have a still harder metal in his breast, and might
have been called a man of iron. He bent his
shaggy brows upon the poor Athenian victims.
Any other mortal, beholding their fresh and ten-
der beauty, and their innocent looks, would have
felt himself sitting on thorns until he had made
every soul of them happy, by bidding them go
free as the summer wind. But this immitigabie
Minos cared only to examine whether they were
plump enough to satisfy the Minotaur's appetite.
For my part, I wish he himself had been the
only victim; and the monster would have found
him a pretty tough one.

One after another, King Minos called these
pale, frightened youths and sobbing maidens to
his footstool, gave them each a poke in the ribs
with his sceptre, (to try whether they were Ji
good flesh or no,) and dismissed them with a
nod to his guards. But when his eyes rested on
Theseus, the king looked at him more atten-
tively, because his face was calm and brave.

"Young man," asked he, with his stern voice,
"are you not appalled at the certainty of being
devoured by this terrible Minotaur?' 3

"I have offered my life in a good cause,"

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