ind, but by Boreas, the cold, rough North-wind, and it happened
that the time at which she became a flower was at that season when
"the North-wind doth blow," so Boreas had her in his power.

And then to punish her for bestowing her love upon another, he blew
roughly upon her and scattered her delicate petals upon the ground. Then
the gods, because she was beloved by the winds, called her Anemone, the
wind-flower.

Every year when the March winds blow she opens her dainty blossoms, and
every year Boreas revenges his unrequited love by shattering and
destroying her beauty.

But the gentle Anemone returns good for evil, for she loves the wind,
and opens her soft pink and white petals when the March breezes blow
loud and shrill.

The poets call her "Child of the Wind," and country people tell us she
is a capital weather-glass, for when the wind drops and rain clouds
begin to gather she knows that rain is coming.

Gentle, loving little flower, "Waiting for the breathing of the wind," we
can all have a lesson from you. Why not be like the Anemone, and when
others use you roughly, seek not revenge, but rather give good for evil.

THE FATE OF HYACINTHUS

Fairy Tales from Flowerland
THE FATE OF HYACINTHUS

"His polish'd limbs, by strange enchantment's power,
Shoot into bud and blossom into flower."
_--Ovid._

ONE day when Apollo, the Sun-god, was driving in his chariot across the
land of Greece, he saw in the palace gardens of the King of Sparta a
beautiful boy at play.

No sooner did the Sun-god set ryes upon the king's son than he loved him
and desired to have him for his own. He quickly won the boy's
affections, and the two were like father and son, so happy were they in
their love for one another.

They walked and drove together, and played at merry games in the king's
gardens, while Apollo lavished upon the boy gifts rich and costly, for
he thought nothing too good for his beautiful Hyacinthus.

So all went well for quite a time, until Zephyr, the West-wind, who also
loved the boy, grew jealous of his evident preference for the Sun-god.

He tried by all means in his power to win the love of Hyacinthus, but
the youth took no heed, and in spite of the West-wind's gentle words and
tender, soft caresses, he continued to love Apollo best.

Then Zephyr became angry and jealous. Day by day he watched the two
friends, and waited his opportunity for revenge.

Now it happened one brig