t; and, my stars, what a waste of shoe-leather!

When the stranger had finished the story of his adventures, he looked
around at the attentive faces of the maidens.

"Perhaps you may have heard of me before," said he, modestly. "My name
is Hercules!"

"We had already guessed it," replied the maidens; "for your wonderful
deeds are known all over the world. We do not think it strange, any
longer, that you should set out in quest of the golden apples of the
Hesperides. Come, sisters, let us crown the hero with flowers!"

Then they flung beautiful wreaths over his stately head and mighty
shoulders, so that the lion's skin was almost entirely covered with
roses. They took possession of his ponderous club, and so entwined it
about with the brightest, softest, and most fragrant blossoms, that
not a finger's breadth of its oaken substance could be seen. It looked
all like a huge bunch of flowers. Lastly, they joined hands, and
danced around him, chanting words which became poetry of their own
accord, and grew into a choral song, in honor of the illustrious
Hercules.

And Hercules was rejoiced, as any other hero would have been, to know
that these fair young girls had heard of the valiant deeds which it
had cost him so much toil and danger to achieve. But, still, he was
not satisfied. He could not think that what he had already done was
worthy of so much honor, while there remained any bold or difficult
adventure to be undertaken.

"Dear maidens," said he, when they paused to take breath, "now that
you know my name, will you not tell me how I am to reach the garden of
the Hesperides?"

"Ah! must you go so soon?" they exclaimed. "You--that have performed
so many wonders, and spent such a toilsome life--cannot you content
yourself to repose a little while on the margin of this peaceful
river?"

Hercules shook his head.

"I must depart now," said he.

"We will then give you the best directions we can," replied the
damsels. "You must go to the sea-shore, and find out the Old One, and
compel him to inform you where the golden apples are to be found."

"The Old One!" repeated Hercules, laughing at this odd name. "And,
pray, who may the Old One be?"

"Why, the Old Man of the Sea, to be sure!" answered one of the
damsels. "He has fifty daughters, whom some people call very
beautiful; but we do not think it proper to be acquainted with them,
because they have sea-green hair, and taper away like fishes. You must
talk with