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myth of Pan.
from a childs story garden.
Start of Story
Age Rating 8 plus.
In a very far-away country, a long time ago, there lived a man who loved
music and little children and the birds and flowers. And the little
children loved Pan--for that was his name--because he told them such
beautiful stories and played on a set of pipes which he had made from
the reeds which grew by the river. Every evening, when it was time for
the sun to go to sleep and all the little stars to wake up, Pan would
take his pipes, go down to the river side, and play all the songs he
knew. Everybody could hear Pan's music for miles and miles, but many of
them did not like his music, and wished that he would not play. Once
some of these people gathered together and planned how they could stop
Pan from playing his pipes, and while they were talking, some beetles
near by heard their plans. Now, one of these beetles had hurt his wing
at one time and had fallen down in the dust on the road, and could go no
farther. It was a very hot day, and the poor little beetle was almost
dead from the heat. Soon Pan came walking along and saw the beetle, and,
picking it up very carefully, he carried it on some green leaves to a
shady place, where he left it to rest and get well. The beetle had never
forgotten Pan's kindness, and when he heard the plans these bad people
had made he said: "Come, friends, and go with me, for we must hurry and
tell Pan what the wicked people have planned, so that he will not be
there when they go to push him into the river."
The beetles had only one day in which to reach Pan, for the evil people
were going to carry out their plans the next night, so they spread their
wings and flew as fast as they could fly. They could not travel far at a
time, because their wings grew very tired and their bodies were so
heavy. When they could fly no longer they would walk, and when they were
tired walking they would fly again. In this way they hurried on and on,
for the day was growing into night, and they could hear Pan playing his
beautiful songs way down by the river bank. They had almost reached him
when they heard what seemed to be a crowd of people running through the
bushes and among the trees, and it seemed that they were going toward
the river. Next there was a big splash and many voices talking loudly,
and after that--silence. When the beetles reached the place where Pan
always sat they could not find him; but there in the river were his
pipes, which he loved so well.
The people had reached Pan before the beetles, and had pushed him into
the river, and his pipes fell in, too, but Pan did not wait to get them.
He climbed out and ran as fast as his feet would carry him. The people
ran after him, but he leaped and bounded over the bushes and flowers,
and ran on and on. Sometimes they were almost upon him, but he always
out-ran them. He wished to hide, but could find no place. He could not
climb the trees, for the people could climb trees, too, and he could not
hide in the grass or under the bushes, for they would be sure to find
At last, along the river bank, he spied the little violets that had
closed their eyes, but were still gazing at the stars. One little violet
seemed to say to him, "I will hide you," and it folded its little petals
around him. Pan was safe now, and from his hiding place he could hear
the people searching for him. They looked for a long time, but they did
not find him. He was happy and thankful, and, as he was very tired and
the soft petals of the violets made a pleasant resting place, he was
soon fast asleep.
Away back on the river bank, where Pan always sat, were the beetles.
They were very sorry that they had not reached him in time to tell him
that the people were coming, and that they could not get his pipes out
of the water, where they had fallen. And, though they never saw him
again, they always remembered him and the beautiful music he used to
One day some little children were picking violets by the river, and they
found one little violet that had eyes just like Pan's eyes. They took it
home and named it Pan's Eye, in memory of their old friend, but, as that
was rather a hard name for the little children to say, they called it