doubt, his heart had been gradually losing its human
substance, and transmuting itself into insensible metal, but had now
softened back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew on the
bank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was overjoyed
to find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, instead of
undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch had,
therefore, really been removed from him.

King Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I suppose, the servants
knew not what to make of it when they saw their royal master so
carefully bringing home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water,
which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had wrought, was more
precious to Midas than an ocean of molten gold could have been. The
first thing he did, as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by
handfuls over the golden figure of little Marygold.

No sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed to see how the
rosy colour came back to the dear child's cheek! and how she began to
sneeze and sputter!--and how astonished she was to find herself dripping
wet, and her father still throwing more water over her!

"Pray do not, dear father!" cried she. "See how you have wet my nice
frock, which I put on only this morning!"

For Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden statue; nor
could she remember anything that had happened since the moment when she
ran with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas.

Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child how very
foolish he had been, but contented himself with showing how much wiser
he had now grown. For this purpose, he led little Marygold into the
garden, where he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over the
rose-bushes, and with such good effect that above five thousand roses
recovered their beautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, however,
which, as long as he lived, used to put King Midas in mind of the Golden
Touch. One was, that the sands of the river sparkled like gold; the
other, that little Marygold's hair had now a golden tinge, which he had
never observed in it before she had been transmuted by the effect of his
kiss. This change of hue was really an improvement, and made Marygold's
hair richer than in her babyhood.

When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and used to trot Mary gold's
children on his knee, he was fond of telling them this marvellous story,
pretty muc