Proudly he
stood. The sun could not burn him and the rain
could not move him.
``Now, at last,'' he said, ``no one is mightier
than I.''
But one day he was waked from his dreams by
a noise,--tap! tap! tap!--down at his feet. He
looked and there was a stone-cutter driving his
tool into the rock. Another blow and the great
rock shivered; a block of stone broke away.
``That man is mightier than I!'' cried Hofus,
and he sighed:--
``Ah me! Ah me!
If Hofus only the man might be!''
And the voice answered:--
``Be thou thyself!''
And straightway Hofus was himself again,--
a poor stone-cutter, working all day upon the
mountain-side, and going home at night to his
little hut. But he was content and happy, and
never again did he wish to be other than Hofus
the stone-cutter.
ARACHNE
BY JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY
There was a certain maiden of Lydia, Arachne
by name, renowned throughout the country for
her skill as a weaver. She was as nimble with her
fingers as Calypso, that Nymph who kept Odysseus
for seven years in her enchanted island. She
was as untiring as Penelope, the hero's wife, who
wove day after day while she watched for his
return. Day in and day out, Arachne wove too.
The very Nymphs would gather about her loom,
Naiads from the water and Dryads from the trees.
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