A WONDER-BOOK
Poor fellow! He had evidently stood there a long while. An ancient forest had been growing and decaying around his feet; and oak trees, of six or seven centuries old, had sprung from the acorn, and forced themselves between his toes.
The giant now looked down from the far height of his great eyes, and, perceiving Hercules, roared out, in a voice that resembled thunder, proceeding out of the cloud that had just flitted away from his face.
‘Who are you, down at my feet there? And whence do you come, in that little cup?’
‘I am Hercules!’ thundered back the hero, in a voice pretty nearly or quite as loud as the giant’s own. ‘And I am seeking for the garden of the Hesperides!’
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ roared the giant, in a fit of immense laughter. ‘That is a wise adventure, truly!’
‘And why not?’ cried Hercules, getting a little angry at the giant’s mirth. ‘Do you think I am afraid of the dragon with a hundred heads!’
Just at this time, while they were talking together, some black clouds gathered about the giant’s middle, and burst into a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, causing such a pother that Hercules found it impossible to distinguish a word. Only the giant’s immeasurable legs were to be seen, standing up into the obscurity of the tempest; and now and then a momentary glimpse of his whole figure, mantled in a volume of mist. He seemed to be speaking most of the time; but his big, deep, rough voice chimed in with the reverberations of the thunderclaps, and rolled away over the hills, like them. Thus, by talking out of season, the foolish giant expended an in-
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