If one could live a thousand years, he might have time to grow rich."

"What!" cried the stranger, "then are you not satisfied?" Midas shook his head. "And pray what do you wish?" asked the stranger. "I should really like to know."

Midas did not answer at once; he tried to think of the very largest amount of gold possible, and yet it seemed too small. At last a bright idea came to him.

Raising his head, he looked the stranger in the face. "Well, Midas," said the visitor, "I see that you have decided. Tell me your wish." "I am tired of collecting my gold so slowly; I wish everything that I touch may be changed to gold." The stranger's smile grew so very broad that it seemed to fill the room like sunlight.

"The Golden Touch!" exclaimed he; "are you quite sure, my friend Midas, that this will satisfy you?" "How could it fail?" said Midas. "And will you never be sorry that you possess it?" "Why should I?" asked Midas. "I wish for nothing else to make me perfectly happy.”

"Be it as you wish," replied the stranger, waving a farewell with his hand. "To-morrow at sunrise you will find that you have the 'Golden Touch'."

The figure of the stranger was so dazzling that Midas closed his eyes, and when he opened them he saw only a yellow sunbeam where the stranger had stood. Very early next morning King Midas awoke, and, stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects near him. He first laid his fingers on a chair by his bedside, but no change could he see.

Then he tried the other things, but they remained exactly as before. Sadly disappointed was King Midas. All this while it was only daybreak; the sun had not yet risen.

But suddenly the first sunbeam came through the window, and then on the king's bed, and, as he held the bed-spread in his hand, behold the linen cloth had become cloth of gold! The "Golden Touch" had come to him with the first sunbeam.

Midas started up joyfully, and ran about the room, touching everything in his way. He seized one of the bed-posts, and it became a fluted golden pillar. He pulled aside a window-curtain, and the tassel grew heavy in his hand—a mass of gold. He took up a book from the table. At first touch it looked like a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume; but, when he opened it, alas! there were only thin golden plates, with not one word that could be read.

He hurriedly put on his clothes, and was delighted to find himself dressed in gold-cloth, which was soft and flexible, but somewhat heavy.

He drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had hemmed for him. This, too, was gold, with the dear child's pretty stitches all along the border in gold thread. This change he did not like so much; he would rather that his little daughter's handiwork should have remained the same as when she climbed upon his knee and put it in his hand. Then the king left his room and went down the wide staircase, smiling to himself to see the balustrade become a bar of burnished gold.

He stepped from the hall into the garden, blossom

ing with roses, which scented the morning air with their fragrance.

King Midas looked at them with delight, but thought to himself, "I can make you far more precious"; so he took great pains, in going from bush to bush, to touch every rose, until each flower and bud, and even the worms at the heart of some of them, were changed to gold.

By this time the king was called to breakfast, and, as the morning air had given him a keen appetite, he made haste back to the palace. Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. The king ordered

her to be called, and, seating himself at the table, awaited her. It was not a great while before he saw her coming along the passage-way, crying bitterly.

When Midas heard her sobs, he thought he would give his little Marygold a surprise; so, leaning across the table, he touched his daughter's china bowl, and changed it into shining gold.

Meanwhile Marygold slowly opened the door, and showed herself with her apron at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would break.

"How now, my little lady!" cried Midas. "Pray, what is the matter with you, this bright morning?" Marygold, without taking her apron from her eyes, held out her hand, in which was one of the golden

roses.

"Beautiful!" exclaimed her father. "And what is there here to make you cry?" "Ah, dear father!" answered the child, as well as her sobs would let her, "it is not beautiful, but the ugliest flower that ever grew. As soon as I was dressed, I ran into the

garden to gather some roses for you, but, oh, dear! what do you think has happened? All the beautiful roses that smelled so sweetly are blighted and spoiled. They have grown quite yellow, like this one. What can have been the matter with them?"

"Pooh! my little girl, pray don't cry about it," said Midas, who was ashamed to tell her the truth. "Sit down and eat your bread and milk; you will find it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that, which will last hundreds of years, for an ordinary one which would wither in a day."

"I don't care for such roses as this," cried Marygold, tossing it away. "It has no smell, and its hard petals prick my nose.'

The child now sat down to the table, but the tears still came, and she did not notice the change in her china bowl.

The king, whose cup of coffee had been placed before him, lifted a spoonful to his mouth, and sipping it was astonished to find that, the instant his lips touched the liquid, it became molten gold, and the next moment hardened into a lump. "Ha!"' exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. "What is the matter, dear father?" asked little Marygold, gazing at him through her tears.

"Nothing, child-nothing," said Midas. "Eat your milk before it gets quite cold."

The king then took a brook-trout on his plate, and touched it with his fingers, when it at once became a gold-fish. Then he tried a smoking-hot cake, but had scarcely broken it before it became heavy with gold. An egg, too, underwent a similar change. So

If one could live a thousand years, he might have time to grow rich."

"What!" cried the stranger, "then are you not satisfied?" Midas shook his head. "And pray what do you wish?" asked the stranger. "I should really like to know."

Midas did not answer at once; he tried to think of the very largest amount of gold possible, and yet it seemed too small. At last a bright idea came to him.

Raising his head, he looked the stranger in the face. "Well, Midas," said the visitor, "I see that you have decided. Tell me your wish." "I am tired of collecting my gold so slowly; I wish everything that I touch may be changed to gold." The stranger's smile

grew so very broad that it seemed to fill the room like sunlight.

"The Golden Touch!" exclaimed he; "are you quite sure, my friend Midas, that this will satisfy you?'' "How could it fail?" said Midas. "And will you never be sorry that you possess it?" "Why should I?" asked Midas. "I wish for nothing else to make me perfectly happy.”

"Be it as you wish," replied the stranger, waving a farewell with his hand. "To-morrow at sunrise you will find that you have the 'Golden Touch'."

The figure of the stranger was so dazzling that Midas closed his eyes, and when he opened them he saw only a yellow sunbeam where the stranger had stood. Very early next morning King Midas awoke, and, stretching his arms out of bed, began to touch the objects near him. He first laid his fingers on a chair by his bedside, but no change could he see.