er, "and plunge into the river that glides
past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase of the same
water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change
back again from gold into its former substance. If you do this in
earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief which
your avarice has occasioned."

King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the lustrous
stranger had vanished.

You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a
great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it was no longer earthen after he
touched it), and hastening to the river-side. As he scampered along,
and forced his way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvelous
to see how the foliage turned yellow behind him, as if the autumn had
been there, and nowhere else. On reaching the river's brink, he
plunged headlong in, without waiting so much as to pull off his shoes.

"Poof! poof! poof!" snorted King Midas, as his head emerged out of the
water. "Well; this is really a refreshing bath, and I think it must
have quite washed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my
pitcher!"

[Illustration: MIDAS WITH THE PITCHER]

As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his very heart
to see it change from gold into the same good, honest earthen vessel
which it had been before he touched it. He was conscious, also, of a
change within himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have
gone out of his bosom. No 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 color