n pillar. He pulled
aside a window-curtain, in order to admit a clear spectacle of the wonders
which he was performing; and the tassel grew heavy in his hand,--a 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 crystals 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 o