ust see the basketful of anemones we got down in the glen! They were as
thick there as they could be. We picked and picked and it didn't seem to
make a bit of difference, there were so many left. Aren't they lovely?"

"They are dainty little flowers, boys. Where did you say you
found them?"

"On the low land in the glen by the brook. There were great trees on
both sides of the glen, and it was so still the little brook and the
waterfall sounded as loud as a big river. How we wished you were there!"

"What else did you find besides the windflowers, or anemones, boys?"

"Here's a little moss and a few blood-root flowers, and Will Johnson
carried home a big bouquet of wild bleeding-hearts."

"That makes me think, Charlie, of a myth there is about the first
anemones."

"A myth? What is that, mother? Oh, I know, John," said Charlie; "it is
one of those stories that people used to believe just as we used to
believe in Santa Claus. He's a myth, you know, and now you please keep
still and maybe mother has time to tell us about the first anemones. I
like myths."

"This is a hunting story, so I know you will like it, boys.

"But just think of hunting with bow and arrows and spears! Would you
like that?"

"Yes, yes!" shouted both the boys.

"Well, years ago in the Golden Age when the world was young there lived
a Greek hunter whose name was Adonis. He was tall and straight and
handsome. His friends thought it a great pity that he should spend his
time in the woods, with only his dogs for company. Away he would go day
after day with his arrows at his back and his spear at his side. His
dogs were fierce and would attack any creature. His horse was as brave
as he. His friends begged him to wait till he was older and stronger
before he went into the deep forests, but he never waited. He had killed
bears, wolves, and lions. Why should he wait?