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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

it was with each dish to which the king was helped, and all the time he grew more and more hungry.

At last, when he had burned his tongue severely with a potato, which had become red-hot metal, he could bear it no longer, but groaned aloud.

On hearing her father's outcry, pretty Marygold started from her chair, and, running to him, threw her arms affectionately about his knees. The king bent down and kissed her tenderly. He felt that his little daughter's love was worth a thousand times more than the Golden Touch.

"My precious, precious Marygold!" cried he. But Marygold made no answer. Alas! what had he done? The moment his lips touched Marygold's forehead, a change had taken place. His little daughter was a child no longer, but a golden statue.

Poor King Midas! He stood at first dumb with despair. Then he began to wring his hands and cried, "Would that I were the poorest man in the wide world if only my dear child were restored to me!"

While he was thus lamenting, suddenly the stranger, who had granted his dearest wish, stood before him. "Well, friend Midas," said he, "pray how do you succeed with the 'Golden Touch'?'' Midas shook his head and pointed to the golden statue. "I have lost all my heart really cared for." "Ah! so you have made a discovery since yesterday?" the stranger said. "Let us see, then, which of these things do you really think is worth the most, the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of clear, cold water?"

"O blessed water!" exclaimed Midas. "It will never moisten my parched throat again."

"The Golden Touch," continued the stranger, "or a crust of bread?" "A piece of bread," answered Midas, "is worth all the gold on earth."

"The Golden Touch," asked the stranger, "or your own little Marygold, warm, soft, and loving, as she was an hour ago?"

"My child, my dear child,"cried poor Midas. "I would not give one small dimple in her chin for the power of changing the whole earth into a solid lump of gold!"

"You are wiser than you were, King Midas,” said the stranger, looking seriously at him; "your own heart, I see, has not been entirely changed to gold. Tell me, do you sincerely wish to get rid of the Golden Touch?" "It is hateful to me!” replied Midas.

"Go, then," said the stranger, "and plunge into the river that flows past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a jar of the same water and sprinkle over any object you may desire to change again from gold to its former substance. If you do this, you may repair the mischief your folly has caused." King Midas bowed low, and when he lifted his head he was alone.

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a big earthen pitcher-earthen no longer after he had touched it, and hurrying to the river-side. On reaching the stream, he plunged in headlong, without so much as waiting to pull off his shoes.

"Poof, poof, poof!" snorted King Midas, as his head rose from the water. "Well, this is really a refreshing bath, and I think I must have quite washed

away the 'Golden Touch'-and now for filling my pitcher!"

As he dipped the pitcher in the water, he was glad to see it change from gold into the same good, honest earthen vessel which it had been before. The curse of the Golden Touch had been really removed from him.

And now King Midas hastened back to the palace, bearing the pitcher carefully, that he might not waste a single drop. In handfuls he sprinkled the water over the little golden figure of his Marygold. No sooner did it fall on her, than she began to sneeze and sputter, and how astonished was she to find herself dripping wet!

"Pray do not, dear father," cried she. "See how you have wet my nice frock which I put on only this morning!" For Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden statue.

King Midas never regretted the loss of the Golden Touch.

TH

Diamonds and Toads.*

HERE was, once upon a time, a widow who had two daughters. The eldest was so much like her in face and humor, that whoever looked upon the daughter saw the mother. They were both so disagreeable, and so proud, that there was no living with them. The youngest, who was the very picture of her father for courtesy and sweetness of temper, was withal one of the most beautiful girls ever seen. As people naturally love their own likenesses, this mother even doted on her eldest daughter, and at the same time had a sad aversion for the youngest. She made her eat in the kitchen, and work continually.

Among other things, this poor child was forced twice a day to draw water above a mile and a half from the house, and bring home a pitcher full of it. One day, as she was at this fountain, there came to her a poor woman, who begged of her to let her drink. "O yes, with all my heart, Goody," said this pretty little girl; and rinsing the pitcher, she took up some water from the clearest place of the fountain and gave it to her, holding up the pitcher all the while that she might drink the easier.

The good woman, having drunk, said to her, "You are so very pretty, my dear, so good and so mannerly, that I cannot help giving you a gift"—for this was a

* From Heart of Oak Series, by permission of D. C. Heath & Co., publishers.

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