it has been copied so often, and circulated so widely, that it is familiar to thousands who would never be likely to see the original. The artistic perfection of this picture, seen even in a photograph, makes it a valuable study to students of literature. A description of a picture can give but a faint idea of its merit, but I will venture a few words about this one.

The artist represents the sun-god seated in his golden chariot drawn by four magnificent horses. He holds the reins lightly in one hand like a practised driver, though the horses are going at full speed over the roadway of cloud. The chariot is surrounded by seven noble female figures called Horæ, the hours, who seem to be dancing around it. Lucifer (the light-bringer, or the morning star) flies before the chariot holding his torch high above his head. Aurora, the dawn-goddess, in lovely floating garments, precedes her brother and She looks back as if to assure them that they have nothing to fear as long as she is there to strew their pathway with the garlands of flowers that she holds in her hands.

son.

Just below the clouds on which she floats, we catch a glimpse of the blue Mediterranean with two or three white-winged sail-boats that have just left its shores. But no words can convey an idea of the beauty of color with which the artist has glorified the whole picture. Neither is a print or a photograph, lacking color, more than a shadow of the original; but it gives the thought that was in the mind of the artist, and the source whence it sprung.

CERES, Lat.; DEMETER, Gr.

DEMETER was a daughter of Chronos and Rhea. She was the goddess of agriculture, and represented that portion of the earth which produces all vegetation. She was regarded as the patroness of all those arts which are connected with agriculture.

The favor of Demeter was believed to bring mankind rich harvests and fruitful crops, whereas her displeasure caused blight, drought, and famine. The island of Sicily was supposed to be under her special protection, and there she was regarded with particular veneration, the Sicilians naturally attributing the wonderful fertility of their country to the partiality of the goddess.

The most celebrated legend told about Demeter is the story of the loss of her daughter, Persephone (Prōser'pina or Prõs'erpine). The latter was once playing with the daughters of Oceanus in a meadow, where they were picking flowers and making garlands. Persephone happened to leave her companions for a moment to pluck a narcissus (daffodil), when suddenly the ground opened at her feet, and Pluto appeared in a chariot. He seized and carried off the maiden. All this occurred with the knowledge of her father, Zeus, who had, unknown to Demeter, promised Persephone to Pluto.

When Demeter missed her darling child, and none could tell her where she had gone, she lighted torches, and during many days and nights wandered over all the earth, not even resting for food or sleep.

At length Apollo told Demeter what had happened,

and that it was with the consent of Zeus. Full of wrath and grief, the goddess withdrew from the society of the other deities. All the fruits of the earth ceased, and a general famine threatened to destroy the human race. In vain Zeus sent one messenger after another, beseeching the angry goddess to return to Olympus. Demeter vowed that she would neither return nor allow the fruits of the earth to grow until her daughter was restored to her. At length Zeus sent Hermes with a petition to Pluto to restore Persephone to her mother. He consented, and she joyfully prepared to follow the messenger of the gods to light and life. Before taking leave of her husband, he presented to her a few seeds of a pomegranate, which in her excitement she thoughtlessly swallowed. As it was a rule that if any immortal had tasted food in the realms of Pluto, he must remain there forever, the hopes of the goddesses were disappointed, but Zeus finally induced Pluto to allow Persephone to spend six months of the year with her mother, while during the other six months she was to be the companion of her grim lord. Every year at springtide she ascends from her underground kingdom to enjoy herself in her mother's company, but returns again in autumn to the regions of darkness and death. Many other stories are told of Demeter; of the temples that were built in her honor; of the worship paid to her; and of the punishment she inflicted on those who displeased her. These stories are older than the time of Homer; for one of the short poems, said to have been written by him, is called a hymn to Ceres

(Demeter). Modern poets have told this old story beautifully, as we shall see in Jean Ingelow's "Persephone;" but our own Hawthorne's prose story, called "The Pomegranate Seeds," is perhaps the most pleasing version of it to be found in English literature.

A HYMN TO CERES.

HOMER.

In Nysia's vale, with nymphs a lovely train
Sprung from the hoary father of the main,
Fair Proserpine consumed the fleeting hours.
In pleasing sports and plucking gaudy flowers.
Around them wide and flaming crocus glows,
Through leaves of verdure blooms the opening rose ;
The hyacinth declines his fragrant head,
And purple violets deck the enamell'd mead;
The fair Narcissus, far above the rest,
By magic formed, in beauty rose confest,
So Jove to insure the virgin's thoughtless mind,
And please the Ruler of the Shades designed.
He caus'd it from the opening earth to rise,
Sweet to the scent, alluring to the eyes.
Never did mortal or celestial power
Behold such vivid tints adorn a flower;

From the deep root a hundred branches sprung,
And to the winds ambrosial odours flung,

Which lightly wafted on the wings of air

The gladden'd earth and heaven's wide circuit share:
The joy-dispensing fragrance spreads around,

And Ocean's briny swell with smiles is crowned.

Pleased with the sight, nor deeming danger nigh,
The fair beheld it with desiring eye;

Her eager hand she stretched to seize the flower,
(Beauteous illusion of the ethereal power)
When, dreadful to behold! the rocking ground
Disparted widely yawned a gulf profound!
Forth rushing from the black abyss arose
The gloomy monarch of the realm of woes,
Pluto, from Saturn sprung;- the trembling maid
He seized, and to his golden car conveyed;
Borne by immortal steeds the chariot flies.

PROSERPINE, Lat.; PERSEPHONE, Gr.

JEAN INGELOW.

She stepped upon Sicilian grass,
Demeter's daughter fresh and fair,

A child of light, a radiant lass,

And gamesome as the morning air.
The daffodils were fair to see,
They nodded lightly on the lea,
Persephone - Persephone !

Lo! one she marked of rarer growth
Than orchis or anemone;

For it the maiden left them both

And parted from her company.
Drawn nigh she deemed it fairer still,
And stooped to gather by the rill

The daffodil, the daffodil.

What ailed the meadow that it shook?
What ailed the air of Sicily?
She wondered by the brattling brook,
And trembled with the trembling lea.