When Arachne heard these last words she stopped her work, tossed her head, and said haughtily, "I did not learn my art from Minerva, but I'm quite sure I can equal the goddess in skill." "Hush!" cried one of the bystanders. "Those are rash words, indeed. No mortal can compare with the gods." But Arachne's pride knew no bounds. She tossed her head again and said, "I'm willing at any time to match my skill with Minerva's. If she can prove herself to be my superior I'll bear any punishment she may name." The people were very much frightened to hear the maiden boast in this manner. They slipped away to their homes in fear and dread. A few days after this conversation happened Arachne was seated at her loom. As usual many who were interested stood watching her. Suddenly there appeared before her an aged woman leaning on a staff, who said, "Lo, I've come to give you advice which I have learned through the years. Beware of pride and boastfulness. True knowledge teaches humility. Seek for fame among mortals if you like, but never try to match your skill with Minerva's. Your proud boasting has offended the goddess. Ask humbly for her forgiveness and I believe she will pardon your rash words." Arachne laughed scornfully and said, "Old woman, begone! I care not for your advice. If Minerva's skill is greater than mine let the goddess prove it by fair trial. Why does she not come herself to see me?" Then a marvelous thing happened. In a twinkling the bent figure of the old woman changed to the shining form of the goddess Minerva. The nymphs who stood near bowed reverently and the people drew back in breathless awe. "A contest in weaving shall begin at once," declared the goddess. Arachne's face flushed and then grew pale but she was not daunted. In her foolish pride she felt sure of victory. Minerva now commanded that two looms be set up. In a few moments this was done; then each took her place and made ready by tying the web to the beam. Now began the famous contest. With rare grace and ease the goddess and the maiden threw their swift shuttles. Silently the skilled weavers worked until each web was finished. Then Arachne glanced at her rival's marvelous web. The maiden never had dreamed of a vision so beautiful. Her heart sank, for, in a moment, she knew how foolish she had been to match her skill with Minerva's. Poor Arachne could not bear the great blow to her pride. In her grief she hung her head. But quickly Minerva sprinkled the maiden's body with magic juices and said, "Boastful Arachne, thou art now changed into a spider. Thou and thy descendants shall spin through the ages to come." And there hanging to a slender thread was the first spider. HOW THE SPIDER MAKES ITS WEB[2] C. WILLIAM BEEBE