mass 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 clothes, and was enraptured to see himself in a
magnificent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility and
softness, although it burdened him a little with its weight. He drew
out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had hemmed for him. That
was likewise gold, with the dear child's neat and pretty stitches
running all along the border, in gold thread!

Somehow or other, this last transformation did not quite please King
Midas. He would rather that his little daughter's handiwork should
have remained just the same as when she climbed his knee and put it
into his hand.

But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. Midas now
took his spectacles from his pocket, and put them on his nose, in
order that he might see more distinctly what he was about. In those
days, spectacles for common people had not been invented, but were
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
transparent crystal turned out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of
course, were worthless as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It
struck Midas as rather inconvenient that, with all his wealth, he
could never again be rich enough to own a pair of serviceable
spectacles.

"It is no great matter, nevertheless," said he to himself, very
philosophically. "We cannot expect any great good, without its being
accompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth
the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles, at least, if not of one's very
eyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes, and little
Marygold will soon be old enough to read to me."

Wise King Midas was so exalted by his good fortune, that the palace
seemed not sufficiently spacious to contain him. He therefore went
downstairs, and smiled, on observing that the balustrade of the
staircase became a bar of burnished gold, as his hand passed over it,
in his descent. He lifted the door-latch (it was bra