which have no fellowship one with the other, a lion,
a goat and a serpent. The serpent will seek to sting
you, the goat to overthrow you with its horns, but the
lion shrivels you to ashes with its tongue of flame.
Therefore, before the fight begins, let us go down to
earth, and I will cut myself a sod of grass, and
thrust it in the throat of the lion with the point
of my sword J Of the serpent and the goat I have no
Slowly Pegasus folded his wings, and slowly, slowly,
they sank, till they found themselves alone in a flowery
meadow. Here Pegasus knelt, while from his back leaned
Bellerophon, and cut a thick and deep wedge of sod,
which he hid in his wallet. Then they soared up
again among the white clouds, till towards evening they
saw 7 before them a land. grey and desolate, with heaps of
burnt-up stalks lying around, telling where golden corn
ears had lifted their heads. Bellerophon looked, and his-
soul grew hot within him.
320 THE HORSE WITH WINGS
1 Where is the monster ? ' he said ; * I will not leave
her another hour to work destruction.'
' Behold her sleeping,' replied Pegasus, ' but think
not to kill her so ; her serpent's ears will hear us,' and as
he guided his course towards the beast, she sprang up-
wards with a snarl more horrible than any thunder.
Lifting her lion's head she tried to scorch the feathers
of his wings, and had she done so, swift would have been
the doom of both horse and rider. But Pegasus, to whom
the gods had given much wisdom, knew this and, as she
reared upwards, wheeled quickly to the side where the
long serpent's neck was ready for a spring. It darted
forward, its forky tongue quivering to bury itself in the
leg of the man who had dared to measure himself against
the mighty Chimsera, but once more Pegasus turned,
and the snake's head met the shining sword of Bellero-
phon. The first enemy was beaten, yet the victory
was not quite complete, for the keen point of the goat's
horn had entered into the flank of the horse, and blood
flowed from it. Suddenly a sharp pain ran through him,
and he soared upwards, for not yet did he have strength
to finish the fight.
' If we could only have ended it then,' he said, when
the blood ceased flowing, and the pain had gone. ' Now,
I fear me, that the power of the serpent will have
passed into the other two. Yet to have continued
would have meant death to both of us.'
' I know ; but the goat was the one I dreaded least,'
answered Bellerophon. ' Still it was foolish to think we
should slay what no man has conquered without a scratch.'
' Sit firm, and make ready your sword, I am starting,'
cried the horse, and with a rush like that of the lightning
he sped through the air. Even the Chimaera had hardly
time to prepare herself, but what the goat's head had
once done, it hoped to do again, and the long horn was
pointed to the spot whence the attack must come. But
the attack did not coine from that side ; as before, the
THE HORSE WITH WINGS 321
horse made a sudden spring outwards ; Bellerophon
drew out the sod and fixed it to the end of his sword, and
when the lion opened its mouth to scorch them, he thrust
the sword far down its throat, and forced the flames
downwards, till its body was burned as black as the ears
At the sight of the dead lion the goat was filled with
fury, but the body beside it dragged heavily, and it was
no longer free to move its horn as swiftly as in the first
fight. Soon it gave signs of weariness, and the horse
seeing this approached warily till his rider, stooping from
his saddle, gave a clean cut with his sword. The goat's
head rolled down, and Bellerophon picked it up, and
bore it back to the court of the King of Lycia, who fell
on his neck and embraced him like a son.
But not yet was he satisfied, for he feared the wrath
of Proitos, King of Corinth.
' Go now and slay the mighty men of the Solymi
who dwell near the river Meander, and have wrought
much evil to my lands and people,' said lobates, King of
Lycia, and Bellerophon bowed his head, and went out to
tell Pegasus who was awaiting him.
After that he returned to sharpen his sword, and to
look to his dagger, for he knew not what manner of
people these Solymi might be, having heard that they
were strangers, come from out the island of Crete.
