THE GOLDEN TOUCH. il

up irom the table, began to dance and stamp about the
room, both with pain and affright.

“Father, dear father!’ cried little Marygold, who
was a very affectionate child, “‘ pray what is the matter ?
Have you burnt your mouth ? ”

“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t
know what is to become of your poor father! ”

And, truly, my dear little folks, did you ever hear of
such a -pitiable case, in all your lives? Here was liter-
ally the richest breakfast that could be set before a king,
and its very richness made it absolutely good for nothing.
The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread
and cup of water, was far better off than King Midas,
whose delicate food was really worth its weight in gold.
And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas
was excessively hungry. Would he be less so by dinner-
time? And how ravenous would be his appetite for sup-
per, which must undoubtedly consist of the same sort of
indigestible dishes as those now before him! How many
days, think you, would he survive a continuance of this
rich fare ?

These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he
began to doubt whether, after all, riches are the one de-
sirable thing in the world, or even the most desirable.
But this was only a passing thought. So fascinated was
Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he would
still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so
paltry a consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what
a price for one meal’s victuals! It would have been the
same as paying millions and millions of money (and as