated upon thrones and banqueted; but no sooner was the feast over, than she touched them with her wand, and transformed them into swine that she drove scornfully to their cells.

66

Eurylochus hastened back to our ships with the sorrowful tidings. As soon as grief had permitted him to tell the story, I flung my sword over my shoulders and hastened away to the palace. As I entered the valley, not far from the palace, I was met by a youth, none save the Argus-queller himself, who revealed to me Circe's guile, and presented me with a plant, the moly, which would enable me to withstand her charms.

"The goddess received me kindly, seated me upon a throne, and invited me to feast with her. After the feast she struck me with her wand, as she had done my comrades, ordering me to go to my sty; but when I remained unchanged, she perceived that her guest was Ulysses, whose coming had long been foretold to her.

Softened by her entreaties, I sheathed my sword, after having made her promise to release my friends and do us no further harm. Then the others were called from the

ships, and we banqueted together.

"Time passed so happily on Circe's isle that we lingered at whole year, until, roused by the words of my friends, I announced my intended departure, and was told by Circe that I must first go to the land of the dead to get instructions as to my future course from Tiresias. Provided with the proper sacrifices by Circe, we set sail for the land of the Cimmerians, on the confines of Oceanus. The sacrifices

having been duly performed, the spirits appeared, — Elpenor, my yet unburied comrade, whose body lay on Circe's isle, my own dead mother, and the Theban seer, Tiresias, with his golden wand. Neptune is wroth with thee,' he said, 'but thou mayst yet return if thou and thy comrades leave undisturbed the cattle of the Sun. If thou do not, destruction awaits thee. If thou escape and return home it will be after long journeyings and much suffering, and there thou wilt slay the insolent suitor crew that destroy thy substance and wrong thy household.' After Tiresias had spoken I lingered to speak with other spirits, my mother, Ajax, Antiope, Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, and Antilochus. Having conversed with all these, we set sail for Circe's isle, and thence started again on our homeward voyage.

"Circe had instructed me to stop the ears of my men with wax as we approached the isle of the Sirens, and to have myself tied to the boat that I might not leap into the ocean to go to the beautiful maidens who sang so entrancingly. We therefore escaped without adding our bones to those on the isle of the Sirens, and came next to Scylla and Charybdis. Charybdis is a frightful whirlpool. The sailor who steers too far away in his anxiety to escape it, is seized by the six arms of the monster Scylla and lifted to her cavern to be devoured. We avoided Charybdis; but as we looked down into the abyss, pale with fear, six of my comrades were seized by Scylla and snatched up to her cave.

"As we neared the Island of the Sun I told my comrades again of the warning of Tiresias, and begged them to sail past without stopping. I was met, however, by the bitterest reproaches, and at last consented to a landing if they would bind themselves by a solemn oath not to touch the cattle of the Sun. They promised, but when adverse winds prolonged our stay and food became scarce, fools, madmen, they slew the herds, and in spite of the terrible omens, the meat lowing on the spits, the skins crawling, they feasted for six days. When, on the seventh, the tempest ceased and we sailed away, we went to our destruction. I alone was saved, cling

ing to the floating timbers for nine long days, until on the tenth I reached Calypso's isle, Ogygia, where, out of love for me, the mighty goddess cherished me for seven years."

The Phæacians were entranced by this recital, and in addition to their former gifts, heaped other treasures upon the "master of stratagems" that he might return home a wealthy man. The swift ship was filled with his treasures, and after the proper sacrifices and long farewells, the chieftain embarked. It was morn when the ship arrived in Ithaca, and Ulysses, worn out from his long labors, was still asleep. Stopping at the little port of Phorcys, where the steep shores stretch inward and a spreading olive-tree o'ershadows the grotto of the nymphs, the sailors lifted out Ulysses, laid him. on the ground, and piling up his gifts under the olive-tree, set sail for Phæacia. But the angry Neptune smote the ship as it neared the town and changed it to a rock, thus fulfilling an ancient prophecy that Neptune would some day wreak his displeasure on the Phæacians for giving to every man who came to them safe escort home.