At dawn, next morning, the soldiers chosen by
lobates, King of Lycia, to march against the Solymi
set forth, and Bellerophon, mounted on Pegasus, soared
into the air above them, and gave them courage, for
stories were often told of the great deeds of the Solymi,
who had taken many captives among the Lycians, and
eaten up the fruits of many harvests. At last they
beheld the mountain which bore their name, and at the
foot of it the Solymi were drawn up, their shields and
spears glittering on each side of the long square, which as
THE HORSE WITH WINGS
the Lycians well knew, it was not easy to break. Even
with the aid of Bellerophon, and the swift wings of
I&EU.LEROPHON FIC.HTS AOAIKJS
Pegasus, the fight was hard, but at length the Lycians
overcame, though no such mighty warriors had Bellero-
phon ever fought with. Then they swore to trouble the
THE HORSE WITH WINGS 323
land no more, and to pay tribute, and Bellerophon
returned with his tale to the King of Lycia.
1 1 have other work for thee,' said the King, when he
had listened well-pleased to the adventure ; ' the Amazons
who, women though they be, are as strong in the arm
and as skilful with the bow as any marksman in Lycia,
these women I say have crossed the borders of my
kingdom and the people are fleeing before them. They
are led by their Queen Myrina on a horse black as night,
known as the Flyer, for in truth his feet seem hardly to
touch the ground. Behind her.^ also mounted, are the
rest of her tribe, and a fair sight it is to see.'
Then Bellerophon bowed his head, and went forth to
fight them, though indeed he was loth to wound women,
least of all women so goodly and brave as they. But
they pressed him and his men hard, and he was forced
to strike, till some fled and the rest lay dead before him.
And this time likewise he turned back to the Court, not
knowing that Anteia, Queen of Corinth, hearing that
Bellerophon still lived, had written to her father desir-
ing him to make an end of the business, or else ships
of war would sail against Lycia. With shame of heart,
that he should do so base a thing, lobates set an ambush
down a rocky path along which Bellerophon (who this
time had not got Pegasus to aid him, he having other
work to do) was forced to pass. But as he drew near,
the rays of the sun caught one of their helmets, and
Bellerophon marked it, and fell on them in a manner
they nowise expected, and he slew them all, so that
none returned to their homes.
And by these great deeds, the King of Lycia at last
knew that Bellerophon was not a man like another,
but that he was sprung from an Immortal, and was
beloved of the gods, who were stronger than Anteia,
Queen of Corinth. So he put the fear of her away from
him, and gave Bellerophon his younger daughter for a
wife, and the half of his kingdom, and the Lycians
honoured him above all men.
THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUG AN
WE hear a great deal nowadays of orders instituted and
rewards given to those who have risked their lives to
save others, and we all feel glad and proud to know of
such deeds. But in England we have no prize to offer
to people who bestow themselves that is, their strength
and time and thought, as well as their earnings, in daily
care for helpless, friendless creatures who would other-
wise die alone. In France, however, there lived, a
hundred years ago, a man called Monthyon, who,
during years of work as a magistrate in all parts of the
country, had noted the goodness of the poor to each
other, and left a sum of 800/. a year to be given to
anyone whom the forty French Academicians considered
most deserving of it.
Now Monthyon was a very sensible man, and knew
well that all sorts of people would come forward to
claim this money who had no kind of right to it, and he
took great pains to make rules which would ensure the
reward going to the proper person ; the more so, as he
was aware that those who are loudest in praising them-
selves have generally little to be praised for. So he
decreed that to obtain the money, or any part of it, a
number of people should bear witness that the candidate
for the prize had really done something to deserve it.
The paper was to be signed by the neighbours, the priest,
the mayor, and some gentleman of the town, and then at
last it w r as to be laid before the prefect, or head of the
THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUGAN 325
department, and he in his turn was to send it up to the
body of learned men in Paris, known as the Academy.
Monthyon had been dead several years when a young
Normandy peasant woman named Jeanne Jugan entered
the service of a lady in the little town of St. Servan, in
Brittany. Jeanne's new mistress lived quite alone, and
part of her maid's duty was to go with her every day
to the poor people of the village many of them fishers
and carry food and firing to the old and sick, while
they spent their evenings at home making clothes for
the children. Many a night did Jeanne and her mistress
pass, trying to bring back to life some wrecked sailor
who had been washed on shore, or feeding a baby with
spoonsful of warm milk which otherwise might have
died for lack of proper care. In these years Jeanne
learned a great deal about various important things,
and when her mistress died in 1839, she had quite made
up her mind to follow in her footsteps.
