THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES. 143

but with his upper half as tall, and misty, and blue, as
a distant mountain. At last the gigantic shape faded
entirely out of view. And now Hercules began to con-
sider what he should do, in case Atlas should be drowned
in the sea, or if he were to be stung to death by the
dragon with the hundred heads, which guarded the
golden apples of the Hesperides. If any such misfortune
were to happen, how could he ever get rid of the sky?
And, by the by, its weight began already to be a little
irksome to his head and shoulders.

“JT really pity the poor giant,” thought Hercules.
‘Tf it wearies me so much in ten minutes, how must it
have wearied him in a thousand years ! ”

O my sweet little people, you have no idea what a
weight there was in that same blue sky, which looks so
soft and aerial above our heads! And there, too, was
the bluster of the wind, and the chill and watery clouds,
and the blazing sun, all taking their turns to make Her-
cules uncomfortable! He began to be afraid that the
giant would never come back. He gazed wistfully at
the world beneath him, and acknowledged to himself that
it was a far happier kind of life to be a shepherd at the
foot of a mountain, than to stand on its dizzy summit,
and bear up the firmament with his might and main.
For, of course, as you will easily understand, Hercules
had an immense responsibility on his mind, as well as a
weight on his head and shoulders. Why, if he did not
stand perfectly still, and keep the sky immovable, the
sun would perhaps be put ajar! Or, after nightfall, a
great many of the stars might be loosened from their