havior, and to have a naughty inclination to make
fun of him.

Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not yet quite so
happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoyment would never be reached,
unless the whole world were to become his treasure-room, and be filled
with yellow metal which should be all his own.

Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you are, that in the
old, old times, when King Midas was alive, a great many things came to
pass, which we should consider 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 the people of
old times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I regard our own
times as the strangest of the two; but, however that may be, I must go on
with my story.

Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, one day, as usual, when
he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly
up, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger, standing in the
bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with 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. Certainly, although his figure intercepted the
sunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures
than before. Even the remotest corners had their share of it, and were
lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles
of fire. As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock,
and that no mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure-room,
he, of course, concluded that his visitor must be something more than
mortal. It is no matter about telling you who he was. In those days, when
the earth was comparatively 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 again. The stranger's aspect, indeed,
was so good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have been
unreasonable to suspect him of intending any mischief. It was far more
probab