46 AUTUMN STORIES AND POEMS 



On his left hand stood the Seasons. 



There was Spring, with a wreath of flowers 

 on her head. Summer had her arms full of 

 grain. Autumn carried a basket of fruit. 

 Winter's curls were glistening icicles. 



Phaethon was so dazzled by the bright light, 

 that he had to shade his eyes with his hand. 



Apollo saw the young man, and knew him to 

 be his son. 



He laid aside his crown of sunbeams and 

 stepped down from his throne. 



Taking Phaethon in his arms, he called him 

 his son, and kissed him. 



" Oh, my father ! " cried Phaethon, " if I am 

 indeed your son, give me something to show 

 that I belong to you." 



" Ask what you will, my child, and I shall 

 grant it." 



Phaethon did not have to think twice about 

 what he wanted. He had long ago made up 

 his mind what, in all the world, he would most 

 like to do. 



" Let me drive the sun-car through the sky, 

 just for one day, Father," said he. 



Apollo was very sorry when he heard this. 



u Listen, my son," said he, "no one but my- 



