The Children's Hour, Volume 3 (of 10): Stories from the Classics
General
The Children's Hour, Volume 3 (of 10): Stories from the Classics
Children's stories; Classical literature -- Adaptations
So saying, Pluto pulled at the reins, and stopped the chariot right
between the tall, massive pillars of the gateway. The mastiff of which he
had spoken got up from the threshold, and stood on his hinder legs, so as
to put his forepaws on the chariot-wheel. But, my stars, what a strange
dog it was! Why, he was a big, rough, ugly-looking monster, with three
separate heads, and each of them fiercer than the two others; but, fierce
as they were, King Pluto patted them all. He seemed as fond of his
three-headed dog as if it had been a sweet little spaniel, with silken
ears and curly hair. Cerberus, on the other hand, was evidently rejoiced
to see his master, and expressed his attachment, as other dogs do, by
wagging his tail at a great rate. Proserpina's eyes being drawn to it by
its brisk motion, she saw that this tail was neither more nor less than a
live dragon, with fiery eyes, and fangs that had a very poisonous aspect.
And while the three-headed Cerberus was fawning so lovingly on King Pluto,
there was the dragon tail wagging against its will, and looking as cross
and ill-natured as you can imagine, on its own separate account.
"Will the dog bite me?" asked Proserpina, shrinking closer to Pluto. "What
an ugly creature he is!"
"Oh, never fear," answered her companion. "He never harms people unless
they try to enter my dominions without being sent for, or to get away when
I wish to keep them here. Down, Cerberus! Now, my pretty Proserpina, we
will drive on."
On went the chariot, and King Pluto seemed greatly pleased to find himself
once more in his own kingdom. He drew Proserpina's attention to the rich
veins of gold that were to be seen among the rocks, and pointed to several
places where one stroke of a pick-axe would loosen a bushel of diamonds.
All along the road, indeed, there were sparkling gems, which would have
been of inestimable value above ground, but which were here reckoned of
the meaner sort, and hardly worth a beggar's stooping for.
Not far from the gateway, they came to a bridge, which seemed to be built
of iron. Pluto stopped the chariot, and bade Proserpina look at the stream
which was gliding so lazily beneath it. Never in her life had she beheld
so torpid, so black, so muddy-looking a stream: its waters reflected no
images of anything that was on the banks, and it moved as sluggishly as if
it had quite forgotten which way it ought to flow, and had rather stagnate
than flow either one way or the other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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