uch a death as I pray may never
come to anyone who is dear to me--she, my kind mistress, who brought
me up with her youngest daughter, and hardly loved me less. As long as
she lived I would often go down to the house, and she ever entertained
me kindly, and gave me something to carry back with me to my dwelling
on the land. Full well she knew how to sweeten the lot of a thrall
with pleasant words, and little acts of tenderness and love. But now I
seldom leave my charge, for since the wooers brought this curse upon
my master's house Penelope hides her face from us, and has no comfort
for us either in word or deed."

Odysseus listened with deep interest, and when Eumaeus paused he
expressed a desire to hear the story of his life. "How was it," he
asked, "that already in early childhood thou wast cast on the mercy of
strangers? Wast thou taken captive in war, or did robbers seize thee
as thou satst watching sheep on the lonely hills, and sell thee into
bondage?"

"Fill thy cup," answered Eumaeus, "we will pledge each other in a
hearty draught, and then thou shalt hear my tale. The nights are long
at this season, and we shall have time enough to sleep when I have
done. Fate has dealt hardly with me, even as with thee; and we can
find some comfort in telling over our sorrows to each other.

"There is a certain island called Syria, lying north of Ortygia, not
very large or populous, but a good land, rich in pasture, with waving
cornfields and goodly vineyards. There famine never comes, nor
sickness, but all the people reach a good old age, and then die by the
painless shafts of Artemis or of Apollo. There are two cities which
divide the territory equally between them; and there was one king over
both, my father, Ctesius, son of Ormenus.

"When I was still very young there came to the island a Phoenician
ship, laden with trinkets for barter. Now in my father's house was a
Phoenician woman, tall and fair, and skilled in needlework. She was my
nurse, and I was wont to run about the town with her. One day, as she
was washing clothes not far from the ship, she was recognised by a
Phoenician sailor as being of his own race, and he inquired how she
came to the island. She answered that she was a native of Sidon, and a
rich man's daughter, stolen from her home by pirates, and sold across
the seas. 'And hast thou a mind to see thy native land again?' asked
the fellow. 'Thy father and mother still live and prosper'; for she
had to