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Updated: May 24, 2025
Once when Demeter was going through the world, giving men grain to be sown in their fields, she heard a cry that came to her from across high mountains and that mounted up to her from the sea. Demeter's heart shook when she heard that cry, for she knew that it came to her from her daughter, from her only child, young Persephone.
And then he cried out: "Ah, Persephone, strive to feel kindliness in your heart toward me who carried you off by violence and against your will. I can give to you one of the great kingdoms that the Olympians rule over. And I, who am brother to Zeus, am no unfitting husband for you, Demeter's child."
Hard will he find it, with all his lust for war, to overcome their strength and their hands invincible, and to fire the ships, unless Kronion himself send down on the swift ships a burning brand. But not to a man would he yield, the great Telamonian Aias, to a man that is mortal and eateth Demeter's grain, and may be chosen with the sword of bronze, and with hurling of great stones.
The correctness of his belief was instantly proved to him by the address of gray-haired, highly praised Euphranor, who spoke of the Demeter's countenance with warm admiration. And how ardently the poets Theocritus and Zenodotus extolled his work to the skies! Amid so much laudation, one faint word of dissatisfaction vanished like a drop of blood that falls into a clear stream.
Was there never a martyr in old times, more human than the rest, who turned back, for love perhaps, if not for fear, and said that for love's sake life still was sweet, and brought a milk-white dove to Aphrodite's altar, or dropped a rose before Demeter's feet? There must have been, for man is man, and woman, woman.
What he perceives in you, what you enable him to recognise through every feature of your sweet, tranquillizing face, is enough for the genuine artist to imagine the goddess; for the distinction between the mortal and the immortal is only the degree of perfection, and the human intellect and artist soul can find nothing more perfect in the whole domain of Demeter's jurisdiction than is presented to them in your nature.
As she sat there and looked around her there came into Demeter's heart a pity for the people in whose house she had dwelt. She rose up and she went to the house of Celeus. She found him beside his house measuring out a little grain.
Children of the Mist and Demeter's Daughter are among his ablest novels. Maurice Hewlett was born in Kent in 1861, of an old Somerset family. He began writing in his boyhood, giving proof even then of his skill in catching the manner of other writers. His style to-day reëchoes his reading of many authors in Latin, French, Italian, and English.
"Only keep your eye peeled to see that another Bullshevist don't sneak up and kick me from behind, after the like o' the breed!" Demeter's exploration produced a bulldog revolver, a slungshot, a packet of pamphlets, and several small red flags. "What's your name?" demanded the commander. "No business of yours!" Lanigan kneeled on the captive and roweled cruel thumbs into the man's neck.
IT has been argued by W. Mannhardt that the first part of Demeter's name is derived from an alleged Cretan word deai, "barley," and that accordingly Demeter means neither more nor less than "Barley-mother" or "Corn-mother"; for the root of the word seems to have been applied to different kinds of grain by different branches of the Aryans.
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