eat deal of sport about him, and were rude enough not to care a fig,
although Bellerophon saw and heard it. One little urchin, for example,
would play Pegasus, and cut the oddest imaginable capers, by way of
flying; while one of his schoolfellows would scamper after him, holding
forth a twist of bulrushes, which was intended to represent
Bellerophon's ornamental bridle. But the gentle child, who had seen the
picture of Pegasus in the water, comforted the young stranger more than
all the naughty boys could torment him. The dear little fellow, in his
play hours, often sat down beside him, and, without speaking a word,
would look down into the fountain and up toward the sky, with so
innocent a faith that Bellerophon could not help feeling encouraged.

Now you will, perhaps, wish to be told why it was that Bellerophon had
undertaken to catch the winged horse. And we shall find no better
opportunity to speak about this matter than while he is waiting for
Pegasus to appear.

If I were to relate the whole of Bellerophon's previous adventures, they
might easily grow into a very long story. It will be quite enough to say
that, in a certain country of Asia, a terrible monster, called a
Chimaera, had made its appearance, and was doing more mischief than could
be talked about between now and sunset. According to the best accounts
which I have been able to obtain, this Chimaera was nearly, if not quite,
the ugliest and most poisonous creature, and the strangest and
unaccountablest, and the hardest to fight with, and the most difficult
to run away from, that ever came out of the earth's inside. It had a
tail like a boa-constrictor; its body was like I do not care what; and
it had three separate heads, one of which was a lion's, the second a
goat's, and the third an abominably great snake's. And a hot blast of
fire came flaming out of each of its three mouths! Being an earthly
monster, I doubt whether it had any wings; but, wings or no, it ran like
a goat and a lion, and wriggled along like a serpent, and thus contrived
to make about as much speed as all the three together.

Oh, the mischief, and mischief, and mischief that this naughty creature
did! With its flaming breath, it could set a forest on fire, or burn up
a field of grain, or, for that matter, a village, with all its fences
and houses. It laid waste the whole country round about, and used to eat
up people and animals alive, and cook them afterward in the burning oven
of i