“Long live King Cadmus,” they cried, “in his beautiful palace.”

And the new king, with his five faithful followers at his heels, shouldering their pickaxes and marching in a rank (for they still had a soldier-like sort of behaviour, as their nature was), ascended the palace steps.  Halting at the entrance, they gazed through a long vista of lofty pillars that were ranged from end to end of a great hall.  At the farther extremity of this hall, approaching slowly toward him, Cadmus beheld a female figure, wonderfully beautiful, and adorned with a royal robe, and a crown of diamonds over her golden ringlets, and the richest necklace that ever a queen wore.  His heart thrilled with delight.  He fancied it his long-lost sister Europa, now grown to womanhood, coming to make him happy, and to repay him, with her sweet sisterly affection, for all those weary wanderings in quest of her since he left King Agenor’s palace—­for the tears that he had shed, on parting with Phoenix, and Cilix, and Thasus—­for the heart-breakings that had made the whole world seem dismal to him over his dear mother’s grave.

But, as Cadmus advanced to meet the beautiful stranger, he saw that her features were unknown to him, although, in the little time that it required to tread along the hall, he had already felt a sympathy betwixt himself and her.

“No, Cadmus,” said the same voice that had spoken to him in the field of the armed men, “this is not that dear sister Europa whom you have sought so faithfully all over the wide world.  This is Harmonia, a daughter of the sky, who is given you instead of sister, and brothers, and friend, and mother.  You will find all those dear ones in her alone.”

So King Cadmus dwelt in the palace, with his new friend Harmonia, and found a great deal of comfort in his magnificent abode, but would doubtless have found as much, if not more, in the humblest cottage by the wayside.  Before many years went by, there was a group of rosy little children (but how they came thither has always been a mystery to me) sporting in the great hall, and on the marble steps of the palace, and running joyfully to meet King Cadmus when affairs of state left him at leisure to play with them.  They called him father, and Queen Harmonia mother.  The five old soldiers of the dragon’s teeth grew very fond of these small urchins, and were never weary of showing them how to shoulder sticks, flourish wooden swords, and march in military order, blowing a penny trumpet, or beating an abominable rub-a-dub upon a little drum.

But King Cadmus, lest there should be too much of the dragon’s tooth in his children’s disposition, used to find time from his kingly duties to teach them their A B C—­which he invented for their benefit, and for which many little people, I am afraid, are not half so grateful to him as they ought to be.

CHAPTER VII

THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER