"It is time for the sun chariot to start, Phaeton," said Apollo. The boy sprang into the golden chariot and Apollo put the sun rays on his head.

high nor too low. Use not the whip."

The horses leaped high into the air, far above the clouds. Phaeton could not hold them. He looked down on the earth and grew pale with terror. How he wished that he had never asked his father to drive the chariot of the sun!

Diana, who drives the chariot of the moon, saw the great chariot coming down upon her. She shot her arrows at the sun horses and turned them aside just in time to save herself.

Down dashed the horses to the earth, setting whole cities on fire. Streams dried up. Mountains were burned.

Then Jupiter, seeing the earth was about to burn up, said to Apollo, "He must be stopped."

So they threw him into a great river and saved the people on the earth. However, his sisters built a tomb for him on the sea-shore, so that he would not be forgotten.

Phaeton fell from his father's chariot but he lost not his glory. His heart had been set upon great things.

(Memorize)

Who drives the horses of the sun

Shall lord it but a day:

Better the lowly deed were done,

And kept the humble way.

John Vance Cheney.

ROBIN REDBREAST

BY WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

Good-by, good-by to summer!
For summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our thrushes now are silent,

Our swallows flown away,

But Robin's here, in coat of brown, With ruddy breastknot gay. Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

Robin sings so sweetly

In the falling of the year.

Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts; The trees are Indian Princes,

But soon they'll turn to Ghosts; The leathery pears and apples

Hang russet on the bough;

It's autumn, autumn, autumn late,

"Twill soon be winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

And what will this poor Robin do?
For pinching days are near.

The fireside for the cricket,

The wheat-stack for the mouse,
When trembling nightwinds whistle
And moan all round the house;
The frosty ways like iron,

The branches plumed with snow,—
Alas! in winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?

Robin, Robin Redbreast,

O Robin dear!

And a crumb of bread for Robin,

His little heart to cheer.

Take care of to-day and to-morrow will take

care of itself.

An old woman sat on the bank of a river. She was washing her clothes. The water was so clear she could see the little fish swim over the stones.

Suddenly there came rolling down the stream large, round, soft-looking peach. It had a stem and two green leaves.

"I am sixty years old," said the old woman, "and that is the most wonderful peach I have ever seen. I must have it."

She looked around for a stick to reach it with but did not find one. She did not know what to

do.

Suddenly she clasped her hands and sang:

"Far waters are bitter, near waters are sweet,

Leave the bitter, come to the sweet.”