Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure room, one day, as usual, when
he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold; and, looking suddenly
up, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger, standing in the
bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy
face. Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow
tinge over everything, or whatever the cause might be, he could not
help fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a
kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although his figure
intercepted the sunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the
piled-up treasures than before. Even the remotest corners had their
share of it, and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with tips
of flame and sparkles of fire.
As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock, and that
no mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure room, he, of
course, concluded that his visitor must be something more than mortal.
It is no matter about telling you who he was. In those days, when the
earth was comparatively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the
resort of beings endowed with supernatural power, and who used to
interest themselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children,
half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before now,
and was not sorry to meet one of them again.
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