the
fruit of life; immediately followed by the victory over the hell-hound
of death; and lastly, the attainment of immortality--all seem no
fortuitous imagination, but one of those when "thoughts beyond their
thoughts to those old bards were given."

I have not followed all these meanings, for this is not an allegory,
but a mere distant following rather of the spirit than the letter of
the old Greek tale of the Twelve Tasks. Neither have I adhered to
every incident of Hercules' life; and the most touching and beautiful
of all--the rescue of Alcestis, would hardly bear to come in merely as
an episode, in this weak and presumptuous endeavour to show that the
half-divine, patient conqueror is not merely a classic invention, but
that he and his labours belong in some form or other to all times and
all surroundings.

C. M. YONGE.
Nov. 8, 1875.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE

CHAPTER II. THE LION OF NEME HEATH

CHAPTER III. THE "DRAGON'S HEAD"

CHAPTER IV. THE WRATH OF DIANA

CHAPTER V. THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW

CHAPTER VI. OGDEN'S BUILDINGS

CHAPTER VII. THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN

CHAPTER VIII. BULLOCK'S CHASTISEMENT

CHAPTER IX. THE CHAMPION'S BELT

CHAPTER X. DERMOT'S MARK

CHAPTER XI. THE RED VALLEY CATTLE STEALERS

CHAPTER XII. THE GOLDEN FRUIT

CHAPTER XIII. THE BLOODHOUND

CHAPTER XIV. SUNSET GOLD AND PURPLE

CHAPTER XV. THE FATAL TOKEN

CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION

MY YOUNG ALCIDES

A FADED PHOTOGRAPH

CHAPTER I.

THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE.

One of the children brought me a photograph album, long ago finished
and closed, and showed me a faded and blurred figure over which there
had been a little dispute. Was it Hercules with club and lion-skin, or
was it a gentleman I had known?

Ah me! how soon a man's place knoweth him no more! What fresh
recollections that majestic form awoke in me--the massive features,
with the steadfast eye, and low, square brow, curled over with short
rings of hair; the mouth, that, through the thick, short beard, still
invited trust and reliance, even while there was a look of fire and
determination that inspired dread.

The thing seemed to us hideous and absurd when it was taken by Miss
Horsman. I hated it, and hid it away as a caricature. But now those
pale, vanishing tints bring the very presence before me; and before the
remembrance can become equally obscure in my own