At first sight, this did not seem easy, as Jeanne had
saved very little money. But she was well known to
everybody for many miles round St. Servan, and when
she told her friends that she was not going to service
any more but meant to take in needlework, she soon had
as much as she could do. To be sure, it was a trade
that was very badly paid, but her house was her own,
left her by her mistress, and she was a wonderful manager.
Long ago she had formed a plan of helping those who
needed it, and now at last it was possible for her to
carry it out.
* The sister of old Cecile down by the sea has dropped
down dead,' said an old man to Jeanne one day, when
he met her bringing home some work from a farm across
' Poor thing ! Poor thing ! ' cried Jeanne, ' I must
go to her at once,' and off she went, to find the tiny
room full of neighbours all gathered round the old blind
326 THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUG AN
woman. They meant to be kind, but their words only
made her feel more unhappy. ' Ah, what a loss to you,
Cecile ! ' murmured they. ' How will you live without
her earnings ? We will do all we can, and bring you
some food, but the fishing has been bad of late and
there are the children.' And Cecile knew r it was true,
and wept afresh as she felt her desolation.
Into the midst of them came Jeanne. She had over-
heard some of their speeches, and understood at once
what Cecile would be feeling.
' She is coming home with me,' said Jeanne, ' and I
will take care of her, and she will be fine company for
me in the long dark evenings, while I am knitting by the
fire,' for Jeanne always made it appear as if you were
doing her a favour by accepting kindness.
' Oh, Jeanne, do you really mean it ? ' sobbed Cecile.
* Of course I do, and as I am tired and want my
supper, we had better start at once,' and wrapping a
shawi round her, Jeanne helped her up, and led her
through the wondering women down the street.
For a few days old Cecile sat thankfully by the fire
and gave no trouble, but by and by she became used
to being there and kept Jeanne running about to get her
this and that, hindering her greatly in her work. Jeanne,
however, was accustomed to old people and knew that
often they were not very considerate, and that, being
blind, Cecile did not see the harm she was doing, so the
good soul just got up a little earlier or sat up a little later,
in order that the work should be done by the appointed
Two or three months after Cecile had come to live
with her, Jeanne heard of an old servant, whose mistress
had died, leaving her penniless. It was not the lady's
fault, for she herself had lost all her money some time
before, and had begged Marie to find another place
where she would receive good wages. But Marie would
listen to nothing.
THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUGAN 327
' I will stay with yon,' she said, ' and as for wages,
what do they matter ? I have my savings, and they will
do for us both till better times come ; ' but better times
did not come, and the savings melted away, and though
Marie tried to obtain a day's work now and then, they
could hardly keep themselves alive, till she was almost
glad when her mistress died peacefully in her sleep,
and was out of it all.
This was the story that Jeanne heard, and off she
started for the village w r here Marie lived. She found her
in a kitchen without a fire, and only a slice of rye-bread
in the cupboard.
k Will you come and live w r ith me ? ' she said gently.
' I have not much, but w r hat is enough for two is enough
for three, and I shall be glad to have you.'
With heartfelt gratitude Marie accepted the offer,
and as she was a very different person from Cecile, Jeanne
was far happier for her presence. But her charity did
not stop there ; another and another tale of distress was
poured into her ears, and somehow her house was always
large enough to take in anyone who needed a home.
No one knew how she did it, but after a while the people
round about grew ashamed of letting everything rest on
her shoulders, and gave her help of various kinds one
sent warm clothes for her old women, another logs
chopped up for firing, a third a bag of meal for bread,
so that the household never really suffered starvation
though it was often very near it.
But Jeanne at last w r as obliged to own that there
was not room even for as much as a baby. She con-
trived to let the house, to her great joy, and moved into
a bigger one which had been standing empty for some
time, so that she got it for a low rent. Unfortunately
that autumn was long remembered for its heavy gales,
and many fishing boats went down off the shore, and
many old, infirm mothers were left destitute. Jeanne
328 THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUG AN
took them all in ; the neighbours now thought it was quite
natural that she should, and in a month's time twelve
people were living in the new house, which was as full
as the old one had been. What was she to do ? Allow
the friendless creatures to die of neglect ? Quite clearly
that was impossible. Then the richer townsmen of
St. Servan subscribed and bought her a still larger
house, but at the same time they told her that they did
not mean to do any more for her, and that she must feed
and clothe all her guests herself.
