hing so young and fair and tender about the
maiden that if you could imagine anything so strange as the whole
springtime, with all its loveliness, changed into a human being, you
would have looked but an instant at Proserpine and said, "She is the
Spring."

Proserpine spent the long, happy days in the fields, helping her mother,
or dancing and singing among the flowers, with her young companions.

Way down under the earth, in the land of the dead, lived dark King
Pluto; and the days were very lonely for him with only shadows to talk
to. Often and often, he had tried to urge some goddess to come and share
his gloomy throne; but not the richest jewels or wealth could tempt any
one of them to leave the bright sunlight above and dwell in the land of
shades.

One day Pluto came up to earth and was driving along in his swift
chariot, when, behind some bushes, he heard such merry voices and
musical laughter that he drew rein, and stepping down, parted the bushes
to see who was on the other side. There he saw Proserpine standing in
the center of a ring of laughing young girls who were pelting her with
flowers.

The stern old king felt his heart beat quicker at sight of all these
lovely maidens, and he singled out Proserpine, and said to himself, "She
shall be my queen. That fair face can make even dark Hades light and
beautiful." But he knew it would be useless to ask the girl for her
consent; so, with a bold stride, he stepped into the midst of the happy
circle.

The young girls, frightened at his dark, stern face, fled to right and
left. But Pluto grasped Proserpine by the arm and carried her to his
chariot, and then the horses flew along the ground, leaving Proserpine's
startled companions far behind.

King Pluto knew that he must hasten away with his prize, lest Ceres
should discover her loss; and to keep out of her path, he drove his
chariot a roundabout way. He came to a river; but as he neared its
banks, it suddenly began to bubble and swell and rage, so that Pluto did
not dare to drive through its waters. To go back another way would mean
great loss of time; so with his scepter he struck the ground thrice. It
opened, and, in an instant, horses, chariot, and all, plunged into the
darkness below.

But Proserpine knew that the nymph of the stream had recognized her, and
had tried to save her by making the waters of the stream rise. So, just
as the ground was closing over her, the girl seized her girdle and threw