le that he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that favor be,
unless to multiply his heaps of treasure?

The stranger gazed about the room; and when his lustrous smile had
glistened upon all the golden objects that were there, he turned again to
Midas.

"You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!" he observed. "I doubt whether any
other four walls, on earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to
pile up in this room."

"I have done pretty well,--pretty well," answered Midas, in a discontented
tone. "But, after all, it is but a trifle, when you consider that it has
taken me my whole life to get it together. If one could live a thousand
years, he might have time to grow rich!"

"What!" exclaimed the stranger. "Then you are not satisfied?"

Midas shook his head.

"And pray what would satisfy you?" asked the stranger. "Merely for the
curiosity of the thing, I should be glad to know."

Midas paused and meditated. He felt a presentiment that this stranger,
with such a golden lustre in his good-humored smile, had come hither with
both the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now,
therefore, 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
golden mountain upon another, in his imagination, without being able to
imagine them big enough. At last, a bright idea occurred to King Midas. It
seemed really as bright as the glistening metal which he loved so much.

Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in the face.

"Well, Midas," observed his visitor, "I see that you have at length hit
upon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your wish."

"It is only this," replied Midas. "I am weary of collecting my treasures
with so much trouble, and beholding the heap so diminutive, after I have
done my best. I wish everything that I touch to be changed to gold!"

The stranger's smile grew so very broad, that it seemed to fill the room
like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy dell where the yellow
autumnal leaves--for so looked the lumps and particles of gold--lie strewn
in the glow of light.

"The Golden Touch!" exclaimed he. "You certainly deserve credit, friend
Midas, for striking out so brilliant a conception. But are you quite sure
that this will satisfy you?"

"How could it fail?" said Midas.

"And will you never regret