Myths That Every Child Should Know

a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never knew, or ha

e and seek for wealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest pile of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped together since the world was made. Thus, he gave all his thoughts and all his time to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze fo

. These roses were still growing in the garden, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant as when Midas used to pass whole hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their perfume. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to calculate how much the garden would be worth

elf, whenever he wanted to be particularly happy. Here, after carefully locking the door, he would take a bag of gold coin, or a gold cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or a peck measure of gold dust, and bring them from the obscure corners of the room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that fell from the dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine without its help. And then would he reckon over the coins in t

t be. The very tiptop of enjoyment would never be reached, unless the whole world were t

wonderful if they were to happen in our own day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many things take place nowadays, which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which

h a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Cer

tively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the resort of beings endowed with supernatural power, and who used to interest themselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children, half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet one of them

ustrous smile had glistened upon all the golden o

oubt whether any other four walls, on earth, contain so

fter all, it is but a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me my whole life to

e stranger. "Then yo

hook hi

the stranger. "Merely for the curiosity

erefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but to speak, and obtain whatever possible, or seemingly impossible thing, it might come into his head to ask. So he thought, and thought, and thought, and heaped up one

looked the lustrous

that you have at length hit upon something

s with so much trouble, and beholding the heap so diminutive, after I h

outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy dell, where the yellow autumnal leav

redit, friend Midas, for striking out so brilliant a conce

it fail?"

ver regret the p

Midas. "I ask nothing else,

g his hand in token of farewell. "To-morrow, at sunris

his eyes. On opening them again, he beheld only one yellow sunbeam in the room, and, all a

an to touch the objects that were within reach. He was anxious to prove whether the Golden Touch had really come, according to the stranger's promise. So he laid his finger on a chair by the bedside, and on various other things, but was grievously disappointed to perceive that they remained of exactly the same substance as before.

der and sadder, until the earliest sunbeam shone through the window, and gilded the ceiling over his head. It seemed to Midas that this bright yellow sunbeam was reflected in rather a singular way on the white covering of the bed. Look

ss of gold. He took up a book from the table. At his first touch, it assumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and gilt-edged volume as one often meets with, nowadays; but, on running his fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin golden plates, in which all the wisdom of the book had grown illegible. He hurriedly put on his clothe

as. He would rather that his little daughter's handiwork should have rem

already worn by kings: else, how could Midas have had any? To his great perplexity, however, excellent as the glasses were, he discovered that he could not possibly see through them. But this was the most natural thing in the world; for, on taking them off, the transpa

ing accompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not

d passed over it, in his descent. He lifted the doorlatch (it was brass only a moment ago, but golden when his fingers quitted it), and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others

h, and exercised his magic touch most indefatigably; until every individual flower and bud, and even the worms at the heart of some of them, were changed to gold. By th

morning, the breakfast consisted of hot cakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh boiled eggs, and coffee, for King Midas himself, and a bowl of brea

the good fortune which had befallen him. It was not a great while before he heard her coming along the passageway crying bitterly. This circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of the cheerfullest little people whom you would see in a summer's day, and hardly shed a thimbleful of

ed the door, and showed herself with her apron at

Midas. "Pray what is the matter

es, held out her hand, in which was one of the

"And what is there in this magnif

for you; because I know you like them, and like them the better when gathered by your little daughter. But, oh dear, dear me. What do you think has happened? Such a misfortune! All the beautiful roses, t

t the change which so greatly afflicted her, "Sit down and eat your bread and milk! You will find it easy enough to e

arygold, tossing it contemptuously away. "It h

ion of her china bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for Marygold was accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures, and strang

He thought to himself, that it was rather an extravagant style of splendour, in a king of his simple habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled with

ing it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his lips touched the

med Midas, r

little Marygold, gazing at him, with

said Midas. "Eat your milk,

bes, as ornaments for the parlour. No; but it was really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones were now golden wires; its fins and tail were thin plates of gold; and there were the marks of the fork in

ght he to himself, "how I

ian cake, Midas would have prized it a good deal more than he now did, when its solidity and increased weight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. Almost in despair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which immediately underwent a change

ite enviously at little Marygold, who was now eating her bread and milk with grea

ed to cram it into his mouth, and swallow it in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of sol

, who was a very affectionate child, "pray w

dolefully, "I don't know what i

urer, sitting down to his crust of bread and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas, whose delicate food was really worth its weight in gold. And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas was excessively hungry. Would he be le

scinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he would still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so paltry a consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal's vict

uite too dear,

g at her father, and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started from her chair, and, ru

precious Maryg

old made

fection as it had been, assumed a glittering yellow colour, with yellow tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and tender little form grew

chin. But, the more perfect was the resemblance, the greater was the father's agony at beholding this golden image, which was all that was left him of a daughter. It had been a favourite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt particularly fond of the child, to say that

the image, he could not possibly believe that she was changed to gold. But, stealing another glance, there was the precious little figure, with a yellow tear-drop on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, that it seemed as if that very expression must ne

ich had appeared to him, the day before, in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him this disastrous faculty of the Golden Touch. The stranger's countenance still wore a sm

e stranger, "pray how do you

hook hi

miserable

indeed!" exclai

ully kept my promise with you? Have you

red Midas. "And I have lost all

r. "Let us see, then. Which of these two things do you think is really wo

d Midas. "I will never mois

ntinued the stranger,

wered Midas, "is worth

"or your own little Marygold, warm, so

. "I would not have given that one small dimple in her chin for the

ld. Were it so, your case would indeed be desperate. But you appear to be still capable of understanding that the commonest things, such as lie within everybody's

ul to me!" r

iately fell to the floor; for it, to

of the same water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change back again from gold into its former sub

en he lifted his head, the l

ing to the river-side. As he scampered along, and forced his way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind

water. "Well; this is really a refreshing bath, and I think it must h

nd heavy weight seemed to have gone out of his bosom. No doubt, his heart had been gradually losing its human substance, and transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now softened back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on

me an earthen pitcher of water. But that water, which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had wrought, was more precious to Midas than an ocean of

back to the dear child's cheek! and how she began to sneeze and sputter!-and how astonish

e. "See how you have wet my nice fro

; nor could she remember anything that had happened since the mome

over the rose-bushes, and with such good effect that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, however, which, as long as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden Touch. One was, that the sands of the river sp

ng them this marvellous story, pretty much as I have now told it to you. And then would he stroke their glossy ring

das, diligently trotting the children all the while, "ever since tha