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 ‘Oh my child, my dear child!’ cried poor Midas, wringing his hands. ‘I would not have given that one small dimple in her chin for the power of changing this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!’

‘You are wiser than you were, King Midas!’ said the stranger, looking seriously at him. ‘Your own heart, I perceive, has not been entirely changed from flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be desperate. But you appear to be still capable of understanding that the commonest things, such as lie within everybody’s grasp, are more valuable than the riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. Tell me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this Golden Touch?’

‘It is hateful to me!’ replied Midas.

A fly settled on his nose, but fell immediately to the floor; for it, too, had become gold. Midas shuddered.

‘Go, then,’ said the stranger, ‘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 marvellous to see how the foliage turned yellow behind him, as if the autumn