This prospect might have frightened many women,
but not Jeanne. Shortly after they were ail settled in
the new dwelling she heard that an old sailor of seven ty-
two was lying uncared for in a damp cellar, without a
relation in the world. Without a moment's delay she
hastened to the place, and found the old man almost
naked, stretched out on some straw, with nothing but
a piece of coarse bread beside him. Before attempting
even to explain what she had come for, she made him
drink a little milk and eat an egg which she had brought
with her, and then she told him that in half an hour four
fisher friends of hers would bring a sort of rough litter
and carry him off to her house.
Oh, how grateful the poor man was ! And after a,
few weeks of nursing he grew quite well, and able to earn
his own living.
It was not only old people that Jeanne rescued and
supported ; several children were to be found in the
home. There was a lame little girl who had been
adopted when she was only five, after the death of both
her parents from fever ; and a big girl of fourteen, whose
father and mother ran away one day, fearing lest they
should be thrown into prison for stealing ; and two small
boys of nine and ten who had walked miles from Lower
Brittany and reached St. Servan one winter's night,
nearly dead with cold and hunger. They knocked at
THE PRIZE OF JEANNE JUG AN 329
the first house they came to, but the door was shut in
their faces, and, try as they might, no one would give
them shelter or even food. The younger boy at length
sank down on the pavement, unable to walk another
step, while his brother stood over him. Very soon a
crowd gathered round them, and some one, on hearing
their story, exclaimed, ' Let us take them to Jeanne/
So to Jeanne they went, and there they stayed till their
father, who had been very ill, could get work again,
and was able to support them and their mother.
Six years had passed and the number of Jeanne's
guests now amounted to sixty-five. By this time a
doctor living in St. Servan had offered to visit the home
daily, as many of the inmates suffered from bad ill-
nesses. Then three ladies in the town proposed to
Jeanne to allow them to help her as nurses and house-
keepers, which she thankfully did. The story became
known to the world, and on December 11, 1845, Jeanne
received from the French Academy 120?. as the Prix
UNLUCKY JO FIN
A FAIRY LEGEND
IN an unknown country there lived a poor man,
John by name, nicknamed the * Unlucky. ' He
lived in a forest, and his work consisted in making
wooden spoons, salt boxes, mugs, and various other
things needed in every house. The work brought
him in very little and John could hardly make both
nds meet. Notwithstanding all this, however, it
yet came into his head to marry the daughter of his
neighbour, the wood-cutter. His wife's dowry only
consisted of two strong arms and a pair of beautiful
eyes which shone out like two stars from her pretty
face. A year had not quite passed when a son
w T as born unto John, a boy healthy and quick as a
And now Unlucky John became thoughtful. ' I can
give nothing to my boy,' he said to himself ; ' well, then,
&t least I will look out for a godmother for him, and such
a godmother as will care for him as if he were her own
son, in case it happened that suddenly I were to die.'
Having made up his mind, John set out in search
of a godmother. He walked and walked he could not
tell for how long till at last he perceived a woman
coming towards him in a red dress and blue mantle ; on
her head she wore a wreath of roses and in her hand
glittered a golden rod.
UNLUCKY JOHN 333
' Good morning, my good man,' she said. ' Where
are you off to so early ? '
' I'm looking for a godmother for my son.'
' Take me, then. I shall only be too pleased.'
' Thank you,' answered John ; ' but you see I want
one who would be just.'
4 Well, then, take me ; you will not regret it. I am
the Capricious Fairy and reign over this forest.'
John was struck.
' So it is you who are the Fairy ! I am sorry ;
but I fear it is no use.'
' And why is that ? ' asked the Fairy in an offended
' For this reason. I don't know whether it is
because we failed in our respects to you, or whether we
did not honour you sufficiently. Indeed all of us, from
the smallest to the biggest, come every spring to
decorate your grotto with many coloured flowers ;
it is to you we bring the largest sheaf ; in your honour
is drunk the first glass of \yine. We always hope that
your heart may be touched by us and that you may take
pity on us. But instead of this, what do we see ? You
awake in a bad humour and everything goes wrong.
