y where the ground was
smooth and it was easier running, but her strength was fast leaving her.
Right before her, however, lay the river, white and smiling in the
sunlight. She stretched out her arms and cried:

"O Father Peneus, save me!"

[Illustration: "SHE TURNED AND FLED LIKE A FRIGHTENED DEER."]

Then it seemed as though the river rose up to meet her. The air was
filled with a blinding mist. For a moment Apollo lost sight of the
fleeing maiden. Then he saw her close by the river's bank, and so near
to him that her long hair, streaming behind her, brushed his cheek. He
thought that she was about to leap into the rushing, roaring waters, and
he reached out his hands to save her. But it was not the fair, timid
Daphne that he caught in his arms; it was the trunk of a laurel tree,
its green leaves trembling in the breeze.

"O Daphne! Daphne!" he cried, "is this the way in which the river saves
you? Does Father Peneus turn you into a tree to keep you from me?"

Whether Daphne had really been turned into a tree, I know not; nor does
it matter now--it was so long ago. But Apollo believed that it was so,
and hence he made a wreath of the laurel leaves and set it on his head
like a crown, and said that he would wear it always in memory of the
lovely maiden. And ever after that, the laurel was Apollo's favorite
tree, and, even to this day, poets and musicians are crowned with its
leaves.

IV. DELUDED.

Apollo did not care to live much of the time with his mighty kinsfolk on
the mountain top. He liked better to go about from place to place and
from land to land, seeing people at their work and making their lives
happy. When men first saw his fair boyish face and his soft white hands,
they sneered and said he was only an idle, good-for-nothing fellow. But
when they heard him speak, they were so charmed that they stood,
spellbound, to listen; and ever after that they made his words their
law. They wondered how it was that he was so wise; for it seemed to them
that he did nothing but stroll about, playing on his wonderful lyre and
looking at the trees and blossoms and birds and bees. But when any of
them were sick they came to him, and he told them what to find in plants
or stones or brooks that would heal them and make them strong again.
They noticed that he did not grow old, as others did, but that he was
always young and fair; and, even after he had gone away,--they knew not
how, nor whither,--it seemed as tho