times handsomer in those
days."

"I own a cart horse worth three of him!" said the country fellow. "If
this pony were mine, the first thing I should do would be to clip his
wings!"

But the poor maiden said nothing, for she had always the luck to be
afraid at the wrong time. So she ran away, and let her pitcher tumble
down, and broke it.

"Where is the gentle child," asked Bellerophon, "who used to keep me
company, and never lost his faith, and never was weary of gazing into
the fountain?"

"Here am I, dear Bellerophon!" said the child, softly.

For the little boy had spent day after day on the margin of Pirene,
waiting for his friend to come back; but when he perceived Bellerophon
descending through the clouds, mounted on the winged horse, he had
shrunk back into the shrubbery. He was a delicate and tender child, and
dreaded lest the old man and the country fellow should see the tears
gushing from his eyes.

"Thou hast won the victory," said he, joyfully, running to the knee of
Bellerophon, who still sat on the back of Pegasus. "I knew thou
wouldst."

"Yes, dear child!" replied Bellerophon, alighting from the winged horse.
"But if thy faith had not helped me, I should never have waited for
Pegasus, and never have gone up above the clouds, and never have
conquered the terrible Chimaera. Thou, my beloved little friend, hast
done it all. And now let us give Pegasus his liberty."

So he slipped off the enchanted bridle from the head of the marvellous
steed.

"Be free, forevermore, my Pegasus!" cried he, with a shade of sadness in
his tone. "Be as free as thou art fleet!"

But Pegasus rested his head on Bellerophon's shoulder, and would not be
persuaded to take flight.

"Well then," said Bellerophon, caressing the airy horse, "thou shalt be
with me as long as thou wilt; and we will go together, forthwith, and
tell King Iobates that the Chimaera is destroyed."

Then Bellerophon embraced the gentle child, and promised to come to him
again, and departed. But, in after years, that child took higher flights
upon the aerial steed than ever did Bellerophon, and achieved more
honourable deeds than his friend's victory over the Chimaera. For, gentle
and tender as he was, he grew to be a mighty poet!

CHAPTER IV

THE GOLDEN TOUCH

Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king besides, whose
name was Midas; and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but myself
ever heard of, and whose name I ei