When Ulysses awoke he did not recognize the harbor, and thinking that he had been treated with deceit, he wept bitterly. Thus Pallas, in the guise of a young shepherd, found him, and showed him that it was indeed his own dear land. She helped him to conceal his treasures in the grotto, and told him that Telemachus was even now away on a voyage of inquiry concerning him, and his wife was weeping over his absence and the insolence of the suitors. But he must act with caution. To give him an opportunity to lay his plans for the destruction of these men without being recognized, she changed him to a beggar, wrinkled and old, and clad in ragged, soiled garments. Then directing him to the home of his old herdsman, she hastened to warn Telemachus to avoid the ship the suitors had stationed to destroy him on his way home.

The old Eumæus was sitting in his lodge without whose hedge lay the many sties of swine that were his care. He greeted the beggar kindly, and spread food before him,

lamenting all the while the absence of his noble master and the wickedness of the suitors. Ulysses told him that he was a wanderer who had heard of his master, and could speak surely of his return. Though Eumæus regarded this as an idle speech spoken to gain food and clothing, he continued in his kindness to his guest.

To this lodge came Telemachus after the landing of his ship, that he might first hear from Eumæus the news from the palace, Telemachus, who had grown into sudden manliness from his experience among other men. He also was kind to the beggar, and heard his story. While he remained with the beggar, Eumæus having gone to acquaint Penelope of her son's return, Pallas appearing, touched the beggar with her golden wand, and Ulysses, with the presence of a god, stood before his awed and wondering son.

Long and passionate was their weeping as the father told the son of his sufferings, and the son told of the arrogance of the one hundred and fourteen suitors.

"There are we two with Pallas and her father Jove against them," replied his father. "Thinkest thou we need to fear with two such allies?"

On the day after Telemachus's return, Ulysses, accompanied by Eumæus, visited the palace. No one recognized him except his old dog, Argus, long neglected and devoured by vermin, who, at the sound of his master's voice, drew near, wagged his tail, and fell dead.

According to their carefully laid plans, Telemachus feigned not to know his father, but sent to the beggar some food. Ulysses asked the same of the suitors, but was repulsed with taunts and insults, Antinoüs, the most insolent, striking him with a footstool.

To Penelope, weaving in her chamber, was carried the story of the beggar at whom the abhorred Antinoüs had thrown a stool, and she sent for him to ask if he had tidings of Ulysses. He refused to go to her, however, until the suitors had withdrawn for the night; and as he sat among the revellers, he caught the first glimpse of his wife, as she came down among her maids, to reproach her son for exposing

himself to danger among the suitors, and for allowing the beggar to be injured.

When darkness fell and the hall was deserted, Telemachus, with the assistance of his father, removed all the weapons from the walls. After Telemachus had retired to his chamber, Penelope came down, and sitting upon her ivory throne conversed with the beggar, questioning him about his story until he was driven to invent tales that seemed like truth, and asking about her husband while the tears ran down her fair cheeks. By a great effort Ulysses kept his tears from falling as he beheld his wife weeping over him; he assured her that her husband would soon return, but he would accept no clothing as a reward for his tidings. The aged Eurycleia, who was called forth to wash his feet, came near betraying her master when she recognized a scar made by a wild boar's tusk, but he threatened her into silence. Soon after, Penelope and her maids withdrew, and left Ulysses to meditate vengeance through the night.

The next morning, when the suitors again sat in the banquet-hall, Penelope descended to them and declared that she had determined to give her hand to the one of the suitors who could draw the great bow of Ulysses and send the arrow through twelve rings set on stakes planted in the ground. Up to the polished treasure-chamber she went, and took down the great bow given to Ulysses by Iphitus. As she took it from its case her tears fell, but she dried them and carried it and the steel rings into the hall. Gladly Ulysses hailed this hour, for he knew the time had come when he should destroy the suitor band. That morn many omens had warned him, and he had revealed himself to his faithful men, Eumæus, and Philoetius the master-herdsman, that they might assist him. Telemachus, though astonished at his mother's decision, first took the bow; if he succeeded in bending it, his mother would not have to leave her home. He would have bent the bow at the fourth attempt had not his father's glance warned him to yield it to the suitors.

Although the bow was rubbed and softened with oil, all failed in their attempts to draw it; and when the beggar asked to be