And as it happened , she had not gone far before she found one of the magnificent flowers which grew on the shrub that Proserpina had pulled up . `` Ha ! '' thought Mother Ceres , examining it by torchlight . `` Here is mischief in this flower ! The earth did not produce it by any help of mine , nor of its own accord . It is the work of enchantment , and is therefore poisonous ; and perhaps it has poisoned my poor child . '' But she put the poisonous flower in her bosom , not knowing whether she might ever find any other memorial of Proserpina . All night long , at the door of every cottage and farm-house , Ceres knocked , and called up the weary laborers to inquire if they had seen her child ; and they stood , gaping and half-asleep , at the threshold , and answered her pityingly , and besought her to come in and rest . At the portal of every palace , too , she made so loud a summons that the menials hurried to throw open the gate , thinking that it must be some great king or queen , who would demand a banquet for supper and a stately chamber to repose in . And when they saw only a sad and anxious woman , with a torch in her hand and a wreath of withered poppies on her head , they spoke rudely , and sometimes threatened to set the dogs upon her . But nobody had seen Proserpina , nor could give Mother Ceres the least hint which way to seek her . Thus passed the night ; and still she continued her search without sitting down to rest , or stopping to take food , or even remembering to put out the torch although first the rosy dawn , and then the glad light of the morning sun , made its red flame look thin and pale . But I wonder what sort of stuff this torch was made of ; for it burned dimly through the day , and , at night , was as bright as ever , and never was extinguished by the rain or wind , in all the weary days and nights while Ceres was seeking for Proserpina . It was not merely of human beings that she asked tidings of her daughter . In the woods and by the streams , she met creatures of another nature , who used , in those old times , to haunt the pleasant and solitary places , and were very sociable with persons who understood their language and customs , as Mother Ceres did . Sometimes , for instance , she tapped with her finger against the knotted trunk of a majestic oak ; and immediately its rude bark would cleave asunder , and forth would step a beautiful maiden , who was the hamadryad of the oak , dwelling inside of it , and sharing its long life , and rejoicing when its green leaves sported with the breeze . But not one of these leafy damsels had seen Proserpina . Then , going a little farther , Ceres would , perhaps , come to a fountain , gushing out of a pebbly hollow in the earth , and would dabble with her hand in the water . Behold , up through its sandy and pebbly bed , along with the fountain 's gush , a young woman with dripping hair would arise , and stand gazing at Mother Ceres , half out of the water , and undulating up and down with its ever-restless motion . But when the mother asked whether her poor lost child had stopped to drink out of the fountain , the naiad , with weeping eyes -LRB- for these water-nymphs had tears to spare for everybody 's grief -RRB- , would answer `` No ! ''
in a murmuring voice , which was just like the murmur XXXXX the stream .
against as at before by for in of whether with