CERES AND PROSERPINE I THE MOURNING OF THE EARTH-MOTHER In the island of Sicily, high up among the mountains, there was once a beautiful valley, called the valley of Enna. It was seldom that a human being, even a shepherd, climbed so high but the goats, being able to climb by the steepest and most slippery paths, over the roughest rocks, knew well what soft , sweet grass grew there. Sheep, too, and sometimes wild swine, found their way to this spot. Not another mountain valley anywhere was quite like this one. It was never visited by any of the winds except Zephyrus, who was always mild and gentle. The grass was always green and the flowers were always in bloom. There were shady groves on every side, and numberless fountains of sparkling water. It would have been hard to find a pleasanter spot. This valley of Enna was the home of Ceres, the Earth-mother, one of the wisest of the goddesses. In fact, the valley owed its beauty to the presence of Ceres,
