n the land of Thrace there lived, years ago, one who was called
Orpheus. He was the sweetest singer ever known. His voice was low and
soft.

When men heard this voice all anger ceased, and their thoughts were
thoughts of peace. Even wild animals were tamed.

Orpheus went into the woods one day and took nothing but his harp with
him.

No quiver of arrows was on his back, nor hunting spear at his side.

He sang and sang till the birds flew down on the ground about him, and
seemed to think that a creature with such a voice must be merely another
kind of bird.

A wild cat came creeping slyly between the trees, trying to catch the
little feathered listeners. Orpheus took his lute and played upon it,
and the wild cat became as tame as the birds. They all followed Orpheus
farther into the forest.

Soon, from behind a rock, a tiger sprang to attack the wild cat. The
birds and the wild cat called to Orpheus. When he saw the trouble he
took his harp again, and while he sang the tiger came trembling and
purring to his feet and the birds, the wild cat, and the tiger followed
Orpheus still farther into the forest.

He sat down by a tree to rest and the bees came and showed him where
their honey was hidden in the tree. He fed his friends, and then he and
the tiger led the way to a river where there was the purest water.

Tall trees bent low before him, and young trees tore themselves from the
ground and followed in his train.

Foul waters parted so that Orpheus and his band might pass through
unharmed; they knew no longer any evil thing.

Before they reached the river of pure water, to which the tiger was
leading them, a lion, fierce with anger, sprang madly at his old enemy.
Orpheus took his harp and played so wonderfully that the pine trees
sighed with sorrow, and the lion, loosing his hold on the tiger,
followed the sweet singer of Thrace.