He
valued the sunbeam for no other reason but that his treasure would not
shine without its help. And then would he reckon over the coins in the
bag; toss up the bar, and catch it as it came down; sift the gold dust
through his fingers; look at the funny image of his own face, as
reflected in the burnished circumference of the cup, and whisper to
himself, "O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!" But it
was laughable to see how the image of his face kept grinning at him, out
of the polished surface of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish
behaviour, and to have a naughty inclination to make fun of him.
Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not yet quite so
happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoyment would never be
reached, unless the whole world were to become his treasure room, and be
filled with yellow metal which should be all his own.
Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you are, that in
the old, old times, when King Midas was alive, a great many things came
to pass, which we should consider wonderful if they were to happen in
our own day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many things
take place nowadays, which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which
the people of old times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole,
I regard our own times as the strangest of the two; but, however that
may be, I must go on with my story.
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