Whoever may want fine weather, you send storms ;
where rain is greatly needed, you burn everything by
drought. The poor man struggles, does his utmost, and
you care not a straw, you scarcely move a finger to
help him ; to the idler, however, you show yourself
gracious. No, madam, you are not to be the godmother
of my boy and, therefore, good-bye ! '
And off went Unlucky John. He walked and
walked until he came to a meadow all covered with
lilies of the valley. There stood a woman, dressed in
white and green ; in her apron she held some flowers,
and she w r as as beautiful as a morning in May.
' Where are you hurrying to ? ' said she.
4 I'm looking for a godmother for my son.'
334 UNLUCKY JOHN
1 Would 3^ou like to have me ? ' she asked, in a kind
voice. ' I should only be too pleased.'
Thanks. But, you see, I want a just one. And
you, fair lady, who are you ? '
' I am the Queen Venus. It is I who give beauty to
the people ; it is I, also, who give them love love, the
very best thing on earth.'
' No, dear lady, you will not do for us,' said Unlucky
John, shaking his head.
' How rude you are ! ' exclaimed Venus. * And why
not ? '
; Why ? Because you are not just ; that's why.
You give a beautiful face to persons whose soul is
darker than night, and a good man you send into
the world as ugly as a brute. And as regards love, it is
even worse ; you sow it around in a most thoughtless
manner, right and left. .All this vou do without the
least thought whatever. It is your fault that we do not
see anywhere a truly happy family ; the husband wants
one thing, the wife the other. Go your way, fair lady.'
' How silly you are ! ' said Venus, shrugging her
John hung his head and wandered on.
' Indeed, I am unlucky,' said he aloud. ' I have no
luck in anything.'
Scarcely had he uttered these words when he found
himself in the midst of a big town. Never, not even in
his dreams, had John beheld such splendour. Large
streets, shops with looking-glasses in the windows (and
what was there not in those windows ?), huge palaces,
churches with golden domes, shady gardens. And
people everywhere in the shops, about the streets, in
the gardens. Some running, bustling, hurrying ; others,
leaning in their carriages, looking languidly and in-
differently down upon those that were walking. Sud-
denly the noise and bustle ceased. A chariot drawn by
horses white as snow appeared in the market-place. In
BfVtf^.-^S .<. <. 1Y\ -^ , (
UNLUCKY JOHN 337
front of the chariot, beside it, and behind, there walked
trumpeters and drummers. In the middle of the chariot,
her eyes fixed in front of her, stood a woman in a mag-
nificent brocade dress, ornamented with silver and golden
bells ; a crown of laurels was on her head. From her out-
stretched hands fell now a wreath, now a laurel branch,
for which the crowd struggled ; soon there was a fight,
the people pushed one another, and some of them fell
under the horses. Now and then a lucky one managed
to climb up and catch one of the branches thrown
down. In the place of those who fell other people
appeared, and at last the magic chariot rolled slowly
onwards. Suddenly the woman's gaze fell upon the
awe-struck, frightened face of John, who, holding his
breath, stood leaning against a tree. She stopped the
horses and asked, k Who are you ? '
' I am Unlucky John, your Grace.'
' Why do you hide yourself ? All people are pushing
towards me, and you hide yourself.'
' I am afraid of you,' timidly whispered John.
' You are afraid ? How was it, then, that you came
here ? '
' It was quite unexpectedly that I wandered as far
as this. I am walking about in order to find a god-
mother for my son.'
The woman reflected a little while, then she said,
4 Will you have me ? '
' And who are you ? '
' I am Glory.'
' I want a just godmother.'
' Do you think I am not just ? '
John shook his head.
' Certainly not,' said he, with a sigh. ' Only see
how many people perish on your account. You ride
about with a smile on your face. Everybody thinks it
is meant for him. But, as for you, you are merely
tempting the people, and you do not even hear the
338 UNLUCKY JOHN
cries of those who fall underneath the wheels of your
' Savage ! Return to your forest ! ' proudly ex-
claimed the Fairy, and, whipping up the horses, she
hurried away like a whirlwind.
John wandered on, and came to a place where some
criminals were being executed. Here he saw an old
woman of stern aspect who slowly stepped forward,
holding scales in one hand and a small ivory wand in
The old woman looked at John, and thus spoke
to him in a stern voice : ' Eh, young man, where are
you hurrying to ? '
' I am looking out for a godmother for mv
' A godmother ! Well, then, listen. I have taken a
(ancy to you, and am willing to be godmother to your